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pipermca · 5 years

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In a Fairy Tale

This is the first of two short stories that eventually became the kernel of The Renegade and the Hound’s AU. If you’ve read that story, you might recognize this bit from Chapter 2.

Bluestreak stilled his ventilations as he watched the herd move into the crystal grove. The torbuk were calm, barely even looking around. They’d grown fat and complacent in the King’s reserve, so Bluestreak was able to take his time to select his target.

There... That large one, near the front of the herd. Bluestreak figured it might be the herd’s alpha. It looked healthy and strong, and would bring a nice price at the market.

He sighted down his rifle carefully, and then pulled his finger back once on the trigger.

The herd scrambled back at the sharp crack of the rifle, and the alpha fell where it had stood. Bluestreak smiled as he climbed to his pedes and walked towards the fallen beast. It was a good, clean kill.

When he reached the deactivated mechanimal, Bluestreak quickly turned the beast’s helm to the side, and pulled a knife and a large container out of his compartments. Slicing into the main fuel line at its throat, he began draining the torbuk’s energon into the container before the fuel could curdle in its lines. He watched as the energon poured out of the beast. It was clear and clean, and would keep him fueled for a good while.

As he waited for the lines to drain completely, he looked around him warily. The herd had moved back a bit, but a few members were staring at him placidly. “It’s all right,” he murmured to the closest one. “Don’t be afraid. I can only carry back one of you.”

The nearest torbuk blinked its optics at him, then lowered its helm to the ground and began grazing on the glade’s short crystals again.

Bluestreak scanned the grove and saw no other movement. He fluttered his door wings, pleased with himself. His observations of the guards’ movements had come in handy. There wasn’t a patrol due here for another few hours, so he had plenty of time to finish the job and escape with his prize. He wouldn’t even need to use any of the countermeasures he’d purchased.

His kill had been a large beast, so he needed a second container to fully drain it of fuel. Finally, the stream of energon from its throat became a dribble. He carefully closed both containers and placed them back into his compartments. Pulling out a length of wire, he began binding the torbuk’s front and rear legs so it could be carried more easily.

“In the name of the King, you are under arrest for poaching. Put your hands where I can see them.”

Bluestreak froze, then slowly lifted his hands into the air next to his helm. Scrap! He had been so absorbed in preparing his kill for transport that his attention had wandered away from watching for movement around him. He flared his door wings, and realized there was a mech standing behind him, rather close. Clever... The guard had used the herd as cover, hiding his own field in with the dozen or so torbuk milling around the tall crystals.

“Good day to you,” Bluestreak said, still not turning around. “I am certain there has just been a small misunderstanding. May I stand so we can resolve it?”

“Stand up and turn around... Slowly. Keep your hands up.”

Bluestreak stood and turned around as carefully as he could, pinning a disarming smile on his face plates. The guard was a boxy green mech, and was levelling a rifle at him. Bluestreak was amazed at how close the mech had gotten to him without being noticed; he could almost reach out and touch him. He took note of the Royal Rangers emblems on the mech’s shoulder armor. So, he wasn’t just a guard, then. That explained why he was wandering around the forest outside of the usual guard patrols.

“As I was saying,” Bluestreak said, inclining his door wings towards the green mech, “I’m sure there’s just been a misunderstanding. I have permission from the King’s Master of the Hunt to take down this specific torbuk.” He flicked the fingers on one hand at the motionless frame on the ground. “The poor mechanimal had symptoms of gear rot, and His Honour wanted me to dispose of the beast to ensure it did not infect the rest of the herd.”

The green mech frowned, and his optics flicked once at the torbuk before returning to Bluestreak. “I have not heard anything about gear rot in the King’s herds. I don’t believe you.”

Bluestreak shrugged and tilted his helm. “Well... Err, what did you say your designation was?” he asked.

“I didn’t.” The Ranger’s tone was flat.

Letting another small smile light on his lips, Bluestreak carried on. “Fine. Well, Sir Ranger, I have a token from the Master of the Hunt as proof of what I am saying. If you would let me get it out of my compartments...?”

The Ranger paused to consider this. Bluestreak saw the mech’s grip loosen just slightly on his rifle as he glanced back down at the torbuk’s frame.

Taking advantage of the mech’s hesitation, Bluestreak added, “This torbuk should be removed from the grove as quickly as possible. The longer it lies here, the more chance there is it will transmit the rot to the rest of the herd.” He turned himself slightly to one side, presenting his right side towards Ranger. “His Honour’s token is in my right chest compartment if you’d rather retrieve it yourself.”

His optics flicking back up to Bluestreak’s face, the green mech growled, “No, you pull it out. Slowly, and keep your other hand in the air.”

“Of course,” Bluestreak said, smiling. He opened his compartment and pulled out a small bag, cinched at the top with a wire. He held it out to the Ranger. “I’m afraid it’s tied rather tightly... You’ll probably need both hands to open it.”

“You open it,” the Ranger said, firming his grip on his rifle.

Nodding once, Bluestreak slowly brought his other hand down and untwisted the wire. He reached into the bag and sunk his fingers into the fine sand inside. Tilting the opening of the bag towards the green mech, he said, “His Honour was very adamant that he did not want the rot infecting the rest of the King’s herd, and –“

With a sudden movement, Bluestreak flung a handful of the sand in the green mech’s face.

The Ranger shouted in surprise, a hand coming off his rifle too late to protect his optics. The sand flew into his vents and across his face, and he staggered back a step.

“Sorry about that,” Bluestreak said sincerely as he watched the Ranger lower his rifle and slowly scrub at his optics. He really hadn’t wanted to use any of his countermeasures, and he had nothing against this poor mech who was just doing his job, but he could not risk getting arrested. Bluestreak watched for another few seconds as the rifle fell from the Ranger’s fingers and his movements became slow.

Confident that the dust he’d purchased from the ancient vendor at the bazaar had worked, Bluestreak put away the bag of sand, knelt, and finished wiring the dead torbuk’s legs together. “Don’t worry… you won’t be permanently damaged. You’ll fall into recharge soon, and will probably only be offline for an hour or so. I’m afraid you’re going to wake up with an incredible helm ache, though.” Bluestreak finished tying the torbuck’s legs and stood, slinging its frame around his shoulders. “No hard feelings, right?” He looked up at the green mech.

But the Ranger was not falling into recharge as he expected. The green mech was staring at Bluestreak, a deep frown creasing his brow. “You…” he croaked, taking a step towards Bluestreak.

Scrap. Scrap! The vendor said that the dust would take effect immediately! The mech should have been on the ground in recharge already! Bluestreak took a step backwards, holding up a hand. “Take a deep vent, Sir Ranger,” he said. “Like I said... Maybe there was a misunderstanding?” And maybe he’d be going back to that vendor to demand his shanix back... If, that is, he could get out of this.

The green mech cycled his optics and tilted his helm. A wide smile formed on his lips. “You’re... beautiful...” he murmured, taking a step towards Bluestreak.

“What?” Bluestreak’s door wings flared in confusion. He took another step backwards. “I mean... Thank you, but… What?”

The Ranger gazed at Bluestreak like he was starving, and Bluestreak was a cube of the finest fuel in the kingdom. “I’ve never seen another mech as gorgeous as you,” he said, holding out a hand imploringly to Bluestreak. “Please... Let me... Let me touch you. Just once. Let me touch your... perfection. Please?”

Taking another step backwards, Bluestreak stumbled over a rock and lost his footing. He felt onto his aft with a yelp, and dropped the torbuk carcass. The Ranger was on him in a moment, and Bluestreak rolled away, jumping to his pedes and snatching up his prize kill. “Yes, this has been quite the misunderstanding! I’m just going to go now, Sir Ranger, so please just – uh...”

“My name is Hound,” said Ranger, still stretching a hand out as if to brush it against Bluestreak’s face.

Bluestreak stumbled against another crystal as he backpedaled away from the green mech who walked inexorably towards him. “Going! Yes, I’m going now. Hound. Um... It was nice meeting you?” He turned and began sprinting through the crystals, desperately hoping to reach a space open enough for him to transform and drive away from this crazy mech. “Bye!” he called over his shoulder.

“I love you!” Hound cried, running just behind Bluestreak. Scrap, he was fast! “I cannot live without you! Please! Please, come back!”

With a lunge, Bluestreak burst out of the close-grown crystals of the grove and into a more sparsely-grown area. He transformed and pealed out, tires spinning on the loose gravel.

The green mech – Hound – had also transformed and was still close on his tail. Bluestreak swore to himself as he drove. As soon as he lost this poor mech he was going right back to the bazaar and demanding his shanix back from that vendor. He’d asked for recharge powder, not love powder!

Originally posted to Archive of Our Own as “In a Fairy Tale.”

#maccadam #tf bluestreak #tf hound #bluehound #transformers #alt modes and alchemy au #my writing #fan fiction

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valiantsilver · 5 years

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Riftmakers AU Chapter One

It’s the post that literally no one asked for, but you’re getting it anyway!

This is the first chapter of a story I am writing containing my OCs. It’s pretty bad but yeah. I’ve got two chapters written so far, this is the first one.

Warnings: Swear words

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Chapter One: A Fresh Start

Tristen Joseph was in a bad mood.

This would be surprising information to anybody who knew Tristen, as he seemed to make it a point to be happy all the time - or at least try to be. Even when the phantom pains from his right arm brought tears to his eyes, he always had some sort of witty joke or bad pun on the tip of his tongue.

Not today though. Today, there were no jokes.

The people in his small village, who had practically raised the boy since he was discovered as a wailing baby on a doorstep 16 years previously, tried to figure out what was wrong. But they wouldn’t figure it out. Tristen knew this because the only evidence of what was wrong was held in his hands.

The letter had soured his mood right from the first sentence, by addressing him by his deadname, the one written on a slip of paper that had been placed atop baby Tristan’s blankets. The one that had his last name as Gordon. Using his deadname was, quite obviously, not a way to get on good terms with Tristen. And it had only gotten worse.

Everyone had heard of Cliff Gordon’s recent death. How could they not? He’d somehow managed to publicise the bloody thing by leaving his fortune to his many, many illegitimate children. Tristen had no issues with the man - hell, he actually quite liked his role as Fritz Donnegan - but had no real interest in him outside of that, and had thought of their similar surnames as an interesting coincidence at most.

Not any more.

The letter spelled it out in blunt, black ink - he was one of Cliff’s illegitimate children. Apparently he’d recieve his share of the fortune in a few weeks, but Tristen didn’t care. He didn’t need that damned money.

Most people might have been overjoyed at the revelation that they were descended from a celebrity, but it upset Tristen, who’d always envisioned heart wrenching scenes of two loving parents forced to leave their child behind when thinking of his abandonment, that his mother and father were probably nothing more than drunken blurs to each other on a dark and lonely night. It doubly hurt to think that he was probably a result of failed protection - a broken condom, a forgotten pill. So, he did what he always did when he was upset.

He went to the scrapyard.

Tristen had always been a bit of an inventor - hell, he’d created his own prosthetic arm. He enjoyed rummaging through the broken down pieces of machinery, seeing if he could make them new again. Most of all, inventing gave him something to do with hands, soothing his restless mind and helping him focus.

The greasy-haired man who owned the scrapyard nodded to Tristen as he entered. It was strange - Tristen had been coming here for years, yet the two had never exchanged a word. Tristen didn’t particularly mind. He didn’t think he was missing out on much.

The scrapyard was empty of people except for them. Tristen absent-mindedly wandered between teetering stacks of junk. He glanced from here to there, searching for something of interest, and was just eyeing up a beat-up Land Rover - he was almost old enough to drive after all - when something else caught his eye.

It was around the size and shape of a watermelon. Silver and black. Circuitry sticking out of one end, sparking. It looked...

Tristen swallowed.

It looked like a robotic human head.

As soon as that thought entered his head, Tristen had to get a closer look. He began scrambling up the junkpile to get to the head, then when he was near enough - which took longer than you might think - he grabbed it and brought it closer to him, holding it in both hands.

It was a robotic human head. Long and thin, with black hair sticking straight up out of its scalp. On the left cheek, the plating had fallen away to reveal a razor-sharp set of teeth. It’s eyes were shut. It looked vaguely familiar, but Tristen couldn’t think for the life of him why. It certainly didn’t look like him - they were both males (Tristen guessed) but that was where similarities ended. It’s face was sharp-featured, as though someone had sharpened it with a knife, whereas Tristen had a soft, pale, round face complete with large blue eyes and a mop of blond hair. He frowned. The head had seemed interesting before, but it was obviously inactive, just another piece of junk. Tristen went to put it back, disappointed.

That was when the eyes snapped open.

Tristen screamed and dropped the head, which let out an indignant cry. He tried to stand so he could run, but as soon as he planted his foot on the junk-mountain, his leg sank straight in and he was trapped.

Shit.

“Are you going to stop screaming any time soon, or will I have to offline my auditory sensors?” Tristen, realising he was still screaming, shut his mouth and stared at the head. It had spoken. And now - staring at him with those glowing red eyes - it spoke again. “That was a joke, by the way. I lost the capacity to offline those sensors when I lost the rest of my body.” Tristen stared dumbly at the head. “You’re a Nindroid.” He stated flatly. “Oh, well done!” The Nindroid snapped. “And I’m not just any Nindroid either. I am General Cryptor, loyal servant of the Overlord, and-” “Sorry?” The head scowled at the interruption. “What?” “You serve the Overlord?” “Yes, didn’t I just say that?” In spite of himself, Tristen snickered. “Dude... he’s old news. He was destroyed ages ago.” “My master cannot be destroyed!” “And yet, he has been.” “I will serve my master loyally, as I have always done-” “And how’s that worked out for you?

The head - Cryptor, if that was it’s (his?) name - froze. Tristen smirked. “Pretty much what I thought. Face it - you picked the loosing side.” Cryptor glared. “The Overlord is my creator. No matter what, I cannot abandon him.” “Like he’s abandoned you?” Tristen saw a flash of what looked like hurt cross the Nindroid’s face, and felt guilty. He’d gone too far. “Look, I can help you.” Cryptor looked up at this - well, he looked up as well as a severed head can. “I can fix you,” Tristen told him, quite honestly. “But you need to give up this whole ‘worshipping-the-Overlord’ business.”

If the Nindroid had had a chest it would have been puffing up in indignation. “Never! I am sworn to his services-” “Bye then.” Tristen pulled his leg free and began making his way down the pile.

“Wha- you can’t do this!”

“I pretty much can.”

“I’ll come and get you!”

“Good luck with that.”

“You- you stop right now!”

“Nope”

A few seconds of silence, broken only by Tristan’s scrabbling as he descended. Then -

“Fine!”

Tristen turned, a mockingly innocent smile in his face. “Hmmm?”

“Well, if he’s really destroyed as you say he is-” - the Nindroid paused, as though to say the words would be physical pain - “then I’ll stop. The Overlord will not be my master anymore.”

Tristen’s mocking smile widened. “Was that so hard?”

The Nindroid grumbled under his breath as Tristen scrambled back up to collect him.

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So there we have it! Sorry if I butchered Cryptor’s character a bit, but it’s been literal years since I saw ns3 so literally all the information I had on him was what I could find on the Wiki page and all the amazing content and headcanons from @sayijo (sorry I massacred your boy in this story :/)

If you guys are interested, I’ll put up the second chapter and start working on a third!

Sorry if I offended anybody, I accept constructive criticism so please tell me how I can improve!!!

#ninjago #ninjago oc #ninjago ocs #Tristen Joseph #cryptor ninjago #ninjago au #this is terrible lmao #riftmakers au

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pastelbrachypelma · 5 years

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I’m very tired, but I have this growing fear...

...that Dan may be pulling away from the Grump family.

There are several possible reasons for this and, first of all, before y’all go ape shit because I’m about to talk about Dan’s personal life, I’M NOT CLAIMING ANY OF THIS IS TRUE, NOR AM I ABOUT TO TRY AND FIND OUT IF THIS IS TRUE. I ain’t got the money or time, and more importantly, I respect Dan as a human. THIS IS JUST SPECULATION because the Grumps are my hyperfocus, and THIS IS NOT MEANT TO HURT ANYONE. I like analyzing shit for fun, so if you can’t deal with a little harmless conspiracy video type analysis, bye bye! :)

Now then.

1. He has a girlfriend.

This is the most plausible reason, and I talked about this when I analyzed “Heart Boner” very briefly, but it is certainly possible, especially since he mentioned going to Disneyland with someone who was (obviously) outside of the Grumps circle. The evidence that he has a secret girlfriend is all very coincidental, of course, however, I do believe it is plausible.

2. He’s leaving/stepping away from Grumps to focus on NSP

Dan has been stepping away from Grumps since his burnout in 2014. He rarely (if ever) was on streams (pre-2018 when the Grumps radio streams began), or would only come for a few hours towards the end of the stream, or, as was the case with the Crisis Text Line charity livestream, was there for the beginning and left halfway through. People are gonna get mad at me for being “whiney,” but frankly, I don’t care. I’m sorry (?) that Dan specifically is the center of my hyperfocus on the Grumps. I love both of my boys, but for some reason, I’ve become particularly attached to Dan (this has also happened to several other fans who focus on Dan, so it shouldn’t be a new concept, but I got several mad comments about my focus on Dan before, so y’know.) This is just the way my hyperfocus works. If you’re mad about it, go somewhere else. Also, I know why Dan does this. He is a busy man, and he has to look after his voice. Unlike Arin, he can’t talk nonstop for hours on end without resting his voice. Also, despite his Myers-Briggs test pinging him as an extrovert, he is more introverted than Arin in a lot of ways (who has probably had to adapt to being a people person, and can probably deal with humans for a longer amount of time). Dan is not a party person, so I get the feeling he’d bail (or look for the first opportunity to bail) the minute things got too crazy. (Can’t exactly blame him for that, seeing as I’ve done the same thing.)

So how did I reach the conclusion that he might be leaving Grumps? His true love is music. It’s what he’s wanted to do since Day 1, and NSP is his baby (just like Grumps is Arin’s) and thus his priority. Now that NSP has a successful fanbase, thanks in large part to many Lovelies migrating to NSP, he has the ability to make money simply off of touring with NSP. We saw Brian step back earlier this year to work more on NSP stuff (and probably be a dad more often). It’s not unthinkable that one day, Dan would simply leave Grumps for good. I don’t know if Arin would keep the show running by himself and do a sort of permanent Guest Grumps (probably including Dan at varying points to keep the views rolling in), or simply abandon Game Grumps and do something else. (Because now that Arin has success and a name for himself, he could do something else. Make games full time, maybe, or focus on Real Good Touring. I doubt he would go back to animating, but that is also a possibility as well.) I’m of the opinion that Grumps peaked in 2015-2016, and I think that with a rising preference of facecam channels/personalities (and this ties into a larger theory of mine that I have yet to write about why the GG fandom offline is mostly male), it is unlikely that the Grumps will reach a growth spurt like Jackspeticeye or Markiplier have experienced. And you could argue that people who rarely/never do Facecam like CallMeKevin and RTGame rose in sub count fairly quickly, but they have a specific kind of content that they post consistently and that is funny in its own right (and these large subscriber counts, I am willing to bet, are males). GG’s format hasn’t aged well, and would be better suited to a full-time podcast where Dan and Arin talk about their lives as opposed to playing video games all the time. (My opinion, but feel free to disagree calmly and civilly.)

My point is that Dan could leave, and could be gearing up to do so.

3. Dan is choosing to be less visible

This is probably the most plausible explanation. Dan has said many times that he doesn’t like the spotlight, and wishes that he wasn’t a celebrity, even though he is grateful for what fame has enabled him to do. Since he has been a target for some rather undesirable behaviors lately (whether you view them as assault or not), it’s only natural that his first instinct is to make himself as invisible as he possibly can. He hasn’t been posting as much on Instagram, he hasn’t been seen on Arin or Suzy’s Instagrams, he didn’t come/refused to be in the picture Suzy posted on Thanksgiving, and he seems, to me, to be slowly playing more and more of a “character” on Grumps and during the Power Hour. It could just be me, but the show doesn’t feel as genuine as it used to. It’s possibly Arin and Dan are trying too hard to be relatable, to give fans what they think they want (and maybe some fans do want that? Who knows?), but it’s possible that this is a sign. Dan may be withdrawing more from the public eye, at least as much as he possibly can. And we know he’s a very private person, and he is beginning to lament aspects of his fame. So we may see him retreating more and more from Grumps, more vacations away from LA, starving his social media. He’s also a generation ahead of Arin (I think?), so his views about the changing world, liberal as they may be, are different than millennials like Sean and Mark. I wouldn’t be surprised if, one day, he just announced he was deleting his Instagram for good.

4. Dan needs to step away for health reasons

This is the most unlikely, as (supposedly) he works out with Arin, which would indicate his health is the same as it’s always been, if not improved. But it’s not entirely farfetched. Chronic illnesses can be very tricky, and Dan isn’t getting any younger. If his chronic illness is acting up more often, or if it’s getting progressively more serious, Dan may be spending more time at home resting and recuperating as opposed to hanging out with friends.

5. Dan and Arin are no longer as close as they once were

This one...hurts me to the core, honestly, and I so desperately don’t want it to be true...but there are a lot of signs that they are forcing their closeness, or were for a while. Again, this has to do with how I interpret the tone of recent Grumps episodes and some of the power hours, so this may be the real least plausible option from this list for some people. (I remember seeing a fic where their friendship was completely fake once in 2016 and thinking it was bullshit...then we get to 2018, and I’m not so sure). I think I’ve talked about before how some of the “gimmick” power hours (the tie dye episodes, and candy makin candy men specifically) made me feel distinctly uneasy about the state of their friendship, and while they seem more comfortable with each other now, Dan’s increased absence makes warning bells sound off in my head.

Make of this what you will. Again, these are to be treated as FUN CONSPIRACIES because I like to overanalyze things. THEY ARE NOT MEANT TO HURT THE GRUMPS, NOR AM I IMPLYING THAT ANY OF THESE ARE TRUE.

Please don’t come after me for posting this. If you come at me off anon, I will block you. Don’t test me.

#personal #not so grumpy boy #game grumps theory #don't come after me or i'll slap you wITH A BAN BISH #i need to stop watching so much jenna marbles #my conspiracies

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dailyaudiobible · 3 years

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08/28/2021 DAB Transcript

Job 28:1-30:31, 2 Corinthians 2:12-17, Psalms 42:1-11, Proverbs 22:7

Today is the 28th day of August, welcome to the Daily Audio Bible I’m Brian it is wonderful to be here with you today as we continue our journey forward through the Bible and through the year and through life together. And, so, we’ve been moving pretty rapidly, large chunks at a time because it's a narrative conversation in the book of Job. And, so, we’re gonna continue the journey through the book of Job today. And we’re reading from the New Living Translation this week. Job 28, 29, and 30.

Prayer:

Thank You, Father for Your word, for another week to spend together in Your word, the last full week of this month. We’re just days ahead from moving into some new territory. And time moves by day by day, step-by-step. And we are thankful that as we go day by day and step-by-step the Scriptures are a part of that story. Every day it's being tilled into the soil of our hearts. And, so, as we continue this journey forward may we be…may we be fertile soil that yields the fruit of the Spirit. Come Holy Spirit and tend this garden, the garden of our hearts we pray. In the name of Jesus, we ask. Amen.

Announcements:

dailyaudiobible.com is home base, its where you find out what's going on around here. So, certainly check it out. If you’re using the Daily Audio Bible app you can check it out there by pushing the Drawer icon in the upper left-hand corner. Open up…open up that drawer and you’ll see the different categories.

So, like check out the Daily Audio Bible Shop. There are resources there for this journey, things like God of Your Story, which is a written resource that is…it's kind of the gold, it's kind of a 365-day devotional one year kind of book and it's beautiful. It's beautiful. But it contains some of the different kinds of commentary, the different kinds of stuff that we talk about every day as we navigate a year. And, so, it is a fantastic resource if you’re kind of offline for a while and continue the journey, but it's also a fantastic resource to just take it deeper because we talk about different things all the time every day. And, so, it kind of brings it home, cements it. And we pray for that all the time, asking God to…to plant what we've heard, and we've processed into the soil of our lives. This is a way to…to kind of make that go deeper, kind of and fertilize that a little bit. So, yeah, resources like the God of Your Story as well as all of the other stuff that you would find at the Daily Audio Bible Shop are there for this journey, the journey that we are on right now. They exist or that journey. So, check out the Daily Audio Bible Shop.

If you want to partner with the Daily Audio Bible, you can do that at dailyaudiobible.com. There is a link on the homepage. If…if you use the app you can prep press the Give button in the upper right-hand corner or the mailing address is PO Box 1996 Spring Hill Tennessee 37174.

And, as always, if you have a prayer request or encouragement, you can hit the Hotline button in the app, which is the little red button up at the top or you can dial 877-942-4253.

And that's it for today. I'm Brian I love you and I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow.

Community Prayer and Praise:

Good morning today is August 25th and I just finished listening to the Bible sermon for today. I heard the prayer of miss Cindy from California and I first want to say I'm very sorry for the pain you're going through. I wish in some capacity we could take each other’s pain and kind of carry it for a little bit just to give you some peace and comfort, some relief. But I know that's only God's ability. So, I just want to pray for you and pray that He wipes your tears, our Father in heaven. And in the name of Jesus, that pain, that fire that you're feeling, all the hurt that you're feeling that the Holy Spirit covers you and cools that fire, that He cools everything in our lives to peace and comfort. I pray that the pain goes away in the name of Jesus. I pray that you don't have to worry anymore in the name of Jesus, that his condition is healed the name of Jesus. That our Father who can grant miracles, who can grant healing, who knows all and sees all who is sovereign, His will…His will is immaculate, that You heal miss Cindy Father and that You protect her from harm within her body from any attacks within her body Father that You protect her children, her two wonderful children. I know You love Cindy Father and Cindy loves You more than ever. Hear her cries, hear her please and please protect her, please heal her, please comfort her. In Jesus’ name I pray for miss Cindy. And for all these blessings I ask in your son's holy name Jesus. Amen.

Hello from beautiful Cincinnati OH it's Daniel Johnson junior how the heck are you? Let's throw another log on the Global Campfire, shall we? Alright let's pray. And I just want to ask you for some prayer for me. My dad has had some issues this year with his alcoholism and right now he's not speaking to me because of some issues related to all of that and I just…I pray for reconciliation and for his continued sobriety and recovery, but I also just want to lift up so many people here as other people have often prayed and…and shared. There are people that are that are writing down your prayer requests and praying for you that aren't ever going to call in and I just really lift them up to you…to you right now Father, all of our prayer warriors that are silent and…but still praying. Thank you so much for all of that Lord. You are truly amazing and all that You do our Father. And Jesus we want to emulate you…

Good morning, good afternoon, and good evening DABbers it's your girl Val in Vegas. Haven't called in a while but oh best better believe I listen and pray every single day. Oh God I just want to praise God for all the amazing praise reports. Oh man you guys, God’s…God is healing eyes. Thank you, Lord for healing doctor John's eyes. And then I just listened. Today is my sister’s birthday, it's Aug 25th and some other gentleman just called while he was in the emergency room. It made me think of how God like literally grabbed some dirt, spit in his hands, and put it over that man's eyes and Jesus is healing eyes today guys. Not only is he healing eyes, He's healing hearts. I want to pray right now for all of the parents that have lost children. Lady of Victory you are line in my thoughts and prayers on this day. Also, there is another woman who…she's looking for…oh God…hope and joy in the midst of grief. And while sister that might sound like an oxymoron, we know that all things are possible through God. With him we can do all things. So, sister please believe that even though you're beautiful 22-year-old son's not with us now you can have joy in that. I think back to our guy James from Dallas Fort Worth who called in with his testimony of losing his daughter and that blessed me. That blessed me. I sent it to my aunt who lost a child. And while that is not the natural course of things, I pray right now heavenly Father that every parent that has lost a child God that You give them grace and mercy. Above everything Lord give them peace and joy in the midst of grief in Jesus’ name.

Hello DAB family this is Doctor Bob from Arizona. I am on my second year of listening to the DAB and Proverbs and Psalms and all of your prayers and requests. Lord knows I can use prayer myself. I guess we all can, but at this time I'm asking for prayer for my beautiful 19-year-old granddaughter Haley Mae who is being oppressed by the evil one, by darkness and not opening up her heart to our entreaties to…to listen to the light, come into the light, listen to Jesus, listen to our prayers. Let us pray for her. My wife, God bless her, is such a soldier for the Lord. She's an inspiration to me but she'll not be able to penetrate her…her…our granddaughter who just refuses to listen to our…our prayers for her, refuses to listen to the word of the Lord. Please pray for her if you will so that she can come into the light, come out of the darkness so that she can learn to cast off these evil spirits that seem to be attacking her every night. She's a beautiful girl. She's been very unstable all of your life. She's now living with us so that we can hopefully give her some stability. Please DAB family, please pray for her, Haley Mae from Arizona. I'll continue to listen, participate. I…I bless this family, bless Brian, bless you all. Thank you. Bye.

This message is for Carmen from Canada. This is Betty from upstate New York. Carmen I am so sorry that Christians feel that you should be getting over this…the loss of your son. I lost a son 52 years ago from a car accident, he was nine years old, and he lived for nine days and for 39 years I suffered each year during those nine days until an evangelist was given a prophetic word for me. And I didn't know the Lord until I was 40 but he healed me of those nine days showing me the miracles that happened on those nine days which I didn't understand. But I just want you to know that you will remember. But keep on seeking God. He is our comforter. Seek the word we're He comforts us, He’s telling us He's our husband, He's our lover, He’s our…just…just turn to Him for your comfort. It's been 52 years as I said and I still…apparently those Christians that say you should get over it haven't lost a child. But it will ease up. You will find times when it will get better but it will stay on your mind. But I'm trusting the Lord to give you a complete miracle and a healing and a deliverance from the pain. And I just praise God and I just want you to know that I love you and that I…I know your pain and I know that you will...one day you will just thank God that He has brought you through the…the terrible pain. And I pray God bless you abundantly. And take care. God bless in Jesus’ precious name. Amen and Amen.

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not-close-to-straight · 6 years

Text

“Offline” (Chapter Eight)

MASTERLIST

Enjoy :)

***********************

“James.” Eve smiled up at him and turned her cheek for a kiss. “How are you? Are you heading off on holiday?”

“Holiday.” Bond grimaced. “Forced rest and relaxation.” he held the door to Q Branch open for her. “I am here to surrender my gear and then I am off.”

“Hullo, Q.” She waved and Q looked up from his computers, green gaze flicking over where Bond’s arm rested around her waist. “Aren't you up for holiday soon as well?”

“God forbid.” Q said dryly. “As if Q Branch would survive without me. All of MI6 would come to a halt without me at the computers.”

“So modest this one.” Eve elbowed Bond lightly. “Where are you going, then?”

“If I told you where to find me, it wouldn't be holiday, would it?” Bond said mildly, emptying his pockets of all Q Branch issued tech and scattering it about on the table. “But if you must know, there is a hunting lodge in Dartmoor I enjoy. Misty mornings, quiet days, cold nights, all of that.”

“Creepy moors, tales of monsters, hardly any cell service.” Eve added, ticking it off on her fingers. “Sounds lovely.”

“Indeed.” Bond smiled faintly. “There are so few places to disconnect and be offline these days--” Q perked up a little and Bonds smile grew. “--it will be nice to have ten days to myself I suppose.”

“You mean yourself and whichever barmaid you convince to share your bed.” Eve rolled her eyes and Bond feigned a hurt look.

“Eve. I can assure you my taste runs far more sophisticated than bar maids.”

She snorted, apparently unconvinced and Bond signed the form for the last of his tech. “That's it, then. Don't let the world burn down while I'm gone. I will see you in a few weeks.”

“Bye James!”

“Safe travels, 007.”

************************

Q-- Dartmoor area has notoriously terrible cell service, but will you at least let me know when you arrive?

B-- Of course. I wish we had had time for a kiss goodbye.

Q-- As long as you bring me a present, I'm sure I'll have a kiss waiting for you when you return.

B-- Q, darling, do you only kiss me because I bring you trinkets?

Q-- Yes

B-- I am hurt and horrified.

Q-- You are neither of those things

B-- I could be.

Q-- You could be, but you aren't.

Q-- Do hurry back, James. I believe I already miss you.

**********************

Bond took himself to Dartmoor that very afternoon, to a quiet lodge that boasted the best food in the area, and plenty of solitude, as well as the chance to hunt a little and all of that was exactly what he wanted. If he had to be relaxing, this was a good place to do it.

There was a small pub he could drink at every night, moors to walk in the morning, and a large sitting room with a huge fireplace where he could read as the day went on. There was forced radio silence between he and Q Branch, and there wasn't good enough cell service to text regularly with Q, so after two or three days Bond was missing his favorite genius quite a bit, enough to consider driving out of the area just to have a chat, or to risk talking via comms.

But he forced the feelings aside and went down to the pub for his usual pint, ready for some relaxation and another quiet, cold night, which in all actuality sounded wonderful.

Of course, Bond had the sort of luck that all agents did, and quiet evenings were never quiet for long, so when someone new stepped into the pub and headed right for him, Bond knew his night was most likely ruined.

“Can I help you?” He asked the man cooly, and really rather rudely, because he was fairly certain the scowl on his face had served as a fuck off sign so no one would bother him. The pub might have been peaceful but Bonds thoughts tonight couldn't seem to stay off of Q and that was driving him crazy, so he really couldn't believe the man had just sat down like he was welcome.

“Why don’t you just–” The stranger tapped his own ear, indicating Bonds earpiece, and Bond raised his eyebrow, but turned off his comm anyway. He didn't even know why he was wearing it, bloody habit was all, it was muted on his end and Q wasn't going to say anything unless there was an emergency so there wasn't any point. But he turned it off anyway, going so far as to remove it from his ear and set it on the table.

“That’s better, thank you.” The man smiled cheerfully. “Now listen here–You have just a few minutes before the biggest prick in the British government descends on you on some nosy self righteous mission that I couldn’t talk him out of. Oh, and he will be accompanied by a gorgeous twat in a ridiculous coat who will probably glare at you before announcing something rude, but don’t take it personally, he’s like that with everyone, yeah?”

“Why will these gentlemen be invading my peace and quiet?” Bond queried. “And why should I stick around and listen?”

“You’ll stick around because the older one has this entire town locked down and access to every camera in the area so if you run he might just have you killed and skip the conversation all together.”

“And?” Bond was unimpressed, and the man looked him over with renewed interest.

“And it would help your present situation to listen to what he has to say. Not worried at all, are you? Brave of you.”

“Who are you?” Bond cocked his head. “And what do you know about my present situation?”

“Doctor John Watson, or Captain John Watson, if you prefer. And I know more than you think, because I share a flat with the one in the coat, and he isn’t near as subtle as he thinks he is when planning devious schemes.”

“And you came to warn me, Dr. Watson? Why’s that?” Bond drummed his fingers irritably on the table top.

“Because I’ve been at the receiving end of one of these exact talks.” Watson leaned across the table. “It isn’t fun, but for the love of god don’t mouth off or else–” he shut up abruptly when the door to the pub swung open and two men entered, both tall, one wearing the before-promised ridiculous coat and the other carrying an umbrella.

“You live with the gorgeous one, hm?” Bond said softly, and the doctor grimaced.

“Been trying to shag him for a year now. Bloody git wouldn’t notice if I threw myself at him naked and covered in oil.

“Shame, that.” Bond let his eyes trail over the John’s body critically, his gaze warming appreciatively and the man wet his lips before grinning. “It would seem he has no idea what he is missing.”

“Cheers, mate. Always nice to be appreciated.”

“Indeed.” Bond started to smile. “So if you aren't in fact shagging him then--”

“Commander Bond.” Their moment was broken by the man with the umbrella, who inserted himself into their conversation with the kind of ease that came with years of having his every order obeyed without question. “Do you know who I am?”

“No.” Bond said shortly, and the other one with the long coat narrowed astonishingly colored eyes in his direction, obviously studying everything about him. Bond returned the look boldly, letting every bit of his disdain show in his face. “Should I?”

“Commander Bond, my name is Mycroft Holmes.” The man stamped his umbrella on the floor once for emphasis. “And you are going to stop fucking around with my little brother.”

“Sorry, what?’ Bond sent John a quick look. “Your little brother, was it?”

“He didn't know.” The one in the coat announced. “Look at him. He has no idea.”

“Mm. That doesn't make this any better for him, I'm afraid.” Mycroft muttered and across the table John rolled his eyes, obviously having seen the brothers together enough to be annoyed by their manners.

“You know him as Q.” Mycroft said, and suddenly he had every bit of Bonds attention. “You are going to stop playing this ridiculous game with him, or I will bring the entire heel of the British government down upon your head and crush you like a bug, do I make myself perfectly clear?”

Bond took a moment, took a long drink and looked the men over. “Your little brother, is he?”

“You are acting dumber than you really are.” the one in the coat leaned too close into Bonds space. “Why is that?”

“Sherlock, don't.” John shook his head. “Don't start that. You don't need to do that.”

“Sherlock.” Bond repeated. “Mycroft and Sherlock? Is Q’s real name something as ridiculous?”

“At this rate you will never know.” Sherlock had a baritone that was little more than a rumble and Bond realized with a start that if the man wasn't such a prick, he’d be attracted to him.

Unfortunately, Sherlock realized it too.

“You are attracted to me.” he stated, a little overly loud. “But not because of me, because I resemble Q with dark hair and greenish eyes. Also our frames are similar and an Alpha male type like you prefers a man that nearly feels like a woman in your grasp. Struggling with our bisexuality are you?” he tapped his chin. “No, no not struggling. Enjoying it, but actively avoiding women because your heart was broken by a dark haired woman some time ago, which makes it interesting that you still cling to brunettes, instead of chasing after blondes in an effort to avoid the memories. Your right shoulder is injured, an old one, I would think because it only seems to hinder your movement when you are unsure of something, like now, even though it was perfectly steady when you took your earpiece out of your ear a few moments ago.”

“You are put off by Mycroft which is understandable, but not by me, again drawing on the familial resemblance, but I can assure you, Commander Bond, that I am in no way like my brother other than the brilliance that we all have in spades. You should be much more worried what a man like myself can do to you, since Mycroft can posture and bitch all he wants but as a 00 agent, you have the government's protection from him but not. from. me. And I can assure you, Agent, that if I in any way think you are sniffing after my brother, I will in fact destroy you and leave you in some desolate alley for Scotland Yard to find you and I promise you I have seen my fair share of desolate alleys, so believe me when I say I can put you in the worst one in England.”

Bond sent a stupefied glance towards John, who looked about six shades of annoyed with the whole business, then back at Sherlock who was waiting with a triumphant smirk, obviously impatient for Bond to ask how the hell he had known so much.

Bond wasn't about to give him the satisfaction.

“I am attracted to you.” he began. “Or at least I was until you opened your mouth. Has anyone told you that you resemble a fishwife, harping on like that? I do enjoy Q’s slimmer build but not for the reason you think, simply because I enjoy how he fits together with me. Trust me, I prefer my men to be--” a meaningful glance towards John. “-- men, preferably soldiers, because no one shags quite like a soldier on leave. My heart was broken by a brunette haired bitch, but the only way you would know that is if Q told you, because there isn't a single brunette girl in this place for you to have noticed me staring at or avoiding at all.”

“My injury is from some time ago, but was re-injured just this last week. I'm put off by Mycroft because of that ridiculous umbrella, and by you because you think you know everything when in fact you miss the most obvious things. I have no doubt that you know many terrible alleys, the way your eyes are darting about and you are licking your lips would look like anxiety or perhaps watchfulness, but on you they are obvious signs of a drug user. Heroin, perhaps, since you are much too high maintenance for a simple bump of coke and entirely too posh to try something as dirty as meth.”

“You see, Holmes and Holmes, I have spent my entire life training to do exactly what it is you two do, whether it's using my position in MI6 to threaten people, or trying to scare them with observations that they consider amazing. The fact is, neither one of you intimidate me, but I will apologize in advance for everything of me you will have to hear about from Q. It is terrible annoying to listen to your sibling wax poetic about a lover, isn't it?”

Sherlocks mouth actually fell open in surprise, and Mycroft glared daggers at him, but across the table, John burst out laughing. “Bloody brilliant. You’ve managed to shut them both up at the same time! I'll buy you a drink for that!”

“I'll accept, thank you.” Bond smiled in satisfaction, completely ignoring the brothers fuming above him. “I can't imagine this will happen ever again in these two’s company, so I suppose we should celebrate.”

“It’ll never happen again, believe me.” John grinned, and waved the waitress over for a round.

Mycroft gathered his dignity and left without another word, but Sherlock stared between the two of them for a moment, looking both mystified and concerned. “John, are you staying?”

“Yep.” John sent Bond a wink. “Think I'll stay and have a drink or two.”

Bond lifted his glass. “Stay as long as you want.”

***********************

Johns phone buzzed for the eighteenth time in the last hour, and he pulled it from his pocket with a sigh. “Well, Sherlock is working himself into something of a panic. I suppose I should get back to the room before he starts causing damage.”

“High maintenance, much?” Bond drained the last of his beer. “Good luck with that one.”

“Good luck with yours.” John returned. “Even though I suppose Q is the easiest of the bunch. Mycroft is wound so tight I think he might actually snap, and Sherlock is completely neurotic, nearly mad, and obsessing over something different every single week.”

“And you want to shag him anyway?”

“You saw him. Bloody gorgeous man.” John shrugged, licked his lips. “Plus, there is something...else. Something beneath that frightening intelligence and lack of manners that is fragile and breakable and I-- I want to be the one to make sure he doesn't fall to pieces, yeah?”

“Which is why you have been drinking with me for hours instead of going to see him?” Bond’s eyes sparked good naturedly and John grinned right back at him.

“It does him some good to remember that people other than him find me interesting.”

“Hm.” Bond pushed his glass away. “Well I'd like to keep you, since you are very interesting, but I won't. Go tend to your genius.”

“I could say the same for you, if yours was here.” John stood when Bond did, grabbing his coat and scarf. “And as much as I'd like a go at you, I wouldn't want to take you from Q, or have the man angry with me. He scares me nearly as much as the others with all he can do on his computers.”

“Cheers.” Bond said lightly. “If either of us end up unattached at some point, we should revisit this moment, hm?”

Johns eyes lit in interest, and before they parted ways in the street, he scribbled down his number and shoved it Bonds pocket. “Even if all you want to do is get together and bitch about our respective Holmes’.” and Bond laughed out loud before heading down the street towards his rooms.

Halfway there he tapped his earpiece on. “Q?”

“Bond? Are you alright?” Q answered immediately. “You shouldn't be contacting Q Branch unless it is an emergency. What’s going on?”

Bond smiled at hearing his voice. “Everything is fine. I just had a very interesting conversation with one Dr. John Watson.”

“Dr John Watson-- oh no. No no no.”

“And then I had an equally interesting conversation with a tall man with an umbrella, and another one in a long coat with a penchant for saying whatever the hell he wants whenever the mood strikes.”

“Oh bloody hell.” Q sounded completely horrified. “Bond, I promise I had no idea they would-- I can't even begin to-- honestly what the fuck were they---”

“It's fine.” Bond cut in. “We had a pleasant chat and they went on their way. “

“I highly doubt it was pleasant.”

“Either way, it was all fine.” Bond opened the door to his rooms. “The good doctor and I had a lovely visit after the other two left.”

“Oh?” Q’s voice was guarded, perhaps a little jealous, which Bond found very surprising. “And what did you and Watson talk about that was so lovely?”

“Seems as if we both care a frightening amount for dark haired geniuses with wicked tongues and beautiful eyes. However he has his genius here with him, while I am alone. It's a shame, really.”

“...A frightening amount, is it?” Q cleared his throat. “Are you enjoying your time offline, 007? Even if it is alone?”

“I'd enjoy it more with company, Quartermaster.”

“...I see.”

“Do you?”

“I am beginning to.”

“Well, when you see the entire picture, give us a ring.”

“I...will. Good night, 007.”

“Quartermaster.”

*********************

When the door to Bond’s room creaked open almost five hours later, the agent didn't say a word, just propped himself up on his elbow and waited in the dark for the shadowy figure to come all the way inside.

Then he flung the covers back on the bed and patted the mattress loudly, and when the slim body lay down hesitantly, he tugged them closer, turning until they were spooning and he could bury his face in the riot of dark curls.

“Good night, James.” Q whispered and Bond pressed a tiny kiss to the back of his neck.

“Good night, Quartermaster.”

*******************************

#ncts fics #00q #james bond #quartermaster #johnlock #bondlock

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