There's no one there,no tools cluttering or hitting on metal, no huffs of effort, or fists hitting a bag, no mechanisms being touched, built or broken.
Which, for Bruce, that was already weird, usually silence meant focus. But this was weird.
So he searched,walking trough the mansion, a bit aimlessly at first but he arrived infront of the kid's room, and surely enough, he was there.
On his bed, doodling, scratching on the paper, not on the desk that was for drawing no, obviously not, he was on the bed, absolute comfort.
Bruce stood there, in the doorway,watching Graham tracing lines on the paper.
"Kid?"
That got a reaction, it made Graham jump slightly, closing his sketchbook."..Yea?", he mumbled, barely audible.
"..What ..are you up t—" "Drawing!", he interrupted,quite quickly.
Bruce softly exhaled trough his nose,not quite a laugh, "Yes, I figured. But what are you drawing? Doesn't look like schematics."
"..Anatomy..muscle..mass..y'know..art..stuff?..",He answered, holding the sketchbook closed, his legs crossed on the book and head turned towards Bruce,who had an eyebrow slightly raised, "Of?" ,"a..guy?"
That made Bruce even more perplexed, "A guy."
"..Listen..Graham..you know,if there's anything you want to tell me—"
"No! Jesus..you're making it weird..Bruce..it's..argh—..shit—..",He closed his eyes tight,before opening his sketchbook, which made Bruce enter and walk closer to Graham on the bed, he rubbed his eyes beford taking a look at the drawing.
It was a suit.
Batman -shaped..but not quite. It was more vampiric, theatrical even.
It was dark, plated on the chest, where the logo of the bat sat, menacing, angular,a vibrant crimson color that accented all over the suit.
The cowl had no mouth -hole, and the eyes red instead of white, the feeling of something watching accented.
As for the cape, it was much longer and a collar rose around the neck. Giving it a darker, yet flamboyant look.
"..It's—..stupid. Don't mind it.", he looked down, then Bruce spoke,
"..It's..impractical, the cape is too long, could get caught on structures. The red makes it too visible,too predictable. And it's also trying too hard to leave an impression. To be frightening."
Graham didn't look up yet,simply spoke again, "..Well you're..not that subtle, and your cape is already a bit long so..just— it's—",He opened his mouth, hesitant—"..just.. Don't—..I already told you to not mind it."
Bruce stayed silent, Graham sighed, rolling his eyes,
The teen finally turned his head to look at his mentor, still slightly avoiding his gaze, "..Well—..I...just drew it..like that..and most of the people you fight are over-the-top..they're also trying to leave a lasting impression..And isn't your whole shtick to make criminals afraid already?", He finally looked at Bruce.
He gave the sketchbook back to Graham, groaning to get up,
"That's a fair point..you could make a few adjustments."—He pointed at gloves— "These are interesting. For control. Climbing. Contact points."
Graham felt his shoulder heavier, Bruce's hand rested gently, firm, he gave him a reassuring, small—but present— smile.
"..You..think?", He softened just a bit, looking up at him.
It’s been a week, but you’re fairly certain your fiancé accidentally got himself replaced by an eldritch being from the Depths. Deciding that he’s certainly not worse than your original fiancé, you endeavor to keep the engagement and his new non-human state to yourself.
However, this might prove harder than you originally thought.
After discussing Northridge infrastructure and commissioning a few more requests for various surveys and inquiries with the appropriate officials, you’ve moved onto military concerns since the household matters seem well in hand, at least for this estate.
You’ll evaluate the others when you visit them. You’re fairly certain Bilmont is going to send letters to the stewards and housekeepers of those estates to expect perhaps more of a shake up than they might otherwise, but you rather think that’s a fair advance warning.
Martial prowess is generally expected for those of the noble class, but how much ability each member has varies based on birth order and general preference. First-borns are expected to be particularly competent, especially in their youth, with training in a variety of weapons, service to the crown for at least a year, and then lessons in command. Dale has such experience, having trained in Northridge for his younger years, then in the capital where he attained his knighthood, and four years of service to the crown prior to his release from that service. You’ve no idea what he might have done in his years abroad to keep it up—likely contests of skill with his friends and perhaps helping out a local lord or tournament—but you’ve no doubt he has.
While second-borns often get a similarly rigorous education—both in case something unfortunate happens to the oldest and they find themselves in that position and because they are likely to marry a titled heir—the education the other children in a family line receive can be far more varied. Some expect to study academics, some expect to aid their older siblings in managing family estates and matters, some go into trade, others exploration, and of course spiritual orders too. The possibilities are merely dependent on your family, your interests, and who is paying for it all–and how much they are willing to pay.
You’ve never been particularly interested in anything combative, although you took basic courses in castle guard management, fief force management, self-defense, and general military history. You’d always been more interested in wound treatment and supply management rather than the gritty details of battle and fighting.
Luckily Dale, before and now, does have an interest in that. You’re happy to let him lead this discussion, following along well enough, but unable to ask the kind of follow-up questions Dale clearly can. It becomes evident through Bilmont’s answers and the reports that Northridge is adequately staffed, generally with competent leaders managing their forces. Grandfather, traditional in what he thinks a Lord’s primary duty is, actively manages their defense.
“I’m surprised Grandfather manages the militant forces,” you remark offhand. “Rather than Grandmother.”
“Lady Northridge never expected to inherit—she was third in-line,” Steward Bilmont explains. “Her oldest brother and his wife were drawn to battle so their death was seen as a likely loss, but no one expected her older sister and her family to get caught in that shipwreck.”
“Grandfather was second in his family, but his oldest brother had an heir before Grandfather was married, with more on the way, so it was a good match, but unusual in that the consort had more military training than the title holder did.”
In the end, the only substantial comment Dale has is regarding training. “Grandfather has done a good job maintaining our forces, but there are some newer techniques and technologies I know he has not implemented that I believe will help keep us on the forefront of military thinking.”
He stops to write down certain book titles that he’d like Bilmont to order copies of for the family library and you peer over the list to potentially read yourself when they arrive. “Some of those I met while abroad have given me interesting ideas. Some I had been thinking of installing as trainers, but I’m reconsidering a few of them.” He jots down another list of names, those in Northridge he thinks may need to be reevaluated based on the debriefing or reports and then those of potential candidates he has in mind to hire. As he does so, he mutters under his breath, “Why I ever thought that drunkard Wilhelm could be trusted as swordsmaster, I’ve no idea…
You shake your head at that. Dale had wanted to install those loyal to him, those he could use to further his ends, regardless of their actual skills and competencies. Based on the stories from his travels, you gather Wilhelm of Aliers is a good hand with a sword, but more importantly his home fief was famous for its wineries. You wouldn’t be surprised if the majority of ‘potential candidates’ original Dale had wanted to install were chosen for similar reasons.
“My lord,” Bilmont says, hesitant enough you know he doesn’t expect Dale to like whatever he has to say next. “I believe your Grandfather already has replacements in mind for the majority of those who plan to retire.”
“We’ll interview them as well,” Dale waves his hand dismissively. “I am aware many of currently in place seek to retire as he does, but I want to test all trainers and all candidates myself as they are to serve me, going forward.” His eyes dart to your own and he corrects himself, “Going to serve us. And so we shall have the final say.”
“Very well,” Bilmont says backing down, long practiced at knowing when to pick his battles. “Might I suggest you do these interviews with your grandfather present? I believe that will help the process go smoothly, particularly for anyone he already spoke to.”
Dale frowns, clearly not following, but you do. Grandfather must have already promised or as good as promised certain positions to his own choices. That might spread resentment, if they feel cheated or overlooked. Grandfather can help calm any tempers. “That sounds like a good idea.” You give Bilmont a nod of acknowledgment to show you understand what he means and he seems to grow a smidge less tense.
“Perhaps we should meet with Grandfather ourselves ahead of time as well,” you say, turning to Dale. “He will have greater insight into those we already employ and has likely had to conduct such evaluations before. His experience would be helpful.” And hopefully you’ll be able to soothe any of his own wounded pride if Dale essentially overrides any decisions he’s already made.
Dale stares at you without blinking, clearly assessing your words and you try not to squirm. At some point though, you stop feeling the need to, lost in his eyes. It’s like looking down into a deep well, knowing there’s water as well as darkness at the bottom, but sure any movement you might attribute to the former is just your own eyes playing tricks on you. He releases you with a blink. You come back to yourself, taking a deep breath and wondering if it truly was deep or if you simply hadn’t been breathing while preoccupied by the darkness in his eyes, the sharp blue to his irises, his delicate eyelashes…
“Yes,” Dale’s voice shakes you from your still wandering thoughts. “A good idea, my lady. I wonder when would be best to—”
Dale’s wondering is interrupted by a knock on the door, which swiftly opens to reveal the man himself. Grandfather’s gaze is searching until it lands on Dale at which point he brightens. “Dale! There you are. The last of our early bird guests were able to make it today after all—Heath was able to board a faster ship and Francois stayed behind so Jeanne made great time.”
You frown, trying to remember what people are coming so early for. As far as you can remember, the tournament is the first wedding festivity and that doesn’t start for another five to seven days.
Dale grins at his grandfather reflexively, but he also looks confused as grandfather goes on. “What’s happening? My head is still trapped in these reports. We’ve been going over all the council rosters and committees in preparation for my taking over as Lord. Steward Bilmont has been a great boon in helping us get our arms around it all before we start pestering you and Grandmother for greater detail. We’ve drawn up a schedule and started sending out missives so we can…”
Grandfather stares incredulously at Dale until even he recognizes the cue for what it is and trails off. You suppose he was never particularly interested in paperwork before. You hope Grandfather thinks his greater interest is due to him finally inheriting and nothing more.
“It’s time for the hunt, of course,” Grandfather says, a mix of triumph and judgment in his voice as he reminds Dale of what should be obvious.
“Oh, yes,” recognition blooms in Dale’s eyes and your own. Ceremonial hunts among the nobility were common and traditional before both a tournament and a wedding. Usually only one betrothed went on the hunt—or there were two hunts—and various close friends and family who were to come to the wedding arrived a little earlier than most to join them. It’s a remnant from an even older time, more even than the tournaments, which were to show a noble family’s martial prowess, to the very basics of simply putting food on the table. “The hunt.”
“Yes, I’ve already had your valet finish packing your things,” Grandfather says. He smiles at you when he says, “Sorry to pull your fiance away from this riveting paperwork.” He even adds a wink.
You smile, inwardly glad you didn’t have to partake in the hunt. You can set traps and that’s about it. Bows required a greater degree of upper arm strength you simply didn’t have, same for spears. You know the basics on how to hold a human or wild animal at bay with one, but that’s all. The rest you know is all close combat self-defense, focused on using vulnerable spots to your advantage so you can get away. You’re perfectly content with that being the extent of your physical offensive capabilities.
Violence has never appealed to you and if you needed to rid yourself of an unsavory person, well, you are quite versed in herblore. You are by no means an expert though, mistakes are so easy to make. You’d refreshed your memory of such things after meeting the original Dale, in case he ended up far less tolerable than he appeared. Even this Dale, you’re well aware of his allergy should his attitude prove more illusory than you hope.
Preparing contingencies always made you feel better, particularly since you knew you’d lose in a physical fight. You simply had to ensure you never ended up in one.
“Of course, I would never begrudge him his entertainments,” you say to Grandfather. It is nice, getting to know him and Grandmother,starting to feel like you fit with them and their interactions. Each day you feel like you know them a bit better, are able to read their moods and personalities more reliably. It’s a comforting feeling: settling in. “Or you.”
“And we thank you, my dear,” he replies. “It’s shaping up to be a good hunt—we’ve reports of stags in the north and only one bear sighting. There might be the usual boar complications, but that’s never bothered us, eh Dale?”
Dale looks back at Grandfather, his eyes having strayed back to the report in hand, but the grin he gives him is sharp enough so he must still be paying attention. “I’ve never minded a boar hunt, although a stag hunt’s focus on the chase is not to be undervalued.”
“Precisely,” Grandfather agrees. “It's been too long since I’ve been on one of considerable size and even longer since I’ve hosted. It is shaping up to be a marvelous one.”
“Yes, I suppose it is too late to cancel,” Dale says with some reluctance as he straightens from the note he was jotting down. As he passes it over to Bilmont, he gives a slight sigh. You too are disappointed in having to cut your discussion short, but it's no real hardship. You can pick back up where you left off when he returns in a few days and while it's nice to try to order things before the wedding, the truth is that there’s too much going on to make much headway. Once all the festivities pass, there will be more time and less interruptions.
“Cancel. What sort of a joke is that?” Grandfather replies flatly. You look up to see him blinking at Dale in confusion. Fear drips down your spine at the change in his demeanor, at the hint of accusation mixed in with the confusion as he says, “You’ve been looking forward to this for weeks.”
“There’s simply so much to get started with,” Dales says, an eager grin on his face. “Just now we were discussing the roads and the councils–training and appointments we want to discuss with you.”
Grandfather though, just stares at him, brow furrowing in confusion and defensiveness. “You speak as though Northridge is in dire need of attention. As if your Grandmother and I have been sitting on our laurels letting it go to seed.”
You flinch at the accusation and Dale at least needs no warning to see how his comments could have been misconstrued. “Oh! Of course not,” Dale says, face falling. “That’s not what I meant at all. My apologies, I am simply looking forward to this next part of my life and am eager to apply what I’ve learned to my home.”
The offense drops from Grandfather’s face, but something that worries you more takes its place: suspicion. You are suddenly aware that Grandfather has always been less oblivious to who Dale was, regardless of his opinion on what were flaws and what were not, and therefore may notice how uncharacteristic it is even just for Dale to apologize. This combined with his reluctance for the hunt, appears to be making Grandfather question things you hoped he won’t.
“There’s so much I need to learn,” you say, hoping your voice is a sufficient mix of modest and hopeful. “Lessons in school rooms are simply not the same and since Dale has been away from home, there’s plenty for us to catch up on.”
Grandfather’s eyes are unusually sharp on your face, but he nods at your explanation—after all, it's a true one, if not complete.
“Yes,” Dale says, following your lead easily—you’re not even sure if he’s doing it on purpose. “I find myself wishing I had attended to more meetings and such before I left as you and Grandmother often bid me.”
Grandfather looks mollified by Dale’s addition to an extent, but he still looks far too intent for your liking as he surveys the pair of you. “Of course.” He strides over to Dale and claps a hand on his shoulder. “I’m pleased you are keen to begin taking up your responsibilities, Dale. However, there is no need to neglect the festivities as well. This is a time for celebration in addition to duty. You’ll quickly find that duty will always remain, waiting with more for you to handle. The hunt however is now and if we have any hope to make the most of our time, we must leave sooner rather than later.”
Grandfather keeps his eyes on Dale’s face and no doubt sees the slight reluctance on it. The first Dale would never be so slow to leave this stuffy room with its paperwork behind, let alone for a hunt in his honor.
You are trying to think of the right way to prompt him before anymore seconds go by, when his eyes dart to your own. You seize the opportunity to say, “You should go, enjoy yourself. All of this will be here when you return.” You give him what you hope to be an encouraging nod. “You were just yesterday discussing how you felt as though you’d not had enough practical opportunities to ensure your hunting skills remained sharp.” That is even true, although you expect he meant that he hadn’t had a chance to go hunting since he became Dale rather than since Dale returned from abroad.
His mood seems to shift easily with your words added to Grandfather’s and he regains his enthusiasm from the hunt. “Yes, I had. You’re quite right,” he says, turning from you to Grandfather with a grin. “I haven’t a chance to use the spear I picked up in Anjou yet. Perhaps I can even get some more practice in with the Khinat bow we all took up while there.”
You relax as he talks until your eyes leave his to find Grandfather staring at you. It takes all your practice at hiding your anxiety not to react beyond a small stiffening in your spine. Had Grandfather noticed that Dale had looked to you for how he should react? Has he noticed how very, very odd it is that Dale should look to anyone for advice, let alone you, when he was always too headstrong and self-possessed? That he had needed your encouragement?
“Has everyone else arrived?” Dale asks, not seeming to notice the odd tension in Grandfather’s shoulders. “Last I heard, Uncle Wellington was still claiming he’d need another two days before he’d be joining us.”
Grandfather’s eyes leave yours to reply, “Yes, Welly got here an hour or so ago, with his hounds in tow.”
“Wonderful,” Dale says with feeling. “I must continue my quest to persuade him to let me keep one of his magnificent hunters.”
Grandfather seems to relax even further at that proclamation, chuckling and squeezing Dale’s shoulder. “You know how he is with those dogs, I think he vets anyone he gives one to more than he did his childrens’ spouses. No reason to give up hope though, perhaps this will be the year.”
Grandfather heads for the door and Dale follows, pausing to remind Bilmont to send certain papers to his room per your earlier conversation. He also pauses at your chair. “You’ll have to let me know if you decide anything while I’m away, yes?”
You smile, blushing slightly from the way he bends his head so close to your own. “Of course, though I doubt we’ll make any concrete plans until you’ve returned. I’ll have a write-up left in your study.”
You knew he was going on this hunt, but since some people were joining from out of Northridge, it hadn’t been clear when they would be going. Now, you feel some concern for Dale, a pang of nerves at how he might fare or behave alone with the others. It’s likely just because Grandfather seemed to notice something just now, but you feel a strange sense of foreboding.
Still, you certainly can’t say so—nevermind who else is still in the room—but you are always nervous about many things, most of which turn out to be nothing. You reach for something concrete to focus your attention and worry on. “Do you have enough tea and medicine to last you on your hunt?”
Dale’s eyes glint in response, his smile softer than his more typical grin these days. “Thank you, sana, but I have all I need—Mr. Murray,” his valet, “knew what was to be packed for this trip and I left explicit instructions for those which you’ve prescribed to be brought.”
“Of course,” you murmur, shy in the face of his gratitude and respect, neither of which you fully feel you’ve earned. It does remind you that not only is there the hunt, but after is the tournament—perhaps you should prepare some extra recipes, just in case. You’re sure the new doctor, along with any other physicians brought by guests, will be more than adequate. It couldn’t hurt though. You search for words that will move the conversation forward. “Have an enjoyable trip,” you settle on, looking back up at him from underneath your lashes.
That softer smile is still on his face as he nods. “We shall return with a most magnificent prize, I am sure.” He picks up your hand, the one resting on the arm rest and presses a whisper of kiss to the back of it, his lips soft, before releasing you to walk over to where Grandfather waits by the door.
Your eyes drift past Dale to find Grandfather staring at you contemplatively, his brow furrowed once more, and fight the urge to freeze. Dale is more affectionate than he had been before, but nothing he’d done was beyond what was within the bounds for a betrothed to do. Surely any growing familiarity can merely be blamed on seeing more of each, rather than a fundamental shift in Dale’s personality, right?
Grandfather’s expression smooths out once he sees you noticing to be replaced with a perfectly polite smile. “I shall return him to you safe and sound, my Lady,” is all he says. “Have no fear.”
You return his smile and will yourself to believe that it is only your overactive anxiety gnawing at you—nothing more. “I thank you.”
Not to be a Yukakoi shipper on anon but I imagine Yukako tying up Echoes in her hair and looking for its genitals while Koichi is just a flustered mess especially if Yukako gets her mouth/tongue on Echoes' dick and she just starts going to town on it - ✨🧚 (fairy anon)
Skdjskdjsj oh damn Yukako is out for him and will not hesitate!!!
Depending on what act it’s in, it’s going to be rangingly difficult, though, if it’s act three you can always tell when he starts feeling it from his hearty yells of “F- U- C- K!”
Summary: What seemed like a really long shopping trip for Sam, turns out to not be as bad as he would have thought it would be.
Warnings: Nothing really, maybe a slight implied smut at the end, but really that’s all.
Word count: 555
A/N: Took a little liberty with this one, and made it about shopping for clothes and stuff instead ;P This kinda goes out to Kaylie (@hiddenwritingsintheworld), and I know I am more of an x reader kinda writer, buuuuut Kaylie has really been there for me when I have needed her more than ever. Especially the last couple of days, where I doubted myself a lot because of my exam, which turned out I had no need to after scoring an A. So Kaylie thank you, and this is not nearly enough to show my gratitude for you. Btw not betaed, all mistakes on me!
As you were walking through the big doors to the mall, you took a deep breath, sighed and smiled widely.
“I just love this place! Soooo many stores, and soooo much clothes everywhere!” You said clapping your hands quietly. Looking at Sam you couldn’t help but chuckle at the way his face turned from relaxed, to one of horror. “What’s the matter Sam? Not liking the idea?” You said laughing slightly.
“Umm, yes of course. It’s just, uh, how much are we gonna go through?” He said as an awkward laugh escaped his lips while he scratched the back of his neck.
“Oh c’mon it’ll be fun, and I promise it’ll go faster than you think,” you said as you stood on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “Now, let’s go,” you smiled grabbing his hand in yours and walking towards the first store, Maurices.
Sam’s P.O.V.
Looking through shoes, clothes and lots of accessories, her eyes shined, and though Sam never liked shopping this much, he couldn’t help but smile from the joy that glowed from her.
“Oh my god Sam, look at these shoes!” She squealed as she waved around with a pair of shoes.
“Well if you stood still with them, I would,” Sam laughed as he grabbed her hand. “Kaylie, honey, don’t you already have a pair that look like this?” Sam smirked and raised an eyebrow. She looked down at them, then back at Sam.
“They’re not this colour though...,” she tried as she was giving him the puppy eyes. Sam knowing himself he couldn’t stand for those blue eyes.
“Fine, though you shouldn’t buy them,” he said popping out his tongue at her, receiving a small slap on his upper arm.
Kaylie’s P.O.V.
You and Sam had laughed most of the day, but you could sense the tiredness Sam was starting to get after dragging him through one store after the other.
“Are we done yet?” Sam asked. “I’m bored,” his shoulders slumped down a little.
“Yes, we’re done...” you said smirkingly, knowing he would hate you in a second. He sighed slumping his shoulders a little more in relief. “With half of the stores I would like to go to,” you let out a breathy laugh at the Sam’s changing expression.
“Why must you be so cruel to me?” Sam cried as you walked through the entry to a Charlotte Russe store. “Seriously, another store like this?!” Sam said throwing out his arms in frustration.
“Now remember Sam, deep down you love me,” you said turning around to hug him and kiss his neck. “I will only go into this store and one more, I promise,” you said lowly, tiptoeing up to his ear. “If you turn your head a little, you will see the last store, and I am sure you will love it,” you whispered with a smirk playing on your lips. Sam swallowed hard realising which store you were talking about. “And you can pick whatever you wanna see me in later,” you continued before standing back on your feet and about to walk away. Sam grabbed your wrist to turn you around, before giving you a hard kiss that turned into a passionate one.
“Maybe this will be a good day after all,” Sam said, his eyes blown with lust.
This is just my old tags, sooooo if there is anyone who doesn’t wanna stay, it’s cool.
This may be a boomer comment but there is something to be said for keeping tools in software programs where they were even after a new release. I’m looking at you Acrobat.
