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#(retrieve dummy and deliver to hand)
ummmlife · 2 months
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first-time dad nanami headcanons
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first-time dad nanami who cried when his partner told him they were going to be parents
first-time dad nanami who gets the couvade syndrome and suffers the morning sickness more than his partner
first-time dad nanami who will ask the obstetrician a lot of questions about his baby when this isn't even a fetus yet
first-time dad nanami who will get up happily from bed the first times to get his partner's their night cravings but later will struggle more and even steal slices of the weird food combinations he has to make
first-time dad nanami who almost fainted the first time his partner had random contractions
first-time dad nanami who nuzzles his nose on his partner's baby bump and kisses it everytime he says "i love you" to his baby
first-time dad nanami who is already making saving accounts to save money for college of his, still unborn, baby
first-time dad nanami who once got kicked by his baby on the face when he was snuggling with his partner and giving them belly rubs and belly kisses
first-time dad nanami who holds his partner's baby bump from behind so they can rest a bit
first-time dad nanami who will get annoyed as hell when, at the baby shower, gojo gifted them a baby t-shirt that says "i get my good looks from my uncle"... even though neither him nor his partner are blood related to him
first-time dad nanami who almost drops his job when his partner was on the last stages of their pregnancy just to take care of them better
first-time dad nanami who couldn't do so since they need the money
first-time dad nanami who got anxious when his partner's water broke in the middle of the night
first-time dad nanami who partner had to remind him that they have time and there's no need to run to the hospital
first-time dad nanami who is more than ready to receive his baby... theoretically
first-time dad nanami who curses under his breath when his partner grabs and squeezes his hand hard af when they get a contraction, but doesn't mind since he's about to meet his baby
first-time dad nanami who fought the need to faint when he was seeing his partner deliver their baby, a whole new experience
first-time dad nanami who cried when he heard his baby's crying for the first time
first-time dad nanami who didn't want to hold his baby because... well, his baby is just so small and he's so big and he was scared of accidentally dropping the baby
first-time dad nanami who looks 24/7 for his baby, even when the baby is asleep and completely fine
first-time dad nanami who reads tons of books about parenting for dummies because he's worried and doesn't want to be a bad father
first-time dad nanami who comforts his partner everytime they get overwhelmed by their baby
first-time dad nanami who is already trying to get all the benefits from the government ¹ and his job ² now that he has a baby
first-time dad nanami who tries to sing for his baby to sleep, even if he's not good at singing
first-time dad nanami who can't help but stare at his baby with love, this little person is the living proof of his and his partner's love and he will protect both with his life
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References ;
1. "Information on recent reform of Japanese Social Policies". www.ipss.go.jp. Retrieved 2017-12-07.
2. Rendon, Maria Jose. "Family Policy in the US, Japan, Germany, Italy, and France: Parental Leave, Child Benefits, Family Allowances, Child Care, Marriage, Cohabitation, And Divorce". webcache.googleusercontent.com. Archived from the original on 2019-08-15. Retrieved 2017-12-07.
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roohuh · 10 months
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“Did your bag grow wings?”
Sebastian Sallow x Reader
Summary: Sebastian takes pity on a girl who’s bag has been stollen by bullies.
Warnings: angst kinda, hospital and chronic illness trigger
Word count 1066
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Sebastian eyes the girl as she awkwardly tries to scramble up a tree to retrieve a bag caught in the branches. After a few failed attempts she stands hands on her hips staring up at the bag, a forlorn look darkening her brow.
“Did your bag grow wings?” He asks in his most serious voice, scrutinizing the bag. Turning to Sebastian the girl seems to only now notice him.
“Oh just leave me be!” She pleads before bending over to pick up a rock.
“As you wish.” Sebastian chuckles, throwing his hands up, backing away. The girl rolls her eyes, then begins to throw rocks at her bag.
“You will never get it down like that.” Sebastian laughs at her struggling. “Where is your wand?” Whipping her head around the girl catches Sebastian off guard with a tearful face. She looks as if she is going to say something then turns around, running away with all of her might.
“Hey wait up!” Sebastian calls, whipping out his wand, retrieving the bag. The girl does not stop for his call, instead running back to her house. Standing there dumbly Sebastian grasps the bag, feeling the shape of a wand inside.
“Dummy, you need your wand.” Sebastian shakes his head walking in the direction the girl ran. He does not make it far before he hears soft crying coming from the girls bathroom. Wavering before the door, Sebastian tries to decide the correct course of action, knowing he could just give her bag to a house elf and be done with it. They would return it to the rightful owner, however the sound of muffled cries tugs at him.
“Merlin's beard this better not backfire.” Sebastian sighs before pushing open the door and walking in. The crying stops the second the door opens.
“I have your bag.” Sebastian offers, hoping he has not just stumbled across another different unfortunate girl. Sniffles come from the stall furthest from the door.
“Do you want your bag or not?” More silence. As Sebastian turns to leave a small voice comes from the stall.
“Please leave my bag.”
“She speaks!” Sebastian laughs as he gently sets the bag down in front of the stall.
“Thank you.” Her voice is small and shaky.
“Anytime.” As he turns to leave a thought occurs to him. “Who threw your bag in that tree?” There is a long silence then the girl lets out a shaky breath.
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Yes it does.” Sebastian’s voice is firm.
“Then I did it.” She shoots back defiantly. Running his finger through chestnut hair Sebastian chuckles.
“You are a strange one.” Then makes his exit.
As Sebastian sits to dinner he watches with satisfaction as the girl's bullies shuffle over to where she sits. Sebastian easily tracked down the cuprates teaching them a lesson they would not soon forget. The group of thrashed malcontents cast fearful looks in Sebastian’s direction while they deliver their apology to the girl. She too keeps sending looks in Sebastian’s direction, and the looks do not stop after the dejected group of miscreants shuffled to their seats. Before Sebastian can finish half of his plate he notices the girl standing excusing herself from the table. Unable to contain his curiosity, Sebastian stands to follow the girl. At his friends sudden movements Ominis gives Sebastian a funny look.
“Going somewhere?”
“The toilet, I need some air.” Sebastian mumbles as he makes his escape ignoring Ominis objection,
“Oh yes, just the place I go for fresh air.” Sebastian follows the girl unnoticed as she leads him all the way up to the infirmary, then sits on a bed expectantly.
“Did those troglodytes hurt you?” Sebastian snaps. She whips her head around, surprised by his sudden appearance.
“I swear I’ll-“ Sebastian’s treats are cut off by a soft giggle from the girl.
“I thought I heard someone behind me.” Sebastian stuffs the floor with a shoe putting his hands in his pockets.
“I… Well, I was worried that maybe they had said something nasty to you. Never can count on a bully to give a good apology.”
“I don’t know what I have done to earn your protection.” She raises an eyebrow to the freckled face before her.
“I just can’t stand to see a pretty girl cry.” Again Sebastian is given an eyebrow. Before the girl can give her retort the nurse walks in. At the sight of Sebastian standing there the nurse pauses giving the girl a funny look, to which she just shrugs in response.
“And how are we feeling today?” The nurse asks, hovering her wand over the girl as a dim green light is emitted from the tip.
“Fine.” She replies dismissively.
“That bad?” Stopping her work the nurse study’s the girl's face. “How many fits did you have?”
“Five.”
“Goodness me child! You know you are supposed to come and see me the second you have more than three.” Thrusting a vile of a sweet smelling potion into the girl's hands the nurse hurries away.
“I’ll be back.” She calls. As she drinks the liquid, a chill causes her whole body to tense.
“Are you alright?” Sebastian’s worried voice brings her eyes back on him.
“That’s a broad question.” She teases.
“I guess it is.” He rubs the back of his head. The sight is so reminiscent of his own sister trying a slew of potions given to her by a nurse who always wore the same worried expression. At the thought Sebastian begins to feel queasy. He sits on the ground.
“Are you alright?” Now it’s the girls turn to look concerned.
“That’s a broad question.” He mocks her tone. Looking down at her hands the girl seems to say more to herself then Sebastian.
“My second year at Hogwarts. I was in an accident. Had to take a year off to recover.” Sebastian stands again feeling guilty, he knew she had not wanted to be followed here and by the way she is sitting now she still does not want him here.
“I’m sorry.” He stammers as he backs toward the door. “I will give you privacy now.” All of his usual suave demeanor gone, he fumbles with the handle.
“Thank you.” She calls after him. “For your help today. With those jerks and my bag. Thank you.” He nods before disappearing out the door. He needs to find Ominis.
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huntmark · 1 month
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Why Gun Dog Training is Better with Waterfowl Retriever Training Dummies
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Waterfowl retriever training dummies are invaluable tools in the arsenal of gun dog trainers, providing a versatile and effective means of honing a gun dog's retrieving skills in preparation for the challenges of waterfowl hunting. In this article, we explore the benefits of waterfowl retriever training dummies, the materials they use, and how they can enhance the training of gun dogs for success in the field.
Versatility and Durability of Materials
Waterfowl retriever training dummies are typically constructed from durable materials such as canvas, rubber, or plastic. These materials are designed to withstand the rigors of training sessions in various environments, including water, marshes, fields, and forests.
Canvas dummies offer a balance of durability and realism, closely resembling the size, shape, and texture of actual game birds. Rubber and plastic dummies are often buoyant and resistant to water, making them ideal for water retrieves and training exercises in wet conditions.
Simulation of Realistic Retrieving Scenarios
Waterfowl retriever training dummies simulate the size, weight, and texture of game birds, providing a realistic training experience for gun dogs. By practicing retrieves with dummies, dogs become familiar with the sensation of carrying and delivering game birds, preparing them for the demands of actual hunting scenarios.
The use of waterfowl retriever training dummies allows trainers to replicate specific retrieving scenarios encountered in waterfowl hunting, including retrieving from water, marshes, or dense cover. This enables gun dogs to develop proficiency in various retrieving environments and adapt to different challenges they may encounter in the field.
Enhancement of Retrieving Skills
Waterfowl retriever training dummies serve as invaluable tools for developing and refining a gun dog's retrieving skills. Trainers can use dummies to teach dogs proper holding, carrying, and delivery techniques, as well as reinforce obedience and steadiness during retrieving exercises.
By incorporating waterfowl retriever training dummies into training sessions, gun dogs learn to focus on the task at hand, maintain concentration amidst distractions, and execute retrieves with precision and efficiency. This results in improved retrieving abilities and greater confidence in the field.
Building Confidence and Enthusiasm
Training with waterfowl retriever training dummies builds confidence and enthusiasm in gun dogs, igniting their natural retrieving instincts and eagerness to work. Dogs quickly learn to associate the retrieval of dummies with positive reinforcement and rewards, fostering a sense of excitement and anticipation for retrieving tasks.
The use of waterfowl retriever training dummies allows trainers to gradually increase the difficulty and complexity of retrieving exercises, challenging dogs to overcome obstacles, navigate different terrain, and retrieve multiple dummies in succession. This builds confidence and enthusiasm in gun dogs, preparing them for the unpredictable and demanding nature of waterfowl hunting.
Conclusion:
Waterfowl retriever training dummies are indispensable tools for gun dog trainers, providing a realistic and effective means of developing a gun dog's retrieving skills in preparation for waterfowl hunting. Constructed from durable materials and designed to simulate realistic retrieving scenarios, these dummies enhance a gun dog's abilities, build confidence and enthusiasm, and prepare them for success in the field. By incorporating waterfowl retriever training dummies into their training regimens, trainers can ensure that their canine companions are well-prepared and proficient retrievers, capable of meeting the challenges of waterfowl hunting with skill and confidence.
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cactihawkeye · 3 years
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chickenparm · 2 years
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Man, y'all have really been sleepin' on how cute Chuck (Thieram) is! Is nobody really thinking about how cute it would be to see his dumb face get all bashful if you started flirting with him at the bar daily? Stumbling over himself like a lovestruck dummy? C'mon, guys!
alright i've been pondering on this one for a while now and at the risk of bringing on another marcus-pocalypse i'm going to take this bait. please don't let this bite me in the ass.
Thieram(Chuck?)/gn!Reader 1,838 Words - NSFW Insertion Sex, Spit as Lube, Boning in a Storage Closet, Dig Bick
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"Are you gonna fire Chuck if I weasel free drinks out of him?"
"How many?"
"Is there like... a limit to how many you'll allow before you fire him? I assumed it was one."
Silco's chair turns just enough to level you with one red eye. You can already see the monologue running through his head, a lament over why he bothers to keep you employed here when you spend far too long in his office after delivering your reconnaissance reports. Jamming your hands in your pockets, you rock yourself back and forth on your heels until that red eye flicks to the ceiling in a sign of exasperation.
"Keep it bottom-shelf bottles, I can't afford to find someone willing to work weekends," Silco relents, turning his chair once more so he's hidden from your view. That's about as much permission you're going to get, and you grab it with both hands and run with it.
"Thanks boss, have a good night."
Before the door shuts behind you, you hear his quiet scoff at your short goodbye - you take it for what it is, and appreciate his enthusiastic well-wishes. He hadn't told you outright to take a long walk off a short cliff, and anything short of that is him being pleasant.
The night is already in full swing by the time you make it onto the main floor of the bar. Your target is behind the bar, pouring a shaker of something purple into a glass before sliding it down the bar. That was surprisingly smooth, you'd give him that.
"Chuck! Lookin' good tonight," You lean an elbow on the bar right in front of where he was filling up a cup of ice, and he drops the scoop into the basin in surprise. Chuck doesn't look at you in the eye, instead focusing on one of your cheeks as he stammers out a response you can't quite catch with the pounding of the music.
"Sorry, what was that? I was distracted," You urged him, leaning a bit so he'd look you in the eye - and the moment you catch him with your gaze, you make a show of letting your eyes drag over as much of him as you can see from where you're leaning.
"I-I asked what I can get you-"
Chuck is already skittish, you can't afford to scare him off with something egregious, so you settle for planting your chin on your hand and blinking up at him. Focusing entirely on his lips, you murmur some incomprehensible.
Hook, line, and sinker - Chuck leans in to hear you better, and you repeat the gibberish. Even closer, and you surge forward to press a kiss to his cheek, "Just that, babe."
Maybe that was too much with how quickly he backs off, but to his credit, he doesn't actually run from you. He just awkwardly stands out of your reach and flicks his eyes between the bartop and your face.
"I-I meant to drink," He urges - too quiet to really hear, but you can read lips well enough that you get his drift. You point behind him at one of the lower bottles on the bar, one that he'd have to bend over to retrieve. An easy enough request, and you make a show of checking out his backside as he turns back around.
Chuck looks like he's nearly ready to combust at this point, and you make a big show of patting down your pockets for money before coming up empty-handed. The glass is set in front of you, and you know you've won by the time his face turns red and he pointedly walks away.
That's the first of four drinks that night, and by the time you're ready for your fifth, everything is beginning to wind down. The stool you're perched on is sturdy enough that you feel comfortable turning it back and forth as Chuck stands before you with fingers drumming on the bartop.
"You uh... You know my name's not Chuck, right? It's Thieram?"
"Why'd you say your name like it's a question? Is it Thieram, or are you asking me if it's Thieram?" You're surprisingly deft with your words when you've had a few drinks, and Thieram seems unsteady with how quick you're able to shoot back at him.
"It's Thieram," He repeats, and you grin with a bit too much teeth before you take a sip of your new drink and swallow. Greedily, his eyes follow the line of your throat, all the way to where your shirt cuts off his view.
"Thieram," You start, catching his attention on your face once more, "I think I like babe better. You look like a babe," Thieram is blushing again, and you've reached your limit on drinks for the night so you push him further, "Could be my babe tonight, if you wanted."
Time stops for a moment, and you can see the wheels in his head working overtime while he tries to comprehend when you're propositioning. Deliberately, you take another sip of your drink and wait for his answer.
It doesn't take as long as you expect. His fingers rise to his throat to loosen the tie he was wearing tonight, and finally he murmurs, "I'll be done at four."
"An hour and a half? Babe. You've got someone else working here tonight, you can't go to the back room for supplies? Silco does want some inventory done before the end of the month..."
The look he gives you is so wide-eyed that you're sure you've played this game too roughly and he's going to back out. To your immense surprise, his chin jerks to the door that lead to the back rooms, and you scurry toward it. Holy shit, he's got way more balls than you thought he did.
Finding the stockroom isn't hard, and picking the locks that required you to get to it were painfully easy. They're more for show than anything - anyone stupid enough to try and rob the Last Drop is too stupid to pick through a couple locks. You don't bother to re-lock them behind you - Thieram will be following in your footsteps soon.
Your man finds you in one of the storage rooms lined with non-drink supplies for the bar. You're already tugging your pants down when he locks the door behind him - and then he proceeds to lean against the door like he wants to run out of it.
"Thieram. Stick with me here, babe. You're thinking too much about it," You tell him over your shoulder as your pants slip down enough to give him easy access, "No catch, no trick. You've got about ten seconds before I pull my pants back up and try my luck with someone else."
"Wait, s-sorry," Thieram is already working at the buckle of his belt by the time you finish your sentence. You know he wants it, but the poor guy is either nervous as all hell, or this is his first time, and you're not about to ask which.
But the way he drops his cock between your ass cheeks and rocks against you says volumes about how he's at least been around the block once or twice. The movement isn't as frantic or clumsy as you expect, and he even presses your ass together to wrap around him for a bit of extra friction.
"Don't got a lot of time Thieram, we've been doing foreplay all night," You taunt him a bit, and there's a spark of something in his eye that you barely catch before it's gone. There's not a lot of time to comprehend it before he's bending down to spit on his dick and spread it with a few swipes of his hand. Something about that motion sets your nerves on fire and you're ready.
"Say if you need me to stop-"
"I need you to go, babe, please."
"H-Holy shit, okay," Thieram's hand played on your lower back to brace himself as his cock pushes against your hole. The stretch is immediate - you hadn't gotten a look at his cock before, but this is sublime. You've had some large partners before, but Thieram is... potentially the best.
That doesn't bode well for him, if he was operating under the assumption that this was a one-time event. Especially with how he's rocking it into you with little thrusts instead of jamming you full - it's sweet, about as sweet as the little grunts he's making with every bit further he gets inside you.
"Lights above, Thieram," Your forehead hits the wall just as his hips meet your ass, and you thank whoever's listening that Thieram is on the gentler side because if he'd started railing you right away you're not sure you'd survive it.
"Y'okay?"
"If I'd known your dick was this big the whole time, you'd have never known peace-"
Thieram's cock twitches inside you and you laugh. Of course, that would get him. With a wiggle of your hips, you let him know you're ready, and when he moves you swear he's taking your guts with him. It's a slow drag that you struggle to breathe through - bless him, he's spitting on his dick again to re-wet it - and it's less startling as he rocks back into you.
The pace picks up slowly, and damn if he isn't effortlessly hitting every spot inside you that has you frantically pushing yourself back onto him with little yelps of his name - you're pretty sure you call him Chuck a few times, but he doesn't correct you. He probably can't, considering the circumstances.
Stroking yourself is a no-brainer. It doesn't take you more than a few skilled touches against yourself before you're warning him of your orgasm with a groan of his name. Behind you, he swears - you have to be damn-near strangling him as you bite into your forearm on the wall. Not screaming takes far too much effort, especially when his pace turns wild as he chases his own.
"C-Can I cum inside? Fill you up?"
"Fuck yes you can," Your words are muffled by your arm as you pant into the wall - you're still riding that high and Thieram finishing inside you is the icing on the cake. It takes longer than you expect, but then he's shoving himself so far inside that you can damn near taste him at the back of your tongue.
Thieram groans your name so prettily that you decide in that single moment he's not slipping through your fingers. There's been an absolute diamond sitting there the entire time and now he's got you hooked on what he's got to offer.
The feeling of his lips between your shoulder blades knocks you right out of your reverie - he kissed you. Then there's the feeling of cloth between your legs, and you realize it's his tie that he's cleaning you up with. When he starts to pull your pants back up around your hips, you realize you might be in love.
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flooffybits · 4 years
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After All
Idol: Kim Jisoo (Blackpink)
Request: Yes
Anon: Can I get a Jisoo scenario where she’s a princess and reader is assigned as her personal guard? Reader is a knight famous for being extremely skilled yet cold and stoic so Jisoo thinks she hates her? The reader almost dies protecting jisoo from an assassin and thats where she confesses she never hated her and actually loved her thanksss
Warning: blood, some violence?
Author’s note: wasn’t exactly my best work so im sorry for this
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As a young girl, Jisoo’s had everything handed to her. Whatever she asked for, her father made sure she would get, and if anyone tried to bring her harm would always find themselves at either the end of a blade or locked in the dungeons.
Kim Jisoo is the kingdom’s most prized possession, so it was understandable to have guards posted at every corner to ensure her safety. No man or woman was allowed to touch her unless no threat was found from them.
Despite having everything handed to her on a silver platter, Jisoo had manners. She was never snobby nor did she use her authority to make others feel inferior to her. She was a kind-hearted soul that earned the people’s love and respect.
You, on the other hand, were born from a poor family. While your parents slaved away, they found that they could not keep you safe if you were to stay with them, so they had given you to to royal family to be trained to serve, not only them but the entire kingdom.
This, in turn, caused various of the castle residents to whisper. Words of either pity or disgust was all you’ve ever heard while growing up, which then caused you to turn away from everyone, acting like a lone wolf and distancing from every person there. The only times you’ve ever interacted with anyone was when you were ordered to deliver things to the king and queen or when you were called to train.
It was one day while you were training did little Jisoo see you, separated from the guards and others in training as they enjoyed their meal. She wondered why you, someone who looked to be around her age, was all alone and covered in dirt and grime whilst the people around you happily chatted and acted without a care in the world.
“Should you not be eating with the others?” Her curious tone rang in your ears just as the wooden sword came into contact with one of the dummies your superiors had you use for practice.
Turning around, you know right away that this was no ordinary girl, given the way she stood, dressed, and spoke. But with the years you’ve been stuck in the castle, seeing Jisoo in person was never a privilege you’ve come to stumble upon.
Until now.
“You mustn’t be here, princess.” She pouts as her question goes unanswered, at the same time, being told that she was prohibited from being in the training grounds. She huffed before raising her nose to the sky. “I can come here as I please. I must see that our guards are fit in protecting the kingdom!” She proclaimed with such childlike glee that you can’t help but find it endearing.
Yet your mask never falters as you watch her before shaking your head. “I assure you that the guards are doing their best, princess.” You tell her while looking down to the wooden sword.
Before the young girl could say more, there was the sound of footsteps coming closer until maids have swooped in to take the princess back into the castle and Jisoo is left looking over her shoulder to see you turning your back on her and resuming what she had interrupted.
..
Since that day, Jisoo has been curious as to who you were. Before she could have asked for your name, the maids came in to retrieve her and she mentally cursed herself for not asking as soon as she spoke.
She makes it a habit to pass by the training grounds as much as possible, telling her father once that she only did it to make sure that the guards were not slacking off. She couldn’t possibly tell him that she’d gotten interested in one of the guards in training unless she wanted the guard exiled from the castle.
But one day, she hadn’t expected her father to assign her a new guard. “Your former guard is not fitted to continue looking after you, dear daughter.” The king told her when she asked him about his reasoning. “But Taewo has been my guard since I was thirteen. How is he not fit after five long years?” She questioned, and her father shook his head.
“It is not something I wish to discuss further. The reason I asked you to come here is to meet your new guard.” Truthfully, she wanted to protest. Taewo was someone she’s grown to trust and rely on. He acted like an uncle to Jisoo, and knowing that he would no longer be around made her feel disheartened.
Nodding the to the guards posted by the door, the two bow before opening it, allowing the person waiting to finally enter and Jisoo’s eyes immediately widen at the familiar looking face.
Even though you’ve grown and your face had matured, she was still able to distinguish your eyes. It was the same eyes that had sparked her curiosity since the first time she’s met you.
“This is Y/n L/n, one of our best trained soldiers. They’ve climbed the ranks ever since they were fourteen, and has been a reliable asset ever since. They are one of our youngest commanding officers.” The king explained, but Jisoo’s attention is elsewhere.
She blinks once, twice, a few more times before she looked back to her father, and then back to you.
Y/n.
She repeats your name quietly under her breath, enjoying the way it rolled off her tongue and how nice it sounded.
So after how many years of watching, she finally knew your name, and she would have you close when she needed you. No longer did she have to make excuses nor would she have to watch you from a distance.
“Y/n.” The king addresses you and you lift your head to meet his gaze. “Take care of my daughter.” Despite saying something so simple, it was clear as day. Protect her, or die trying. There was no other option because if the princess was ever harmed, it would be your head.
With a nod, you bow your head. “Until my last breath, your highness.” Jisoo frowns when you refuse to meet her gaze.
Do you not remember her, she wonders. That would be impossible though since she is the princess. Maybe you simply didn’t like her because of her being from royalty. She had everything without needing to ask, yet you worked hard to get where you had to be.
With that in mind, she made it her personal mission to get you to see that she was not like any other noble out there. She was determined to befriend you and get you to open up to her.
Or so she hoped.
Four months of having you as a guard and Jisoo is just about ready to tear her hair out with how frustrating you were. You barely spoke to her, and whenever she tried to ask a bit more less than professional questions, you would completely brush her off.
When she asked you to join her for tea, you would decline, always saying that you could not leave your post or need to be a certain distance away.
You always had an excuse and it was making her lose heart.
Despite that you were more than perfect in protecting her, she wanted to be able to get along with you. But you wouldn’t let her near you, both literally and figuratively.
So one night, while one of her maids were busy drying her hair, she couldn’t help but ask. “Is Y/n… do they hate me?” She asks softly and the woman blinks at her through the mirror before smiling and shaking her head.
“Y/n is a very guarded person, your highness. After being sold off to the family, people have given them a hard time. It’s nothing but orders or training for them, and very few have ever shown them kindness.” She explained as she began to brush the princess’s hair. “Y/n is a person of few words, m'lady, and I know you are trying, but rest assured, they do not hate you.”
After that talk, Jisoo decided to change her approach. She’s let herself actually think about what it was like to be in your shoes, so she takes her time when it comes to you. She knows not to cross a line and she’s learned not to force you into speaking, things that you’ve been able to pick up on.
At first, it confused you, but the longer you’ve spent time with Jisoo, the more that soft spot for her grew. The way she would constantly look after you or when she just asked about your day despite having you by her side throughout the day, it was hard not to like her.
She was unbelievably kind and radiated so much warmth that it drew people to her, you included.
Even when you tried to keep things professional between the two of you, she made it difficult with keeping your defenses up. She was slowly cracking at the ice that surrounded your heart and you weren’t putting much of a fight anymore.
“You should smile more.” Jisoo commented one day when you were accompanying her in the garden. A grunt came from your lips and she giggled as she ran her fingers over the bushes then picking up a single rose. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you do anything other than frown. You’re going to get wrinkles at an early age.” She teased and you roll your eyes at her comment.
“I’m supposed to look intimidating, not friendly.” You quip and her grin broadens because you were speaking much more to her than the first few months that you’ve been assigned her guard.
“I’m the only one here. Surely, I can be an exception?” She asks, brows wiggling in a joking manner and you lightly scoff, shaking your head.
Jisoo frowns at that, her lower lip jutting out into a small pout and you could only groan at her childish behavior.
But when both of you had gone quite, your ears perked up when a rustling sound came. Turning your head, you quickly stood by Jisoo and ushered her to head inside. “What are you doing?” The princess questioned confusedly, trying to push your arm away, but you sent her a glare. “There’s no time to discuss things, your highness. So, please, get inside while I-”
Just as you both got to the door, a hooded figure jumped down in front of you. Since Jisoo was gripping your right arm, you weren’t able to grab your sword in time. Instead, you pushed the princess through the door, hissing as the person’s blade sliced at your shoulder.
When you were sure that Jisoo was in the safety of the castle, you wasted no time in unsheathing your own sword to defend the princess. The person seemed to get the message and lunged at you while Jisoo stared in horror.
You may have been a skilled fighter, but whoever this person was looked like they knew how to fend for themselves just as well because of all the blows that were dealt on your body. Every time your blade in contact with them, they would retaliate.
Blood dripped down your arm, but when you were about to strike the person again, they quickly jabbed at your side before tackling you to the floor. Your sword fell from your grasp while their blade pressed against your neck.
“Any last words?” The asked mockingly and you held your breath, teeth clenched together as you felt the sharp weapon digging into your skin.
While the attacker was busy focusing on you, both of you failed to notice Jisoo reaching for a rock nearby before she’s launching it at the person’s head. It hit with deadly accuracy and you used that as a chance to push them off, grabbing the dagger from their hands before ramming it into their chest.
As soon as he’s down, you lay on the floor with a grunt and Jisoo is hurrying to your side after calling for help, worry etched on her features as she tried to see the severity of your injuries.
“Y/n!” Her eyes are scanning you from head to toe, paling at the amount of blood that stained your uniform. She felt her hands shaking but you gently place your own over them to assure her that you’re fine.
“If you hated me that much, you could have just said so instead of trying to die like that!” She rants, doing her best to make sure that you weren’t hurting as much, but you give her a look of pure confusion at the words she had uttered out.
“Hate you?”
She rolls her eyes and huffs, stilling her hands on her lap, not bothering with the blood that stained her dress. “Well, from the way you’ve been around me, I always thought that you didn’t like me. I thought you were burdened with having to look after me.” Her voice grew quieter the more she spoke and you frown before lightly touching her arm.
“I never hated you.” You mumble softly. “In fact, I was always very fond of you.”
The admission makes her eyes snap back to your face and she’s surprised by the small smile that sneaks its way onto your face, breaking your icy facade. “Ever since we were children, I knew you were different.” You add and she felt her heart leap to her throat as you spoke.
“When you would watch the training grounds, you stick out like a sore thumb.” You chuckle before meeting her eyes again and then shaking your head. “But with the few months I spent with you, you showed me exactly how different you were and, well… I think it’s clarified that I was more than fond of you.”
“Along the way, I found myself loving you.”
Since the day she’s met you, you’ve been stuck in her mind. And to this day, she didn’t think you would make such an impact in her life.
But as she stared at you, despite your bruised and slightly bloodied state, she found herself drawn to you yet again. The gentle smile and the light spark in your eyes, the love, she would do anything just to see that.
So with a smile of her own, she rested her hand against your cheek before pressing her lips to your forehead.
It may have been unconventional, but with you by her side, maybe she wouldn’t mind. After all, her father would never deny her of what she wanted.
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trashystar420 · 4 years
Text
Babysitter Maribat AU AGE Reversed Chapter 2!
“I am very sorry for the delay, Ms. Dupain-Cheng, it is a pleasure to meet you” Bruce Wayne spoke. Marinette had to resist the urge to gap like a fish, because god damn, he hot. Selina definitely knows how to pick em. But due to her years of masking her own emotions with a smile, she responds back in kind.
“The pleasure is all mine, sir” and giving a knowing look to Selina, who rolled her eyes and gave one back.
“Just be sure to treat her right.” She warned playfully, but the venom was there. Selina had to cover herself, lest she burst into a fit of giggles, while the man she wrapped her arms around had to do a double take. Giving a dutiful nod, he starts to introduce his boys.
“This is my youngest son, Dick Grayson.” Mari had to refrain herself from cooing at the adorable kid before her. But the sparkle in her eyes was fully noted by everyone else, and they felt pity for her. ‘She won’t be thinking that for long.’ Bruce thought bitterly.
“My second youngest, Jason Todd.” Jason merely rolls his eyes at her, and Mari can’t help but give a knowing smile.
“My second oldest, Tim Drake.” Said boy was too busy on his phone, and barely acknowledges her. Giving a meek wave. Bruce and Alfred both gave dejected sighs at the rude behavior of the young teen. Damien rolled his eyes, and shakes the hand of his replacement.
“Damien, Damien Wayne” he answers, the Bluenette returns the handshake politely. And with some serious warnings from Bruce, and some recommendations on what to do and what NOT to do, and a lot of pulling on Selina’s part, Bruce reluctantly went. Once the mansion door closed chaos ensued.
“Think you can manage?” Damien asked haughtily. Mari simply rolled her eyes at him and walked towards the two troublemakers. Dick noticed first, and hid behind Jason. Jason made an intimidating face to the Bluenette. Mari gave a nod, knowing that the warning was received. After staring into the young boy’s blue eyes, the babysitter gave a warm smile. One that threw off the the troubled child.
“I know this might seem tedious, but how about we introduce ourselves again? I didn’t get to hear your voices.” She offered. Jason gave a guarded expression, while Dick reluctantly looked up at the Bluenette, still clutching his older brother. Damien could only watch the scene, completely confused as to what was going on, even Tim looked slightly apprehensive.
“My name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng, and I’ll be your babysitter” she outstretched her hand, offering a handshake to the two.” Jason looked at it wearily, but Dick took it first. ‘So cute’ she thought
“D-Dick Grayson” said boy answered timidly. That had Tim and Damien gap. It took Tim a week for Dick to even speak to him. For Damien it took a good year for Dick to gain the courage to look at him. A pang of jealousy went through the older boys. Alfred was shocked again, for the second time.
Giving a warm smile, she spoke.
“I really love your voice, Mr. Grayson, I hope to hear it more.” Dick blushed , but remained eye contact. Jason was smirking.
“And hello to you-“ Mari purposely pauses for Jason to say his name. Jason sighs, and playfully rolls his eyes at his new babysitter. However, that did not deter the young woman’s hand away. The boy reluctantly returned the handshake. Muttering his name, his eyes casted down.
“Jason Todd.” He meekly gave. Marinette has to RESIST the urge to hug out the two precious beans before her. It gets harder by the minute. Jason then pointed out the box she placed on a nearby table.
“What’s that?” He asked hopefully knowing the answer. Dick also noticed the box and was curious as well. Marinette gave another warm smile as she got up from her crouched position.
“How about I show you instead?” As she retrieve the box and opened it. The mansion was flooded with the sweet aromas of the mysterious French pastries. Strawberry, blueberry, chocolate, vanilla, and many more. It was a colorful batch of delicious looking goods. The boys all stared hungrily at the baked goods, wanting them soo badly, but refrained from taking them. Tim also looked hungry, while Damien scowled at the scene before him.
“What are those?” Dick meekly asked, while Jason nodded. She giggles again and responds in kind.
“These are called Macaroons. They are a dessert back in France. I didn’t know what kind of flavors you two liked, so I just made a bunch and hoped for the best.”
“T-t-those are f-f-for us!?!?” Jason pointed to himself and his baby bro. Marinette couldn’t help herself, she was laughing at their stunned faces. It was just soo fricken CUTE.
“Yes. Think of this as a bribe for you two to behave. And if it goes well, then I can come back again with even more treats.” Dick was clutching Jason’s jacket even tighter, while Jason was drooling like a dog. Afred sighed at their rude behavior. Tim was trying so hard not to laugh, while Damien was seething. Whoever this harlot was, is obviously using magic.
“Hey Alfred, is it ok if I can give them their treats now?” She asked, Alfred gave the nod.
“Thank you Alfred!!”
“You da best!!!”
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...
“Do you think the mansion will stay in one place Selina?” The apprehensive bat asked, poking his medium done stake with a fancy fork. Selina rolled her eyes.
“Relax Bruce dear, my girl’s got this. If there is anything you need to know, it’s that Marinette Dupain-Cheng is not a quitter. Trust me, she’s even more stubborn than me.” Bruce still eyes her warily, but let’s out another sign. Selina felt bad for her lover, and put a reassuring hand on his.
“You need to destress a little dear. Say, how about we stay at my place for tonight?” Bruce perked up at the offer, and off the two went to do god knows what (ya I know what they do but do you?!).
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“Wow Pixie-Bob you’re really good at this.” Jason complimented as he was beat yet again in ultimate Mecha strike three. Dick wanted to fight Mari next so the older bro gave the controller to him.
Damien had already left to the bat cave to let off some steam after the events that went on in the house. It was a miracle the house didn’t even burn down yet. Tim was also down there doing a real quick scan over the ungodly stack of papers,on another case in Killer Frost. The atmosphere was tense, until Tim spoke up first.
“What do you think of the babysitter, Demon Spawn” Demon spawn growled at the nickname, but gave his answer.
“A witch.”
“I am genuinely surprised she hasn’t been killed yet. And all those two are doing are playing video games!?!? Like NOrMAL kids!!!! How did she do that?”
Damien also wished to know how a stranger such as her, could lower the guards of his brothers when he’s spent years with them, and never seemed to get along with them.
He proceeds to cut another dummy into sixteen pieces with deathly accurate precision. Sheathing the blade, the older boy made his way to the costume racks.
“What are you doing?” Tim asked, already knowing the answer.
“ patrol” he answered. Tim sighed.
“Well try not to kill anyone demon spawn” he chided. Damien ignored him as he went off into the night as Robin.
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...
“But Mari I wanna stay up longer!” Jason protested to the stern babysitter, already holding a sleepy Dick.
“No means no mister, what did we talk about with behaving?” Mari reminded him. Jason widened his eyes and pouted to the floor. The Bluenette made a sympathetic smile, and gingerly places a delicate finger on the chin of the child.
“How about a bed time story?” Jason practically jumped.
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“I am terribly sorry if any of the boys gave you a difficult time” Alfred began, only to falter when the Bluenette giggles again.
“Don’t worry about it Alfred, the boys were absolute angels.” Now Alfred couldn’t help himself, try as he might, as he started to laugh at that. Marinette gave her farewells and went off into the night. Bruce returned the following morning.
A nervous knock, and Alfred answers the door.
“H-how much damage did they do, oh god I can’t look!” Bruce covered his eyes, wanting to deny the harsh reality that would come to him. However Alfred simply patted the man out of his breakdown.
“I assure you Master Bruce, the mansion is still in one piece, all thanks to Marinette.” Bruce gatherer the remaining courage he had and scanned the entire mansion. Not taking off his coat he ran to every nook and cranny. He checked every closet, only to find them all clean. He checked the bathrooms, bedrooms, hallways and dining halls. Going so far as to check under the rug to see if there were any hidden messes.
Nothing. The mansion stayed in one piece.
“The BATCAVE!!!!” He practically screeched as he bolted towards the supposed secret lair of his ‘secret’ vigilantie work. Only to find that it was neat. Everything was were it was supposed to be.
Feeling his knees go weak, he collapsed to the floor, not caring how he looked and laughed. He fricken laughs. As tears stream down his face. Tears of unbridled joy. The family butler offers him a handkerchief, the bat gladly accepting it.
“I believe a thank you card should be addressed to one Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Along with a rather generous tip, don’t you think?” Bruce was still crying, and only gave a nod. As if out of habit, the man summoned a blank check , signed his name and wrote $10,000 on it.
“Be sure to deliver this to Ms.Dupain Cheng for me Alfred. Make sure to include a gift along with a card as a part of my gratitude. If you will excuse me I need to make a phone call.” Bruce left to recollect his thoughts, while Alfred left with the check already on the task at hand.
Holy shit you guys chapter one was well recieved and I thank you all for reading, liking, and reblogging the shit out of it. I couldn’t wait I had to write chapter two to get it out of my system. You all really mean so much to me ahhhhh
@BlueRosette23
@novicevoice
@weird-pale-blonde-person
@theatrendcomicfreak
@Caffeinetheory
@liawinchester67
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paperbagpetrichor · 4 years
Note
How about the Stardust Crusaders + Iggy (if you can) with a stand user with powers similar to panty/stocking from panty and stocking with garterbelt (can turn their clothes into weapons, for example, their panties into a gun or stockings into a sword)
[ I really loved this idea and enjoy writing fight scenes, so this wound up being super long.  I apologize! ]
Things weren’t looking good.  
The day had started off fine.  The Speedwagon Foundation had flown in and delivered what was prefaced to be a ‘badly-mannered’ stand user to assist the group in their fight against Dio.  And then Polnareff had decided to go poking around, once the door to the back of the helicopter was opened, shooting taunts and questioning if there really was anyone there at all, teasing that whoever it was, they had to be small, or scared, or in other words the complete opposite of what their group needed now, but something black and white and fuzzy had leapt onto his face, furiously ripping out chunks of Polnareff’s beloved hair and farting straight in his face, while Kakyoin, you, and Jotaro exchanged confused looks (or at least as confused as you’d ever seen Jotaro - you were still fairly new to the group, but somehow you’d managed to gather the conclusion that Jotaro wasn’t the most expressive of men) as Joseph explained that Avdol had found the dog.  The stand-using dog.  Reasonably enough everyone but Polnareff was relatively alright with this idea.  As the aircraft took off, the six - seven, if you included Iggy - of you drove off, only to come to an abrupt halt just a while later at the site of that same helicopter from earlier.  
Except now it was in the ground, and the people flying it were either dead or dying.  You cringed as the last one died but simultaneously caught a thought right as the others confirmed it: this was the work of a stand user.  One that none of you knew the location of.  Unfortunate, that.  But you were determined to figure it out, whatever it took, running through possible plans only for the water to spring up and catch Kakyoin in the eyes, slamming him back against the now-tilted car with a groan of pain.  Polnareff raced to help him and you cursed.  There wasn’t any time to waste here.
Something bulky wouldn’t do here.  You needed something that could slash, move quickly and hit precisely, albeit something ranged, unless you wanted to end up like your red-headed friend.  A bit of weight would be necessary unless you simply wanted to stun the enemy, too.  With a final thought, as the rest prepared themselves, readying their stands at their sides, you did more or less the same, save for one key detail: whereas their stands were separate entities entirely, yours was already on you.  The small floral clips in your hair lifted off and flew to your hand, shifting from an innocent accessory to small throwing knives in mere seconds.  As Joseph wrangled Polnareff and Kakyoin - the two farthest away from the car, and the two main targets of the stand - to the top of the car, you got ready to climb on, only to watch as the water continued towards the car.  You shot your first two, hitting the strange stand and slowing it for a moment, distracting it with the noise of the blades crashing against the sand, before hopping into the car as it appeared to evaporate.  Retrieving your weapons, you ensured everyone was inside before speeding apart.
“Attacks through sound - vibrations of the sand. Can go anywhere and come up anywhere.  User not spotted, probably highly ranged,” you repeated the information all of you had gathered aloud as the car raced across the ground.  Polnareff was checking over Kakyoin; the others kept their eyes peeled on the outside, ready to alert you to fight should the stand re-emerge.  Thankfully you managed to catch a moment to spare.  And then you lost it.  The water was already tilting the car before you had time to think.  Everyone caught a grip on the automobile - even you as, with a grunt, you transformed a sock into an icepick and stabbed the sunroof, finding nowhere else to cling to - only for Iggy to jump off.  Instantly you had an army of throwing knives and darts at your side, depleting the entirety of your hairpins into the small, compact weapons.  You’d at least hoped the dog would be smart enough to not get you all killed.
Those hopes were, of course, dashed, as the rest of you found yourself aboard a ship sinking into the ocean, or rather a car sinking into the sand.  You sprung upon your icepick and grabbed a hold of the back of the car while the others did the same, only for a few moments of quiet.
This time, when the water attacked, you were ready.  When it sliced the tires, you managed to slow its pace by throwing your darts right through it, the metal-tipped edges forcing the liquid to spray back, away from the car, confusing the stand enough for your group to hit the ground at the same time, the stand temporarily distracted before vanishing entirely.  Your darts flew back and you readied them without a sound.  Regardless of how unfocused the stand may have gotten, it had certainly heard the six of you land roughly on the ground.  Time to go for round two: new strategy: bring out the big guns.  Your thigh-high socks formed into the heaviest but most functional weapons you could think of in the moment, two bulky oversized rifles, which you promptly threw down a few feet to your sides, the force of your arms and still-transforming guns proving strong and unfinished enough to break into two, four total, now fully-fledged, and as the heavier ends sent sand flying up into the air while the lighter ones hit the ground with just as much force, you prayed it would be enough to fool, or at least disorient, the enemy.  “Nobody move.”
That was the problem: there were six of you, and you’d only created four diversions.  At any moment, two of you (at the minimum, depending on the success of your plan) could be attacked.  With the darts and knives still ready, you didn’t have enough material left to create anything remotely massive enough to throw in place of a human dummy, unless you wanted to lose your undergarments.  Avdol had your back.  His ring trick had seemed to work perfectly, and he summoned Magician’s Red right as the water reappeared, only for the stand to turn around and pinpoint Avdol as its target.  Crap.  No wonder - five footsteps.  It wouldn’t have made any sense if one of you randomly decided to start walking, only to stop so abruptly.  Just as it darted towards Avdol, your darts sprayed the liquid apart, and you threw a piece of the rifle beside you to the ground right as Avdol stumbled back, incapable of covering his steps but crashing right in tandem with the man.  There was still a chance he’d be targeted again, but at least now the odds were equally split.  Nevertheless the man must’ve been hit.  Instead of landing on his feet, he crashed backwards, blood spattering from his neck only for the stand to emerge its true self.  Jotaro darted after it, and grabbed Iggy on his way, eliciting a glare from you at his sudden movements.  Great, now you had more work to do.  You called back your weapons - they had already performed their business - after reminding everyone to not move.  With a flick of your wrist they transformed into javelins.  Despite your own orders, you took off after him, falling into step with Jotaro so as to create only one noise together, masking it by spreading your spears into the ground a safe distance away, creating two different paths.  You were careful to keep the javelins at an uneven pace, always hitting as you and Jotaro took steps in tandem, but adding another every now and then to maintain the illusion that two people were on one path rather than one.  From what you knew of the stand users you’d encountered so far, they’d likely go for the larger opportunity rather than a single person.
Before you knew it Iggy’s stand had emerged and both he and Jotaro were airborne.  You understood it now: Iggy was going to lead Jotaro to the stand user.  And you were going to follow.  You quickened your pace and the rate at which you threw your distractions, keeping just a few feet behind Jotaro should the enemy discover your tricks, watching with hitched breath as The Fool began to sink.  Knowing Jotaro, he was going to pull something.  He was effectively trapped if he didn’t do anything.  He cast a glance over his shoulder at you, and you nodded back, preparing yourself.  The instant his foot pushed him off the ground one of your javelins landed six feet off from his position with enough force to imitate a kick of a footstep.  Joseph’s voice was the only thing that stopped you from following: Jotaro was the only one who could finish the stand user off.  And this offered you yet another opportunity.  
Silently, you stood, still and stiff as a board, before sprinting back to the group.  If someone was to start running, the enemy’s concentration would have to be split from Jotaro to monitoring the other movement, too.  Again, though, it was only a fifty-fifty shot.  Your spears hit the ground feet from you right as your feet hit the ground, racing back to the group, only to reverse their direction once you were at the halfway point.  If you were careful, you could at least lead the stand user away from the group.  This would give you some time to help Kakyoin and Avdol recover along with Joseph and Polnareff.  They were so close now.
And then water sprung up like a wave in front of you.
You cursed.  If you wanted to defeat the enemy, you had to recall your weapons and force them into something more powerful.  This meant your footsteps wouldn’t be covered.  But if you didn’t try, you were doomed.  You called for your stand and morphed the mass of everything you had into a long, curved sword.  If you could get a few hits in, you could at least divert the attacks, without letting them get near the others.  You feigned left and the water followed, only for your feet to leave the ground in a jump to the side and manage to slice through the water.  Just as quickly as you had managed your attack, however, the enemy struck your dominant arm, which held the sword, cutting deep.  You fought back a screech of pain and switched arms.  There wasn’t a chance that you would be as powerful wielding it in your other hand, but you had to buy time.  With a small sigh you shortened your blade and formed some more darts, hitting the ground away from the others in a desperate attempt to mislead the enemy, but by now the stand had managed to discover your tricks.  A gun, although most likely to cause more hit damage, was risky, especially if it had a powerful recoil, which would easily alert the enemy stand both through the noise of the fire and your steps back to counterbalance it.  Just as you struck out once more with your sword, the water suddenly disappeared, just as quickly as it had come.  Nevertheless you remained motionless and cast a warning gaze to the others.  This didn’t guarantee Jotaro had finished off the stand user, especially since the stand could disappear at any moment it chose.  But you didn’t have much of a choice besides moving.  As quickly and lightly as you could go, you made your way back to the car, helping to carry Avdol and the barely-conscious Kakyoin inside before stationing yourself above the now caved-in sunroof.  If something went awry, you were prepared.
But nothing did.
You met up with Jotaro and Iggy, both of whom were panting, and got them into the car.  Jotaro explained the defeat of the enemy, and everyone conscious let out a sigh of relief.  
“I couldn’t have done it without [y/n].”
Your ears perked up at Jotaro’s mention of your name.  “No kidding.  She had you covered the entire time,” agreed Polnareff, casting a nod of approval in your direction.
Joseph leaned back and sighed, adjusting his hat and casting Jotaro a reprimanding but nevertheless warm gaze, grateful that his grandson was still here despite his arguably reckless behavior.  “Thank you.”
“We’re lucky to have you.”  Even Avdol, still bleeding, congratulated you.
Your face flushed at their compliments, but nevertheless you shook your head, prioritizing.  “A celebration can wait.  We need to get Avdol and Kakyoin help.”
Joseph nodded.  “And this time, we’re not going to be followed.”
You could only pray he was right.
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bapyess1r · 4 years
Text
PuNK
Tumblr media
WARNINGS: cursing
Pairings: Rafe Adler x OC, Sam Drake x OC
Tags: @desertvvitch, @tiecladartist, @courtenbae
Chapter 3
Lyric’s POV
There I was. Up at 6 in the morning. Standing in line. At Starbucks. For overpriced coffee. That he probably wouldn’t even finish. My eyes were dried out and my neck hurt a little this morning. ‘I gotta cool it on the head bangin’ tonight…’ I thought.
It was cold as hell and the street walkers of New York seemed ruder than normal. I somehow managed to get up and dress myself; a powder blue collared shirt tucked into a light gray pencil skirt with a well fitted blazer to match. My trench coat was thick enough to keep me warm but still I shivered. I was tired. I had just done a show last night and it was only the beginning. I sang and screamed my heart out and the audience felt my dedication. That was all I asked for. As good as we played, I should’ve been partying with the band. But here I was. Up at 6 in the morning. Standing in a goddamn line. At goddamn Starbucks. Waiting for overpriced goddamn coffee. That he probably wouldn’t even goddamn finish goddammit… “Order for Rafe Adler!” the barista called out. I took a deep breath and rolled my eyes as I went to retrieve the coffee.
When I arrived at work, I greeted the receptionist as I always did, said my what’s ups to the coworkers I was cool with, and entered the conference room to set up the stupid little snack plate and pitcher of ice cold cucumber water. Usually I would set up contracts and paperwork and files on opposite ends of the table but there was nothing like that for this meeting. He’d mentioned a couple times to me last week that the meeting today would be a little unorthodox. So I did the bare minimum and sat waiting. I snuck a few pieces of fruit while I did.
Some time had passed and I checked my watch to make sure I wasn’t crazy. My boss was usually no more than 10 minutes late if anything. I picked up my phone to call him. We told the Drake brothers to be here at 8:30. The first try, it went straight to voicemail at which I hung up and tried again. When he didn’t answer the second time, I left a very stressed out and slightly mouthy message. Then I went to the front desk to ask the receptionist if she’d heard from him. When she said no, I placed my hands on my hips and groaned. I went back to the conference room and sat down to wait a little longer, stress eating the fruit plate. The third time, he answered surprisingly. I gasped audibly in relief.
“What the hell, Rafe?!” I snapped. “It is now going on 8:20 and you are nowhere to be found! Where the hell are you?!” It was silent on the other end until he gave a tired groan.
“Shit…. the meeting.” He said.
“Yeah! ‘Shit! The meeting!’” I exclaimed. He sighed and I heard some rustling on the other end before he finally spoke.
“Are they there yet?”
“No not yet.”
“Good. Then I may have some time. I’ll be there soon. Get them whatever they want.” He ordered.
“Yes, sir.”
“Oh, and Ms. Lewis?”
“Yes, sir?”
“If you ever talk to me like that again, I will have you fired before you even think about having breakfast.” He told me. My heart stopped for a moment. Maybe I was a little too mouthy in my voicemail.
“Yes. Sorry, sir.” I apologized awkwardly before hanging up.
I stayed put and sat resting my head in my arms, staring at my watch. It was now 9:15. Neither Rafe nor the brothers had shown up yet. ‘This is fucking ridiculous…’ I thought. How was it that I was ordered to be present early and I ended up being the only one on time? I groaned loudly, rubbing my fingers against my temples. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. When it opened, a man’s head popped out rather curiously and obviously very lost. He was a little older than myself. Longish curly brown hair pushed back off of his ruggedly charming face. His thick salt and pepper brows raised above his bright hazel eyes almost like a puppy.
“Sorry to bother ya, sweetheart. I was told this was the conference room?” He asked, his voice sounding with a very distinct Boston accent. I made a face and pointed to the words on the door.
“It’s literally marked ‘conference room’...” I said with a bit of attitude. I couldn’t deal with riff raff this early in the morning. He looked at the door and chuckled.
“Ha! So it does. Guess I’m gonna need to invest in a pair of glasses soon, huh?” He said with a handsome grin. A small smile pulled at my lips and I found myself adjusting my hair like a teenager. He was a good looking guy. “Sorry, I’m a little late. Traffic is a bitch here. I’m Sam Drake. I was supposed to be meeting with Rafe here in his…..palace.” He smirked, walking out from behind the door. His little jab at my boss made me chuckle a little but still my stomach flipped at the mention of his name. However, I liked what I saw when he entered the room.
Rafe never mentioned that the Drake Brothers were this handsome. I quite literally had to look up at this man. He was freakishly tall. He wore a denim jacket with the fleece inside, a grey thermal, and dirty jeans with equally dirty work boots. And he had a tattoo of a flock of birds on the left side of his neck. In his long arms he carried a map and a few folders, a backpack slung over his wide shoulders. He put his things down on the table and extended a large rough hand to me. I barely met his chest and I was in heels. When I stood, I awkwardly pushed my hair behind my ear and took his hand to shake it firmly. I was a bit embarrassed that I’d been a little snippy with him.
“Lyric Lewis. Mr. Adler’s Assistant. I’m sorry for my mouth…” I said like an idiot. I hung my head and he chuckled. “I mean, I’m sorry for how I spoke to you when you came in.” I rephrased, suddenly getting lost in his honey colored eyes. I couldn’t stop looking at them. And the worse part of all, was that I was still holding his hand. I giggled nervously, pulling my hand away and taking a step back from him.
“Ah, it's alright. Rafe runnin’ you ragged I see?” He asked as he began to set up whatever he brought with him.
“Tell me about it.” I grumbled and he just smiled.
“Speaking of your boss, he’s not here yet is he?” He asked me.
“No, sir, he’s a little late himself.” I answered. His ears turned a little red when I addressed him that way but it was my job to be polite where Rafe tended to… well not.
“Well good. Maybe we can keep my being late just between us, heh?” He winked at me and it was like I’d been shot with an arrow. He had trouble written all over him and like the dummy I was, I’d fallen for it. I grinned stupidly and nodded. If this was one of the brothers, I couldn’t even imagine what the other was like.
“He doesn’t even have to know, sir.” I smirked. When he finished setting up what looked to be like a couple of maps and tools, he leaned over the table to look inside the water pitcher as the cucumber slices floated about and frowned.
“You got anything other than Rafe’s tears to drink?” He asked me as he sat down in a chair and kicked his large boots up on the table. I tried my best to suppress a laugh and answered his question.
“We have a soda machine…. and coffee from the break room.” I said.
“Regular coffee, right? Not that milky shit people are drinkin’ nowadays?” He asked brashly. I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I burst into laughter and he grinned from ear to ear, obviously scanning my body from head to toe. I placed a hand on my hip and eyed him just as he did me.
“I’m pretty sure it’s just regular shitty office coffee.” I responded, trying to compose myself but I had a smile on my face for once.
“Perfect. That’s all I need.” He said, taking off his heavy denim jacket to reveal an upper body swollen with muscle. I cried inside a little. Just a little.
Just then, the door opened and Rafe came barging in, a cloud of stress looming over him. You could feel it in the room, how he was going to be today, and it wasn’t a very positive vibe. He groaned, sitting his suitcase on the floor next to his chair and shrugged off his pea coat as he sat down in front of his coffee (which was now cold). Before I had the chance to warn him, he’d already taken a sip and he spat it out immediately. Just all over the table, dramatic as hell. I noticed Sam roll his eyes as I sighed. Today was not going to be my day. I didn’t really know what to do at that moment. I just kind of… stared. In surprise.
“This is disgusting!” He snapped, throwing a fit. “Jesus, Lyric, I asked you to do one thing!” He then glanced at the table, looking around. “Where’s my croissant?” He asked me and a light bulb went off so hard in my head that it was visible on my face.
“I completely forgot! I’m so sorry, sir! I can uh…. I can run to the snack machine and get you a Honey Bun or something.” I was rather serious about my answer but clearly he was not amused. He narrowed his eyes at me in annoyance and confusion.
“What the hell is a Honey Bun?” The look on his face was as if he’d just heard a really bad joke. As the words left his mouth, I hung my head. Sam scoffed aloud.
“Sorry, sir. It was a suggestion. But I can order you something small from a restaurant if you’d like.” I mumbled.
“That’s more like it. And when you speak, Lyric, use volume. I can’t hear you for the life of me.” This was all a bit much for first thing in the morning. I could only imagine what got him so pissed off. He rubbed his hands over his face, blinking repeatedly as if he were trying to wake up still.
“Of course, sir.” I replied, pulling out my phone to have food delivered to the building.
“Honestly, Lyric. Your work performance has been going downhill the past two weeks.” He mumbled in irritation. He was right. Ever since Floral and Fading wrote a slew of new songs, we were playing more than just the usual weekend gigs. We’d done a rock festival just last week, several rehearsals on my days off and playing shows… I had been running on fumes for a while now. But I had a feeling that it would be worth it soon. I just had to keep it up a little longer.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Adler. I’ll clean up my act. I promise.” I said, feeling slightly embarrassed that he just chewed me out in front of Sam, who still sat with his legs crossed on the table. After a moment of silence, I could sense Sam’s need to break it.
“Christ, Adler. How bougie can you be?” He said to him, fiddling with the skin on his fingers.
“Good morning to you, too, Samuel.” Rafe sighed, tiredly as he pulled a few things from his suitcase and sat them on the table. “I trust Lyric didn’t give you too much trouble.” He glanced at me for only a second before flipping through the papers he had gathered together. Sam looked at me and smirked.
“Not at all. Your darling assistant has been nothing but helpful to me.” He said, giving me a thumbs up as he made a goofy face.
“That makes one of us.” He snipped, marking notes on a few pieces of paper. I rolled my eyes and looked to Sam, placing my hands behind my back.
“I’ll be right back with your coffee.” I told him politely.
“Thank you, beautiful...” He smirked, admiring my ass as I turned on my heel. I grinned as I put a little extra sway in my hips to give a little show as I left.
Rafe’s POV
I heard Sam wolf whistle as the door closed and I looked up at him a moment as he opened his folders.
“She’s a good lookin’ girl, ay?” He nodded, smiling like a desperate dirty old dog. My eyes never left the paper.
“Who?” I asked, not really caring about the answer.
“Lyric!” He reiterated. My brows furrowed as I looked at him then back to my notes.
“Hmph… I never noticed.” It was true that I hadn’t really paid any attention to my assistant. But then again, I hadn’t paid many women much attention to begin with. Every now and then, if I wanted a good lay, I’d suck it up and socialize for a bit but other than that, I was focused on business. And treasure hunting.
“Oh bullshit, Rafe. You mean to tell me you got a girl like that workin’ for you and you never once took a look at how great her ass is?” He asked me. I shook my head as I continued to look over a few things.
“Not once.” I answered simply.
“Why?!” He exclaimed.
“Because looking at the rear ends of less than average women doesn’t make this company money.” I said. He flexed his lip and nodded.
“Fair enough but I’d say she’s above average. Which you’d know if you took a second to actually look at her when you talk.” I knew exactly what he was getting at.
“I’m not going to sleep with my assistant, Samuel.” I groaned in annoyance.
“I’m not sayin’ you should (even though you should or I will). I’m sayin’ just look at her. Having a beautiful woman like that workin’ for you, that’s a view to take the edge off!” He said. In an idiotic way, I sorta of understood what he meant. But I grunted and changed the subject.
“Where’s Nathan? He didn’t come to lunch yesterday.” I asked and he looked down, biting the skin off his lip.
“Listen, about my brother… I don’t think he’s comin’...” he told me. A bit of anger began to boil in me.
“He what?” I asked through gritted teeth.
“I called around and from everyone is tellin’ me… he’s out. He’s got a wife and all that. Nice job, nice house, the works. I don’t wanna pull him from that if I don’t have to.” He said. I shook my head in disbelief. I couldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth.
“Nate’s out?” I asked.
“Nate’s out…” He mumbled in confirmation. I nodded, trying to accept the small change. I wasn’t happy about not having my full team but Samuel was the expert on the subject of Henry Avery. We were in a search for his lost treasure. But first we needed to track down a clue. The same clue that got this man locked up in a Panamanian jail for what was almost life. The broken, hollow Saint Dismas cross we found 15 years ago had a second. This one was still intact. We just needed to get a hold of it. Whatever was in the other cross was definitely still inside this one. So I bought up all the land around the St. Dismas cathedral in Scotland and sent people to scavenge the area. The problem was that I kept running into all these dead ends. But I could feel it in my bones. We were going to find it no matter the cost.
After a few minutes, Lyric had returned with Samuel’s coffee in hand and she strutted over to sit in front of him. His hand graced over hers a moment as he gave her a smile and a wink. “Thank you, sweetheart.” He said to her before sipping on his drink. Then she turned to me.
“Mr. Adler, I ordered for you a French toast with fruit and a latte.” She told me and I waved her off.
“Yeah, yeah that’s fine….” I mumbled. Suddenly I thought about what Samuel told me. And I don’t know why but the words “look at her” kept ringing in my ears. So I looked up, only to be met with a lovely set of brown eyes. Her dark curls framed her face in the most flattering was; her lashes were long and her makeup was fresh, her lips were perfectly curved and plush. Even with the exhaustion played out on her face, she was still a rather beautiful woman. “Thank you… Ms. Lewis, that’ll be all for now…” I managed to say. She walked over to me and picked up the coffee she brought me and leaned over to clean up the mess I made. I may have caught a glimpse of cleavage as she did but I quickly averted my attention back to the papers and blueprints before me.
“If you need anything…” she glanced at Samuel and they exchanged a cheeky smirk before returning her eyes to me. “I’ll be at my desk. I’ve got a mountain of paperwork I need to get started on.” She said. “I will bring you your breakfast when it arrives, sir.” I nodded as my eyes ran over her features. When she smiled, a pair of dimples imprinted into the skin of her round cheeks. ‘Cute.’ I thought simply. Not really thinking much of it. When she turned to leave, I found myself staring after her, admiring her backside. I hated to admit it but Samuel was right. She had a pretty great ass. I sighed tiredly as he looked over at me, wiggling his thick brows at me with a cheesy grin.
“I saw that, Rafe.” He said as he turned in his seat to face me. I scoffed and rolled my eyes.
“We have work to do.” I said, changing the subject immediately. Today was going to be a long one….
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furuuuba · 5 years
Text
Kyo’s Workout, a furuba fanfic
Rating: E Words: 1330 Angst
(Thanks to @machi-kuragi for being a legendary beta.)
Kyo dropped his gym bag by the door and approached the wing chun. Living in Shigure’s house meant that he had to carve out specific time to practice martial arts. Even with his fights with the rat boy and Haru, he still felt out of practice. He stretched, being sure to loosen up as much as he could before he got into position, feet shoulder width apart, chest open, his hands in fists at his sides.
Martial arts, despite being something used for fighting and getting stronger, always calmed Kyo down. He loved how it felt to have complete control over his body, and that it took up all of his attention. When he was moving, he didn’t need to think about anything. Not school, not the rat, and not his family. He could just be. Most of the time.
The stretches that usually loosened and relaxed his muscles left him feeling stiff and uncompromising. And as he stood in the starting position, his fists were so tightly clenched he felt his fingernails biting into his palms. But that was okay, he told himself. He was-
An outsider.
The wing chun was well worn from hundreds of other practice sessions, its padding peeling away from the two protrusions that seemed to dare him to challenge the mocking voice in his mind. Kyo tried to ignore it. No one else was there. No one was calling him a-
Failure.
Kyo struck the body of the wing chun, moving smoothly from an open palm strike to an abdominal jab, turning at the last moment on the ball of his foot to deliver two more rapid-fire strikes. He barely paused as the movement ended, immediately falling into another string of practiced strikes, punches, and kicks. His intensity soon left no room for hesitation, and it wasn’t long before he was openly striking the wing chun again and again instead of avoiding it. It was bolted in place. It could take it.
You’ll never belong.
Thud.
You can’t beat me.
Whack.
It’s your fault.
Thwack.
His palms burned from his clenched fists and the power of his strikes. The wing chun didn’t move, as it was bolted to the floor. It was stuck in place. It should take it.
Waste of space.
Thud.
Stupid cat.
Thud.
Monster.
Thud.
He struck harder and harder, trying to drive the words from his mind. But as his blows grew, so did the voices.
It’s your fault.
Thud. Thud.
Running away again?
Thud.
She’ll never forgive you.
Thud. Thud.
It’s all your fault.
Thud.
Failure. Your fault.
Thud. Thud.
Your fault outsider your fault running out of time your fault your fault my fault.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
His blows grew frantic, almost desperate as he attacked, his vision blurring as he let out a cry half-choked with an emotion he didn’t dare name. “I KNOW,” he roared, dissolving into a flurry of blows that he didn’t let himself feel.
His last punch went wide, and he nearly collapsed onto the wing chun, his face slick with salt water, his limbs trembling. As he caught his breath, he wiped his eyes clear. He noticed the wing chun first, how it looked like it was smudged all over with rust-red fingerprints. Kyo was used to being sore as a result of his training, but he was surprised at the state of his hands when he inspected them. His knuckles had split open, and were already beginning to bruise under the raw skin staining his hands. His blood glistened hot and red, covering his bruises with a pain that stung fiercely now that it had his full attention. He finally unclenched his trembling fist, and his muscles screamed as they finally eased after sustaining so much abuse. The movement drew his attention to several small splinters embedded into his flesh.
Kyo retrieved his towel from his bag, wet it down with water, and cleaned up the practice dummy best he could through all the chips and cracks in the wood. He rinsed off his hands, not bothering to wrap them as they’d already begun to scab. He tossed the blood-soiled towel into the trash as he left. No point in worrying Tohru about why there was blood all over his gym towel.
He let himself in quietly, avoiding the after-dinner tea he heard being served in the other room. Kyo could hear the tempo of what they were saying, even if he couldn’t make out the words. He tried to avoid the crack in the door as he slowly got himself some ice and wrapped it in a hand towel, pressing it against his swelling hand for a moment before switching in order to press it to his other hand. He really should bandage his hands, but the first aid kit was in the other room, and there was no way he’d make it in and out without questions.
It was then that Yuki opened the door, carrying the miscellaneous plates and bowls left over from dinner. Clearing the table, because he was just that nice a guy, Kyo thought scathingly. Yuki immediately saw him and saw Kyo’s bruised and still-oozing hands. Kyo had to stop himself from hiding his hands behind his back as he reddened in the shadows of the kitchen, furious that the damn rat had been the one to see his broken hands.
“Yuki?” Tohru asked from the other room, noticing Yuki’s hesitation to enter the kitchen. “Is everything alright?” Kyo tensed, waiting for the pretty boy to rat him out. Just another example of the cat failing spectacularly compared to the perfect rat.
“Everything’s fine, Miss Honda,” Yuki said over his shoulder to the bright dining room Kyo could not see from the shadows. “It just occurred to me that I didn’t take your cup. Are you finished?”
Kyo didn’t stick around to hear her response, instead ducking around the corner to the stairs, where he escaped up to his room between the shadows, feeling something almost akin to gratitude to Yuki for not calling attention to his weakness.
He tried to brush it off as he swiped ointment from the bathroom cupboard before ducking into his room and closing his bedroom door and flipping on the light. Even if he couldn’t bandage his hands, he could still do something. He rubbed the ointment into his hands, grabbing tweezers to pull out the small splinters when Yuki opened the door again.
“Hey, don’t you knock?” Kyo asked, barely sparing the rat a glance as he kept examining his hands for any more splinters. Yuki said nothing, and Kyo was about to ask him if he wanted to go a round until something soft smacked him on the side of his head.
“What the hell?” Kyo asked, but his door was already clicking shut. He looked over at what had hit him, and he saw the package of bandages from the first aid kit lying on his bed.
Kyo spent a long moment staring at the bandages. Why did Yuki get those for him? How did he get them out of the first aid kit with Shigure and Tohru still in the room? Did he do something to them? A quick examination of the package revealed it was still unopened.
Kyo’s pride told him, under no uncertain terms, to not take anything from the damn rat. But years of training with his master made him pull the bandages out and carefully wrap his fingers. Snug, but not tight, he could hear his master say.
When Kyo was done, his hands were wrapped and the pain had dulled to a low, pulsing throb. He looked out his bedroom window at the moon, determined to not think about Yuki, whom he hated completely, and who hated him completely in turn. He wouldn’t think of Yuki, he wouldn’t think of anyone from his family. He’d have no one with him. Only what he could see out his window. All he had would be the view from his window.
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The Legend of Asriel PART 4 | HYRULE CASTLE
now home, chara finds what they weren’t looking for.
Frisk cheerfully waves goodbye to Maddie, who refuses to be charmed by this brat and just tells them she won’t be sticking around to lug them anywhere else. Frisk considers this reasonable, and turns to Chara to ask for further directions to where they’re going. Chara points at the castle in the distance.
“Question,“ Frisk signs. “Why do you expect to find this person in Hyrule Castle?“
“Because he lives there,“ Chara replies, as if that’s the most obvious thing in the world.
“Who is he, anyway?“
Chara takes some time to respond, continuing to lead Frisk through the streets with ease. “He’s the prince,” they finally sign. “As the Hero, I was raised for the purpose of fighting alongside him to defeat the evil destined to threaten Hyrule. We’re practically siblings.”
Frisk squints. “I’ve been wondering about that. What makes you the hero and not some other person?”
Chara wordlessly tugs one of their leather gauntlets off and shows Frisk the back of their hand, where a faint birthmark in the shape of three triangles sits. “This marks me as part of this whole cycle of evil. Asriel has one too, and the other is supposedly on the sealed evil, which only leaves me. The Hero.”
Frisk rubs a little at the back of their own hand as Chara tugs the gauntlet back on. “That seems dumb and arbitrary,” they say. “Who is this evil anyway?”
Chara shrugs. “The story doesn’t say,” they reply. “All we know is that a hundred years ago, the Prince and the Hero raised alongside him fought back a terrible evil and sealed it away for a hundred years, and now the time is up.” They pause. “Well, I hope it’s still only been a hundred years. Again, I don’t know how long I’ve been gone.”
Frisk nods, and the conversation drops. Chara leads them to the castle gates and they try to gain access, but the guards inform them that no one is permitted into the castle to see the prince so “Scram, kid.”
Chara informs them that it’s fine, they really didn’t expect it to work anyway. The bit about no one being allowed is curious, but they don’t know what to make of it yet so, “Here, follow, me I know the best way to sneak in and out of this place.”
What follows is a stealth segment. Frisk gets in through a secret passage and has to sneak through the halls, dodging patrolling guards and servants and whatnot. Chara recognizes some of them, confirming to them that they haven’t been gone that long. They also capture some snippets of passing conversations, maids complaining to each other about how strict “that dodgy scientist” is being and other foreshadowing of that ilk.
The first place Chara leads Frisk is to the garden. Asriel always liked to hang out with them there! But they search high and low between the tall hedges and find no prince. So they head for his quarters, which look far more tidy than Chara has ever seen him— it’s like he hasn’t even touched them for months. On a whim, they poke their head into their own quarters just across the hall, and see them in much the same state. They try and fail to rearrange their pillows into something less eerily neat.
Another conversation passes, and this one really grabs their attention because there’s their Dad— King— Asgore, walking with some masked guy they’ve never seen before. Frisk follows, still in Stealth Mode, and they go down into the dungeons to find a sorta... laboratory... workshop-y.... room. Which Chara is quite sure wasn’t always there, this room used to contain like, training dummies and stuff. Now there’s all these tables and equipment and stuff, and a weird bundle on top of a crate which Chara keeps finding their eyes drifting towards as they follow Asgore into the room. Frisk hides behind some kinda furniture or in a convenient air vent or something, idk, and the two of them listen in.
Asgore and The Dude have a heated discussion of some sort. The dude has Plans and Asgore is a reluctant coward as usual. Several nuggets of information are dropped: First of all, it’s been six months since Chara died. Second, the Queen is missing, having been the one to deliver this news and also Chara’s body to the castle before disappearing off the face of the planet (also with Chara’s body). Third, Asriel is missing, and as much as Chara is upset to hear about that they realize they really should’ve seen that coming seeing as they already checked the two places Asriel hangs out in when Chara isn’t around. Oh, also the dude’s name is Dr. Gaster. Does this qualify as a twist? I don’t think it does.
I would also like to note that Deltarune has very little bearing on Gaster’s role in the story, as we currently have next to no concrete information on how he plays into it. Some minor details are influenced, of course, but just in case anyone decides to come charging in telling me about how wrong I am. I don’t care. This is my au. I can do what I want.
Conversation continues. Whatever Gaster’s plans are, they apparently involve that bundle Chara keeps finding themself staring at. It is an Important Bundle. Gaster picks it up and starts unwrapping it, expressing how Important it is. Asgore agrees that it is Important and that is why he is against it being used for anything because the hero is dead who else could possibly use it, much less in this state.
I then proceed to hold you the reader in suspense for the duration for at least another sentence.
Gaster dumps the contents of the bundle on a bare table and Chara suppresses a shriek at the sight of a million shards of silver metal all clattering together and topped by a blue hilt, carved in the shape of two stylized bird wings.
“When the FUCK did that happen,“ they ask, very loudly and unheard by literally anyone but themself. Gaster and Asgore go on talking, but Chara is too busy forgetting to continue interpreting for Frisk as they leap across the room to look more closely. They have to confirm. This can’t be the Master Sword, right? The legendary sword of evil’s bane? It can’t just explode into a million pieces, right? What kind of a legendary piece of shit does that? It can’t be real.
But the closer they look at it, the more certain they get— it’s very real. The hairs on the back of their neck stand up a little as they reach to touch the hilt, though they’re sure they’ll just pass through like always, but they’re cut off by Asgore slamming his fist on the table. The conversation was still going, after all, and something Gaster had to say made the king mad.
“I will not have you insinuate such things about Chara,“ Asgore says. “They were as a much my child as Asriel. You cannot possibly say they were any type of villain!“
Gaster dips his head. “Be that as it may. The fact that the sword was rendered in this state. After their failed attempt to retrieve it. Indicates they were not the hero. With only one other option available...”
Asgore snorts, cloak billowing right through Chara’s body as he turns to leave. “Absolutely not,” he says. “Come speak to me when you can speak of actually sensible topics.”
“...Very well,“ Gaster says, and Asgore vanishes out the door. Somehow, he manages to look baleful even through the odd cracked mask he’s been wearing this whole time.
He remains for a few minutes longer, carefully re-wrapping the pieces of the Master Sword and setting them aside once more. He examines some of the machinery, prods a few things, then leaves as well.
Frisk pokes their head out from their hiding place to give Chara a dry stare. “Mind filling me in?” they ask, getting to their feet. “You only translated the first half of that conversation, I had to guess at what they were talking about after that.”
“My apologies,“ Chara says, perching on the edge of a table with a casual smile. “I had deemed the rest of what they had to say so utterly banal, I was sure you’d be just as bored as I was.“
“Bullcrap,“ Frisk says, leaning around them to look at the bundle. “You’re way more awesome at interpreting than that, something got your attention. What was that, a pile of daggers?“
“A broken sword, actually,“ Chara replies, smile growing strained. “The sword I was meant to acquire, actually. You may recall I mentioned it?“
“Vaguely,“ Frisk says. “Anyway, conversation?“
Chara shrugs helplessly. “I was sorta distracted, sorry,“ they reply. “I think that Gaster guy insinuated I’m not the Hero and Dad got mad, which he should because obviously I’m the Hero. I’ve been the Hero all my life.“
Frisk remains skeptical.
“Anyway we definitely shouldn’t stick around, that guy could come back at any minute,“ Chara says, hopping to their feet and trying to look like they’re not on the verge of a panic attack. “Grab the bundle and let’s go.“
“Wait, why do we need the bundle?“ Frisk asks, picking it up. “It’s just a bunch of hunks of metal now, right?“
“I dunno but it’s definitely important,“ Chara says, bustling them out of the door. “Now come on, nearest escape route’s that way.“
More stealth, but this one ends in Frisk getting spotted by a guard. They attempt to flee, but luck is not on their side as they get surrounded. Gaster shows up, being basically in charge of everything right now and naturally curious about the sudden cries about an intruder. The guards part all dramatic-like to let him through and he peers at Frisk, musing about what a child from the desert is doing all the way up here.
Then he notices the bundle tucked under their arm. They attempt to turn their body to hide it, but Gaster has already seen it. “Would you care to hand that over?” he asks, holding out a hand. “It’s quite important. Not the sort of. Thing. Petty thieves have any use for.”
Frisk narrows their eyes, taking a small step back, and Gaster tuts. “I had hoped. You would listen,” he says. He jerks his head at one of the guards. “You. Retrieve that package. Mind their blade. Whether they know how to use it. I imagine it would sting.”
The indicated guard steps forward, reaching for the bundle, and Frisk draws back again, indeed going for their sword. There’s not very far they can go, though, and no way they could win this fight, so they prepare to give up the bundle.
Chara has other ideas, though, and as the guard touches the bundle they lunge, hands passing through the fabric and wrapping around the broken hilt— wrapping around it, they realize, not merely pretending but actually touching it— and something surges through them. And then a fraction of a second, it surges out of them in the form of a blinding flash of golden light that sends all the guards reeling, eyes burnt as they grope around wildly and raise their voices in an attempt to figure out what just happened.
When the spots clear from their vision, they find the weird child is gone, and the Royal Scientist merely staring at the spot they just vacated with his mask as unreadable as always. And a short distance from the palace (but growing further with every moment) Frisk runs full-tilt away from the window they just scrambled out of, bundle clutched tight to their chest and ghost drifting along after them.
“I told you it’d be important!“
[Next Part] [Index]
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rumowrites · 5 years
Text
Defectum Ch.8
In the following weeks, Tinker often watched the Assassin’s training whenever he had to think about the project undisturbed. Somehow it inspired him to see Runaan moving around his sparring partners or dummies with the grace of a panther, deadly but beautiful. In turn, the other visited him in the shop as often as his shifts allowed, always bringing food with him to share. They often chatted over the meals, exchanging stories from their day. Sometimes Tinker would talk about a new project or how the bow blade was coming along and sometimes Runaan would complain about his recruits or report any funny accidents that had happened during training. It was a nice routine both of them enjoyed as a diversion from their regular day’s work.
That day, Tink was on his way to the assassin’s house to deliver the newest prototype he’d made. It was the second one where the hilts could be joined to form a bow and he had worked on the connective mechanism and the string that now retracted through moon-stone magic. It had been a little bit difficult to incorporate them in a functional way but his magic was good enough to make it work.
According to the plan Runaan had given him, the other would be currently training alone at home. He found it very useful to have such a good knowledge on his whereabouts because it allowed him to find the Assassin at any time. Very early he had noticed that Runaan never strayed from his plan, ever. He was always right where he was supposed to be and did the things he was supposed to do. That elf was much more like clockwork than a living being, and still, Tink had to admit it was a little more than a crush he harvested for the tall soldier.
Upon arriving at the lonely house, he took the time to look around the clearing before knocking. Now that there was still daylight, he could see a training course set up in the backyard with several plateaus and targets installed in the trees at the edge of the clearing. He could hear a stream running in the distance as he raised his hand to announce his arrival. A shout of acknowledgement and a few seconds later, the door opened and revealed a slightly panting Runaan with sweat glistering on his bare torso. Ah, right, training. His overwhelmed brain managed to puzzle together while the smith just stared, mouth half-opened with a greeting that got stuck in his throat. The Assassin seemed to interpret his silence as shock and glanced down at himself before stepping aside to let him in. “Um, do you want to come in?” he asked with as much uncertainty as Tink had ever heard in his voice. He just nodded and followed the other inside.
Runaan was in the middle of his afternoon workout as he heard a knock on the door. Without a thought, he dropped down from the bar he was currently doing pull-ups on and jogged to the door. In front of him stood Tinker, his eyes wide open and still as a statue. He wondered for a brief second why the other was so put out before he noticed his state of dress. Slowly, he looked down at himself. For his training at home, he only ever dressed in wide dark linen pants that allowed him free range and were sufficiently cool. His hair was pulled up into a messy bun to be out of the way and relatively safe from damage. Now, Runaan could see sweat running down the skin between his muscles and staining the hem of the dark blue fabric. Not a great state to greet guests in. Especially not that guest. He was still working on discreetly testing whether the other was also interested before he would start his advances.
Feeling the blush creeping on his face, Tinker quickly averted his gaze from the other as he followed him into the training room. Though he couldn’t within to admire Runaan’s defined shoulders. Training all day seemed to pay off. He also could pride himself with pretty well-trained arms and shoulders due to handling a heavy hammer and other tools for the most part of the day but the Assassin seemed to be solely muscle. Lean muscle that was but he didn’t doubt his strength for a second. No, it looked like Runaan was nothing besides it. He couldn’t even find a place where it looked like the other had at least a tiny bit of fat. Suddenly, Tinker found himself worrying if the soldier ate enough. It was true that he never saw him refuse to eat but with the amount of movement and energy he must burn every day, the smith was sure he should probably eat twice as much as he could see him consume.
He was pulled from his daydream when Runaan asked him whether he wanted a drink. “Yes, please. I brought a new prototype for you to test.” The assassin nodded and retrieved two glasses from the cupboard. “Wine or Whisky?” Tink settled for Wine as he wasn’t one for strong liquors. He immediately recognized it as the same he’d had when he first visited and was mildly surprised that the other apparently remembered that. His host carried a glass of whisky to the seating area of the kitchen and excused himself to reappear a few moments later with a silky teal robe draped across his shoulders.
For a second, Runaan had thought about getting a shirt but finally decided against it in favour of the thin robe. That way, he could further study the smith’s reaction. After all, he hadn’t looked that appalled by the sight and he wanted to be completely sure before launching any serious flirting attempts.
“So,” he started, taking a sip from his glass “you made a new version?” at that, the smith’s face lit up and he hurriedly placed a bundle on the table while narrowly missing the wine glass in front of him. “Yes! I changed the mechanisms, so you should be able to connect them faster and added a self-retractable string.” Tinker showed him the process a few times, so he was able to memorize it and finally handed it over. Runaan was careful to recite the exact motions and repeated it until he felt like he’d be able to do it mid motion without any difficulty.
Tinker watched curiously as the other dis- and reassembled it over and over, getting a little faster each time. After a while, Runaan nodded and stood from his seat, draping the robe over one of the chairs. He assembled the Bow and took a few arrows out of the numerous tubes at the wall. Once he tested the string, the Assassin aimed the first one and hit the right upper corner of the second ring on one of the targets. He then adjusted his grip a little and landed the next three in the bullseye. With a smirk, he stepped further into the training room and broke the weapon into it’s two parts, twirling them around to test their weight. Tink had meanwhile gathered his sketchbook and made some notes on what he would still have to change later. “It’s much better than the first one.” Runaan grinned and vanished behind a curtain of rapidly moving steel. The smith had to roll his eyes at the little show-off but smiled as he saw how excited the other was about the new prototype. The Assassin continued to recite different manoeuvres and gave him a very good view at his toned physique. He was sure to be able to see every muscle work while he jumped this way and that, always fighting an imaginary foe in the process.
“Would you spar with me?” came the sudden request from one of the beams Runaan had climbed using the curved blades as ice-picks. “Sure” Tinker left his sketchbook and shirt after a second thought and joined the other. He chose the spear again, being familiar with it’s movement before turning towards his host. “But please refrain from damaging me. I still have orders to complete tomorrow.” The Assassin laughed and placed a hand over his chest mark. “I would never intentionally hurt you.” Tink had to smile at that but couldn’t help his reply. “Please also don’t hurt me unintentionally.” Again, a short laugh. It was a sound the smith rarely heard from his opponent and he was almost certain other elves heard it even less. Still, he loved the sound of it and always enjoyed it when he managed to extract some of this precious laughter.
They sparred until both of them were drenched in sweat but neither made a move to stop. The duo had found their rhythm some time ago and now exchanged skilful blows without really having to fear the other wouldn’t parry it in time. Suddenly, a frantic knock sounded from the door and both immediately froze in place. Whoever was out there seemed to be in panic. “Stay here.” Runaan ordered and set one of the blades aside to open the door. The other stayed in his hand.
Outside stood a soldier in uniform and looked like he had been running all the way from the academy. He began babbling something about an emergency until Runaan’s icy “Soldier, report!” spurred him into a quick but now structured report of what was happening. “Sir, one of the chief moon-priests is held hostage by bandits, you and squadron twelve are ordered to launch a rescue mission immediately. Your soldiers are already waiting at the academy and are ready to depart, Sir.” From one second to the other, every bit of joy was erased from the Assassins face. “How far?” he inquired while motioning for the soldier to step inside and jogging over to the staircase in the corner. “About half-an hour march, Sir.” Tink could see him nodding to himself before he reached the top of the stairs and was out of view. “How many enemies?” came his steel-like voice from above. “We think about two dozen, Sir. But at least ten.” Silence followed and the only noises that reached them were the sound of water running and the ruffling of fabric.
Tinker could feel the soldier regarding him with a curious look as soon as he’d been spotted. The smith was still shirtless and holding the spear in his right hand. He immediately prayed to the moon and all the sources that the soldier would be discreet enough to keep the encounter to himself. The last thing he needed was the rumour going around that they were an item. Especially after Runaan had expressed on several occasions on how much he valued his privacy.
No four minutes passed before the Assassin rappelled down a rope fastened to one of the beams not even bothering with the stairs. He was now dressed in the squadron’s blue-green uniform with the commander’s rank pauldron fastened on his shoulder and his hair styled the way he usually wore it. The two swords that were fastened above his bed dangled from his hips and a quiver obstructed the view of his back.  “Venu, tell the twelfth that I will meet them outside the Academy in a few minutes. Give Kira any information you have at hand.” The soldier saluted swiftly and rushed out the door “Yes, Sir.” Once he was gone, Runaan grimaced and turned to him again. “I’m sorry. I think it will take three hours at most. If you want, you can wait here, and we can talk about changes when I’m back.” His look was far more apologetic than Tink had thought. “Don’t worry. I don’t want to impose, we could also meet tomorrow.” He carefully leaned the spear against the wall and walked with the assassin to the door. “Please?” Runaan asked again, motioning for the kitchen “Feel free to help yourself to anything you like. I will be back as soon as I can.” With that, he wanted to turn and run after his soldier, but the smith caught his arm to hold him back. “Wait!” he placed a thin silver bracelet in the others hand “For good luck.” A slight smile appeared on Runaan’s face before he finally dashed out the door, leaving a confused Tinker behind.
He reached the Academy in what must have been record time and found Venu still talking to Kira when he arrived. He took her aside for a moment to discuss what other intel there was regarding their mission and pointedly ignored all her knowing glances. “Squadron!” He addressed the six elves in front of him. “I assume you all have been briefed about this mission. We will try to reach the perimeter as fast as we can while our council launches negotiations to keep them occupied. We will find a strategy once we are there and know exactly what we have to work with, understood?” satisfied, he listened to the synched “Yes, Sir.” And lead the way to the bandit’s camp.
He was used to run a little in front of his squadron to scout for possible threats while the twins usually covered the back. This time, Kira quickly caught up to run beside him. “You seem even sterner today. Did you get interrupted on your date?” Her tone was equally mocking as it was curious. He made a mental note to scare Venu to death for telling her that. No one in the squadron loved gossip as much as she did. “It wasn’t a date, but I guess I have to lecture Venu about privacy again.” Even though he wasn’t looking at her, Runaan could feel her raising her eyebrow. “Then why were you both shirtless?” Great, she knew that, too. That bastard was so going to get a few very disliked shifts the next month. “Because Tinker brought a new prototype to test and we were sparring in order to do that.”
“I wasn’t aware the hot smith could also fight. You got yourself an all-round talent there, hotshot.” He rolled his eyes but willed his voice to be as even as possible before answering. “Don’t call me that. I am your superior officer. And you would be surprised. I would say he’d win against my year three’s with ease.” She just snorted and continued to stay by his side “We both know you like it. So, any other hidden talents? How does he look shirtless? I bet he’s hot with that biceps and all.” After that, Runaan almost tripped over a branch. He could feel a slight blush on his cheeks and saw his marks taking a darker shade. Immediately, he willed them back to their normal purple colour, but he was sure Kira had noticed the slight change nonetheless. “I don’t know how that would concern you. And I would strongly advise you to drop that matter if you don’t want to have the four am shift for the next month.” The elf knew when she'd lost the fight and slowly fell back to the rest of the group, shit eating grin never leaving her face. He could already feel the gossip magnifying.
It turned out be thirteen enemies and two hostages, both of which they managed to retrieve unharmed. His soldiers were unscathed or only sported minor injuries. Runaan had somehow managed to achieve a flesh wound on his right shoulder while pushing the high priest very unceremoniously to the ground to avoid an arrow. Other than that, he was mostly fine besides a few shallow cuts and bruises.
The Assassin ended up coming back after only one and a half hours. Meanwhile Tinker had used the time to complete his notes and explored the house some more. Besides the large training room, it was very minimalistic. The basement was a simple storage cellar for a surprising amount of wine and liquor or vegetables from which he took a cucumber up in the kitchen to eat. The second floor had just one room besides the platform that housed the other’s bed and desk. The bathroom was small but nice with a large bathtub and a sink. Both of them seemed to be connected to a water tank because there was running water when he opened the faucet. Tink greatly enjoyed the view from the large second floor balcony and took the time for a few sketches of the woods before returning to the kitchen table.
When Runaan opened the door an hour later, he had just finished his next draft, including the notes of what he needed to adjust and nursed his second glass of wine. He immediately got up at the sound of the door and searched the other for injuries. Narrowing his eyes as they found the shoulder wound. “You’re hurt.” He wanted to take a closer look, but the Assassin only brushed him off. “It’s nothing. Just a bandage and it will be fine in a few days.”
“At least let me do it. I know a few things about healing. I think you might need stitches.” For a moment Runaan looked like he wanted to object but simply nodded after a few seconds. “The supplies are in the second drawer under the sink. I will just change out of this uniform.” Tink found a very well-equipped box of medical supplies and pain medication and brought everything back to the kitchen table to search for the things he needed. 
As the other came back, now shirtless again for better access to the wound, he had everything he needed laid out on the table. Runaan refilled both their glasses, Tink’s with the wine and his with Whisky before taking a seat on one of the chairs. “It will burn a bit.” He announced before dabbing alcohol onto the wound in order to disinfect it properly. He could feel the other tensing a little but otherwise, the Assassin didn’t let on if he was in pain. His stitches were neat and strong, and Tinker was suddenly thankful for a mother who had been a healer and taught him a lot when he was younger. He securely wrapped a bandage around it and also disinfected the other, more shallow cuts before storing the supplies away. 
“Thank you.” Runaan’s voice sounded sincere and there was a tiny smile on his lips. 
“Any other hidden talents?”
So there it is, Chapter 8. Finally. Sorry for the long wait! I hope you enjoyed it:)
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harmony283 · 5 years
Text
Mana’s Notebook Ch 2
A/N: Well hey just barely got this out on time! This is ch 2 of a longer fic I’m working on that I hope I’ll actually finish! Also on Ao3 because tumblrs formatting hates me.
Previous Chapter  on Tumblr since it went by a different name though I recommend reading Ao3s version by of the extra scene at the end.
A.W: So Cross found out.
Allen had debated on whether or not to send that one tiny text or not. He knew it was late and that Kanda was probably either asleep or answering his own set of very uncomfortable questions from Tiedoll, but at the very least he'd probably want to know Allen was going through the same damn thing--or went, considering Cross had left roughly fifteen minutes ago.
Part of him felt giddy, still, at the prospect of finding something of Mana's that he hadn't obsessively read over, but at the same time he felt guilty too. He highly doubted Cross would have reacted the way he did if the notebook had been a good thing, right? And now Lavi was going to probably get yelled at for it, even though all he did was give Allen Tyki's contact information.
Which led to a whole other set of questions that just made Allen's head hurt. He knew logically no one would probably open the door at near 4 am in the morning, much less to an irate and tipsy (though not drunk, for once) Cross. Allen knew Bookman was a colleague of Cross's and that they'd mutually borrowed things from each other for years now, with Lavi goofily acting as the messenger boy, but would Bookman really let Cross yell at him? Allen hoped not. Besides, last he'd heard from Lavi he was out delivering something for one of Bookman's clients--so would he even be home ?
Their shop wasn't even close by! Not really, so was the trip really that worth it? Would Bookman let Cross stay the night or was he going somewhere else after? If so, where? He'd said he'd be gone until afternoon so, again, was it really that serious?
“Great . ” Allen sighed and stared down at his phone, “Another thing to worry about.”
***
Just as Allen expected he didn't wake up until late the next morning. His clock read 10AM and the first thing he saw when he checked his phone was an equally as short reply back:
BaKanda: Yeah mine wasn't happy either .
Well that answer Allen's unasked question from last night. So he groggily reached for his phone with his right hand and pulled it closer before typing out:
A.W: Ouch. Sry abt that.
Immediately another ping notification went through.
BaKanda: You're up early.
Allen groaned at that and sat up. Too early, more like. Then again he stayed up later than usual so maybe he could forgive himself.
Before he could even roll off the bed to grab his shirt another text came through:
BaKanda: What was it anyway?
Oh. Well. Allen should have expected that. Cross had even said he could tell him as long as he didn't give any details. He tugged on the sweater from the night before and typed out:
A.W: Just a notebook I thought I'd lost .
Okay that wasn't really a lie, was it? Sort of? Okay, maybe it kind of was--
Suddenly his phone was ringing--
Naturally it was Kanda's number flashing on the screen. Well then.
Allen pressed the green call button and immediately turned it to speakerphone, “Someone found it. Apparently I left it at Cross's office one day.” Better elaborate, or as Cross called it convince, convince, convince before you can even be called a liar. “I was kind of writing it off as lost for good since I hadn't been there in months, y'know?”
There was an odd pause on the other end of the line. Then Kanda let out a loud sigh, “ Huh. Well then lucky you. ” There was no telling if he bought the story or not, “Guess it wasn't anything too important?”
Allen winced just a little, “Well. I was sad when it went missing. It was--I was copying down some notes. Music notes, y'know?” Okay he could feel a little bad about this later, “It probably made absolutely no sense to whoever found it unless they knew how to play the piano.”
“Most people know the basics.” There was a grunt, then Kanda was cursing, Allen was about to ask if he was okay when he continued, “Did they leave a note or anything?”
“A note?”
“Yeah. Saying who they were or how they found it? If they had it a while they probably went through it too.”
Allen grimaced again. He knew, maybe they had and that that was probably why Cross was so nervous, just like he knew he also didn't know why it was such a bad thing that they went through Mana's notebook, other than it being an invasion of privacy--
“Oi, cat got your tongue?”
“N-no!” Allen stuttered, “I just haven't looked through it yet. Fell asleep before I could.” There was another loud thump on the other end and, okay, Allen had to ask, “Are you okay?”
“Just practicing, why?”
Well then. “I shouldn't keep you, then.” That and he knew Kanda would start wheedling him, finding more cracks in his half-assed story--Allen knew there were benefits to convincing someone just as he knew there were benefits to knowing when to stop . “Are you going to Lena's today or is she working?” It was a Saturday but often times she helped out at her brothers lab so someone else could have the day off. “I...sort of texted her last night too.” That, at least, wasn't a lie even if it hadn't been anything important. He never replied back, so he knew she was probably worried.
“Fuck, really?” Allen heard Kanda groan, “Wasn't planning on it. Try just texting her. I'd rather not stop by if her brother's around.” A.k.a the lab. Who knew what happened in that lab on a daily basis? That was at least something they could agree on.
“Yeah I'll do that.” His reply was a little stilted, but they both probably knew what the other was thinking, and with very little preamble Kanda ended the call because of course that was just the Kanda thing to do.
So instead Allen opened up Lenalee's text window and reread the last few messages:
A.W: I'll see if I can get Kanda to do it? Will let u know if he says yes! Sent at 11:02PM. He hadn't said much just that he found something he'd lost. Reading back over it, especially now that Cross explicitly told him not to say anything made him feel guilty all over again.
Lena: Sorry didn't see this! Yeah let me know! Where did u need to go? Text me when u get back! Sent 11:45PM
Yeah, the guilt increased ten-fold, because again--he never had because the conversation with Cross and then he'd fallen asleep after texting Kanda and only Kanda. So for all he knew she was probably worried sick.
So he swallowed his pride just a little bit and typed up what he hoped was a decent reply:
A.W: Hey sry it was late when we got back. Fell asleep. I'm okay. Have a good day at work :)
****
Lenalee honestly didn't know whether to be worried or relieved when she woke up the next morning without any new texts from Allen or Kanda. Part of her knew she shouldn't have expected much, after all it had been late, and they both probably assumed she was asleep. So really she couldn't be too upset at them even if it meant she'd spent the entire morning glancing at her phone as she got ready. She even got ready a little slower than usual, even though she knew Komui expected her to stop by and help out at the lab around 9 o'clock.
Which meant she could only waste so much time before she had to tuck her phone away in her purse and head on her way. Part of her would question why Kanda didn't at least text her first, seeing as usually he was awake by now exercising, but at the same time it had only been Allen who texted her last night, and even though he gave Allen a ride in the end that didn't necessarily mean he knew what was going on.
Either that or he forgot his phone existed. Again.
That was always the problem with being friends with mostly guys. It was exasperating as it was endearing, so when Lenalee got to work she was almost glad for the distraction the paperwork provided. It was probably why she nearly jumped when her phone vibrated from its spot next to the pile of paperwork she'd been filing.
A rush of relief ran through her as she saw the text on the screen:
Allen: Hey sry it was late when we got back. Fell asleep. I'm okay. Have a good day at work :)
Followed by a larger rush of both annoyance and worry because that text? Didn't answer anything. Honestly it really made her wonder if he was trying to worry her on purpose, or if he was just oblivious. Chances were it was the latter, it was Allen after all, but that still left her with more questions.
For one, how did Allen know she was at work? Granted that was the easiest question to answer after all her brother usually needed help on Saturdays and even if she couldn't do much except sorting and filing paperwork she definitely enjoyed the task. It got Komui to actually come out of his office more, and she could at least say she was being helpful. Everyone else in the lab was sweet, too and kept her up to date on what insane project Komui was working on next.
Two, again where did they go? She could assume Kanda knew more and that he would easily answer her once he figured out his phone existed again. But even then she wanted to hear it from Allen not Kanda after all it was Allen who asked for a ride in the first place.
That led to the third question of what it was that Allen had even found? If it was important enough he would have just told her last night, right? Even if it wasn 't important she knew if he was excited enough about finding it he would have told her. But he didn't. He'd just been excited enough to call Kanda out at nearly midnight to go retrieve it.
And now she was worried again.
Until she heard her phone buzz again. This time it was Kanda:
Kanda: Oi did the bean text you yet?
Well at least now she knew Kanda had found his phone. Though the timing was oddly specific, which had even more questions flooding around in her head. Maybe she was thinking too hard about this, but at this point could anyone really blame her?
So she shot a text to Allen first:
Lena: Ok I was worried u dummy! Did u find what you were looking for?
Then to Kanda:
Lena: Yes he did. What happened??
At the very least she would get answers out of one of them.
****
Honestly Kanda shouldn't have been so surprised when he got a text back from Lenalee almost immediately. If Allen had texted her just like he said he did then who knew what she was thinking could have happened? That alone reminded Kanda of how little he actually knew himself, other than that he had a clear suspicion that Allen was probably maybe lying. Again he was pretty sure it wasn't anything illegal, but it definitely wasn't just some random ass notebook filled with music notes and piano chords that he was pretty sure anyone who'd gone to elementary school would probably remember.
Not that either of them really had a traditional schooling experience, but at least Tiedoll had tried.
In other words unless it had something important or maybe embarrassing in it then Kanda really didn't know why it couldn't have waited until morning. But that still left Lenalee's text unanswered and he knew she wasn't above text spamming him--at work or not. So Kanda quickly shifted back into a resting position before grabbing his phone and replying:
Kanda : What did he tell u?
Maybe it was a little mean to answer a question with a question but he also didn't know if maybe he'd told her more than him. Chances were probably not, after all it was Lenalee . She wouldn't be afraid of telling Allen how bad of an idea it was. Hell, Kanda hadn't asked just based on the assumption that it couldn't have been a bad place and now look--he found out Allen was maybe lying and landed with even more questions that in turn he was worrying too much about.
He grabbed the closest water bottle he could reach (he had several in here mostly because he usually refilled them then forgot they were in here) only to realize it was half empty. Dammit he needed some water. So he groaned and pushed himself up off the studio floor and opened the door into the hall. Tiedoll's house was much bigger than it had every right to be, but at the same time having four boys plus being an artist in need of several studios did that a person. Probably.
Also having four boys tended to make one a hover-er, because Kanda hadn't even made his way down the hall to the living room-kitchen-dining room before he heard Tiedoll call out:
“Yuu is that you? My you're up early!” There he was at the foot of the stairs with a gigantic laundry basket in his hands, sweatpants, sweatshirt and bare feet despite the fact it was, again, only February. Not that Kanda was about to point that out considering just by seeing him he remembered that painfully short and awkward conversation from last night.
So instead he only nodded his head and continued walking to the kitchen. There he opened the fridge and pulled out yet another half full bottle of water he probably shoved in there at some point, chugging down its contents before grabbing a third, turning around and-- shit .
Tiedoll was now standing on the other side of the bar with a worried smile on his face, clothes forgotten. Great. “Were you working out? Good, good, I would have thought you'd sleep in--”
“I wasn't out that late.” Kanda muttered, though hell even he knew that was a lie. “Didn't we already talk about this?” Wait, wait, no . He wasn't going to instigate this. He turned and tried to walk past only for Tiedoll to sigh softly and ask:
“If you'd like to say that counted as talking about it, then yes we did. I don't think it counts, though because nothing really came out of it.” Tiedoll was moving around the bar now, towards Kanda and oh dammit . They were talking about it now, weren't they?
*** FLASHBACK TIME***
The minute Kanda opened the front door he knew Tiedoll was still awake. Most likely because he'd either heard Kanda jump out of his window or because he saw his car wasn't in the driveway. Honestly Kanda was surprised he was even able to get out in the first place, with how attuned Tiedoll seemed to be, but the point was clearly he was awake now and probably had been the entire time.
It still always unnerved Kanda that such a calm unassuming man could have such a presence in a room before Kanda even stepped into it. Though at least he let him actually walk in, hang his jacket up and kick his shoes off first before asking any questions.
“You know I'm going to have to ask you where you went, Yuu.” Tiedoll flicked on the nearby table lamp and continued to watch until Kanda shuffled into the room. Yes, shuffled because he definitely wasn't a night owl like Allen was. He would probably have to keep this brief because he could tell when his body kept trying to wake itself back up again, and that he was teetering on that edge where he was just straight up exhausted--something only sleep could fix.
So he went with the easiest explanation first. “Allen texted. He was hungry--We went to the 24 hour McDonalds.”
He could see Tiedoll raise an eyebrow at that. He definitely didn't believe him. Not that Kanda really expected him to entirely, but they both knew it wasn't unusual for Allen to text for a ride, even though it was much later than usual. “I'd ask why this late and if you spent the entire time there but--”
“--Can I sleep first?” Kanda knew that sounded bad the minute he said it. Knew that for all intents and purposes Tiedoll could tell him no and to sit back down because yes Kanda was technically an adult now, being 21 now, but he did still live under Tiedoll's roof and rely on him for things like food and a warm place to live rent-free.
But surprisingly? Tiedoll only sighed again and nodded his head, “Alright. But we're talking about this in the morning. Don't forget.”
***FLASHBACK END***
But of course Kanda kind of had, mostly because the minute he'd stepped into his room and checked his phone he'd seen Allen's text message. He knew his talk with Tiedoll had been brief but that only delayed the inevitable awkwardness, whereas Allen at least got to sleep on whatever horrifying thing Cross said.
Great.
“So you remember now?” Tiedoll asked motioning to one of the nearby chairs, “Sit, sit. We're talking about it now while we have the chance.” Which usually meant before the others were up. Mainly Daisya because Kanda knew Chaoji would probably have to leave for work soon and nothing was ever really successfully hidden from Marie. Not with how good his hearing was.
“We really did go to McDonald's.” He started with before Tiedoll could ask again. “I was serious. He ate half of the damn menu somehow.” It still made Kanda ill to think about all that damn grease he'd shoved into his mouth.
He must have been making a face because Tiedoll started chuckling at that, “Oh I believe it, but Yuu even then you wouldn't have left so early or gotten back so late even if he ate all that. And yes I know when you left. I was dozing but not fully asleep.” He paused here then helpfully tacked on, “And when I checked I saw your car missing. So no I didn't think it was Daisya or Chaoji getting home.”
Again Kanda scowled but fuck it if he hadn't assumed that himself so, “Your point?”
“My point .” Kanda could feel when that look changed. A literal shiver ran down his back, “Is that by now you should know better than to lie. I know how long it takes you to pick Allen up and how long it takes for you two to get to McDonalds and back. I can do basic math. I know there's a span of time you went somewhere else and now you're not telling me where? I won't even point out that you smelled like cigarette smoke from a brand I know you don't smoke.”
Oh. Oh . Kanda could feel himself cringe all the way down to his toes. Not just because Tiedoll had a point, but because he probably knew the brand based off smell alone. Kanda wasn't stupid, he'd been friends with Allen long enough that of course Tiedoll had spent enough time around Cross! And if he recognized the brand--
“Now. Is there anything you want to tell me?” Tiedoll leaned forward in that way that made him both look unassuming but also like he could legitimately threaten the answers he wanted right out of you. This situation was now leaning towards the latter.
Well. Shit. Hopefully Allen would understand Kanda telling him some , even though he wasn't even sure himself of some of the details, “Allen asked for a ride.” He started off simply, sitting down hard in the chair next to Tiedoll. Maybe if he made this quick he wouldn't be mad? Or would maybe realize he was blowing it out of proportion a little bit. “It was after eleven so Lena couldn't do it.” At least he didn't have to explain that part, Tiedoll knew Komui just as well as the rest of them did. “I thought it'd be quick so I said fine. He really did just need to pick something up. It was raining,” Of course they both knew this too, “So that took longer too. Traffic wasn't that bad, he got what he left, and then got hungry so I agreed to pick up McDonalds. Didn't think he'd eat half the menu soaking wet but he did. Then I dropped him back off at home and drove back. The end--”
Except now Tiedoll was holding his hand up because of course he could probably tell Kanda just wanted to get this over with, but details . He wanted details. So he asked the obvious question first, “What did Allen need so badly that he couldn't wait until morning to get it?” And then, because neither of them had said it yet but they both already knew-- “And that also doesn't explain why you smelled like one of Cross's cigarettes. Did you stop in for a visit?” And even then they both knew it wouldn't have been so strong unless Kanda had gone into his bedroom or smoked one himself.
At least that was easy to explain, “I asked for compensation. I wasn't just going to go out in a monsoon and drive him somewhere without asking for something in return.” Wait. That sounded bad, shit . He plowed on quickly, “Especially when he didn't even want to tell me where we were going or why.”
He saw Tiedoll's incredulous face warp into something close to worry, “So you went out at near midnight and drove him to somewhere for some reason and not only that you asked him to steal some of Cross's cigarettes--?” Okay that did sound really, really bad actually.
Dammit now Kanda couldn't really blame Tiedoll for being so worried. Unthinkingly, or maybe just to give his hands something to do, Kanda started unscrewing the bottle cap on the bottle of water he'd grabbed, but he never took a sip out of it. It just felt nice and cold on his hands and helped him not look at Tiedoll as he tried to think about what he'd say, because again he didn't know. He didn't know why, even though yes he knew where they went--so maybe he could work with that? “I'm actually trying to ask him why it was so important. He finally answered me maybe thirty minutes ago.” Which. Shit. He needed to check and see if Lenalee replied too. Dammit, he should have just brought his phone with him. “He said it was a notebook he'd left at Cross's office months ago.” He could see Tiedoll stiffen up here, “Apparently he forgot about it and one of Cross's coworkers found it. Not sure how long they kept it,” Not that that wasn't kind of strange in it's own right, “but I guess they finally told Allen and somehow they arranged to either meet up or to leave the notebook somewhere.” Which...wait. That also didn't quite add up. Why had they left it in such a sketchy ass place if it was just a random notebook? Why couldn't they have given it to Cross to bring home? Now Kanda was even more confused, but right. He had to finish, at least, so he could leave . “No I still don't know why we went and picked it up at midnight unless you want me to guess.”
When he actually turned to look at Tiedoll though he could see how pale he was. That alone had Kanda feeling--not quite squeamish but also like he really didn't want to know what Tiedoll must be thinking. All he knew was he was now shaking his head and murmuring, “No, no, I mean if he tells you I'd like to know but….I supposed I'm just glad you're home.”
Why did that kind of sound like Tiedoll thought he wouldn't be? Who did Tiedoll think they'd meet up with? He knew again that Cross worked with some strange ass people, given some of the stories Allen told sometimes, but surely they weren't that dangerous….right?
Then again given the location he left that notebook they at least didn't think like a normal person logically would, so what did Kanda know?
Suddenly Tiedoll clapped one hand hard on his shoulder, jarring him out of that particular thought, before loudly saying, “Alright. Thank you for telling me this much, Yuu. Sorry for disrupting your morning workout. I'll let you get back to that though I will say please at least drink all your waters first before grabbing a new bottle. Or at least don't leave them littered around the studio! Other people use it too, you know?”
Then he walked over to the laundry basket he neglected and hefted it up before disappearing up the stairs and leaving Kanda to stare after him. He didn't even get a chance to try and defend himself, then again--fuck it. Tiedoll had a point and it wasn't like he didn't know who did it, after all Daisya and Chaoji  both liked sports drinks better than just bottled water.
So Kanda sighed, grabbed the water he'd gotten from the fridge, and slowly walked back to the studio. Where he'd left his phone. He grimaced a little but pulled up his most recent messages. Shockingly he had five unread text messages from her, and two from Allen. Huh.
The first one was almost immediate after his reply:
Lena: He hasn't told me anything since asking for a ride
The next two came ten minutes after and had Kanda stalling and staring.
Lena: He said he's fine though?
Lena: Why wouldn't he be fine?
Because hadn't he just been thinking that? Or something close enough to it? Why wouldn't Allen be fine? Why did it feel like they'd been in more danger after the fact than during? What wasn't Allen saying?
Finally, the last one was from only two minutes ago.
Lena: If u can't tell me just say so.
Well. Fuck. Then again since he didn't reply immediately it definitely did look like he was ignoring her. So he took a deep breath and quickly texted back:
Kanda : Sorry Tiedoll.
Kanda: I asked him too he didn't rly answer.
There. Because now Kanda was starting to realize Allen had definitely lied. Maybe not about all of it, considering he really had grabbed something that night in the pouring rain that someone had left. But who it was and what it was? Clearly he wasn't telling the whole truth. It made Kanda wonder why he didn't want to tell them, but he knew this was probably the perfect example for why--Lenalee was nosy only when she was worried and Kanda only when he knew the other person was lying.
In this scenario Allen fit both scenarios.
Speaking of which, Kanda clicked on the two unread texts from Allen.
Beansprout: What did u tell Lena
Beansprout: She wants to meet after work. U free?
Well at least that was one way to resolve everything, maybe not perfectly but Kanda could always tell if someone was lying a lot easier when they were face to face. So Kanda quickly typed out:
Kanda: Yeah I should be. Where?
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huntmark · 9 months
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Overcoming Challenges in Waterfowl Retriever Training Using Dummies
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Waterfowl retriever training is an essential aspect of preparing hunting dogs to perform in the field. However, this training process often comes with its fair share of challenges. Fortunately, trainers have discovered the effectiveness of using dummies as a valuable tool to overcome these hurdles. In this article, we will explore the challenges faced during waterfowl retriever training and discuss how dummies can be employed to address them effectively.
Developing Steady Retrieves
One of the fundamental challenges in waterfowl retriever training is teaching dogs to remain steady and patient until sent to retrieve a bird. This skill is crucial to ensure a successful hunt, as dogs must wait for the command before rushing into the water or running after a falling bird. Using dummies allows trainers to simulate these scenarios, providing dogs with the necessary practice to develop patience and self-control. By training with dummies, trainers can establish a strong foundation for steady retrieves before introducing live birds.
Building Confidence in Water
Waterfowl retrievers need to be comfortable and confident in aquatic environments. However, some dogs may initially exhibit hesitation or fear when faced with swimming tasks. Dummies provide an excellent means to gradually introduce dogs to water, starting from shallow areas and progressing to deeper sections. The buoyancy of dummies allows dogs to gain confidence while perfecting their swimming techniques without the added complexity of dealing with live birds. As dogs become more comfortable, trainers can gradually transition from dummies to actual waterfowl.
Practicing Retrieval Techniques
Training dogs to retrieve birds efficiently can be a complex process. It involves teaching them to locate and mark downed birds, as well as honing their retrieval techniques, including holding the bird gently without damaging it. Dummies offer trainers the ability to replicate the weight, size, and shape of birds, providing dogs with realistic training scenarios. Through consistent practice with dummies, dogs can learn proper grip, carry, and deliver techniques, ensuring a smooth and successful retrieval during actual hunting situations.
Distance and Direction Control
Effective waterfowl retriever training requires dogs to obey commands for distance and direction control. Dogs need to be able to stay focused, follow hand signals or whistle commands, and retrieve birds accurately, even at a distance. Dummies can be strategically placed in various locations, allowing trainers to simulate different scenarios and train dogs to respond to commands, honing their directional skills. Regular practice with dummies can significantly improve a dog's ability to respond swiftly and accurately to commands, enhancing their overall performance in the field.
Introduction to Gunfire
The sound of gunfire is an integral part of waterfowl hunting, and dogs must be conditioned to remain calm and composed during shooting. Dummies can be used to simulate gunfire scenarios, with trainers incorporating the sound of blanks or starter pistols during training sessions. Associating the sound of gunfire with positive experiences, such as retrieving dummies, helps dogs build a positive association, gradually desensitizing them to the loud noises they may encounter in hunting situations.
Conclusion
Waterfowl retriever training can be a challenging endeavor, but using dummies as a training tool offers numerous benefits for overcoming these obstacles. From developing steady retrieves to building confidence in water, practicing retrieval techniques, honing distance and direction control, and introducing gunfire, dummies provide a versatile and effective means of training hunting dogs. By incorporating dummies into their training regimen, trainers can equip waterfowl retrievers with the necessary skills and confidence to excel in the field, ensuring a successful and enjoyable hunting experience for both dogs and their handlers.
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ashenaardwolf · 5 years
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An Unexpected Affair
Krasarang Wilds, Pandaria. Garrosh is Warchief and the conflict rages on this once tranquil continent. On the southern coast of this land a new Horde fort had been constructed, and where the building work goes, so to do the peons.
This had been the first war Donk had taken part in. Having been born only twelve years after the opening of the Dark Portal, Donk was now 18, and had been selected to help build and maintain Domination Point.
There was always work to be done, with constant Alliance attacks it seemed to Donk that he did nothing but patch holes in roofs and reinforce damaged walls. It wasn't much, but it was honest work. Donk couldn't see how life could get much better than this: he had lots of work and didn't need to fight. But one day his world changed forever.
Samford Wilkins was scared, he was terrified. He thought he knew everything there was to know about war, after all he'd read all the books and studied all the strategies. Every day since he was old enough to hold a sword he'd been practicing, but it was always against target dummies or imaginary foes.
 He'd been told he was an excellent squire, but that was back in Stormwind, back in the safety of those stone walls. Out here in the jungles of this strange new land he knew nothing, was ready for nothing.
 And that's how it had happened. In his confidence Samford hadn't expected anything to go wrong when he was collecting firewood, and so of course that was the moment when everything had decided to go wrong.
 Right when he took shut a few too many steps away from the safety of camp, just a few too many steps away from the protection of his knight, a troll spy had whacked Samford across the back if his head with a club the troll had humorously called “Chloroform”, and dragged him through the jungle back to Domination Point for interrogation.
When he was small, Donk had been told about “love at first sight”, and how one day he'd find a lovely lady to settle down with. This had confused Donk, and not just because he wasn't overly smart, but because Donk had never found any appeal in women, and so he had focused on work. He like work, for some reason Donk really enjoyed being around other strong, sweaty men as they worked together to build things. Donk had often thought long and hard about why he enjoyed that so much, but he just couldn't work it out. Like I said, he wasn't the smartest.
 One evening Donk was rudely pulled off of his break to do emergency repairs to the cells. He had been told that they were due to have a prisoner brought in for the first time a number of weeks, so it was imperative that the cells be in operational condition. Donk didn't know what “imperative” meant, but his supervisor's tone made it clear he needed to do this quickly. And so Donk set to work, putting in new bars, closing up leaks in the ceiling, mopping up waste from the floor. Donk's supervisor told him the cells were now to nice and clean for a prison, so Donk had to pee in the corner to make the place suitably unpleasant.
It was safe to say Samford was not enjoying war nearly as much as he had thought he would. It was his first week in Krasarang and he had already been captured. When he finally came to, he had no idea where he was. All Samford could work out was that he was in some kind of prison, and judging by the urine in the corner, it was probably an orcish prison.
And that was when he saw him, an orc had walked into the cells, squinting in the low light. Samford prepared for the worst. He was certain that this interrogator had arrived, come to torture him for information. The orc took two steps towards him. He stopped and looked around. He too another step forward.
 “Donk lost hammer, has you seen it anywhere?”
Samford blinked. This was not at all what he expected. Perhaps this was some new orcish interrogation tactic he was unaware of? Samford decided that cooperation was his best chance at staying alive.
“Um, no sorry. But I'll help you look for it,” Samford replied as he scrambled around in the floor of his cell. Samford heard a fee timid words of thanks from the orc as he searched the cell for the missing hammer. “Here it is.” He called out to the orc, passing him the hammer as he stood up. It was then he realised what an idiot he'd just been. There had been a hammer, a weapon, just lying in his cell, and he gave it away as soon as he found it.
Donk was surprised that the human prisoner had so readily helped him find his hammer. Donk was also surprised by how much he liked this human. The moment he saw him, Donk's had felt this strange new feeling he'd never felt before. He just couldn't take his eyes off of him.
“Thank you. Me be Donk.”
“Oh, uh, you're welcome. I'm Samford. Samford Wilkins. It's a, uh, very heavy hammer,” the human responded.
“I know, but me be strong, me can handle it,” Donk replied, “Me need to go back to work now. Goodbye Samf-, Sanfob- Samf. Me just going to call you Samf.”
“Oh, you have to go so soon?”
Donk simply nodded and walked off. There was an accident in the latrines and Donk had to fix it.
Samford was surprised at how disappointed he felt when the orc had left, perhaps it was simply because he was the first friendly person Samford had encountered since he had been taken to this place, yet it somehow felt like more than that.
 It was some time past sunset when Samford heard the door to the prison open, and his heart seemed to Juno when he realised it the orc he had met earlier, Donk. He noticed the orc was carrying a dented metal tray holding some disgusting looking slop.
“Here is your dinner Samf. It is not very nice.”
“Oh um thank you, Donk wasn't it?,” He timidly responded.
“Yes. Supervisor said I not supposed to talk to you.” And with that the orc walked out. Samford was sure he had imagined it, but for a moment it seemed that the orc was genuinely disappointed to have to go so soon. As he was about to eat the sloppy gruel on the tray, Samford noticed an apple and a chunk of bread had been dropped on the floor within reaching distance. Samford smiled and thought that perhaps not all orcs are so bad.
For the first time in his life, Donk had found himself unable to concentrate on his work. He had been fine the day before, but ever since he had met the captured human he had felt distracted, whenever he was meant to be working he found his mind wandered back to thoughts about the human. So when his supervisor had instructed him to handle the prisoner's meal, Donk couldn't help but smile.
As the days passed, Donk kept delivering Samford's meals, and each time their conversations grew longer. Eventually it got to the point where Donk no longer cared about his other work and spent the whole day looking forward to when he could see Samford again.
 Samford also found himself growing more fond of Donk as the days progressed. Soon he even began to consider him a friend, and the thought of seeing Donk again helped him get through the cruel interrogation of his captors.
 This went on for around two weeks, until one night they shared a tender kiss. It was the best moment of Samford's life, and he knew Donk felt the same.
That night when Donk returned to his bunk, he lay there replaying the moment in his head. This was what he had been searching for all his life. Hid happiness however, was about to be shattered. He overhead some of the soldiers joking about something, and as these were Forsaken soldiers, Donk knew whatever they were laughing about would he cruel.
 And then he heard what the holes were about: Samford was to be executed tomorrow, the higher ups had determined he had exhausted his supply of useful information and was now a burden on resources.
 Donk knew what he had to do. This sudden panic had filled him with a new resolve. He got up from his bunk and made his way to the armoury, trying to act natural. If he could move with enough confidence nobody would question a peon collecting a few weapons to bring to some of the guards.
 Success. Donk had managed to retrieve two axes and then made his way to the prison. He didn't worry about the locks on the cell, as long as he could overpower the guard he'd be able to get Samford out.
THUD. The sound of something heavy hitting the floor woke Samford from his sleep. And then the door opened, a panicked Donk standing there armed two axes and holding a ring of keys.
“We need to go. They going to kill you tomorrow if you stay.”
“Wait, what?! How did you even overpower the guard?”
“He was half asleep, not hard to whack him”
“Right, well I suppose we should go then. What's your plan to escape?”
Donk responded by quickly moving to the corner of the room and lifting up one of the stones from the floor, revealing a tunnel.
“I had to cover this up after the last prisoner dug out.”
And so two of them climbed down into the hole. It was a tight squeeze, Samford suspected the last prisoner was a dwarf. Donk had thought they were just short and hairy. After a few minutes they reached the end of the tunnel and returned to the surface. Without a second look back, the locked hands and ran off into the night with no destination in mind, just wanting to get away from Domination Point and away from this war...
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felseekers · 5 years
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#27 for tyralyon??
27. A taunt, with one eyebrow raised and a grin bubbling at your lips
Even on the dreariest of mornings, the Arathi Highlands had a certain kind of rugged beauty.
Turalyon hadn’t spent all his time here since the war began in earnest, of course–he was called to advise on multiple matters in the wider war effort, and many of them brought him away from the Alliance’s keep. Sometimes the Lady Nightsinger went with him, but more often than not she was left at the keep to supervise in his absence.
Whether it was a gesture of trust or another shackle around her ankle was a matter for debate.
Late the previous night, Turalyon had returned from a long scouting run on the remnants of the Undercity, searching for signs the land could be saved and the best way to go about it. With no further Horde presence in what had once been Lordaeron, it was simply a matter of resources and time, neither of which the Alliance had in abundance.
It was that grim report he had delivered to Tyracel last night, and at her insistence, he had gone to rest while she penned and sent it to Stormwind on his behalf. Something in Turalyon rankled at leaving the report for Tyracel to finish, but a vastly larger part demanded sleep after so long without, and as she was so often reminding him, she didn’t need it like he did.
In hindsight he supposed he’d known the storm was coming when he’d arrived, but had been too tired to pay it much mind. Now, thin gray light filtered through the windows, along with a deep, ominous rumble, promising a stormy day ahead of them. He woke alone, but that was unsurprising–typically his first order of business for the day was making the morning rounds at the barracks, sparring area, armory, stables, and others. While he’d rested overnight, Tyracel had likely gone instead.
Armored footsteps approached his office and hesitated, then the lock clicked and Turalyon sat up, rubbing a hand on his face.
“You’re awake.” Tyracel’s voice, faintly muffled by her helmet, was vaguely surprised. “I’d expected you to sleep til the afternoon, at least.”
“I dearly wish I had slept that late,” Turalyon told her dryly, rubbing the last of the fatigue from his eyes, “but I have a feeling those days are behind me.”
She made a sympathetic noise, and the noise of leather buckles unfastening made him turn and watch as she deposited her helmet on his desk. Her dark hair was slicked to her skull with dried sweat, and he’d bet whatever he still had to his name that her helmet had not come off since he’d left.
“Perhaps this will ease your mind, then.” Leaning against the desk with her arms folded, Tyracel almost gave off the appearance of being casual, but the angle of her ears said she was still very alert to her surroundings. “All has been quiet here since you left, and there’s been very little movement today. I sent a small scouting run to see if the Horde intends to surprise us in the poor weather, but it seems they’re holed up just like we are. For all intents and purposes, it looks as though it’ll be another quiet day.”
This news should have eased his mind. In truth it only made him more apprehensive than an attack was coming after all–one that was too subtle for them to prevent.
Judging by the look on Tyracel’s face, she felt the same.
“Another quiet day.” Turalyon murmured, running a hand though white-blond hair still messy from sleep. A restless itch in his blood refused to let him take the apparent respite. “I think I’ll use it to practice on a training target.”
Tyracel made a vague dissenting noise. “All that will serve is to tire you.”
“I assume you have another idea?”
“Spar with me.”
Turalyon paused in running his hand through tangled hair again. “Beg pardon?”
“Spar with me.” Tyracel repeated, raising one brow. “We never have, to the best of my recollection. I believe I could give you more than a worthy challenge.” Here her lip twitched just slightly, like she was trying to suppress a grin. “Unless, of course, the High Exarch himself is afraid of being bested by a death knight.”
Learning to parse Tyracel’s somewhat-literal sense of humor had taken Turalyon time, and there were still some days he was unsure if he was witnessing her naturally severe nature in action, or if she was joking. These days, there were cracks in that icy shell, and the humor that wanted to try that much harder to be seen was more readily visible. Her unusually-competitive attitude showed that more than anything else this morning thus far.
Still, he eyed her with something stern yet light. “Sparring weapons only.”
She rolled her whole head, rather than just her eyes. “As though I would suggest sparring with real weapons during our first bout.” Reaching for her helmet, she secured it to the rest of her armor once more and said, “I’ll see you shortly.”
The keep’s sparring area was generously named–really it was a small yard on the side of the keep that had training dummies at the walled-off edge and wide open space in the middle for active sparring. On a day like today, and as early as it was, the yard was clear of distractions, bar the rain that had begun to fall in a steady shower several minutes ago.
Well, that and Tyracel, who was already holding two sparring blades, going through several attack motions with them as Turalyon approached with his own sparring weapon.
Largely similar to their usual weapons in weight and balance, the only thing different about them were their dulled edges and rounded ends. Still painful if one was struck with them, but likely not fatal. Particularly when wearing the light sparring armor, mostly mail, they kept stored in the armory, but had not seen fit to use until today.
Still, each of their sparring sets had some sort of personality to them–Tyracel’s mail was in a bright silver-colored metal covered by a dark leather cuirass, and Turalyon’s own had touches of muted gold in a few of the mail links.
After going through the appropriate stretches, Turalyon faced Tyracel at the other end of the yard, the rain steadily turning the dirt beneath their boots to thick, sticky mud. “Drawing first blood is not our goal here,” she spoke before he could, “so let’s say our goal is until first yield.”
“Fair terms.” he confirmed, holding the two-handed practice sword at the ready.
Tyracel had the advantage of agility, Turalyon knew, and he the advantage of sheer strength, but both their strategies were hampered by the weather. It was difficult for Tyracel to stay maneuverable when so much effort was required to drag her boots out of the mud with each step, and equally difficult for Turalyon to gain the necessary leverage to make a solid strike.
Finally, he kept his footing long enough to bring his blade down, and found it caught by Tyracel’s twin blades, crossed over her head and holding him back with what seemed like nary an effort on her part. Twisting her blades sharply, Turalyon was forced to jerk back before she disarmed him, and Tyracel put distance enough between them to adjust her stance into a more defensive one. Turalyon did the same, waiting to see if she took the obvious bait.
Shifting her stance again, faster than he could follow, Tyracel slid to the side and swung her main-hand sword around in a vicious arc, catching the mail in his ribcage before he could block her, and darting away. Briefly surprised, by the time Turalyon recovered enough to try and gain solid footing for another strike, Tyracel had already solidified her offensive stance again and prepared to swing down with both her blades.
Instead of raising his sword completely, Turalyon jerked it backwards until the pommel struck a spot just below her chest, which would have knocked the breath out of a living creature and incapacitated it for several seconds at least, but the most Tyracel did was grunt with surprise as she found her footing disrupted.
Taking advantage of the momentary lapse, Turalyon swung his greatsword in an upwards arc. Tyracel jerked out of the way enough to avoid being struck by the blade herself, but one of her two swords was sent flying to the other side of the yard, landing heavily in the thick mud there.
“It seems you’re at something of a disadvantage, Lady Nightsinger.” Turalyon couldn’t help but remark with a grin as they circled around one another again, Tyracel holding her single remaining blade in her main hand.
Tyracel’s answering grin was lopsided. “We’ll just see, won’t we?”
Moving simultaneously, Turalyon swung his greatsword in a wide arc, and Tyracel’s charge abruptly slowed as she slid on the surface of the mud, passing directly under his strike as she spun and came up far too close to dodge in time. Rather than use her blade, Tyracel swung her main arm around until it struck Turalyon’s chest, and the momentum of her charge as well as the strength of her strike knocked him off-balance badly enough that Tyracel disarmed him, almost embarrassingly smoothly, and he staggered to one knee, catching his breath.
Tyracel’s boots and the end of her training sword entered his field of vision, and the flat of her blade rested against the underside of his chin as he looked back up at her. It was clear she was trying to not appear too pleased with herself, but was only halfway succeeding.
“Well?” she asked mildly, raising a brow as her lopsided half-grin fought for control of her face.
Turalyon tried to laugh, but it didn’t make it past his shortness of breath, and all that came out was something more like a wheeze. “Very well, I yield.”
Her blade vanished, and she offered a hand instead. He took it gratefully as she pulled him back to his feet with one smooth motion, and, once she was certain he was steady on his feet agian, she walked to the other side of the yard to retrieve her lost practice blade. Turalyon rested against the keep’s wall, where he would be shielded from the worst of the rain, and squinted up at the sky, which only seemed to be getting darker.
“Granted,” Tyracel said as she approached again, both sparring weapons in hand, dark hair dripping with the rain, “you likely would have taken the match if it was possible to knock the wind out of me.”
“My pride is not so fragile that I cannot stomach a loss in the sparring ring, Tyracel.”
“All the same.” she lifted her shoulders in a faint shrug. “It’s worth noting.”
After depositing their sparring gear back in the armory and cleaning off the pieces soiled by mud, they returned to the main barracks, where their office was kept, and Tyracel promptly took a seat at the desk, pulled out a quill, inkwell, and parchment, and seemed well on her way to burying herself in another mountain of work before Turalyon interrupted, “Not even a bath to wash off the mud from outside?”
Her quill hesitated, hovering above the parchment already covered in ink, and with a sigh Tyracel set the quill back in its inkwell.
“Very well,” she conceded as she rose from the desk chair, “but then I have work to do.”
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