#first one was frye practice and the second one i made before said practice
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i return with... no.. it can't be.... more splatoon 3..
#first one was frye practice and the second one i made before said practice#so she doesnt look too amazing there im so sorry frye#splatoon 3#splatoon deep cut#splatoon frye#splatoon shiver#splatoon big man#deep cut splatoon#splatoon#digital art#artist#my art#art#digital artwork#original art#artists on tumblr
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Now, Where Were We?
Happy New Year everyone! Since people liked the first one, here is another Jacob Frye x Reader one-shot! Slightly longer than before, so be prepared!
Summary: Jacob can never get his favourite Rook alone before being disturbed.
Jacob was always told never to pick favourites, and that was for everything. From a young age, he had been taught of crucial lessons by his father, over the virtues of their Creed; teachings in which his sister caught on quicker than him.
From then on, the youngest Frye twins was never someone to keep at one thing, enjoying something and straying away from it. If there was something better than a possession he already owned, there was no stopping him from wanting to have it; a cycle that never ended.
What was the point in keeping to one thing for the rest of your life, when you had so many things that could keep you entertained?
Jacob Frye was always one to never have one thing for long, and for an assassin well known with a gang he planned out to take over the boroughs of London against the Blighters, anyone and everyone were more than surprised that he stuck with it.
When it came to Evie - who balanced this perfectly with a flip of a coin to land well each time - she had been one to criticise her younger brother for his failures in keeping to missions and plans.
When it came to his Rooks, he knew every single one of them and admired their valour and service to help against the Templars and Blighters, each one a name he had remembered with a face he couldn’t forget.
If anything, Jacob always thought it wouldn’t be good to keep favourites, who were always in his good books and who he liked more than others just on how they were outside of the field of their work.
This idea fell down the drain when he grew a certain liking to a certain Rook.
He remembered recruiting you, the date and the event that had taken down prior to it all. He had been impressed by your motivation and mere strength for not giving in and always thinking to the recruits, regardless if they were more experienced or rookies.
In some ways, his view on you was what he had wanted in the first place when he had first wanted to start a gang, and the pure fire that burned within you that made him see what a shining example you were to him and others.
Evie had spotted this admiration, calling it ‘mere respect’, when in actuality, she had wanted to call it a crush.
It had been an ordinary day in the morning of London, where there other many civilians walking around going about their business, as well as you too.
You had hopped onto their hideout on the train when it came into the station, a place that the Frye twins trusted very few Rooks in knowing and not betraying against the Templars or other rival gangs.
A request from the boss himself was asking you to come to meet him, wishing for your advice on taking over another piece of Blighter territory; the final step into taking over another borough.
Your feet moved like clockwork getting you from the side of the train to the second carriage. That was where you found Jacob, laid out like Julius Cesar being fed grapes on the sofa, in a relaxed posture with his legs up.
Upon your entry, you took note that he was the only one in the room, no sign of his sister anywhere nor Greenie.
“Mornin’ boss.” You greeted, walking through the doorway to take note of his body language. His languid hazel eyes lingered on yours longer than you had expected and... was he slowly looking you up and down again?
This behaviour wasn’t the first time you had been introduced to the bosses’ laid-back yet charming personality. You had been there to witness his drinking habits in pubs when you and another Rook had to drag him back to an angry Evie.
But from the many conversations the two of you had, you were pleased in knowing how relaxed he was in person; a guy who cared for those like his family and for those suffering.
You didn’t want to admit that you may have had a major crush on the assassin.
His gaze was always one that made you both nervous and timid, biting the inside of your cheek as he acknowledged you from his seat.
“How nice to see you here again, Y/N.”
He always called you by your first name after the initial introductions, never once calling you by your surname like all the other members.
It was something that made you anxious to stand, continually attempting to maintain eye contact with him, when all you wanted to do was shy away from his flirtatious eyes.
Or, so you thought he was flirtatious actions when it could’ve just been his character.
He was kind to everyone, yet you couldn’t help your heart from ticking a little quicker when you succeeded in making him grin or laugh at something you had said - whether it had been a little quip or joke to lighten the mood.
You tugged on your yellow armband in instinct for when you grew warily nervous and more watchful, something that never went unnoticed. Jacob was told of it one time by another Rook, a couple of months after getting to know you.
He had used it in ways to see if he could get you riled up. Most of the time, just in his body language whether he was subtle or not around you (only when it came to you and none of the other rooks) it would’ve been obvious.
“Mr Frye, you wanted to see me?” You questioned after some time just watching him from his reclined posture. “Yes, it seems that the last gang holdout has been pushed back, with no supplies coming in after our successful detoxication.” He spoke.
“I think it is high time for us to finish what we had sorted in beginning. From tomorrow, this territory will be owned by the Rooks.”
It was always so fascinating watching him speak out about his gang with such wonder and eyes of a cheerful puppy - so eager in wanting the best for his gang.
“If I may, Boss, you have asked me to come and speak with you about these matters, when you have Miss Frye or even someone more experienced than I.” You began, uneasy, twiddling your fingers.
“What I’m trying to ask his boss, is why do you always ask me and not someone else?”
Jacob’s eyes softened more so than normal (and that was saying something), as he stood from his feet to walk over to where you stood. He was always taller than you by a few inches, but still, seeing him so close to you, your heart fluttered once again from collapsing in from the inside of your chest.
“To put it simply, Y/N, I like your company.”
“Hmm?” You blinked owlishly at his words, simply stated but you were trying your best to remain calm in the situation, “I do not know how I feel about that, boss-”
“Jacob, please. We are alone, aren’t we?” His voice was low and sultry against your ear, practically his body was blocking you against the wall behind you, and you could barely even hear your breathing over the sound of the train squeaking against the tracks.
“What must we discuss, Jacob?” You found your voice through the screeching, looking up into his hazel eyes, and you had mistaken his charismatic eyes for ones of wanton.
His hand had slipped to further trap you against the wall, and you couldn’t help but press yourself against him involuntarily as if you needed the touch of him against you. He leant into your face, your eyes trailing down to his lips, darting u before you were caught.
“Perhaps, we can discuss these matters alone, in the evening, in my own room-”
You had ignored the noises of footsteps clicking their way into the second carriage, an occupied Evie staring at her papers as she walked through from behind.
“Mr Green has given us another target to speak with, Jacob. We’re needed to speak with him shortly-- oh?”
You were the first to pull away from Jacob, moving his hand so you could slip out, face flush as you stared wide-eyed at the oldest of the Frye twins.
She gave you a questionable yet quizzical look, looking between you and her brother with an amused gaze. Jacob didn’t look as frightened of being caught, but he looked more annoyed for being disturbed.
“M-Miss Frye, if you excuse me.” You bowed your head in acknowledgement, not daring to meet Jacob’s eye as you hurried out of the carriage, nearly throwing yourself off the track and onto the platform the train was passing by.
You were given some strange looks, but you were too busy taking off running to notice, smothering your cheeks from looking so flush as you ran back to your base.
-
You had attempted to stifle your embarrassment that same evening, pressing your face into the sleeve of your arm as you heard the uproar of laughter beside you, a firm slap to your back causing you to look up from the soreness.
“I knew it! I bloody knew it!” The boisterous laughter of the man beside you brought you to swallow more of the warm ale.
“Stuff it, Eddie, I don’t want to hear your mockery.” You snapped, slugging your drink with the intent on finishing it; regardless of how little soberness was left in you by the end of the night.
“I just cannot believe that you’re telling me this?” Eddie’s cheeks were flushed from the alcohol, his azure eyes glazed over from the amount he had drunk, his stocky figure leant against the bar in his seat. “You fancy the boss?”
“Hush, you git!” You screeched, teeth grit. “Or I’ll skin you alive!”
“B’ah! Oh, the thought of your little crush getting out terrifies you, doesn’t it?” He roared with laughter, sloshing his drink around and nearly knocking half of it on you.
“Eddie, I swear to God, if you tell him, I’ll-”
“Tell who what?” The familiar voice resounded from behind the two of you. Your blood froze in your body, all body functions stilling at the idea of knowing who was there.
“Boss, nice to see ya here this evening,” Eddie greeted the assassin with a nod his way, his brawny shoulder knocking you to the side, “Y/N was just wonderin’ where you ran off to.” He emphasised with a cheeky wink your way.
You had gritted your teeth unintentionally before turning yourself around in your seat to face Jacob, all macho and beautiful in your eyes that you thought you had stopped breathing. “Boss- I-”
“We didn’t finish our little chat earlier, Y/N, come, I’m sure we can continue it elsewhere.” Jacob gave you a warm smile, one that made sure to bring the blush on your cheeks.
You nodded, wishing you were drunker, downing your drink when neither one of them was looking before standing to your feet and throwing a coin for the bartender.
Jacob moved off first and you were to follow, but Eddie had locked an arm around your wrist, stopping you from walking off. “I’ll keep an ale ready when ya get back, I know for sure this ain’t gonna end well.”
“Stuff it.” You hissed, releasing yourself from him as you walked away to catch up with the Frye assassin.
The cold air met your face like a slap to the face, and you had recoiled back at the sudden lightheadedness that took all your common sense, watching Jacob in front of you.
You tried to force yourself to stay upright at all times, your eyes discarding themselves to look at the ground. Jacob was smart and sober to know that this was not the usual you.
“You drunk, Y/N?” He asked coyly with a tilt of his head, intrigued.
“No!” You snapped up to meet his eyes, those amused hazel eyes that stared you down with the intent that you didn’t know what he wanted. “I didn’t drink my ale!”
“Hmm, says have the content that’s down your front.” He hummed in entertainment, eyes filled with mirth. You looked down your front, surprised to see that you had missed the stained alcohol on your blazer and blouse.
You messily wiped at it with all intentions, averting your eyes once again whilst mumbling ‘ ‘Was Eddie, I swear’ under your breath.
You felt a hand under your chin pushing your face up to meet his eyes once more, eyes soften at the sight of you in front of him, easily so flustered by anything he did. This was enough to make Jacob swoon had he been drunk himself, but likely he was the one who wasn’t for once.
“What did you want to speak to me about, Jacob?” You murmured to his face, feeling a hand entwined around the back of your waist to hold you up, as you felt yourself brace with your hands holding onto the buttons of his coat.
Jacob’s breath fanned itself against your cheek, keeping you warm as you cuddled closer into his broad chest. “You’re simply adorable, Y/N.”
“What? Stop, no I’m not.” You blinked widely, shyly looking to him and next away, wishing that ale had been there for you now for you to take and run off down an alley.
“I mean it. After my sister interrupted us this morning, I was trying to speak out to you but couldn’t find you anywhere. You were simply running away from me, weren’t you?”
“N-No, that’s not it, I was just... I... your words surprised me, ‘s all.”
“Oh? Is that so?” Jacob asked with a low purr in his throat as his arms around you pulled you in closer. His face wandered closer towards your cheek, his breath dancing along your skin to send shivered before he got close to your ear.
“And what do you have to say about this?”
You shuddered, your words dry in your mouth before you had said courage to speak up in front of your crush. “I think-”
“Boss, you gonna join us in a drinking game?” A stumbling male rook and two others came out from the inside of the rowdy pub, flushed as the others around as they didn’t put two and two together that you were speaking and Jacob was busy.
“Another time, I’m quite busy.” Jacob waved a hand their way, as the three grumbled but agreed, stumbling back in with each other’s help as the sound of a broken glass shattered from inside.
“Wow, erm, I guess we don’t have the best timing, do we?” You nervously laughed, hoping that what you had about to say was forgotten by Jacob. “You bring bad luck like bad lightning, love. Maybe that’s why I’m so drawn to you.” He smirked down at you, winking.
“Jacob,” Your whispered his name like a prayer on your lips, “It’s getting late, we should be leaving-” You realised that his fingers had come to hold the side of your face once again, your hazy eyes landing on his ones filled with wanton and love.
“In a moment, I want to stay here, before someone else disturbs us.” He rolled his eyes, but the same expression was present when he looked at you.
With little needed to tell him that you reciprocated, he leant closer to your face, eyes eying your lips before he spoke one last time:
“Now, where were we?”
#ac syndicate#assassin's creed syndicate#assassin's creed oneshot#ac syndicate Jacob frye#jacob frye#jacob frye x reader#Jacob frye x reader oneshot#Jacob frye x rook reader#assassin's creed syndicate oneshot
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This Life is mine: Jacob Frye x OC
The following is a non profit fan based story Assassin's creed belongs to Ubisoft please support the official release.
_
I gain no profit from this nor do I own anything other then OCs and whatever sprouts from my imagination. Thanks for reading!
[Elliott "Ellie" Addison Morgan novice assassin also a daughter and victim of a Templar wannabe. Was raised to be her father's perfect little doll, Elliott knew nothing but scorn and disapproval from her father, who viewed her as nothing more then a bargaining chip to marry off and increase his social status, just like her sister who is now missing, Elliott would be damned if she going end up like her sister, especially when she found out her father planned to wed her to Crawford Starrick, she escaped and stowed-away on a train not thinking it was occupied by a couple of Assassins...]
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She did it... she actually did it! Elliott wanted to laugh out loud and scream with joy from the rooftops that she was free! She was finally free! the brunette had her doubts that her plan would work, but it did!
She knew her father wanted Starrick's approval so badly and his bullheaded thirst to win, caused his fat head to be shoved so far up his own ass; he wouldn't have noticed that his own daughter had switched places with a maid!
Elliott slowed down pulled the brown trench coat closer to body adjusted her hat when someone ran passed her, she when she was sure the coast was clear she used eagle vision to follow the clues to the hiding spot where Clyde had hid her gear, The blue eyed girl smiled when she found it, grabbed the suitcase and ran down the street towards the train station.
Elliott's smile faltered a bit when she saw the empty terminal save for a single train, she quietly approached a man who appeared to be the repair man, Elliott hesitated before the sounds of her father's search party got closer in the distance. "Hey are there seats available?" She asked quickly causing the man to jump by her sudden appearance.
"Wha-What" the man stammered "Seats man, are there any seats available?"the blue eyed woman asked glancing over her shoulder the back at the man who looked very confused. "Uh, no this a private train ma'am it don't-" Elliott handed him a stunning sum of money about 200 pounds, the man eyes bugged out of his skull and counted it before nodding. "Alright, you can hide out in the fourth car, no one uses it. but if we get caught? you're on your own." He said leading her to the unused storage car he unlocked it and helped Elliott inside.
"Thank you." the man just nodded and closed the door leaving Elliott alone in the dark and with her thoughts, Soon she felt the train lurch as it started to move away from the station, Elliot wasn't sure how she sat there staring out the small window at the sky or how long it had been since she'd escaped, but soon she sighed contently and drifted off to sleep.
the following morning Agnes was was and ready to switch her shift with Bob when she found him looking like a kid on Christmas counting a wad of cash, her brow furrowed as she approached him "Where'd you get that money?" she demanded as he tried to hide the notes behind his back. "Uh, I found it?" the portly woman wasn't having it! she held her hand out and Bob pouted and reluctantly handed the money over she counted and gawked the amount.
"There's over 200 pounds here! where did yo-" The Frye twins who overheard the commotion came to see what the problem was? Agnes explained how she just came to switch with Bob and found him counting a wad of notes, Both were stunned at the amount and asked how he obtained it? The engineer stuck to his guns that he found it! But the twins clearly weren't buying it, After going back and fourth Bob finally gave in.
"Car four, she's in car four...Can I have my money back?"
"No." Both Evie and Jacob huffed as the male twin pocketed the cash in his jacket intending to give it back to whoever snuck onto their train...Then kick them off. "Aww.." Bob moaned dismayed before Agnes berated him that it served him right taking money from strangers and letting them stowaway on Bertha.
Both Jacob and Evie were hesitant about entering the car they weren't sure what to expect, Jacob went in first much to his sister's annoyance, they were both highly skilled assassin's she didn't need him protecting her! But that didn't stop him from trying. Both scanned the dusty car for any signs of someone life, before Evie's eyes landed on a small figure curled up between two crates, she nudged her brother who followed her gaze.
The two found the figure to be a sleeping girl around their age maybe younger, with brown wavy hair wearing a worn out brown jacket and maid's uniform sleeping without a care in the world hugging a suitcase to her side. Both twins looked at each other before Jacob tapped the girl in the ribs with his foot. "Oi you, time to wake up!" he ordered the girl gasped and her eyes fluttered opened looked around confused as Evie yanked her brother back.
"You could've just asked her to wake-up, you didn't need to kick her!"
"I didn't kick her! I tapped her, there's difference!"
The two argued hospitality methods as Elliott awkwardly watched them, she assumed Braids and Top-hat were the owners of the train she had snuck on to for the night, not really sure how to talk to them she just kind of stayed quiet, until she felt sneeze coming on she let it loose both twins turned to her and barked. "Bless you!" then went back to arguing before Jacob remembered what they were doing and shook his head. "Wait no, not bless you! Who are you?" the male twin demanded as his sister butted in "And why are you on our train?" Looks like Elliott's assumptions were correct before she could answer the door to the car opened and Henry walked in.
"Ah, So this is were the two of...Elliott?! the Indian assassin exclaimed pointing at the the brunette who in turn pointed back at him "Henry?!" causing the top-hat man to laugh "Jacob!" he quipped while pointing at himself then he got elbowed in the ribs by his sister."You know her?" Evie asked to the stunned man who nodded immediately pulled the short girl into hug. "Yes, she's Elliott Morgan an Assassin...But how did you?" pulled away then noticed her suitcase and outfit.
"Maybe we should explain this in the study?" He suggested as the twins followed them, Elliott removed the old trench coat showing off a large hand shaped bruise on her arm as she sat down across from Henry who frowned when he saw it, Elliott covered it with her over hand, the twins shifted uncomfortable. "What happened?" The brunette shrugged "A parting gift from Aric..." She hissed out her father's name out venomously, Henry told her to elaborate, the brunette sighed a slouched in her seat. "Let's see about three weeks ago..."
{My father called me into his study, I assumed he was upset about some mundane thing that his paranoid mind saw as offensive! Maybe he saw me moving some lose hair out of my face or holding a damn book wrong? Who knows! everything I did always seem to set him off...anyhow, He explained that St. James concert hall had contacted him, They invited me to sing for their 10th anniversary and charity event, and that I should start preparing for the big night.
Rejection was not an option with my father, but my suspicions were irked and he wouldn't stop trying to pick out songs that he wanted, And you course know he's never been the charitable sort unless it benefited him in some way, nor was he ever interested in my singing. So stupid me had to ask "Are you asking if I'd like to sing? or ordering me to sing?" He was not happy when I said that way he looked at me still causes me freeze up. "Don't you ever speak to me like that again...Or I'll-" I don't want to think about what he was going to say, his secretary interrupted us.
He snapped at me to go practice and when the big night came around, I found out why he had accepted the invitation, and push me to nearly losing my voice for an otherwise calm event. it wasn't just a charity event! It was also a congratulatory party for my engagement to Crawford Starrick... I remember feeling sick as my father led me to the Templar's grand master! I felt disgusted,angry and just devastated that this was happening a second time...He did the same thing to my sister...I saw what she went through and I didn't want it!
So, I took a risk! I tried to sneak away while he Crawford were talking about dates and business, he saw me and grabbed my wrist hard trying to keep me from leaving I told him I was just going to get a drink, and he let me go,Then I ran into Susanne. [ Henry grimaced hearing that name, having met that beastly bigot of a woman before; she left a very unfavorable impression in the Indian assassin.] Yes...that Susanne the snobby maid who fell in love with "Showroom Aric" as I call my father's public face. practically worships the ground he walks on, and thinks I was just being an ungrateful rotten brat to my dear sweet father! She was extra nasty that night, of course I ignored her... and was more focused on her body thought. "Ey, we're about the same size and build..."
So, I asked if she wanted to get up close to my father? She took me into a back room and we switched clothes, luckily it was a masquerade party so no one noticed. I ran out the back and straight into my butler and assassin mentor Clyde. The old man knew about the engagement before I did, he didn't tell me because I'd panic, and tip my father off that I was gonna run. Clyde knows I do my best thinking when time and the odds are stack high against my favor, He saw me switch places with the maid and knew the game was on, He gave me his hat and his jacket and told me he had feeling I going do something drastic. and told me where he stashed a suitcase I had hidden in my closet ages ago! Found it and then I made my way to the train station...}
"...And that's how I got here." Elliott said pointing at car floor as Henry and the Frye twins took in her story Henry was was obviously relieved, Evie's reaction was one pity and distrust, Which didn't surprise Elliott in the least; Since she just confessed to being Crawford Starrick's Fiancee. While Jacob's reaction seemed...Well, the brunette didn't really know what to make of his expression, There was some distrust. but it was overshadowed by fascination and zeal, Maybe? The blue eyed girl wasn't too sure as she was really used seeing someone look at her like that.
"And what of mentor McCormick?" Henry voice broke her stare off with Jacob to answer her friend "Clyde? he did a good job at hiding our lessons..." The Indian arched brow knowing full well that there was a But coming."But, father is starting to get suspicious, it would seem my odd hours of staying out and waking up late was starting to get on his nerves." She winced recalling her father throwing a tantrum for her yawning during a business meeting, one of his clients and accusing her of sneaking off with men and embarrassing the family by whoring around. "No surprises he started limiting my time outside and kept me locked in the library or my room to teach me a lesson." She hissed answering Henry's next question as to why the novice suddenly stopped taking contracts and disappeared.
"And you're sure he didn't see you leave?" Henry asked cautiously just wanting to make sure no Templars were coming knocking their door down. "Positive, Daddy dearest was so sure that his submissive little doll was nothing without him, so he let me out of his sight for that split second, it was enough for me come up wit plan A." Elliott purred with a grin obviously picturing how pissed her father must've been when he found out he'd been had! and that ice cold bucket of reality Susanne got slapped with probably shattered her image of Aric forever.
"Oh-ho!~ I'll bite Girly, What was plan B?" Jacob suddenly chimed in on the edge of his seat obviously enjoying the new girl's on the dime quick-wittedness. "Start a fire get lost in the panic and just wing it from there!" she shrugged rubbing the back of her head with slight frown causing the man the chuckle he looked at Henry while pointing at the short girl. "I like her, she's alrig-" He yanked back by his sister who was clearly paranoid about their guest.
"Miss Morgan was it?" Evie asked causing the brunette to nodded. "Though you may be one of us, you're still tied the Templars so you'll have be monitored until such time as passed-" She was cut off by her brother who clearly upset with his sister's assumption. "What the hell Evie? She escaped one cage and now you want to put her in another one?!" He exclaimed in disbelief at what he was hearing the girl obviously escaped a monster and came to them for sanctuary only to be told we don't trust you, that's just not fair!
"I have agree with your brother miss Frye, I've know Lily for-" Henry threw his hand over his mouth, Elliot blanched as Evie slowly turned to Henry clearly affronted "Jacob take your novice and go..." she hissed as her brother blinked incredulously "My novice?... Wha-" His sister's icy tone silenced him. "Now..." Jacob jumped to his feet "Right, let's go Girly!" He grabbed Elliott's arm and dragged her to his car, leaving Henry to deal with Evie and whatever crawled up her backside.
The two could hear the muffled arguing as Jacob proudly showed his apparent student off to the Rooks, before showing her around his room, the brunette looked around as the curiosity started gnawing at him "So, what exactly was that back there?" he inquired while Elliott looked through some hidden blade sketches on his desk, The brunette blushed before gesturing for him to come down to her level and she whispered it to him, Jacob's green eyes widened to the size of dinner plates.
"YOU AND GREENIE USED BE ENGAGED?!?!" he bellowed loud enough to be heard throughout the train causing a few Rooks outside to stumble or spit their drinks out. "t-That's just arg...h-How old are you? 14-16?!" he stammered Elliott looked at him oddly "I'll be twenty in three months!..do I really look that young?" She asked unsure if she should be offended or flattered?
Jacob's mouth hung open as he gave her a once over, he didn't how answer that. "I-it's that coat! it makes you look tiny!" he sputtered gestured at Clyde's jacket, Elliott brow furrowed and went to take it off, only for Jacob to to stiffen and the back of his neck heat up. He hadn't realized how short the maid uniform was [the skirt stops just passed her knees and she wearing stockings], or how tight it was in the chest area; he swallowed a lump that had formed in his throat and immediately pulled the jacket back on, causing his novice to give him a look that screamed what the hell? Jacob backed away and coughed "Let's sort that out later, and figure out sleeping arrangements shall we?"
They came to an understanding that Elliott will have his couch and half his cart; considering Evie was still pouting and wasn't a huge fan of Elliott at the moment speaking of which..."Who names their daughter Elliott?" the male Frye twin asked genuinely curious as Elliott's lips twitched "The same man who thought he had control over gender, and was sure my older sister and I were going to be boys." Jacob suddenly had the urge to apologize, But the brunette continue. "He eventually did get his boy, Issac father's favorite little parrot." She spat looking exhausted and listless just thinking about the boy.
She explained that both her brother and father had this gift of sucking the life out of someone just by sheer thought. "I think that's why Starrick hasn't initiated them into the order, but likes to keep him around, y'know? just to have a laugh at how many days Aric & his son can ruin in one hour or less?" That caused Jacob to stall.
"Wait, so your father isn't a Templar?"
"No, he more like their stooge, Starrick's been stringing him a long for years, and my father is a narcissistic fool."
"But why would he agree to marry you, if he's just playin' with your father?"
"I wondered that myself, until I remembered reading through my mother's journal, Turns out Starrick and my mother were sweet on each other back in the day, Till my father weaseled his way into my grandfather's favor and soon after forced my parents into marriage..."
Jacob stomach suddenly did flops and not in a good way, Starrick couldn't have the mother so he'd settle for his ex-lover's daughter as some kind of substitute? "I get wanting a young bride, but your ex's daughter?" He shuddered in disgust just when he thought Templars couldn't get any worst. "I'm just glad I've never crossed paths with him until yesterday." Elliott grimaced not wanting to think what would've happened if her father gotten desperate before she had joined the Assassins and tried curry favor with Starrick when she was younger...just like he did to her sister and Roth.
"I'm trying not to think about it, haven forbid if they ever find me." she muttered Jacob patted Elliott on the shoulder nearly knocking her over. "They won't touch you Girly, I promise." He assured before springing up from the couch "Now let's do a bit scouting show me how much you know little novice!" Jacob winked before leading Elliott off the train on her first training mission.
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[[ Elliott's older sister is named Campbell Joseph Morgan five years older then Elliott and usually goes by "Belle" she was married off to Roth when she was only 15; Elliott hasn't seen her sister in four years and doesn't even know if she's alive or not!
Then there's their younger brother...His name is Issac Douglas Morgan, and their father's favorite he's a spoiled brat who looks down on his siblings and verbally abuses his older sister when he doesn't get his way!
Much like their father his name is Aric Peter Morgan [nee Sinclair.] their father surname wasn't Morgan he married into the Morgan family, and runs their trading and sweet company like a goddamn dictator, worker safety is at a low and equipment is in somewhat poor maintenance, their financial choices have been in a gray area as of late.
Elliott believes that Starrick is trying to manipulate her father into adding the same drug in his syrup to their candy, surprisingly her father has been as of late; very hesitant about the idea.
So when Starrick seemed like he was losing interest and going to cut Aric lose, he offered Crawford Elliott's hand in marriage! Knowing full well Starrick was his dead wife's ex lover. And has seen the way the Templar's grand master has been eyeing his youngest daughter, Starrick and Aric wasted no time cutting a deal. Good thing they didn't take into account of Elliott's cunning wit and a pair of meddlesome twin assassin's being thrown into the mix.]]
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Happy Mothers Day, Dad.
Elizabeth came home from school with a rather dark cloud over her head, the topic today had her bummed out for a while. What made the day worst was Father not being home. At least Aunt Evie's here.
"Hello, Elizabeth." Evie greets in her chair as Ellie entered and sat on Evie's bed. Evie can tell something isn't right. "Is something wrong?" She asked.
Ellie nodded a little, "Where's Dad?" Oh, no wonder. She just missed Jacob already, Evie was a little worried that something happened at school. The last thing she wanted was Jacob busting into the school and causing mayhem until he found the one upsetting her and may have to move her to another school... again. Would he go that far? Oh defiantly, without a doubt. A side Evie never knew of him, she finds it adorable to see him over protective for a child but won't admit it to him.
"Today's mothers day... everyone talked about their mothers and I... well... I don't have a mother... not anymore..." Ellie hates thinking of the past, today it just brought her back to where she had it all to when she lost everything. Evie leans back in her chair, she couldn't help but think of her as Jacob when he was a child. All they had was a father but unlike Elizabeth, they have never had the chance to meet their mother.
Evie had no idea what is worst, having to lose a mother with or without knowing who they are. Actually they were both as bad. A slight story of the man Ellie calls father could cheer her up.
"You know, that brother of mine dreads the day for the exact same reason when he was young. In fact he made it sound like we had mother when people ask what he was going to get her on Mothers Day."
Ellie looks up at her with sadden but curious eyes. Evie relaxed in her seat a little more as she flicks through memory lane.
"Every after school on Mothers Day Jacob would pick flowers. A bunch of them too. He'd turn around, ripped cheeks and asks me if mother would like them all of the time. Hmph... you should see that smile and his eyes brighten when I say 'Of course she will'. Then he'd put them outside somewhere, hoping she come home... little did we know... we found out that she wasn't coming home."
"What happened?... why didn't she come back?"
Evie took in a deep breath and exhaled shakingly. "Well... we discovered that she passed away well before we even had a chance to see her or grow up with her. All we had was a Grandmother, then a Father... eventually we only have each other."
Looking at the young girl, it was clear that she wasn't very happy about the topic. It would be best if Evie left it as it is. She got out of her chair and ruffles Ellie's light hazel hair. "Don't worry about it, love. Jacob has you now, I'm sure that's all he needs, a child to be a child with. And besides, today is only a day to appreciate the one who loves you no matter what you do in your life."
Now that statement got little Ellie thinking, a day to appreciate the one who loves you no matter what?... an idea came to her head, it may seem ridiculous but yet brilliant. And there was only one person in this cold world that brought her in and raised her well.
"Evie? Could I ask you a favour, please?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was dark and late by the time Jacob arrived back at the train hideout. He was beaten by a rollercoaster of emotions, making his journey home an absolute mission. He said what had to be said to his Mum, he's home now and Ellie should be asleep. That's all that matters now.
He always goes through Evie's car to get to his, he found it easier from some reason. He was completely taken back to see Evie bright eyed and bushy tailed.
"Brother! You're back! Oh! And by the way... Ellie has a surprise for you."
To you there should be no reason to freak out about it, but it's Jacob after all. Yes, he's usually carefree as ever. When it comes to those he hold dearly to him it's a totally different story. "Evie! You know that she can't be up THIS late! Not even a minute over her bedtime!-"
Evie just rolled her eyes at her twin, he's such a motor mouth when scolding her. This was just first gear.
"Jacob..."
"If she doesn't get at least 6 hours of sleep, she'll have insomnia!-" second gear, it was getting faster.
"Jacob!..."
"And with her having insomnia means bad health!-" third gear. At this point words end up clashing together.
[I]"And with bad health she'll be unhappy!And a unhappy child means horrible paren-"
Evie stops him right there by cupping either sides of his cheeks to shut him up. Wow, he is really paranoid today. "Jacob!!... just calm down. I know that you're tired and having a bad time right now. Which is why the girl is up still."
Evie slightly flicks her head towards the door that lead to his carriage, indicating him to go in as she lets go of him. He was curious now, whatever the reason for Ellie to be up so... so called late is beyond him. It must be worth while.
"....fine. But don't make a-"
Evie had enough of his scolding and just shoves him in his carriage. "My god! Jacob! It's just for one bloody night!"
"Ach! Okay, okay! Just stop pushing me!"
Finally booting him inside his own car, dimly lit by a few candles. There was Ellie standing right there in front of him nervously for some odd reason. It alerts him in the wrong way as ever.
"Hey, sweetheart. What's the matter? Nobody's been picking on you, have they?!"
Ellie just hums, well more like a shy growl as she waddles towards him with a small box wrapped in pretty wrapping paper. It wasn't his birthday yet... or did he forget again? How can he forget if he shares the same birthday as Evie? He got down on his knees to get to her eye level.
"What's all of this for?" He asked.
Little Ellie looks at Evie, doubting if this is going to work or not. Evie just nods and mouths "Go ahead... you got it."
Looking back at her Dad, she inhaled deeply and brought the box up to him. He still had no idea what's going on, he was utterly confused and worried that he had missed something while he was gone.
"Happy Mother's day, Dad..." she looks at him with a small smile. "... I love you."
His reaction was nothing but shock, mother's day?... for him? Jacob isn't a mother? Is that what Ellie thought of him this whole time? A mother? It made no difference really. Practically Jacob had been both roles in parenting, firm and strict yet loving and playful.
No matter the reasons for this, it meant the entire world to him. He couldn't help but embrace the girl tightly. It wasn't a day for him, this wasn't his day at all. And here is his little girl making her own rules up just for him. It wasn't as much as the things he did for her, but it never matters to him. Every little thing she does was something huge.
The girl wraps her arms around his neck, cuddling her head against his. "You didn't have to do this, darling. It's Mother's Day, not Father's Day." he spoke softly. Ellie just fiddled with his hair and hums,
"We both lost someone without having the chance to say goodbye..." she pulls away just to look at him, her small hands held either sides of his stubble cheeks. "...But it's okay! Because you got me and it's my job to take care of you. Leave the worrying to me."
Ellie was far too young to understand what point she was aiming for, to Jacob it made perfect sense. Even if she was repeating exactly what he told her many times before. It just meant that she knew what he means and believed he could care for her. Having that just made the struggles of being a better Father more rewarding. As firm and strict as he may seem, under that heart of thin layer of stone was gold being melted by this young girl he gladly and gratefully calls his own daughter.
A small yawn had brought him back to earth, she laid her head on his shoulder. He could feel her weight against him, a clear indication of tiredness. He wrapped his arms around her waist and stood up, hoisting her off the floor. "Alright, alright, I think it's time for bed now." He spoke softly to her as he carried her over to the couch and laid her down ever so gently. She was already asleep, he tucks her in and kissed her forehead like he had done all for all of these years.
If there was one thing he could ask for out of life is to just watch her age up well, of course he wants her to be this little sweet girl that constantly looks at him for guidance. Picking up her little gift up from the floor, he knew what it is already. With a tear of paper, he was right. Simply it was a box of chocolates, from there he knew that she always will be his sweet child.
A small sniffle brought his attention to Evie. Jacob gave an airy laugh at seeing her all emotional, something he hasn't seen for a very long time. He approached her with the box full of sweets.
"Here, look. Have some sweets, the best cure for feeling better."
She just shook her head with a small smile, looking at him with teary. She didn't say anything, not a single word at all. Instead she went up to her brother to bring him into an embrace. It had completely taken him by surprise, girls seems to be brilliant at it, that he figured out growing up with her. The night was filled with soft laughter coming out of the carriage of Jacob Frye as the train rocked, rolled and went on riding through the City of London as Evie said,
"I think I've seen enough sweets for a day, thanks to you two."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A/N: Yeah, Mothers Day for me (well it was) annnd I thought "Damn, wouldn't it be cute if a child did something for their solo father?" BOOM!! Thought of little Elizabeth and Jacob straight away.
Anyways, Happy Mother's Day to all of the mum's out there. Hope ya'll treat her well, if you have a solo dad than show him a little appreciation too coz... why not!
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Jacob Frye x Reader ~ CHAPTER 4
~~Here we go chapter 4! I think I’ll write two more and then bring this story to a close. Thank you for all of the support and kind words you guys are amazingly kind! If you want me to write anything I’m always open for requests and suggestions and if you want to be added to the taglist dm me!~~
Training began later that week on a dreary Friday morning at possibly the most ungodly hour that you could fathom. Jacob arranged for the two of you to meet at about four in the morning on the roof of the pub in which your first meeting took place. Getting there was easy enough, it was just across the way from your flat and it had a conveniently placed ladder leading up to the sagging wooden roof on the back side. You walked up to the decrepit brown building and eyed the roof searching for any sign of Jacob but to no avail, shrugging it off as him just being fashionably late you proceeded to make your way up the creaky wooden ladder. When you made your way to the top you smiled and stared down at the city street below you, the black stone glossy from this morning’s rain. Suddenly without any sound or warning you found yourself caught in the grip of two strong arms, one of which was wielding a blade to your throat. A gasp escaped your lips but your worry was gone the second you recognized the hidden blade belonging to your Jacob.
“Bastard you scared me!” You growled and relaxed.
“Why are you relaxing? I still have a blade to your throat!” Jacob said in reply, alarm in his voice.
“Because it’s you,” You tried wiggling out of his grasp but he stayed firm.
“Tch, you know you’re not exactly starting off strong darling,” He replied, still not dropping his guard.
“What? I was doing just fine before you snuck up on me!” You exclaimed, trying once more to wiggle out of his grip.
Jacob chuckled and finally let you go, “I’m letting you go now, but if I was a criminal you would be long dead, and why would that be?” He crossed his arms and leaned forward.
“I don’t know!” You turned to face him and you crossed your arms as well.
“First things first on the list of things you did wrong- and believe me it’s lengthy,” He smirked and you rolled your eyes. “You took the ladder instead of climbing up the side of the building,”
“Yeah…. So?” You questioned.
“The ladder was creaky, it told me you were coming up here and it gave me time to hide, see a smart person would take the silent route if they wanted to live through the night but, what do I know.” He smirked and stared down at you.
You noticed he was wearing his hood instead of his usual top hat, it blocked his eyes from view, leaving only his mischievous smile visible meaning his smirks were that much more attractive. That scar on his left jaw caught your eye and you could tell right then it was going to be hard to pay attention the rest of the morning.
“Ok, fine next time I’ll transform myself into a bloody monkey and shimmy myself up here.” You mocked, shaking your thoughts away from Jacob’s face and turning them back to the conversation.
“Well.. I suppose climbing will be our first lesson then.” He smiled and tilted his head and you sighed heavily.
Every morning before work and every night on the weekends you would train with Jacob, the first lessons were climbing which proved to be quite the challenge as your upper body strength wasn’t nearly as sufficient as he’d hoped. Yet you persisted and climbed whenever you could, even when you walked home from work despite your pure exhaustion you took to the rooftops and ran home, two stories above the ground. Next you worked on sneaking which you found came naturally to you after so many long nights at the hospital, having to walk from room to room in dead silence as to not wake the sick. For practice he would take long walks through the city during mid day and you would trail him, or you would enter a room he was in and pin him before he could notice. The first few times it was pretty straightforward, walk into your house from a side entrance, find Jacob standing around in the kitchen or in your room and catch him before he could turn around and catch you.
You trained with him for months, every day getting closer to Jacob. He would massage your sore muscles on your rare moments off, he would take you out for walks around the town almost always with a rook or two keeping an eye on things, and he would find small things to treat you with everywhere. His romantic gestures were always much appreciated, like flowers on your nightstand after a hard day at work, or when he would take you for carriage rides across the city (that would sometimes turn into carriages races instead). Much to your delight and Eddy’s dismay he was over at the flat more often than not, making you wonder if he even had a place of his own.
On one particular training day he had a new challenge for you that involved you tracking him all throughout town for an entire day, if he saw you even once you had to try again the next day and if you failed at finding him by sundown your physical training time was doubled for the next week. The pressure was on. The hunt began just an hour past dawn, he had already set out and gave you one hint as to where he was going. You held in your hand a single flower, a dark red rose lush and full at the peak of bloom. You shrugged it off, knowing it wasn’t supposed to be a romantic gesture and yet you couldn’t help yourself. You brought the rose to your face and smiled at the sweet aroma that simply radiated off of the plant. From the second that the scent hit your nose it smelled familiar, it was unique, strong, and you had no idea where you have smelled it before.
Your search began towards Buckingham Palace, there were flower merchants in the park a few blocks away that you recall had roses… or something close. The crowds felt abnormally thick today as you got closer to the palace and it was a perfect opportunity for you to sneak away from the traffic of the street and use your newfound skills to reach the rooftops and look from there. You diverged from the mass of onlookers and raced towards a white building to your right, using your momentum you leapt up towards a ledge and began climbing up. When you reached the roof you were met with a newfound sense of freedom, being out of the bustling crowds and eager onlookers gave you the ability to actually breathe. Being so close to the parks and so far from any factories you actually could do such a thing, the billowing clouds of smog rolled from the steam stacks that were just a bit higher than you were. Using this new vantage point you cast your gaze off to find the nearest park. Finally you found one, quite small and nestled behind some very large oak trees it looked perfect. You took off running, heading towards the park where there were bound to be flowers or at least someone selling them; your wide strides taking you from building to building, bounding across the city skyline.
For the next three hours you ran from park to park following what you’d hoped would be a trail of rose petals but instead you found nothing but empty leads and absolutely no sign of your target. That was until you spied a familiar coat and top hat clad man turn the corner into an alley. Finally, you smiled and ran towards him, making sure to stay just far enough away in the case that if he happened to turn randomly you would be out of sight. He turned sharply and swiftly making it a difficult journey but you kept on his trail, eager to see where he was headed. Just as your confidence was at a peak he left the solitude of the alley and merged back into the crowds, disappearing just as easily as he appeared. Eagerly you scanned the crowd and finally you could see a familiar looking top hat through the bustle of London.
“Dammit Jacob, why must you be so short.” You sighed as he passed once more through the crowd entirely undetectable.
Luckily enough for you the location in which he was traveling to wasn’t nearly as obscure as his location in the crowd. About a hundred feet ahead of you was the train station, a giant glass and metal building filled with people coming and going, trains lugging everything from coal to eager passengers from across England stopped and continued on their way through the station. A shrill whistle could be heard over the chatter of the people inside and the sleek red and white locomotive that it belonged to was quick to pull up to the platform. You noted how Jacob slightly tilted his head toward the sound when it met his ears- that was his destination. Swiftly now you climbed down the building and sped into the crowd, melting into the conglomerate and becoming effectively invisible. You were close now, gaining on him like a lioness and her prey, cautious but yet the entire situation was in your control. As you reached the station you pace quickened, less people means more chances of being seen. Hopping from group to group you were just a mere ten feet away from him when you finally saw it.
A small flower stand sat in the middle of the station lobby floor, people skirted around it as though it was just another piece of rubbish on the street but Jacob broke the norm and stopped and smiled at the girl behind it. It was small, crooked planks of nearly rotten wood nailed together holding baskets of bluebells, daisies, sunflowers, and perhaps the biggest roses you had ever seen. Smirking you palmed at the rose you clipped onto your shirt as a reminder of your clue and pride filled your chest at your accomplishment. Jacob bought an entire bouquet of the roses and payed the girl much more than she asked and her smile lit up the entire station and your heart melted in response.
And then you remembered, you weren’t done yet. You still had to catch him. Jacob turned after waving the girl off and he stepped onto the train, disappearing into the nearest cabin. A sigh left your lips and you followed, choosing the third cabin behind the one he chose and hoping that no one would be already on the train you jumped on just before it started to move.
Swiftly you began the final pursuit. You noticed right away that this train wasn’t ordinary. There weren’t any seats for passengers minus the armchair to your left and the walls were covered in maps and strangely enough a Zebra head, stuffed on a plaque. With bent knees and carefully calculated footsteps you stalked closer through the strange train until you could see him peeking out slightly in the car in front of you. Slowly and quietly you stepped forward until you met the outside of the train car and had to step over into the next one. This was it.
With one final jump you landed directly behind him you went for his arm, pulling it back and holding it in an awkward position before kneeing him just behind his knee making him drop to the floor earning a grunt of surprise and discomfort in response. He smiled and laughed deeply, wiggling out of your grip to stand up and turn around, wrapping his arms around you in the process. Pride swelled in his chest as he looked down at you, he was positively glowing and you smiled smugly back.
“I can’t believe you actually did it, I was sure you were going to forget it and allow me to wander around England for the rest of my life,” he joked and you kissed him sweetly to shut him up.
“Honestly it was sort of dumb luck, I didn’t even use the clue at all.” You shrugged and laughed smiling up at him.
“Well I’m proud of you. Here,” he said before handing you the flowers with a dopey smile on his face. “You earned these,”
The aroma from the roses reminded you of spring time after a long winter, it was a soft yet refreshing smell that made the events of the long day well worth it. You took another deep inhale and relished in the moment, the easy rise and fall of Jacob’s chest, his arms around you, the rumble of the train beneath your feet as the world passed you by outside. It was strange to think that just a few months ago you were just a young girl working tirelessly day in and day out just to give your brother a better life than the slums; just a girl whose biggest hope was to be married to some decent man to be whisked away to live in some decent flat where your life would be entirely and completely decent. But here, there was nothing decent about the life you were living, you had a mission and the most extraordinary man to share it with, your brother was living the life he wanted and although safety was secondary, happiness was paramount.
“I have something else for you, love,” He pressed a kiss to your forehead and turned around to the small desk behind him. His hands wrapped around a polished wooden box and he turned back holding it out to you.
You tilted your head and allowed him to show the box to you. The wood was a deep coffee brown with an assassin symbol carved in to the top, it looked old, hand carved and yet scarcely handled.
“Go on, open it up.” He smiled and nodded eagerly.
You outstretched your hands and tennantively grasped the corners of the box, the smooth edge of the wood felt cool on your fingertips giving you chills. You opened it with a slight creak of the hinges and your eyes were met with two hidden blades, the light grey metal shimmering in the soft lighting of the train. Your eyes widened and you brought your eyes up to meet Jacobs’s.
“Now you aren’t done with training just yet, but if you really want to make this your life and continue with the training… Evie and I would be glad to make you a true assassin.” a soft grin stretched across his face.
“Jacob, I… yes… I know it isn’t easy but I stand by my word, I want to make London a better place.” You nodded and he placed a sweet kiss on your nose breaking your serious attitude.
A giggle escaped your lips and Jacob took the box and put it back on the desk behind him. His hands rested gently on your shoulders and he tilted his head down to face you.
“You’re absolutely adorable… now for some serious talk my dear,” he sighed shaking his head at you slightly, “if you are to continue with this, you… you’re going to have to learn to kill.”
A brief moment of silence lapsed and you could feel a nervous knot in your stomach. You knew what they did, you knew from the second you agreed to do this that you would have to kill people. It was in the name. Yet you were nervous, frightened even, you weren’t a killer you were a healer, you spent your entire life saving lives could you take them as well?
“(y/n) listen close, if you don’t want to continue you don’t have to, it’s not easy taking lives but if it makes it easier, we don’t kill innocent bystanders, the people that we kill work to keep corruption alive in this world,” his grip tightened on your shoulders.
“I know-... it’s not a pretty job… but I want to do it Jacob, I want to become an assassin.” you nodded affirmatively and he smirked in return.
“Do you need time to think it over?” He pressed.
“I’ve had months Jacob, I’ve thought enough,” You nodded.
“That’s that, now we can put a stop on all this boring serious talk.” Jacob smiled, his warm hazel eyes shimmering down at you.
He rubbed your shoulders with his hands before allowing them to slide down to your hips. His signature smirk grew and he pulled you closer. The butterflies in your stomach went back to work and you allowed your own hands to cup his rough cheeks and you giggled slightly at the feeling.
“You do that every time you touch my face, am I that funny looking?” He stared down at you a hurt expression on his face.
“Yes a bit like a clown, and I don’t know your whiskers tickle that’s all,” You smirked and shook your head.
“A clown really? Well that’s hilarious,” He smiled and bent down slightly before scooping you up into his arms bridal style and walking just a few feet forward only to throw you down on the bed.
Another giggle escaped your lips and you swatted your hand up at him trying to hit him playfully but he caught your wrist and held it in place while he brought his other hand to your sides and started tickling you mercilessly. Frantic laughs escaped your lips and you tried your hardest to pull away but his grip on you was too strong. Your shirt started to ride up through all the wiggling exposing your stomach and Jacob took the opportunity to shove his face right on your belly and use his rough cheeks to tickle you even further.
“Jacob you- ah! Stop!” But the urge to laugh was too great forcing you to shut up and try once more in vain to free yourself from his grip.
“Oh I’m sorry I’m just doing my job as a clown if you don’t mind.” He smirked and continued to tickle you.
Finally after being fed up with this tortuous experience you grabbed the Fry-boy by his shirt collar and pulled him down to your level, just inches away from your face.
“Jacob, stop it right now or I swear to God-” you stared up at him threateningly.
“Oh, I like the sound of that,” he smirked and captured your lips with his own.
You smirked against his lips before pulling him closer to you, your breathing heavy from the recent tickling. He swung his leg over your waist and climbed on top of you, straddling you while leaning over to continue his work. You grabbed onto his lapels and started to drag his jacket off of his shoulders allowing him to do the rest, soon after your hands traveled up to his hair where you tangled your fingers in his soft chocolate locks. His top hat slid off and you caught it, pulling away from his lips in order to properly place the hat on your own head.
“This is a sight I could get used to,” he chuckled and leaned back down to continue his work on your lips and you played with his hair accordingly.
It wasn’t long before he moved his kisses to your neck, taking his sweet time to properly find your weakness. A gentle moan escaped your lips and he continued, a gentle nip at your neck sending shivers down your spine. Hands traveled everywhere spreading heat through your entire body, but the feeling of the train slowing down started to bring you both back to reality. You brought his face back to your lips and pressed a sweet kiss to his lips pulling away after to smile up at him and run your slender fingers through his hair, twirling the short locks and relishing in the sincerity of the moment.
“God this is just too good to be true,” He chuckled and looked down at you proudly, his hand resting on your cheek.
“I know, it’s hard believing that there’s someone out there crazy enough to spend all this time with you,” You smirked and he chuckled.
“Darling you wound me,” He said jokingly, clutching a hand to his chest and falling on you.
Laughing sweetly you shifted slightly as he settled his head on your chest, your fingers continued working through his hair and he closed his eyes with a dopey smile on his face making him resemble a love-sick dog. Sadly it was all cut short as the train pulled into station, slowing down after letting out two shrill screams from the whistle. Sighs escaped from both of your lips as you looked out the window to see a still world and a bustling platform.
“I should get home, Eddy will be wondering where I am,” You sighed and pressed a kiss to Jacobs forehead. “Besides we have to discuss when we’re going to start weapons training,”
“Eddy’s a good lad he can take care of himself,” Jacob shifted and brought you closer to his chest. Jacob let out a hefty sigh at that second part, “I admire your drive, but sometimes just lying around doing nothing is pretty wonderful too,”
“Of course it is love but I want to complete my training soon so I can do real work,” You started to sit up and he remained laying down, pouting. “I have no doubt that it might take a few years for me to get good enough to join the real fight, I want to start as soon as possible.”
“And if it does take years? Do you think you’ll be able to stick with it?” Jacob ceased his pouting to lock eyes with you.
“I’ve been working with you for almost a year already, what’s another two?” You giggled before kissing him one more time and standing up preparing to leave, “Now come on Mr. Frye, escort me home.”
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#jacob frye x reader#assassin's creed#assassin's creed syndicate#assassins creed x reader#assassins creed fanfic#x reader#jacob frye imagine#jacob frye#video games#frye twins#evie frye#ubisoft#x reader fanfic
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In Game:
Benjamin Disraeli, 1st Earl of Beaconsfield was a British politician and writer who served as Prime Minister of the United Kingdom twice.
During his first term as Prime Minister in 1868, Benjamin introduced the Corrupt Practices Act which was meant to end electoral bribery. Wishing to maintain its grasp on London, the British Rite of the Templar Order plotted to kill Benjamin to stall the implementation of the act indefinitely and allow its favored candidate, Gladstone, to become Prime Minister. While Gladstone gave precedent to domestic issues, Disraeli was a staunch and self-styled imperialist.
The Templar James Brudenell, 7th Earl of Cardigan hired men to kill Benjamin, although the plot was foiled by the Assassin Jacob Frye. He infiltrated Benjamin's carriage after learning from the Templar-affiliated gang Blighters member of the plot, pretending to be his bodyguard. Though Benjamin was suspicious, his wife Mary Anne allowed Jacob to speak. A gunshot interrupted their conversation and Jacob defended the Disraelis from their Blighter attackers. While Jacob was busy with the attackers, more Blighters arrived and hijacked Benjamin's carriage. After Jacob managed to rescue them, Benjamin voiced his opinion that Gladstone was the one responsible for the attacks and stormed into Downing Street, vowing to get even with his hated rival.
Benjamin and his wife were later invited by Jacob and his twin sister Evie to their train hideout to request invitations for the ball at Buckingham Palace, to which Mary Anne sadly admitted that none were available. Benjamin said that if Gladstone were in attendance, he'd give Jacob his invitation card. However, Evie suggested that instead Jacob steal the Gladstones' invitations. Benjamin and his wife, delighted at the prospect of humiliating Gladstone, then gladly provided them with the couple's address.
Benjamin later became embroiled in a Templar plot to bomb Parliament. He was held hostage by the Templar leader, but was thankfully saved by the Frye twins, who proceeded to defuse all the bombs around Parliament. Benjamin then brought the Frye twins to meet with the Queen, who properly thanked them for foiling the Templars.
In Real Life:
Benjamin Disraeli, in full Benjamin Disraeli, earl of Beaconsfield, Viscount Hughenden of Hughenden was born on December 21st, 1804. Disraeli was of Italian-Jewish descent, the eldest son and second child of Isaac D’Israeli and Maria Basevi.
The most important event in Disraeli’s boyhood was his father’s quarrel in 1813 with the synagogue of Bevis Marks, which led to the decision in 1817 to have his children baptized as Christians. Until 1858, Jews by religion were excluded from Parliament; except for the father’s decision, Disraeli’s political career could never have taken the form it did.Disraeli was educated at small private schools. At the age of 17 he was articled to a firm of solicitors, but he longed to become notable in a more sensational manner. His first efforts were disastrous. In 1824 he speculated recklessly in South American mining shares, and, when he lost all a year later, he was left so badly in debt that he did not recover until well past middle age.
(Image source)
By 1831 Disraeli had decided to enter politics and sought a seat in Buckinghamshire, near Wycombe, where his family had settled. As an independent radical, he stood for and lost High Wycombe twice in 1832 and once in 1835. Realizing that he must attach himself to one of the political parties, he made a somewhat eccentric interpretation of Toryism, which some features of his radicalism fitted. In 1835 he unsuccessfully stood for Taunton as the official Conservative candidate. His extravagant behavior, great debts, and open liaison with Henrietta, wife of Sir Francis Sykes (the prototype of the heroine in his novel Henrietta Temple [1837]), all gave him a dubious reputation. In 1837, however, he successfully stood for Maidstone in Kent as the Conservative candidate. His maiden speech in the House of Commons was a failure. Elaborate metaphors, affected mannerisms, and foppish dress led to his being shouted down. But he was not silenced. He concluded, defiantly and prophetically, “I will sit down now, but the time will come when you will hear me.”
After several unsuccessful attempts, Disraeli entered the House of Commons in 1837. In 1846, Prime Minister Robert Peel split the Conservatives over his proposal to repeal the Corn Laws, which involved ending the tariff on imported grain. As a result of his clashes with Peel in the House of Commons, Disraeli became a major Tory figure. When Lord Derby, the party leader, thrice formed governments in the 1850s and 1860s, Disraeli served as Chancellor of the Exchequer and Leader of the House of Commons.
Upon Derby's retirement in 1868, Disraeli became prime minister briefly before losing that year's general election. He returned to opposition until the general election of 1874, when he led the Tories as they won an outright majority.
Disraeli's second term was dominated by the Eastern Question—the slow decay of the Ottoman Empire and the desire of other European powers, such as Russia, to gain at its expense. Disraeli arranged for the British to purchase a major interest in the Suez Canal Company (in Ottoman-controlled Egypt). In 1878, faced with Russian victories against the Ottomans, he worked at the Congress of Berlin to obtain peace in the Balkans at terms favorable to Britain and unfavorable to Russia, its longstanding enemy. This diplomatic victory established Disraeli as one of Europe's leading statesmen.
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World events thereafter moved against the Conservatives. The Second Anglo-Afghan War and the Anglo-Zulu War in South Africa undermined his public support. He angered British farmers by refusing to reinstitute the Corn Laws in response to poor harvests and cheap imported grain. With Gladstone conducting a massive speaking campaign, his Liberals bested the Conservatives at the 1880 general election.
Disraeli died on April 19th, 1881 at the age of 76. In his final months, he led the Conservatives in opposition. He had always maintained a close friendship with Queen Victoria, who in 1876 appointed him Earl of Beaconsfield. His last completed novel, Endymion, was published in 1881 shortly before his death, more than 50 years after his first.
Sources:
http://www.bbc.co.uk/history/historic_figures/disraeli_benjamin.shtml
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Benjamin_Disraeli
https://www.britannica.com/biography/Benjamin-Disraeli
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Film Review: Frankenstein (1931)
“IT’S ALIVE! IT’S ALIVE!”
All I knew about this film before viewing was that it follows a scientist who creates a monster out of human corpses, and of course the iconic line “IT’S ALIVE! IT’S ALIVE! I had no pre-existing opinions or thoughts on the film, since I feel like this is one of the few classic films that don’t have a modern cult following (that I know of) and so I rarely see it mentioned in reviews or hear people talking about it. This might also be due to the fact that I’ve been avoiding the horror genre, just because I’m not a fan of the modern jump-scary movies.
As I normally have some sort of pre-existing notion of a film, not having one for this one was refreshing, as I could not conform to anybody else’s opinions of the film, forcing me to make my own.
My firsts thoughts were: I’m kinda of disappointed. The acting and screenplay were both underwhelming, starting from the very first line of dialogue we hear between Dr. Henry Frankenstein (Colin Clive) and his assistant Fritz (Dwight Frye). The line is: “Down, down, you fool!”, which is said by Frankenstein to Fritz when trying to catch a glimpse of the funeral that they want to steal a corpse from. The way Clive delivers the line is so awkward since his actions don’t correspond with what the dialogue wants him to do. He slowly pushes Fritz down where he cannot be seen by anyone, and then he continues to not shrink down with Fritz, but decides to stay there for another two seconds before slowly lowering himself. I know that this is director James Whale’s way of introducing the characters of Frankenstein and Fritz and to show who has the upper hand in their relationship, but the way that it’s executed by Clive just makes the scene slightly comical because of how awkward the scene feels. Even if it was intentionally made to be funny, I don’t see why it needs to be because Frankenstein ultimately is a more serious character and so to introduce him with comedy would be illogical.
Another problem with the acting I have is between Mae Clark who plays the Elizabeth, the fiancee of Frankenstein and Frankenstein himself. All of their scenes together feel forced and unnatural, especially in the scene where they are alone together on their wedding day, and she expresses her unexplained anxiety that something bad is going to happen. Clive shows no emotion whatsoever when he tells her he loves her, as if he is purposely lying to her, but he shouldn’t be, as his character isn’t having an affair of any sort and they also don’t have any major relationship problems. Also the screenplay does not relieve awkwardness from this scene, but feeds fuel to the fire by making the Frankenstein say “sure, how beautiful you look” after Elizabeth asks him if he’s sure that he’ll always be with her. Again, the dialogue makes us feel that Frankenstein is hiding something from Elizabeth, because it sounds like a lie, but there is no evidence to support this thought from the movie…So why write such a line?
However there is one performance I really enjoyed from this movie, and that’s from the actor of Frankenstein’s monster, Boris Karloff. He gives an incredible and convincing performance under all the prosthetic makeup he was under. From the little movement that the prosthetics allowed him, he expresses just the right amount of emotion at the right times through his eyes, the sounds he makes, as well as body language. He brings out the childlike persona of the monster, and perfectly embodies his innocence, his fearfulness, and his rage. His performance truly overshadows the rest of the cast, and is to continue to go down in history as spectacle to watch.
One more fault I caught in this film was the pacing. This isn’t a long movie, but a mere 71 minutes. But James Whale chose to spend 5 minutes of it to show men running around in the mountains, looking for Frankenstein’s monster and then Frankenstein himself (because the others lost him!). I know that doesn’t sound very long but making Frankenstein become separated from the others makes the search feel like it drags on for ages because that’s just another separate task to complete before they can find the actual monster. By loosing Frankenstein, the townspeople also seem much more incompetent and silly. The audience should want to root for the townspeople, as the monster is ultimately portrayed as the antagonist, but by making them seem less serious and capable of doing something so simple—as opposed to the beginning of the search where they seemed like they knew exactly what they were doing—we don’t empathize and relate to them as much.
Let us move on from the problems I have with this film and toward the more positive aspects of this film. I really liked the scene where the father of the dead girl walks through the town with the limp body of his daughter in his arms, and the partying people all begin to quite down as one by one they see the dead girl. This reminds me of a similar scene from the 2006 Alfonso Cuarón film, Children of Men, in which the first baby in 18 years is born and when (in the middle of a war), people see the baby and immediately stop whatever they were doing and quiet down because they are in complete and utter awe of the baby. Although in Children of Men, the causation of the response is life and in Frankenstein, is death, however the premise of the scene is the same. The long shot of the father was also the first shot we saw of the daughter after she was thrown into the lake, and so the reactions of the townspeople people reflect how the audience is feeling and also allow us to feel how tragic the death of this child is and how important it is to the story, since it causes outrage in the town, ultimately leading to the search party for the monster.
I also like that the film explores the human morality of creating life unnaturally, as if playing God. When Frankenstein succeeds in giving life to the monster, he exclaims: “Now I know what it’s like to be God!” This is still such a controversial and possibly unanswerable question even in today’s society, which makes the topic applicable to any time period. However, the message the film conveys is that consequences will occur if the natural cycle of life is disturbed.
Furthermore, I have to remind myself that this film was made in 1931 and some of the film tropes/archetypes we know of today didn’t exist or was fairly new when this film was made. For example, the angry mob of townspeople chasing the monster with torches, the lab or the evil lair of the mad scientist, as well as having an incompetent hunchback as a sidekick, were all knew concepts at the time. Frankenstein’s monster is one of the most iconic villains/monsters of all time, and this movie is one of the reasons why it’s still so well known today. When it was first released, I can just imagine how freaked out people were of the concept of a resurrected ‘man’ who’s made of sewn together body parts of dead corpses, who also has a brain of a murderer. And the image of a towering man with bolts on the side of his neck, and long, prominent stitches that connect one body part to next is just…terrifying. Even by today’s standards, I was still a little shaken when we first saw the monster, awake and walking.
The black and white also pairs nicely with the tone and mood of the movie, and when added to the production and set design, creates a Gothic, dark and eerie atmosphere which is very practical in evoking fear and unease.
To conclude, Frankenstein (1931) is worth a watch if you are a horror movie lover and is bored of recent horror flicks and remakes of the classics. Although it wasn’t completely my cup of tea, I can still appreciate and understand why it is considered a horror classic.
Rating: 3.5~4/5 (I can’t decide)
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At the Westminster Dog Show: Top Dogs, Top Docs
America’s premier canine competition is not just a beauty contest. Supporting elite athletes (and their owners) is a growing pack of massage and sports medicine specialists.
Clearing a hoop during the agility round of the 144th Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show on Saturday.Credit...
By Jan Hoffman
Feb. 11, 2020
At least the athlete was able to walk into the medical tent on his own four legs.
Earlier, when he had faced the broad jump during his Masters Obedience Championship trial at the Westminster Dog Show, Finn, a six-pound toy poodle, had tried to settle into his normal pre-takeoff sit position. But he wriggled uncomfortably, struggling to hold something in.
Sensing disaster, his human, Abby Cooper, swooped him up, managing to get him out of the ring just before he vomited and pooped on the sawdust.
Off to the veterinarian tent they rushed.
Official dog competitions typically include a standby vet. But Westminster, perhaps the premier elite canine event in the country, demands a crack medical squad of another order altogether. Special dogs need special docs.
Finn was monitored by Dr. Christopher Frye from the Cornell University College of Veterinary Medicine, an assistant clinical professor in the new area of sports medicine and rehabilitation. Also on the 15-member team from Ithaca and its satellite specialty office in Stamford, Conn. were a radiologist and a theriogenologist, who specializes in reproduction — of keen interest to breeders of show and performance dogs.
Throughout Westminster Week, they would be fielding questions from spectators and owners as specific and general as their practices: about breed genetic problems; refractive eye tests (is my Boston terrier nearsighted?), stem cell injections for aching joints; clinical oncology trials; how to care for a first puppy.
Westminster is famous as a gathering of spectacular dogs, with all the people and products attendant with canine beauty pageantry: sprays, mousses, gels, conditioners, curlers, straighteners, bows, hair implants (I’m looking at you, Standard Poodles!) and mascara (flutter those lashes much, Papillon?).
But in the last few years, Westminster has added competitions in agility and obedience, events that bring in a very different crowd — jock dogs and their humans. (“Vanish is not just some Barbie collie,” Aaron Kirzner said of his border collie, which is both a breed and agility champion.)
Those athletes are attended by a throng of health and wellness specialists, including canine acupuncturists, massage therapists and chiropractors, along with vets like Dr. Frye.
Over the last few days, the vets’ cases have included: a broken toenail; a sore toe (stuck in the crate during a long car haul); lots of nauseous anxiety (planes, crowds); a flopped ear (inflammation); and rash (the quality of the hotel sheets disagreed with one top show dog).
Finn was fine, by the way. Dr. Frye excused him from the show and sent him home. “‘Home’ is his pillow on my knee,” Ms. Cooper said, during a relieved telephone call from her hotel room.
Massaging strains and stress
The sign was parked before a quiet, curtained corner of the hall: Dog Massage.
Marisa Schmidt, a certified canine massage therapist from Hazlet, N.J., had all her agility-day slots booked for months. But throughout the day, owners and dogs were lined outside her curtain, pleading to be squeezed into her schedule.
Kyan, a border collie, was on the table. “She has some knots,” Ms. Schmidt informed Deborah Salerno, Kyan’s owner. She leaned into the dog’s spine, lifted a hind leg, working an inner thigh muscle. Kyan’s eyes rolled blissfully.
“These dogs are in incredible shape,” Ms. Schmidt said. “Their owners take care of them like any professional athlete. Would you believe this dog is 12 years old?”
Nope.
One challenge, she said, is that dogs can almost love the sport and their commanding owners too much. “Dogs are so resilient that they will run through the pain,” she said, “and sometimes we may not know right away that they’re injured.”
The athletes warm up
For the Masters Agility Championship, 330 invitation-only elite athletes raced over a course of jumps, tunnels, seesaws, A-frames and weaves. Before each round, the humans were allowed to preview the course once, walking it to memorize the series of hand signals they would give their dogs, which would not be permitted to sample the course. Spitting out rapid-fire voice and hand signals for about 30 seconds, the humans would direct their dogs through the course, the two moving as one, a mind-meld team.
Athletes never compete with cold muscles. Here is the warm-up routine for Chelsea, a gleaming, champion six-year-old black Labrador retriever that, with her teammate Dr. Elizabeth Dole, a veterinarian, has competed for the United States in European agility trials.
Walk: three to five minutes. Pee. Trot.
Stretches: loosen neck and spine by bringing muzzle to hip, both sides. Play bow. Weave between Dr. Dole’s legs. Spins. Back up. Come forward.
Work that core! Sit pretty in a begging position, paws up, hold it, hold it. Release.
More stretches: Dr. Dole leaned on a table, extending a treat. Chelsea put her paws on the table, head up, legs splayed. Hip flexors, shoulders, laterals, obliques.
Dr. Dole pulled out a toy. Tug, release, tug, release. “It’s to give her some excitement but also some control,” said Dr. Dole, who has worked in agility competition for 18 years.
“Some dogs need to be in the optimum arousal state,” she said. “But Chelsea is already so eager to play that we want her to be more thoughtful, so when she walks in the ring she’s not over the top.”
A basset hound?
Dr. Frye took a break from the vet tent to watch some of the agility trials. He makes canine prosthetics, studies gaits, manages pain. He sees the world of canine sports as vast and varied, having worked with athletes ranging from sled dogs to racers to dock divers.
Like any sports fan, he stood in the thick crowd, whooping as the dogs sped in a blur through the obstacles. The crowd racket matched the dogs that barked and yelped as they raced along, in sheer excitement. Unlike the conformation — the formal name for the sport of showing purebreds — agility and obedience welcome mixed-breeds, here simply called All American dogs. That’s because these sports are fundamentally a celebration of the human-canine bond.
Because the obstacles are adjusted for height classes, all sorts of breeds were competing: dachshunds, Papillons, Havanese, pugs, corgis, rat terriers, Nova Scotia duck tolling retrievers, Berger Picards, Belgian Malinois and Doberman pinschers.
Well, maybe it’s not suitable for all dogs. “Sometimes the giant breeds, like the Great Pyrenees and St. Bernards, can’t quite squeeze into the tunnels,” Dr. Frye said.
Border collies, with their laser focus and pliant, quick-cut, low-slung bodies, tend to dominate.
Dr. Frye had a soft spot for one unlikely agility athlete: a basset hound. “It was like a cartoon of itself,” he said. “There’s nothing about a basset hound that’s made for this course! But I loved watching that dog navigate and figure it out.”
And good for humans
Lou Avant, all but vibrating on an endorphin high at the conclusion of her agility trial, bounced out of the ring with Whimsy, her gorgeous Borzoi (tail dyed purple for the festivities).
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“Wasn’t that frigging awesome?” she shouted. “How did the universe put me together with this dog?”
Dr. Avant, a veterinarian from Atlanta, has taken Whimsy and other large dogs for years to many sports, including dock diving, barn hunting, obedience and tricks, where she meets up with a regular circuit of passionate large hound dognoscenti.
“I like running with the big dogs,” said Dr. Avant, 63. “I’m not ready yet for some little old lady dog!”
Emergency!
On Sunday, Tyson, an eight-year-old-miniature American shepherd from Minnesota, needed to go to the vet tent.
Tyson is an obedience champion. He is also an anxious flyer with a sensitive stomach. After arriving in New York, he started vomiting. And kept it up, almost hourly. “I thought, where are we going to find an E.R. vet?” said his owner, Shannon Wacker, who was there with her 17-year-old daughter, Mara. “I was heartbroken for my daughter. They had worked so hard to get here.”
Mother, daughter and dog found the Cornell vet tent, who ministered to all three. “They were a godsend,” Mrs. Wacker said. “And they didn’t bill me!”
A vet gave Tyson a 24-hour anti-nausea injection, which calmed his stomach.
By Sunday afternoon, Tyson was good to go. He did not win a ribbon, but Mrs. Wacker and Mara were thrilled. “Considering all that happened with him, we’re tickled,” Mrs. Wacker said, saying that Tyson had pushed through his misery out of devotion to her daughter.
“We just needed to get his nerves untangled,” she said. “He’s just such a little overachiever!”
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Happy Birthday, Monsieur Dorian
Summary: It’s the birthday of a certain Arno Dorian, and his friends and colleagues, the Assassins and Templars of Casa Assassino, are preparing to surprise him with a birthday celebration. And when Templars and Assassins work together to pursue a common goal, they do it surprisingly well ... [Modern Day AU fanfic; Assassins & Templars as housemates]
Length: 1,881 words
“I don’t see why you need me around,” Arno remarked. “You’ve never taken me shopping before.”
Jacob shrugged, smiled in what he hoped was an innocent way, and wrapped his arm loosely around Arno’s shoulders. “Well, I thought I could use a second opinion,” he said lightly, “and whose better opinion on cooking appliances than yours, Frenchie?”
Arno shrugged out of Jacob’s embrace and raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Alright, Anglais. I know you’re up to something, but I don’t want to imagine how upset your sister would be if you ended up bringing home cheap cookware. Lead the way.”
Jacob and Arno weaved their way through crowds of shoppers. It was a Saturday afternoon, and the streets teemed with the weekend shopping crowd, enjoying the fair weather. Families walked by with babies in prams, couples holding hands languidly strolled by, and children ran past the two gentlemen who were making their way to a cooking ware shop.
“I still think we should have gone to IKEA,” Jacob muttered under his breath, but Arno overheard and shook his head.
“Non non, you don’t want anything from there,” he said, with a mild tone of disapproval. He walked through the shop, scanning the shelves, until he spotted what he was looking for. “Let’s start with a good cast-iron pan. They’re very versatile, and can last you ages.”
As Arno and Jacob looked over a selection of cast-iron pans (Jacob nearly doubling over at the sight of their price), Altaïr watched them carefully from a safe distance.
“They are preoccupied,” the older Assassin reported under his breath into a concealed mouthpiece. “You have an hour, my friends.”
Back at the shared house, Ezio nodded. “Bene, Altaïr,” he said into a matching mouthpiece. “Grazie.”
He turned to the team he’d gathered in the kitchen. “So, we have about an hour before they return. Are we ready?”
Evie, Élise, Shay and Connor – decked in matching white aprons – nodded in solemn affirmation. Arrayed on the kitchen counters were a vast array of ingredients: Red strawberries fresh from the farmer’s market sat amongst leafy greens, bushels of potatoes and peppers, and raw slabs of marbled steak sat in glass trays.
Edward popped his head in from the kitchen window. “The grill is hot!” he called out from the yard outside.
“Good,” Ezio said, grinning, hands at his waist. He reached out for a whisk. “Then let’s begin!”
“Remember, he likes his steak medium rare,” Élise reminded, as she handed Edward the slabs of meat through the kitchen window.
“Your man is a true gourmand,” Edward remarked, giving Élise a wink.
She gave a small laugh in reply. “I think the term you’re looking for is gourmet, Monsieur Kenway, but I suppose I can agree with you: Arno certainly enjoys his food.”
Edward’s smile grew broader. “Ah, I never had a talent for learning French. Unless it was to read the labels on wine bottles – aye, that’s the most I could do.”
“Father, stop flirting with my colleague,” Haytham called from where he was standing next to the grill they had set up outside. “We don’t have much time.”
“Fifty minutes!” Ezio reminded them, metal bowl and whisk in hand, whipping egg whites into stiff peaks.
“Yes, chef,” everyone in the kitchen replied in unison.
“I hope Jacob’s alright,” Evie said, with tears in her eyes. Anyone would have thought they were tears of worry for her brother, if not for the fact she was rapidly chopping onions with practiced ease. Beside her, Shay chuckled.
“We sent the right man for the job,” he reassured her. “If there’s anyone who’s the best at causing a diversion, it’s your brother.”
From where he was peeling potatoes, Connor nodded in agreement. “The other day, I followed Jacob to look for new sports shoes. But by the end of the day, I found myself with several hoodies, a gym membership, two hundred dollars’ worth in video games, and a Nerf gun. And no shoes.”
“You should restrain him,” Evie sighed, knowing that she was the only semblance of impulse control Jacob ever had. But she couldn’t help but agree – if there was an expert at wasting people’s time (and buying time for others), it was her brother.
“Better that Jacob help us keep Arno occupied,” Connor remarked, “than here helping us in the kitchen.” Shay and Evie shuddered, remembering the last time they let Jacob handle the cooking. The smell of burning lingered for weeks.
The kitchen soon came alive with clatter of cooking utensils, the sound of sizzling butter, the smell of things simmering and baking, and bright voices calling out instructions as all a manner of dishes were being prepared for what was looking like a feast.
“Blue is his favourite colour.”
Desmond exchanged a look with Aveline, raising an eyebrow. “You think so?”
Aveline shrugged, matching Desmond’s look of skepticism. “Well. He’s always wearing blue – I’m just assuming so.”
The both of them looked over a selection of finely-crafted satchels, bags and carrying cases in front of them. They came in a variety of shapes, sizes, and styles – but Aveline called for a few to be brought to them, and examined them closely.
“We should get this one in black,” she decided, holding up a sleek, smart-looking briefcase. After a moment, she added, “And we’ll take the matching monogrammed scarf, too.”
“That’s not going to cost too much, is it?” Desmond asked, worriedly thinking about how much he had left on his credit card before it maxed out. Aveline gave him a sweet, knowing smile.
“T'inquiète pas,” she assured him. “I’m a VIP member here. They’re very nice to me; they’ll throw in the scarf for free.”
Desmond stared at her in a mixture of disbelief and admiration. “Wait, wait, wait. Aveline ... how often do you have to shop at Louis Vuitton for you to qualify for VIP status?”
“Often enough,” Aveline replied airily, avoiding Desmond’s gaze – although Desmond was swiftly beginning to get a distinct insight into her spending habits, and her taste for high fashion.
“You certainly took a while,” Arno muttered in increasing irritation as his companion finally exited the gelato shop.
“Oh, come on, Frenchie, I wasn’t that long,” Jacob cajoled. “Want a taste of my gelato?”
“You spent twenty minutes choosing a flavor, and nearly ten minutes flirting with the server,” Arno murmured, glancing shortly at his pocket-watch. He sighed. “Let’s head back, Jacob. It’s late, Élise has not answered any of my phone calls, and I promised your sister you would be home for dinner.”
“Ah, of course,” Jacob said. He threw a quick glance towards where Altaïr was watching from across the street. “Shall we grab a coffee first?”
“There’s coffee at home.”
Jacob knew from Arno’s terse replies that there was no more stalling him. He saw Altaïr nod from the distance, and the two made their way to the subway.
“They’re on the move,” Altaïr reported discreetly into his mouthpiece, and listening for an affirmative before, he too, made his way home – albeit by a different, faster route via the city rooftops.
It was dark by the time Jacob and Arno reached Casa Assassino. Suspiciously, the entire home was in darkness – not a single light came from the windows, and it was strangely silent, although there were no signs that anyone had left: Connor’s bike and Ezio’s Alfa Romeo were still in the driveway, and Evie’s smart and practical Tesla was parked across the street.
Instantly, Arno became suspicious. “Something doesn’t feel right here, Frye,” he remarked to Jacob, who was casually walking up to the porch. “Let me just have a quick look in Eagle Vi —”
“Don’t use your Eagle Vision!” Jacob said hurriedly, meeting Arno’s increasingly skeptical expression. “I’m sure everything’s fine, Frenchie. Come on. You’re being paranoid.”
Arno gave him a skeptical look, thoroughly unconvinced. “Right. And I suppose you’re going to tell me all the lights of our house are mysteriously turned off because it’s Earth Hour.”
“That’s precisely what I was going to tell you!” Jacob said with a broad grin, unlocking the door and swinging the door open.
For a tense moment, nothing happened. The living room inside was dark, and only the ghostly shapes of furniture illuminated by the faint streetlights were discernible. Suddenly, there was the briefest ‘click’ of a switch being flipped, and the room flooded with light.
“SURPRISE!” cried the Assassins (and the few stray Templars), as they leapt out from behind the sofas, from inside cupboards, and, in Connor’s case, from behind a curtain because he was too big to fit anywhere else. Arno regarded his friends in absolute disbelief as he was suddenly showered in confetti.
“Joyeux anniversaire, Arno,” Élise said warmly, as she approached him to lay a soft kiss on his cheek. Arno gave a blank look, before realization dawned on his face and he nodded and smiled. “Oh. Oh! Of course. Today’s my birthday.”
“Ah, yes, I told you he’d forget,” Edward laughed. From next to him, Shay grumbled and handed Edward ten dollars.
At that moment, Altaïr came parkouring in through an open window – and Arno immediately addressed him. “You were following us,” he said with a laugh. “I thought I saw you. You’re terribly good at hiding in plain sight, Mentor.”
Altaïr shrugged, but looked pleased with himself.
“And you,” Arno said, his tone accusing as he turned towards Jacob. “You were wasting my time on purpose.”
“Ah, amico mio, let’s not start turning on our brothers,” Ezio said with a laugh, coming between them. He held out an arm towards the dining room. “You usually do all the cooking here, Arno – we decided that, instead, perhaps we could return the favour.”
Arno looked in disbelief at the sumptuous spread laid out on the table. As he regarded all his favourite foods and desserts – steak, a bottle of red Bordeaux, and what looked like strawberry mille-feuille. He made a wordless glance towards Élise (no who doubt played a part in giving insights on what his favourite foods were) and she simply smiled and winked.
“Sorry we’re late!” Desmond said, suddenly jumping through the same open window that Altaïr came through. Aveline, also just arriving, had enough decency to come in through the front door.
“We were just getting this gift-wrapped,” Desmond announced, presenting Arno with a medium-sized parcel. “Happy birthday.”
Arno recognized the initials emblazoned on the chocolate-coloured box, and laughed. “This is too much, mes amis. You are too kind to me.”
“It’s alright,” Desmond said, “Aveline got us a discount.” This earned him a painful nudge to the ribs from Aveline. “Ow! What?”
“You can open your present later, let’s eat,” Evie said firmly, when she noticed the hungry stares that Connor and Shay were giving to the cuts of steak on the table. The Assassins and Templars sat down, and Edward served, while the others passed around the side dishes.
Several hours later, they all found themselves in the living room, drunkedly playing a round of ‘Taboo’.
In a moment of tranquility – as Jacob struggled to describe, ‘chicken leg’ amidst fits of drunken giggling – Arno regarded his fellows, and smiled to himself.
“Everything alright there, Arno?” Desmond asked.
Arno nodded. He grinned, looking on as Evie and Jacob high-fived. “Thank goodness for twin telepathy!” they crowed triumphantly while the opposing team groaned, wondering if twin telepathy was, indeed, an actual thing.
“Oh yes,” Arno replied. “I was just thinking ... my birthdays had always been quiet affairs. This –” he made a sweeping gesture at the Templars and Assassins who were now struggling to contain their laughter as Edward tried and failed to describe the word, ‘piercing’ – “is a much welcome change.”
Desmond smiled broadly. “Yeah? Well then ...” he raised his beer bottle, “Happy birthday, pal.”
“Merci,” Arno replied, raising his wine glass in return.
AUTHOR’S NOTES: This turned out a lot differently than what I originally planned – I had a different storyline in mind, but with the deadline of Arno’s birthday (August 26th) looming in the distance, I did not have much time to make much changes to the story and had to make do with what I had. 😅
I really enjoyed writing this, and I hope you guys enjoyed reading it. I want to write more ‘Casa Assassino’ stories in the future, because I think when you get all the characters interacting together, fun stuff is bound to happen, haha! I’ll also see if I can include Cal Lynch and Aguilar de Nerha involved in future stories as well, somehow! 😊
#casa assassino#house of assassins#happy birthday arno#my writing#my fanfic#arno dorian#I'm sorry Callum Lynch and Aguilar de Nerha are not part of this#and I don't know enough of Bayek's character to write him#I hope I'll be able to turn Casa Assassino into a series heheh XD
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A Caged Bird (Jacob Frye)
2,346 words
~Leanora/Lea Starrick's POV~
'Twenty-one days...I've been in this fucking asylum for three weeks, what does Crawford think this will accomplish? Nothing, that's what.' Staring up at the ceiling I couldn't believe my father, the Crawford Starrick, would cage his own daughter just because she doesn't want to be the next Templar leader. Granted he was the one who fell in love with a known Assassin target so I don't see how locking me up in the Lambeth Asylum will do much of anything. There has only been one operative in London for nearly twenty years and even then, there were three, the other two being Ethan and Cecily Frye. I grew up in Crawford alongside their fraternal twin Evie and Jacob whilst living with my mother until she decided when I was eighteen that it was time I met my father...to this day I rue that decision she made. Learning my father was Crawford Starrick was one thing but learning that he was that head of the Templars made me hate my mother's decision even more.
For two years he tried to get me to abandon the sixteen years of training that I had and become a Templar, to which I happily refused. Honestly, I think my mother didn't care if he killed me at this point since it never made sense to me why she sent me to him while he is our number one most powerful enemy in London right now. Oddly enough Starrick was the one who let me have more freedom in what I wanted to study, going as far letting me practice a small bit of medicine. Surprisingly I am currently trapped in the same hospital that I was first taught how to stabilize a wound to the chest so that was great. Continuing to stare up at the ceiling my thoughts were disturbed by a knock at the door of my cell. Turning my head right when the slit opened I jolted up when I spotted a book that was starting to be pushed into the cell.
"Ms. Starrick? I've got a delivery for you from a Charles Dickens." Smiling brightly I sprang from my bed and nearly yanked the book from my guard's hands, it's been a while since my old friend had a book sent to me. The old friend was of course Charles Dickens since before I was incarcerated I would often times grab a pint with the old man and would help him with one of his drafts of which there was always new ones. To be honest I missed those times where I had just as much freedom as an eagle though right now I felt like a caged canary.
"Thank you Arnold, tell me what news is there out in the city?" Taking a seat at my desk which was next to a nearby window I liked how even though he was my body guard posted at my cell door in order to keep my trapped I could still have decent conversation with him. Arnold was a lot nicer than my last guard although I'm pretty sure the other guard hated me due to my history in the Assassin order but that did not mean he couldn't have a proper conversation.
"Well the soothing syrup has stopped production, which was a bad plan from the start like you said. Your father still thinks the Frye twins aren't going to do him much harm though and I do believe that the Blighters here in Lambeth have been chased out by the Rooks." Raising an eyebrow I was glad to hear that my old childhood friends were still causing trouble for dear ole dad, though I am curious who controls the Rooks. Seeing as how they only appeared after the Frye twins took over Whitechapel I think it's safe to assume they lead it, or at least one of them.
"Thank goodness, I can't believe father thought it would be a good idea to allow that soothing syrup crap to be sold to the public. By the way Arnold, why are you still here? You could go home and nobody would notice." Trying to get him to possibly leave the door I heard a chuckle as he shook his head.
"Sorry miss but you know that isn't true seeing as how I live in the Strand, if Maxwell Roth spotted me on the streets rather than here...well you know the answer to that." Simply nodding my head I completely understood where Arnold was coming from, I knew for a fact that Maxwell Roth deserved to be in the cell a hell of a lot more than I did. Opening the book I was happy to see a note from my old friend telling me that he hoped I was well and that my chest was still safely tucked away. Flipping the page I was interrupted when there was a loud crash outside my door, startling me just a tad.
“Arnold? What’s going on out there?” Going to the door I could tell through the window that Arnold had a hand close to his revolver while turning his head, giving me a smirk.
“Nothing to worry yourself milady, just go back to reading that book of yours.” Sighing I nodded my head and went back to my desk when once again there was a loud crash along with Arnold shouting. “What are you doing here you Rook bastard?!” Stunned when Arnold said Rook I quickly took to a blind spot the door had with the new book, thank goodness Dickens always writes terribly long novels. Holding the book up when I heard my guard go down I silently waited for the person to unlock the door and step into my cell, not closing the door behind him.
"Wonder what treasure Starrick has locked away in here." Tiptoeing toward the man's back I swung the book as hard as I could, quickly using the distraction to bolt out of the room. Smirking when I heard him shout in a tad bit of anger I used my old skills to find a way out of the asylum which ended up being out the roof though I was not complaining. Eagle diving into a pile of hay when I jumped out it felt wonderful to be outside that stuffy building though being outside in only a patient's gown was not as wonderful. Taking my chances I briskly walked over to the nearest store where thankfully the clerk recognized me as a friend and helped me into a fashion that I was normally in.
"Thank you Michael, now do you know where I can find Mr. Dickens? He has something of mine." Nodding his head the clerk told me to go to Devil's Acre which seemed to be where the man was last seen. Despite the fact that it was in West Minster and was completely controlled by the Templars I could still hold my own in fight so I wasn't too scared to go out and find Dickens. Thanking the clerk once more I took my leave, grabbing a nearby unused carriage and heading across the Thames into West Minster. Keeping my head down as I made my way to Devil's acre I tried my best not to be noticed by any of the Blighters, there was no way in hell I was going back to that damn cell.
When I reached the tavern, it took none but two seconds to find the author who was currently enjoying what looked to be a very nice stout. Silently taking the empty seat next to him I tapped his shoulder, causing him to turn and grin at the sight of my face. "Leanora, dear girl is has been many a night since I last saw you. How have you been?" Returning the grin I nodded my head since I spoke with him a week prior to my father imprisoning me about protecting certain items for me that I could not let Crawford have even in death if need be.
"I've been better honestly, being trapped in an asylum for three weeks does that to a girl but enough about me. Do you remember that chest I gave you a month back? I need it back or at least the contents." Nodding his head Dickens offered to tell me over a drink but right now that was not a good idea so I politely declined. Understanding the author leaned in and whispered a certain riddle into my ear.
"The prize you seek lies amongst oddities galore, which could not be further from the river shore." Instantly knowing that Dickens meant Henry Green's shop I nodded my head, silently thanking the author. Leaving Devil's Acre, I drove the carriage back into Lambeth and then headed up to Whitechapel which thankfully was in Rook control rather than Blighter. Ditching the carriage a few blocks away from Henry's shop I climbed up a building where I simply walked across rooftops until I reached Henry's and dropped down to ground level. Noticing the unlit candles in the window I was a little surprised to see that Henry wasn't here but right now that wasn't my concern, he was probably with the Frye twins terrorizing London. Grabbing the spare key he always keeps in a certain windowsill under a petunia I slipped into the shop where I used my gift to spot the chest I had sent away as to keep it safe. Unlocking it with ease I was about to open the chest when I heard the front door slide open softly, the person entering trying to be sneaky. Locking the chest I quickly took to a hiding spot in a nearby armoire, mentally thanking god for my small frame. Keeping as silent as a mouse there was an unnecessarily loud creak in the floor boards before a light came showed through the middle of the armoire.
"Whoever's in here come on out, I saw you enter and I know you're still in here." Not really recognizing the voice I kept still until the light turned away from my hiding spot, allowing for me to get the jump on my attacker. Kicking him in the back it wasn't too hard to pin him lying face down with his arms crossed behind his back.
"I swear all you Blighters are so annoying, I'm not going back to that cursed cell." Feeling the man struggle beneath me he turned his head and looked up at me, seemingly recognizing my face instantly.
"Lea let go it's me, Jacob." A tad shocked I scrambled to get off my old friend, who in honest looked much older than I remember but being gone for 2 years can change one’s image quite a lot. Helping the poor man up I dusted off any visible dirt from his clothes before giving him a sympathetic smile, to say sorry for tackling him to the ground. Giving me his familiar smirk he picked up his hat and dusted it off before setting it onto his head. Feeling a little bad for tackling an old friend to the ground I simply stood a few steps away from him in front of my chest, knowing full well there was an awkward silence in the air.
"Sorry about that, I honestly thought you were one of my father's Blighters." Raising an eyebrow when I said that the Blighters were my father's I could tell that Jacob was very curious.
"No problem, I'd tackle any Blighter if I thought they were coming after me. Anyway, what do you mean by your father's Blighters? The only people they answer to is either Maxwell Roth or Crawford Starrick." Biting my bottom lip I slightly nodded and pulled out a locket my mother had given me. Handing it over to Jacob I waited for him to open it and when he did his eyes practically popped out of his head. "Your father is CRAWFORD STARRICK?!" Flinching just a tad when Jacob yelled I once again nodded my head, smiling just a little.
"Yeah that's why I haven't been able to write you these last few years, he didn't like that I wouldn't let go of my Assassin roots like Haytham Kenway once did." With shock still written on his face Jacob just slowly nodded his head whilst handing me the locket back. Putting it back into my back pocket he seemed to still be processing the information so while he was doing that he went back to the chest that was left unattended and open during our little scuffle. Grabbing several papers that I had used to jot down information I handed the papers to Jacob and that seemed to snap him out of whatever daze he was in.
"What are these? Love letters my dear Lea, you shouldn't have." Shamelessly flirting with me I rolled my eyes and shook my head.
"No, my darling Jacob, these are reports that I've been saving since the first day I got here and found out who my father was. Since I know you and Evie have been a thorn in Starrick's side ever since you got to London I figured you would need these reports the most." Nodding his head, I turned to leave out the back door however a hand softly grasped my shoulder, halting me. Turning back, I was not surprised to see Jacob standing around rather embarrassed, with a light pink dusting his cheeks.
"Maybe you should give these to Evie yourself, I'm just the one doing fieldwork. Besides you don't really have anywhere to stay anymore so maybe~ we could get another car for another Assassin." Smiling softly, I laughed quietly and nodded my head, at least I'll be protected from my father's cronies.
"What a fine idea Jacob, lead the way." Stepping to the side, Jacob interlocked our arms and together we left Henry's shop, going to what I assume to be the nearest train station.
'Now I'll be free, unlike the caged song bird I once was.'
~THE END~
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Some of the DA Inquisition Crew discuss Assassin’s Creed
(Modern-ish AU. Just something that came out of my brain while both Fandoms were knocking around in there at the same time. Enjoy!)
Aurora threw back the last of her rum and coke and lurched forward over the table. “I just don’t get the whole Connor thing. I mean, apparently so many of those ‘confessions’ are about him pinning them to a tree, but I just don’t see the appeal. I mean, he’s an idiot. He spends the whole game fighting Western Progress only for it to steamroll his own tribe anyway. He strives for freedom - kills the entire Templar chapter to do it - but completely overlooks the fact that freedom does not equal security. And his people pay for it.” She looked desperately up and down the table for support. “Tell me I’m not the only one who sees that. Please.”
Dorian took a sip of his mojito, shamelessly toying with the little umbrella under his pinky, “It’s not that we don’t see it, my dear. It’s that that isn’t the point.”
The woman across from him slammed the heel of her cup onto the table, demanding, “Then what is the point, then?!”
“The point,” he stated, extending his pinky finger in her direction, “is those broad shoulders and that Native American motif.” His hand swayed just slightly atop his resting elbow, evidence of the previous three drinks he’d imbibed in rapid succession.
“It’s not a motif; it’s his culture!”
A dismissive gesture from the Vint. “When it comes to kinks, the difference is negligible.”
“No, it’s not!” Aurora yelled, slamming her cup down a second time. She was far too worked up about this topic for a Friday night.
Blackwall avoided eye-contact, strategically excusing himself to get another drink. Which gave The Iron Bull a few seconds to lean in and ask, “So you want me to wear some war-paint next time?”
Down the table, Sera blew a massive raspberry at the debate. “Ass-in-creed don’t have near enough of the right ass. Needs more tits.”
“It has tits, darling,” Dorian pointed out. “Did you even play Ezio’s first game?”
“Not tha’ rite tits! I mean ass’kickin’ tits. Evie tits! I want ta’ see Evie’s tits!” More than a few heads turned in the direction of Sera’s shrieking. Not all of them at the group’s actual table.
Dorian took a breath...and found his original thought veering off on faulty evidence. “Alright, I’ll give you that. Not nearly enough female protagonists for the series. But that’s the fault of the medium at large. You can hardly single out the Creed as the ur-example.” His hand shot up to cut off Aurora’s tirade before it could start. If he let her start off on Feminist representation or equal opportunity depictions, they would be here all night. “We’re getting off topic. This is not about fatal character flaws. This is about white-hot-sex-appeal. Which of these darling creatures you feel compelled to seize by their sculpted packages and posteriors, and have your way with.”
Another violent raspberry from down the table, as Sera slid down off the front of her seat, landing somewhere at their feet. They’d need to remember to pick her up later before they left.
“And you think character flaws don’t factor into that?” Aurora demanded. She made to take another drag from her glass - only to find it empty. Right; that had happened. “Varric, help me out here,” she pleaded. He was their resident author. This was practically his job.
“Sorry, Bright Eyes. I don’t do Sci-Fi.” Apparently not.
“It’s not Sci-Fi!”
The man cocked a well-practiced eyebrow at her. “A machine allowed people to explore memories stored in their DNA, which reveals the existence of ancient, highly advanced beings who created humans and whose remnants gave rise to biblical depictions of god and miracles, which actually turn out to be technological artifacts that survived the disaster that wiped out the race in the first place.” He snorted softly. “Yeah, that’s Sci-Fi.”
Aurora scowled at him, “Traitor.”
Blackwall reappeared with drinks in hand: two beers - the one for Bull in a pint-sized glass -, and another rum and coke. Which Dorian snatched up before Aurora could get her hands on it.
“Dorian!”
“Ah-ah,” he teased, holding it above his head and well out of her reach. “I’ll have your prefered Assassin ass, and I’ll have it now.”
“You’re an ass!” she yelled, climbing half onto the table after her drink. Dorian only leaned further back, grinning like a jackal.
“And a fine one. But that doesn’t answer my question.”
“Dorian.”
“Spill it.”
“Give! It!” She flailed forward, and the kick he was getting out of this was obvious.
“Ass! Whose!”
“Shay Cormac!” Dorian gave a faux gasp of shock, but with enough dramatic zeel that his companion managed to snatch her drink from his hand, splashing soda and rum on his cuff in the process.
“Well, well, well,” Dorian schmoozed, shaking off what drops he could. “A Templar? You naughty girl.”
“Shut up!” He wasn’t even phased by the accompanying death glare.
“Now Haytham I could understand. I always suspected you might have a ‘daddy’ kink-” He narrowly avoided the spray as Aurora choked on her drink and continued on, undeterred. “-But a traitor?” He tutted, gazing off at a far wall while smoothing out his mustache. “I’m not sure we can remain friends. Disparaging Connor and fantasizing after a turn-coat. Your allegiance is clear as day. Am I to suspect a dagger in the back? Are you hiding a red cross somewhere on your person?”
Aurora clutched her drink with both hands and wailed plaintively, “He’s hot!”
And there it was.
Dorian practically squealed - how did he make even that seem suave? - and surged up onto the table, leaning heavily on his elbows, all up in Aurora’s personal space and absolutely latching onto her admission. “So there is some sexual desire buried under all that character analysis mumbo-jumbo.”
Aurora cast around. “Varric?” she whined, pleading for some kind of support.
He snickered, “Did you notice she said ‘Shay Cormac’. Not just ‘Shay’.”
“Oo!” Dorian’s glee surmounted itself. “First and last name on an impulse declaration. There is something here.”
Aurora shot a glare at Varric before zeroing it in on Dorian. “You’re a menace.”
“Ah-ah. Back on track. Shay. Hot. Explain.” This man was not going to be deterred.
And with no visible means of avoidance, “Well, he’s a good man.” When Dorian’s eyes rolled into the back of his head, she redoubled, “That’s important! He’s principled. Honorable.”
“Aurora, darling, honorable assassins make up over half the cast -”
“But how many of the Assassins put their morals above the Order?”
Dorian gave her a long, level look, followed by an elegant cocking of eyebrow.
Aurora’s brain caught up with her statement and she flapped her hand around dismissively, “Okay, okay. Evie and Jacob and Arno do, fine. But the Fryes go behind the Council’s back and go to London, and Arno pursues missions getting clearance first. But those are both still within the Order. And, yeah, Arno gets kicked out. But the Fryes don’t receive any negative repercussions within the Order for going off on their own. At least not that we see. Shay straight up turns his back on the Order when they’re methods go against his own moral code. With full knowledge of what he’s doing. He knows it will turn the Order completely against him. And he does it anyway. Because it’s what he believes is right. Even if it means betraying the organization he’s been apart of and loyal to for years.”
Her best friend blinked at her from across the table. He gave his head a sharp shake. “I’m sorry. I don’t believe I heard the world ‘hot’ even once during that whole monologue.”
“Dorian!”
He threw his arms out, dramatically, “Is it really so hard to discuss attractive physical attributes of fictional characters in public? Truly?”
Aurora jabbed a finger at him. “The character of a character is what makes them attractive.”
“But give me something!” Dorian pleaded. “Some indication that my best friend has a sex drive!”
She rolled her eyes, but acquiesced. “Fine. His haircut.”
Dorian’s head cocked like a confused dog. “Scruffy? Maker, I think that’s worse than the ‘daddy’ kink.”
“Post-Lisbon,” she clarified sharply, at last lifting her glass to her lips. “After his make-over.”
Dorian got a wistful look, completely with a dreamy ‘into the distance’ gaze. “Ah yes, that’s more like it. Proof-positive a good haircut can take you from ‘meh’ to ‘fuck me, please’. And those shoulders!”
Aurora swallowed a mouthful quickly to agree, “Oh yeah. That coat does wonders for his physique. He’s all sharp angles and broad. And that accent…” Aurora let a pleasant shudder run visibly up her spine for effect, making most of those still listening laugh.
Bull took a swig from his own mug, getting a gleam in his eye. “So you like the moral pillar, tall with broad shoulders, a smooth accent, good hair and a choice coat.” His grin broadened and he didn’t even bother hiding it. “Add some survivor’s guilt, and a military history with the organization he dumps on principle, and I’d say we’ve found your type, Boss.”
This time it was Aurora cocking her head in confusion. That was a little on the nose for Shay’s ‘type’. “I guess.”
Then The Iron Bull’s eyes ticked up over her head, the gleam in his eye turning at once innocent and diabolical. “Hey, Cullen.”
Aurora swiveled around to see the man take the last few steps to reach them. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”
“No, no,” Dorian assured him. “Just discussing our sexual preferences as applied to the cast of a fictional setting based around assassination.
Cullen froze halfway down onto Sera’s former seat, looking like a deer in the headlamps. Aurora grabbed a handful of his fur collar and gave him a good tug. “We can change the subject.” The relief on his face was near-comical. “Watch your feet. Sera’s still under there.”
He had a couple minutes to arrange himself while Bull made the next run for drinks, getting one for Cullen and refilling his own mug. Aurora settled comfortably in place. Sera’s seat stayed where it was. But with Cullen having a wider frame than her, that meant Aurora and Cullen sat close enough together their shoulders brushed occasionally when they shifted. She made a point to pick a position and get comfortable. Which was, in fact, quite easy with the given company.
Dorian gave them about fifteen seconds of said comfort. Long enough for Cullen to take a drink from his cup before the other man picked things back up with, “I can’t remember: did we actually establish you have a ‘daddy’ kink, or not?”
Cullen sent a spray of beer across the table and proceeded to start choking. Aurora pounded on his back while yelling across the table at Dorian, who had burst out laughing alongside The Iron Bull. Even Blackwall had a hand curled over his mouth, trying desperately not to give his chuckle away. Sera kicked the underside of the table, demanding they ‘keep it down up there’ so she could sleep. And Varric scribbled hurriedly in his notebook with tears in his eyes, and the declaration that ‘You can’t make this shit up’.
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Late Night - AC Syndicate Oneshot
Here is another Jacob Frye X Madeline Shrike oneshot!
********
It was just a little after eleven at night, and Jacob had promised Madeline that he would stop by her place for a visit after exploring about London in search of his targets. After those deeds were done, he stood before her lodgings. The lights illuminated from the inside, indicating to the assassin that the woman was still surprisingly up at this hour. When he had come to know Madeline, he knew that she usually retired earlier in the night, to head to the Magic Club first thing in the morning to practice her tricks before heading off to do her street performances, if she didn’t have a gig planned anyways.
Using his eagle vision, Jacob searched around and found a spare key the magician had hid for him to use to enter her home. Previously, Jacob would casually find his way inside through one of the windows, however that quickly came to a stop when one of Madeline’s kind, yet quite old neighbors alerted the police, thinking Jacob was a robber. Let’s just say that the pair didn’t want a repeat of that event.
Jacob unlocked the door, stepping inside as he shut the door behind him. “Love? Sorry it took me so long, those buggers were quite difficult to catch this time around,”
As he proceeded down the hallway, he did not hear a reply from his lover. This concerned him slightly as he stepped into the living room. The room was cluttered with papers, a few books here and there, and one or two stage props. This was odd for him. Normally she kept the place tidy and clean.
“Maddie?” He called again, looking around the room.
He picked up a few pieces of paper, glancing at them. They appeared to be rough drafts of original tricks? Performance ideas?
“What are you up to?” He quietly muttered to himself.
He set the papers back down as he left the room, finding the stairs as he made his way to the second floor. Finding the door that led to her room, Jacob gently knocked his knuckles against the door. To his surprise, it wasn’t locked. When he touched it, the door creaked slightly?
“Maddie?” He spoke again, pushing the door open.
When he poked his head inside, he at last found his love. The woman was snoozing on her bed, fast asleep. More papers and books were littered along the sheets with her. Jacob sighed, a small smile creeping up on his lips.
“You were up studying again, it seems,” he realized.
Slowly and quietly proceeding deeper into the room, he carefully moved some of her notes out of the way before taking a seat on the opposite side of the bed. Reaching over, his hand gently caressed her cheek before moving a few stray strands of hair out of her face. She seemed so peaceful, it was practically breath-taking.
Upon feeling his warm touch, Madeline shifted slightly, a low hum vibrated in her throat as she slowly opened her eyes, meeting the assassin’s gaze. “Jacob?”
“Eh love,” He smiled. “My apologies for the late arrival,”
“You actually came,” She realized. Sitting up from her spot on the end, she realized the mess she had made here, and downstairs. With an agitated sigh, she ran her fingers through her hair. “Aw rubbish! The place is a mess…”
Jacob chuckled lightly, guiding her chin for her to return her gaze towards him. “It’s quite alright love, I don’t mind the mess too much. Although I am curious as to why your home has been transformed into this state. Were you up studying again?”
“A bit,” Madeline answered with uncertainty. Jacob moved his hand away as the girl covered her mouth as she yawned. Up close, Jacob could see the dark circles under her eye lids.
“How long has this gone on for?” He questioned.
“What time is it?” She asked tiredly, rubbing her eyes.
Jacob laughed with a tease as his smile grew back. “Long enough it seems,” He stood up from the bed, walking over to her dresser as he opened one of the drawers, bringing out her night gown. “I don’t mean to question your fashion sense my dear, but I do believe that what you’re wearing doesn’t look too comfortable to sleep in,”
“For your information, it’s quite comfortable,” She playfully teased with a scoff.
Jacob walked back towards her, handing the Magician the gown, “Go on and get yourself ready for bed, I’ll clean up,”
The girl smiled, taking it in kind with a smile. “Thank you, my Ace of Hearts,”
He gently guided her aside to the bathroom where she could change, shutting the door behind her. He gathered all her notes and books, putting them aside on her desk. Once they were taken care off, Jacob set aside his top hat, jacket, tie, vest, dress shirt, and boots on a chair near the window, keeping his trousers on as he left his chest exposed.
He climbed into bed just as Madeline reemerged, changed into her nightgown for a proper night’s sleep. Jacob patted the spot beside him, inviting her to join him. She giggled, smiling as she climbed in beside him, cuddling up beside him as Jacob adjusted the covers for them both. “There we go, all snug like a bug in a rug,” he teased.
She laughed at the joke, feeling him wrap an arm around her waist to pull her just a tad closer towards him, her head resting against his chest. “Thank you again, Jacob, and I’m sorry we couldn’t really do anything tonight.”
“That’s quite alright, love,” He assured her. “What I have planned for you, can wait until morning,”
He kissed her forehead before gently pecking her lips before she could even have a chance to react at what he had said. The girl blushed madly, a contagious smile forming as she nestled herself against him, the power of slumber taking over once again as her eyes slowly closed on her, her head and right hand resting on his chest. “Goodnight… Jacob,”
“Goodnight, love,”
#ac syndicate#assassin's creed syndicate#oneshot#jacob frye#madeline shrike#oc#jacob x madeline#fluff
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Confidence is a State of Mind
@killerdraco @kentucky-the-fried and I RPd together on Discord with Draco, Pongo and Jaynix. It was A TON of fun, and me being the “i have to write something at all times” nerd that I am, turned the RP into a fic because why not? Enjoy this delve into Pongo awkwardness, Jaynix shenanigans and Draco dadliness.
Confidence is a State of Mind
Another long and eventful day for the BLADEs of NLA was drawing to a close, night was setting on. This evening finds the friendly Interceptor Pongo sitting by himself on one of the benches outside of Repenta Diner. One hand held onto his coffee from which he took a sip while the other held his comm device that listed all the missions he had accomplished this day.
He was looking over them again when he noticed the sky darken and decided to just take some time to admire the stars. A gentle smile forming on his face he found himself feeling immensely comfortable in solitude.
As Pongo enjoyed his peace another BLADE was making her way to the very same Repenta Diner, another Interceptor: Jaynix. Her own day was filled with just as many missions as Pongo, taking her all over Oblivia and now that she was done, it was time to celebrate.
Despite the remnants of sweat and the sand on her face, she smiled and picked up her pace, drawing ever closer to the diner. She practically brushed past Pongo’s table but neither BLADE was aware of the other, wrapped up in their own contentment.
At the same time, down the street another BLADE was headed in the direction of Repenta Diner. Draco, affectionately known by many as Squad Dad. He put in just as busy a day today with an endless onslaught of scouting, training as many of the less experienced BLADEs as he could. Usually the days end later but seeing as how he got through it so quick, he added on a Reclaimer mission to his load.
With all the tasks done he found himself with some very desirable free time. No better use of free time in his book than…reading books. He glanced at the new history book tucked under his arm “The History of Japan” which he’d finally gotten as a sort of gift to himself. Of course he’d wanted to read it immediately in his barracks but he felt a twinge of hunger and decided to stop by Repenta for a bite and some light reading instead.
Much like Jaynix before him, he brushes past Pongo’s table and enters the diner at just the same time that Pongo closes his eyes, just missing the Squad Dad.
A gentle wind caresses Pongo’s face, pushing back his hair to reveal his pale skin and complexion. With all the hustle and bustle of being a BLADE, enjoying a simple breeze felt unimaginably calming.
Opening his eyes he noted two people walking out of the diner: a man and a woman. They were holding hands and giggling under their breath, clearly the pair was out on a wonderful date of some sort and the very sight of that was nothing more than a cruel reminder to Pongo of his own terrible luck in talking to other people in such a manner.
Hell, he can’t even manage to talk like that with Stake. His boyfriend. He watches the couple as they walk out of sight, a sad expression on his face.
In the diner, Jaynix sat at the main counter gabbing with the bartender as he served her a cold beer. Jaynix laughed at a joke he told, unaware of Draco walking right behind her to a table in the back.
She turned to some of the fellow patrons, many were regulars she recognized. As they shouted jokes at her, asked her how she did and asked her out on dates, she shouted back. The rowdiness in Repenta, especially at night was one of her favorite things. She always thanks Frye for their first time hanging out here. The noise keeps the terrors within quiet, something she endlessly appreciates.
Turning in her seat she lets out a long sigh before looking out one of the windows. In doing so she sees a familiar BLADE sitting at a bench outside.
“Well. Whaddya know?”
Taking both her drinks she stands up, thanks the bartender and gives quick goodbyes to her drinking buddies before exiting the diner and approaching the other BLADE she’d met during her first trip to Cocytios.
“Hey there!”
Hearing her voice, Pongo notes a faint familiarity before turning albeit in a bit of a startled manner. He finds the BLADE that called out to him and recognizes her as Jaynix. He then recalls their first encounter in which he was nothing but a flustered mess and said so many stupid things. Face flushing up a bit he manages an awkward wave.
“Jaynix right? Ah. Hello there.”
Draco meanwhile sat in the diner and ordered the usual: a turkey sandwich with tomato basil soup. Being at the back of the diner gave him a pretty good vantage point of the rest of the establishment and everyone in it, as well as a great line of sight to the eating areas outside.
He watched people walk to and fro, some familiar, some not before recognizing a BLADE. Purple interceptor vest, bushy black hair, blank eyes? It was Pongo! He then noticed that someone else had approached Pongo and was standing near him, talking with him.
Draco crossed his arms and nodded proudly, it was great to see Pongo making acquaintances with other BLADEs, he knows all too well that Pongo has a bit of an awkward streak to him.
Draco was all set to look away until he realized who the other BLADE was. Jaynix. The fiery, hot headed and very provocatively dressed Jaynix. Of all people, it was her who was talking to the timid, awkward Pongo.
Realizing how likely it was that this situation will go south and end in disaster, his paternal instincts began to engage and he rose from his table. He began walking with purpose in their direction, hoping nothing would fall apart in the time it took him to get outside the diner.
Meanwhile, Jaynix pulled a seat out and sat down across from Pongo.
“This is our second-time meeting and just like the first, it was complete happenstance. Ah well, any chance to get to know someone else better is fine by me!”
Pongo chuckled “Well yeah…it is a small world after all.”
Jaynix laughed at that before letting out a long sigh and fanning herself.
“Hey, have you ever been to Oblivia? Like for a long time. The damned heat sticks to you and…y’know what. Give me a sec.”
Pongo raised an eyebrow as Jaynix leaned back in her seat. “S-sure. Take all the time you need. As for Oblivia, I was just there re-”
Pongo’s words died on his tongue upon seeing Jaynix reach for the zipper at the top of her Raim torso. She wasn’t about to-
She was. The sound of her zipper being undone was incredibly loud in Pongo’s ears and while he told himself to look away, he couldn’t. He followed her hand as it moved down her body, very, very far. He wasn’t sure if his face was red before but he was damned sure he was a tomato right now.
His jaw dropped as the zipper went lower, the Raim splitting open farther and exposing more of Jaynix’s skin. In his head, he tried to tell himself to calm down, but it was lost in a storm of ‘Holy shits.’
The only thing that came out of his mouth was a very low whisper of “…oh.”
A breeze came by, causing Jaynix to sigh in relief. Nodding to herself she spoke “That’s better. Much better.”
Draco had finally made his way out of the diner, it took him much longer than he thought even if only for a few moments but he had to-
And it no longer mattered. Jaynix and Pongo reached disaster level interaction practically immediately. With very little effort and so very quickly, Jaynix had turned Pongo’s brain into mashed potatoes. Even if he was farther away there was no way he couldn’t see how red Pongo had become.
Draco had seen Pongo’s face flush when all the blood rushed to his head after botching a Starfall Rondo and landing upside down but THIS? This was ridiculous. It was very clear that Pongo had been broken.
Regardless, he had to try to salvage the situation as best as he could and walked over to their table, looking between the mostly quiet Pongo and the mostly exposed Jaynix. Forcing a smile, he spoke.
“Well, funny running into you two together here.”
The arrival of the Squad Dad was like a saving grace for Pongo, hopefully he could provide an escape from this awkward hell. However despite turning his head towards Draco, his eyes, despite their lacking pupils, were still partially if not mostly fixed onto Jaynix who was taking a long drink at that same moment.
“Hi.”
He manages to squeak out.
“Nice…nice to…see…you…”
Following Pongo’s words, Jaynix puts her beer down and sees Draco who just joined them.
“Well shit, this diner really is the place to be at. What’s up?”
Despite Pongo’s lack of pupils, Draco found it painfully obvious as to where his eyes were fixated upon. Pulling up his own chair he put his book down onto the table before reaching over to Pongo and ruffling his hair. A solid and valiant attempt to force Pongo’s eyes off of Jaynix disguised as a kind and friendly gesture.
“Oh, you know. Just finished up for the day so I thought I’d swing by here for a quick bite! When I saw you two here, I figured I’d make sure you guys were doing alright.”
Draco had succeeded in getting Pongo’s eyes off Jaynix’s…well…off Jaynix. However, the BLADE’s face was still very clearly red and he found himself unable to stop thinking about the fact that she was still sitting across from him and that she was so…bare. Finally, he tries to talk to Draco.
“Th-thanks for dropping by a-and we’re fine! Especially Jaynix! She-NO WAIT!”
Pongo covers his face out of embarrassment before hearing Jaynix.
“Especially me?”
He parts his fingers and looks through them to see her looking right at him, her fiery eyes fixated on him, a smile on her lips.
“You find me that fine, Pongo? If I may ask, where exactly were you looking?”
Draco had enough composure to not facepalm at what was happening before him, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t doing it mentally. He tried. He pulled Pongo’s face away from Jaynix and he still found his way back into this scenario. He blew it, shot himself in the foot.
Draco hoped that Pongo knew enough about Jaynix’s personality to not answer so literally.
Giving up on being subtle, he spoke again “Come on Jaynix, it’s not nice to tease him.”
Jaynix laughed in response “Well what am I supposed to do? Pretend like I can’t see him staring at me? He couldn’t make it more obvious if he had pupils!”
At that moment, Pongo spoke up.
“You…ah…you have a…a nice everything.”
Jaynix turned her attention back to Pongo, realizing he was answering her question as to where it is he was looking. She began laughing again before reaching over and ruffling Pongo’s hair.
“Thanks Pongo and you know what? I think I have a nice everything too!”
Draco shook his head. “Jaynix, please. It’s not like you made it easy for him, either. Pongo’s kind of…a work in progress.”
He sighed as it was incredibly apparent that Jaynix’s own inflated self-esteem would only push Pongo further and further into awkwardness and more likely, into an early grave.
Jaynix just chuckled as she pulled away from Pongo and sat in her seat “Sure, I get that but I swear, unlike our interactions in Cocytios which were totally on purpose, this-”
She gestured at herself. “Well. I’m really hot AND I’m really hot.”
With another chuckle, Jaynix took another drink from her bear as Pongo let out a long sigh of acceptance. He’d only been sitting with Jaynix and Draco for such a small amount of time yet every single thing he’s said has been far more awkward than the thing he said before.
Looking between the other two BLADEs an idea came to Pongo’s mind. If he really tried, could it be possibly to achieve the level of self-confidence that Draco and especially Jaynix have in themselves? Could they possibly teach him how to talk to girls? And guys? Just…talk to people in general?
Immediately the words tumble out of his mouth in a jumbled mess.
“Um…do you think you can…help me? You both seem so confident and beautiful…well, you do not seem beautiful, you ARE both beautiful! Handsome! In the case of Draco, I, wait AGH!”
Draco cringed, listening to Pongo speak became…painful. It was like watching a puppy try to climb onto a couch only to fail and fall over and over again. He had to intervene. Again.
“Pongo. Deep breaths. You need to stop before you blow a brain cell or…whatever substitutes for one in a Mimeosome.”
Jaynix put her drink down and spoke up “He’s right kid. Deep breaths will do wonders, trust me on that. Once you get the talking down everything else’ll fall into place.”
Taking their advice, Pongo closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, letting the tension out of his shoulders. Feeling slightly more relaxed he whispers to himself “Okay…Okay…”
Opening his eyes, he looks to the two of them “You both seem really confident, is there any way you could teach me to be like that?”
Draco and Jaynix watched Pongo for a few moments, the former raising an eyebrow at his rather unusual request.
“Teach you…confidence?”
As he tapped his chin and gave it some thought.
“I suppose it’s something that could help you and I don’t just mean to prevent yourself from turning into a stuttering mess. It’s much more applicable than that. Being confident in what you do makes everything easier.”
Jaynix nodded “He speaks the truth. For me, I’ve just always kinda been like this. I’m not sure what I could impart I mean…I can’t very well tell you to just act like me. You’re Pongo.”
Pongo nodded as Draco glanced over to Jaynix out of the corner of his eye. Sure Pongo was sorely lacking in confidence but Jaynix…well…she was extremely self-confident to the point of overconfidence. Perhaps what he could do, could help both of them.
“Well Pongo, you’ve come far with your basic combat training so I think adding confidence to your training is a good idea as well.”
Jaynix leaned back in her seat “Definitely. That said I’m drawing a total blank. I may be the picture of confidence but I wouldn’t know the first thing about teaching it to anyone else.”
“Confidence is a mindset, Jaynix.”
Draco answered. “It’s no different than any other mental training.”
Waiving down a server, he quickly let them know to make his food to-go.
“I can probably show you both but this is the kind of thing that’s best not to be done in the middle of a busy diner so we’d need to take this elsewhere.”
“Then take me wherever you have to!” Pongo proclaimed.
“I…I do not want to be this awkward anymore! Oh, and believe me when I say I am a very fast learner! I was taught all about this wonderful human tradition to thank people just the other day and I have not stopped using it! Say, I should thank you both for agreeing to help me!”
Before the two could say anything Pongo stood up and dabbed.
Jaynix’s words die on her tongue faster than a stray animal on a highway. Pongo could not have done what it is she thinks he’s done. The beer she had…it had to be doing something to her, that was the only logical explanation. The only one. Her only possible response is to finish the rest of her beer, packing the second away while she shakes her head.
Draco on the other hand lost all his composure and brought an open palm to his face. There were no words to describe what had just transpired.
“Pongo. I’ll help you but I have one condition. You must never do that again.”
Pongo is a little confused and slightly upset at their reactions, it seemed like they didn’t appreciate the time he put into learning this human tradition. Pushing his feelings aside he nods.
“Alright. Anything to learn about confidence!”
“That’s the spirit Pongo!” Jaynix said as she stood up and stretched. “Take your growth and training by the reins! You’ve got this!”
She then looked to Draco “So! Since we can't do this thing in the middle of a busy diner, where would you suggest we go? Where is this elsewhere?"
Draco stood up as well paying the server before retrieving his book and the food he ordered. With a small grin in the corner of his mouth he spoke.
“Well, given Pongo would probably do better with fewer people around to see his…”
Draco narrowed his eyes trying to find the right word to describe…this, that wasn’t so hard on Pongo. Embarrassment? Shame? Nope. Those are bad.
“His reactions.” He settled on.
“And I think I know just the place.”
The notion of being around fewer people made Pongo calm down even further, this whole situation was looking more and more ideal, he was immensely interested in what Draco had planned.
He prepared to move when Jaynix spoke up.
“Alright then! Hang on.”
Pongo turned to her as she gestured at herself “Pongo. Should I zip up or is this fine? Be honest.”
One answer came to his mind immediately, he bit his lip to keep it in. There was hesitation before he finally settled with.
“Whatever makes you feel comfortable…”
Draco sighed “We’ll be lucky if you make it to where we’re going without imploding at this rate.”
Reaching over he grabbed Pongo by the collar and pulled him along. Pongo wincing at the Squad Dad’s rough handling of him.
After a few steps Draco looked back to Jaynix “Do zip up before you kill the boy, besides…”
Jaynix tilted her head, curious at Draco’s tone. “We’ll be making use of that later in this plan.”
The woman smiled “That. Hm. Alright then. Sorry Pongo.”
He looked to her as she winked and zipped her Raim back up. Very. Slowly. She was enjoying this far too much and Pongo…well…the less thought he put into his thoughts the better.
Regardless of what it is Draco had planned, Pongo was pretty sure the only way this whole scenario would end was with him dead.
Draco led Pongo and Jaynix across NLA and through the East Gate of the Administrative District into Primordia. The specific spot was southwest of FN Site 116, a small patch of grass that was popular during the day for being an Ovis gathering spot. At night however it was as empty as could be.
A perfectly calm and empty place to help Pongo…even if the boy acted like he might die trying.
"This is the spot. Hopefully the knowledge that this is an Ovis gathering spot will help you calm your nerves, Pongo."
Pongo had to admit, knowing the field before them was populated with Ovis during the day did indeed calm him down. As he let out a sigh of relief, Jaynix was next to him looking around for any sign of a stray Ovis. She loved Ovises. Realizing she was getting sidetracked, she shook her head and whispered to herself to focus as Pongo spoke up.
“Um…what would be the purpose of bringing me here? Do you want me to make a fool of myself in front of the Ovis when the morning comes?”
Draco shook his head “When we’re done with this, maybe we’ll work on your pessimism. Just sit. Both of you.”
He pointed to the ground, indicating for them to sit next to one another. Jaynix saluted “Whatever you say!”
As she sat, Pongo nodded “I trust whatever plan you have in mind…I will admit I am very curious as to what we’re going to be doing.”
Smiling, Draco sat down across from them “We came here for a location that is calming and private. The more that’s going on around you, the more likely you are to get overwhelmed. This is where we’re going to have our first lesson and Jaynix is going to help.”
Jaynix tilted her head as Draco continued, his glance shifting between the two BLADEs before him, then settling on Pongo.
“It’s all very simple, you see…you say you want to learn confidence…but confidence is just a state of mind. So all we have to do is get you to a level of comfort where that state of mind comes naturally. We’ll start small and then work our way up. No sense throwing you in head first, after all.”
Pongo still feels skeptical about everything but doesn’t doubt Draco’s judgement, instead waiting for further instruction. Jaynix next to him, nods.
“That all makes sense…though I do have to ask, why exactly am I here? How can I help?”
“Jaynix. You’re arguably the most important aspect of this. See, internalized confidence doesn’t really accomplish much; he’s gotta be able to communicate it. So he needs someone to talk to about this. Sure he could just talk to me but…”
Pausing, Draco shrugged his shoulders.
“Pongo seems to have a bit more difficulty with…people of the female persuasion. So that’s where we really need for him to improve.”
Jaynix scoffed “People of the female persuasion? You could just say he has a hard time talking to very sexy women like myself but I’ll take the persuasion thing!”
She laughed as Draco rolled his eyes “Jaynix, please.”
He sighed, fully aware that she never did miss an opportunity to inflate her own ego, he’d come to expect these kinds of statements a long time ago.
Jaynix then looked to Pongo “So! All you need to do is be able to talk to me. Simple enough.”
Pongo slowly looked over to Jaynix, his face taking on a very concerned appearance “I, ah…but…”
Unable to say anything he looks to Draco, his eyes wide with fear “W-what exactly should I say? Are there rules to talking to girls?”
Draco shook his head “Pongo. You’re overthinking this. Don’t think of her as a girl, think of her as a fellow BLADE. Heck, she’s an Interceptor just like you are so…”
He crossed his arms and stared that the pair before him “Both of you, face each other. And then Pongo, I want you tell Jaynix about the accomplishment you feel proudest of…no matter what it is. And remember; just like any other BLADE.”
“Accomplishment?”
Pongo turns to face Jaynix…or at least tries to but his gaze is on the ground beneath him. Whether it’s obvious or not he doesn’t quite know what to say.
“Um…”
The three sat in silence as he tried his best to think of a good story to tell but…
“I do not think I have anything interesting to say.”
In complete contrast to how she’s usually seen, Jaynix leaned forward and spoke with a soft voice.
“Hey.”
She waited until Pongo’s eyes found her.
“I once took on a mission to rescue a cat from a tree. Yeah. Granted the tree was absurdly huge and smack dab in the middle of Noctilum but that was the mission I picked up from Control. Save a cat. How the damn cat go there I’ll never know but thinking about it inspires endless debates between me and my friends. Running bets on what path, what branches the cat used before realizing it fucked up.”
Jaynix laughed at the memory.
“We once considered bringing another cat to Noctilum, letting it loose and just watching it from afar to see if it’d find its way up the same tree and see, finally, which one of us was right. Heh, we’re still trying to convince someone to trust us with a cat.”
Jaynix paused a bit longer, smiling.
“See that? I just shared with you something simple. Basic. But I hope I had you interested. As long as you talk and share, any story that comes to mind is bound to attract some attention. Now come on, give it your best shot.”
Draco nodded in agreement with Jaynix “She’s right, Pongo. No one’s asking for a grand story about encountering the Ruler of Fates, or some supernatural deity, or some sort of epic, all night battle. It can be anything that you’ve done that you feel pride in. Just…try the first thing that comes to mind.”
Pongo’s mind lights up with the fact that he’s done all the things Draco’s just listed. He decides not to say this out loud but now that the suggestions are out there, he decides on one that might be interesting, at least, to him.
“Well…there was this one time that I went with someone to Cauldros. Had to fight a tyrant underneath one of the land bridges, really close to lava. But we defeated it together, and afterwards, I got curious about something. I...I stepped into the lava. And by some miracle, I did not get hurt. The lava felt like water..."
He closes his eyes, smiling as he remembers that day. Opening his eyes again, he seemed the slightest bit less nervous.
“Even though it felt nice, it did not stop the lava from burning all of my clothes off. That was a fun thing to explain to my friend, heh…”
Jaynix chuckled "So out of idle curiosity...you stepped in boiling hot lava. Huh. I don't think I'd ever be that curious in my life...wait...did it burn ALL your clothes off?"
Pongo has to do a double take before answering “Hmm? Oh. Oh. Ah…well…yeah…”
He rubs the back of his neck as he looks away, his cheeks flushing up in embarrassment.
“Guess that was not the best story to tell...”
Jaynix shakes her head “Nah, it was a fine story to tell! I didn’t mean to make it awkward, I was just curious.”
Draco adjusted his sunglasses “Well it was certainly…interesting, to say the least. And on that note, do not step in lava again. Please.”
Pongo chuckled awkwardly as Draco smiled “But you know what? Didn’t you notice? You told that story without stuttering or tripping over yourself.”
Jaynix gave Pongo a few claps “Yeah! You did! Way to go, Pongo!”
Looking towards Draco, Pongo’s lips part as he realizes that he’s right! No stuttering, no embarrassed squeaks, no mess-ups and so he sits there for a moment, looking between the two BLADEs, completely baffled that he has some adequacy.
“I did it?”
Realizing that he just sounded so sad, pathetic and adorable, he looked to Draco again and smiled before repeating louder and with more confidence.
“I did it! I actually did it!”
“You did indeed! See Pongo, all you had to do was keep it simple. Start small.”
Draco then crossed his arms and nodded to himself.
“To be honest I expected this to take you a few tries but since you got this so quickly, we can move onto the next step.”
He then looked in Jaynix’s direction, donning a serious expression. The silence was held for a few moments longer, perhaps for dramatic tension or perhaps to give Pongo time to mentally prepare.
With a stern voice, Draco spoke. “Jaynix. Do the thing.”
Jaynix only had to think for a few moments before realizing what the thing was. That. Unable to stop it, a devilishly wide smile formed on her face as she reached for the zipper on her outfit. Pongo saw her hand move to her chest and wanted to say something. Anything. But all thoughts faded away as the sound of her zipper being undone filled the calm Primordian night.
Pongo could barely swallow as she turned to face him and practically purred. “So, Pongo, care to share another story with me?”
Pongo, as expected, fell silent. His mouth hanging open and his face reddening just as much as it had the first time she did this. His eyes had widened all the while she was unzipping and now he was trying desperately to pull his attention away from Jaynix but was failing. Horribly.
The only thing his eyes wanted to focus on, was Jaynix. Her smile. Her glowing eyes. Her perfect body.
He knows he should say something. He wants to gain confidence! He wants to follow Draco’s plan but in this specific moment, any forward progress seems impossible.
All he manages to do is stutter in a very quiet voice.
“Ah…I…you…um…”
Upon seeing this, Draco got up and moved closer to his protégé. “Focus! Pongo!”
Placing a hand on his shoulder he continued.
“It’s still the same Jaynix from before. Same BLADE. Same Interceptor…less…clothing.”
At that moment, Draco realize that maybe. Just maybe. This was a bad idea. Then again, given how infamous the Raim was for reasons he’d never understand, Pongo had to get used to this. He had to learn how to deal with it and it’d be far easier under controlled circumstances.
Jaynix remained with her focus, her burning eyes, squarely on Pongo and she knew that he could see it. There were so many things she could do now to tease him even more. Flip her hair. Wink. Blow a kiss. But seeing his initial reaction and how he seemed completely frozen, perhaps unzipping was enough…for now.
“It’s as Draco says. Besides Pongo, I dress far less conservatively when I’m about town so if you ever want to hang with me while we’re in NLA for a chat, a meal or any other simple activity…”
She moved…a little too much, but completely on purpose.
“You’re gonna have to get used to this.
And then, unable to stop herself, she winked at him.
Pongo felt his shoulders tense up and the start of a panic was brewing.
Next to him, Draco gave him the simplest instructions possible.
“Just talk.”
He wanted to, he really did but he was unable to stop staring thus making thinking clearly an impossible task.
“Is it getting hot out here or is it just Jaynix? No! Stop that!”
He shakes his head and tries to gather his thoughts again. Reminding himself that he wants to be confident! Taking a deep breath, he tries to say a complete sentence.
“…ma’neg’alki ar-dua…”
Upon saying that he begins to mentally berate himself “No! That’s not English! That’s Miran! Specifically, it’s Miran for…okay…let’s not go there. Right. Right. Attempt number two. English.”
“…I cannot feel anything below my waist…”
Once again, the mental berating continues. “Time to stop talking before I hurt myself somehow…”
Draco let out a long sigh “Well, I suppose that’s better than certain other comments you could’ve made.”
Despite this setback, Draco was not ready to throw in the towel on Pongo, not yet. He knew if they just gave up now then Pongo would forever be stuck at this level.
“Alright, I have an idea. Bear with me on this one.”
Reaching inside the jacket of his suit, Draco pulled out a pair of sunglasses. Jaynix chuckled, of course he carried spares.
Opening them up he put them on Pongo. Naturally, wearing these particular sunglasses at night yielded terrible results as they made it far too dark to see anything well if at all, but that may just be what they needed right now.
“She’s still there Pongo and you still have to talk to her. But maybe this will help act as…training wheels.”
Jaynix scoffed “Great. So now he can’t see my rockin’ bod? Shame.”
Draco sighed as Jaynix shook her head before looking to Pongo.
“I’m with Draco on this one. Ya gotta start somewhere.”
Pongo in the meantime had been trying to adjust to losing most of his vision. Everything was much darker and he was a little disoriented, but now, grasping the change and hearing Draco and Jaynix’s words he found his shoulders relaxing a little.
There was some strange sort of comfort in being almost blind.
“I think…this could work.”
He smiles and stands up.
“Yeah. It will! I know it will!”
“P-Pongo!”
Before Draco can finish his thought, Pongo takes a step forward and immediately trips on his own feet, falling forward onto Jaynix, the glasses flying off and his face planting itself squarely in between her breasts.
There is a pall between the three as they all simultaneously realize what just happened.
“You had one job Pongo…”
Draco mutters as Pongo realizes who it is he’s lying on and where exactly it is he’s lying. If he wasn’t red before, which he was, it was somehow even more apparent now. Stricken with such intense shock over what just happened, he found himself unable to move off of Jaynix despite his brain trying to tell him to get off of her.
Draco found himself trying to understand why it is Pongo stood up. Why did he try to walk around? All he need to do was talk to her!
Jaynix meanwhile could not believe how odd this whole night has been. Such a conglomeration of things that would never happen, almost as if it was a series of unfortunate events. Everything was so bizarre that Jaynix most likely would never be able to tell anyone else this story. The story of how her fellow Interceptor Pongo was undergoing confidence training and because of it he put on sunglasses at night. Then he fell onto her, his face landing right in her exposed chest. Which would be another thing to explain, why was her chest exposed?
She couldn’t tell anyone this because they would be so completely blown away by the sheer number of absurdities that led to this one outcome, they’d never believe it.
Realizing all this, Jaynix could only admit: she was impressed.
Draco let out a heavy sigh and gestured at them “You okay, Jaynix?”
She looked over to him, still on the ground with Pongo lying on her.
“Yeah. I’m fine. Just surprised is all, kid didn’t even buy me dinner first.”
Draco could only nod, he knew he didn’t have to ask if Pongo was okay, he already knew the answer but at the same time if he stepped in and helped Pongo up and out of this situation, if he did this every time, the boy would never learn.
Pongo’s brain went through countless feelings and reactions. Awe, embarrassment and a little shame over his contact with Jaynix’s skin. Before realizing completely what it is that happened. Finally, he felt something inside his heart…break.
Standing up, he pulled Jaynix up off the ground. A somber expression on his face, he avoided making eye contact with either of them.
“I…I am really sorry…I just…I mess everything up. Thank you for trying to help me…but it seems that I just…cannot be helped.”
Turning away, Pongo begins to leave, barely being able to hold back tears all the while he reminds himself of how much of a burden he is. A waste of space. No matter what happens he’ll never be as great or as confident as Draco, Jaynix…as anyone.
Draco rose to his feet as Pongo began walking away. Reaching out he place a hand on Pongo’s right shoulder to stop him.
“Where do you think you’re going? You’re not going to leave before I…congratulate you. As…odd as the situation that led to it was…what you said right now? You were able to tell her pretty directly.”
Draco nodded “So it seems like you were confident…in believing yourself to be helpless. Which we can now clearly see that you’re not.”
Jaynix smiled at Draco’s words before looking at Pongo “He’s right. Also, you stood up and helped me up. You didn’t have to but you did, without a second thought too. Very gentlemanly of you if I do say so myself. Thank you, Pongo.”
She walked over to him and placed one of her hands on his right shoulder.
“In the end, you did great. You took your first step.”
With a hand on each shoulder, Pongo forced himself to raise his head and look at the two BLADEs. Their words were supposed to encourage him…but he himself could not accept what they were telling him.
“What good is being confident if it’s in your own lack of abilities?”
“Thanks. Both of you.”
They took their hands from his shoulders as he turned to face them.
“But…this was hardly a step forward. No matter what it is that happened I still caused so much…stupid awkwardness…I know that I’m doomed to a life of embarrassment and humiliation. I know that there’s no hope for me…I…”
Unable to hold back he starts to sniffle, a few tears falling.
“Both of you…you reached perfection without even trying. Draco. In battle your flawless, your skill is unmatchable. Jaynix, you have so much fire and you’re just so…so beautiful. Yet, when I try, just try to be…more than what I am. Whatever it is I try, it always ends up like this. Why?”
As Pongo continued to sniffle, Jaynix found herself looking down at the ground. A sad expression on her face.
“Perfection…you’d think that, right?”
Jaynix looked back up, Pongo barely meeting her eyes as she continued. “Pongo. You’re in a rough spot right now, sure. You think everyone is better than you in same way but that isn’t true. And we aren’t perfect. None of us are. I sure as hell am far from perfect.”
She shook her head “Since I was found. Awoken. Since I came to NLA I’ve done countless stupid…idiotic things. All because I didn’t…I didn’t have any sense of self-worth. I destroyed myself for weeks…no…months on end. And despite my change I’m still paying for what I did to myself and I always will be. The horrors I inflicted on myself are never going away…”
She sighed “But I keep going. I keep moving forward because I have people who support me. I have people who believe in me and who helped me find my worth. It was a long process…months and it’s still ongoing but I’ve made progress. I’m where I am now but I’ve still got a long way to go.”
She gave Pongo a small smile. “I’ve no doubt the same will happen with you too. Give it time. Have the faith in yourself that we have in you.”
Just then, Jaynix winced, a hand coming up to her chest. Taking a deep breath, she winced again before saying one last thing.
“Above all else, Pongo…trust in my words…”
Draco could feel his protective instincts roaring inside him. HE was prepared to comfort Pongo, he’s done so often enough, he was used to it but Jaynix too? The one who was normally bursting with confidence bordering on arrogance? Her felt her words hit him directly in the chest and he knew what he had to do.
“Alright you two. Bring it in.”
Without wasting another moment, he put an arm around each of them and pulled them in for a group hug. Forcing Pongo and Jaynix into each other.
“She’s right, Pongo. No one starts at the top. Not you. Not Jaynix. Not me. But the second you give up is the second that you ensure you will never get there. So, you better believe we’re not going to let you give up on yourself especially when you’ve already made progress. Don’t you remember how you were when we first met? Compare it to how you are now. The Pongo I met back then couldn’t have gone toe-to-toe with a giant Forfex for 16 hours straight. And I know you’re going to improve from there. You both are! I am NOT giving up on either of you.”
In the midst of this warm hug, Pongo allowed himself to finally let the tears stream down his face, no more holding back. All the while he tried to grasp this brand-new concept.
“Draco and Jaynix…they were in my shoes? That’s impossible. That can’t be right and yet, here they are…telling me just how low they once were and still consider themselves to be! Is this true? Is this real?”
At that moment, something hits him. A sudden realization, a spark in his mind. Jaynix is feeling down. Sad. Jaynix, of all people.
Breaking free of the hug he pulls Jaynix out as well and looks her directly in the face with stern eyes.
“I trust in you. Of course, I trust in you. You are an amazing individual and I do not care where you started out only that I know now that you worked so hard to reach where you are today. You are an inspiration and to see you like this…no. I will not allow it.”
In response to Pongo’s words, Jaynix could only blink. Part of her wanted to commend Pongo on maintaining eye contact but she felt that bringing that up now would ruin everything. However, her inner thoughts came to a halt upon hearing him say one word.
“Inspiration?”
She furrowed her brows.
“Am I an inspiration?”
She thought of that word as hard as she could. She thought of all the things that transpired and how she drove herself to near suicide more times than she could count. Could someone like her be an inspiration? Does she have any right to be an inspiration?
These thoughts swirling in her head she looked at Pongo as he put on his most confident smile. His eyes gave off a shine as he looked at her and in that moment, she knew that it didn’t matter if she saw herself as an inspiration or not.
To Pongo, she was.
“About before…”
She tilted her head as he continued.
“You were absolutely right. It was rude of me to rush in on you before asking you to dinner. Would it be too late to ask now?”
Jaynix smiled before letting out a few chuckles.
“It’s never too late for dinner and it’s never too late to ask. Yes Pongo, I think getting dinner with you would be great.”
Draco could only smile with pride at the development taking place before him. Despite the fact that these two were obviously hurting, they were still managing to support one another and that was something he couldn’t help be but be proud of.
“Well Pongo, that sounded pretty confidence to me! So, it seems like my work here is done…for now, at least.”
Pongo nodded to Draco and prepared to say something before it hit him that Jaynix had accepted his offer. He didn’t get rejected. He stares at Jaynix in shock before his smile grows even wider.
“Oh, my gods. OH. MY. GODS. You said yes!? THIS IS AMAZING! I will make sure that you get THE BEST food in the WORLD! And! And we will have an AMAZING TIME TOGETHER!”
Draco and Jaynix laugh at Pongo’s excitement. The former reaching into his suit jacket again and pulling out a wallet. Pulling out one of his cards he forces it into Pongo’s hands.
“Your dinner is on me. Think of it as my way of saying well done…to both of you. Pongo for gaining a little bit of confidence and support…and Jaynix for learning a bit of humility. You’ve both done well and I’m so proud of you two.”
Pongo looks over the card, realizing that it’s the Mission Revenue card. Given all the missions Draco runs there is no doubt in his mind that the card holds access to an exorbitant amount of credits. He looks to Draco.
“Woah! Absolutely not! I have plenty of my own credits to spend as it is and this is supposed to be my treat to her. Best give this to someone who might need it more than me. After all…”
Smiling he turns to Jaynix, his body radiating awkward levels of swagger.
“This is my date.”
Jaynix can’t help but laugh at Pongo’s interesting display of his newly discovered confidence.
“I do my fair share of missions as well so believe me when I say I’ve got a hefty purse…but if you want to pay, Pongo. The last thing I’ll do is complain.”
She then looked over to Draco “I have to say, this little bit of training worked out extraordinarily in the end eh?”
Draco took his card back, nodding to Pongo “Very well then.”
He had to admit, while he was surprised and a bit hopeful upon seeing Pongo’s sudden explosion of confidence he also hoped that they hadn’t created a monster of some sort. Though, as long as Jaynix seemed comfortable enough with it, no harm no foul. If anything, it just left the room open for another session.
“So, while Pongo and I are on our date, what’ll you be doing, Squad Dad? Got a hot date of your own?”
Draco shook his head “No, Jaynix. There is no Squad Mom if that’s what you were trying to ask.” He chuckled as Pongo spoke up.
“Oh! I actually do have someone; his name is Mr. Stake and he is beautiful and I love him!”
Jaynix could feel the innocence in Pongo’s words. She was honestly a little taken aback learning this awkward BLADE had a boyfriend, if anything that just proved that he wasn’t a lost cause.
Draco himself was shocked by this revelation. Pongo? In a relationship? He had many questions but decided it was best to hold off on those for another day.
“Well. This night has been successful. So, to the two of you I say, have a good time and please, try not to go too crazy.”
Jaynix chuckled at Draco’s words “We can try but this is me we’re talking about. The odds of the date going crazy…well, it’s more of a certainty if I’m being honest.”
Draco nodded “I should’ve assumed as much.”
“The night is young, plenty of time for crazy! Ready to go?”
Jaynix looked to Pongo, seeing him hold out his hand for her to take. He was reveling in his newfound confidence. Normally she’d take off for NLA on her own or drag Pongo along but seeing his display and the expression on his face, she could only smile and take his hand, letting him lead her instead.
“I want to hear more about this Mr. Stake over dinner if you don’t mind. I’m interested.”
Pongo smiled as they began walking “Sure! If I may ask, do you have significant others?”
Jaynix grinned “Yep and it’s only fair that I tell you about my girlfriends in return. I have to ask now, you sure you’re ready for this date?”
He nodded “Definitely! Nothing is gonna stop me from showing you a great time! And food!”
Wide smile, Pongo lead Jaynix back to NLA, the pair waving goodbye to Draco. There was a visible spring in Pongo’s step as he walked hand in hand with Jaynix.
Somewhere deep in his mind he felt…he knew that this confidence wouldn’t last for very long but for the time being he needed it to show Jaynix a fun time. No matter what the future would bring, what mattered most was the now.
And in the now, Pongo found himself tripping over his own feet and falling to the ground, flat on his face.
Some things never change.
#xenoblade chronicles x#fan fiction#fanfiction#7928 words#cross#pongo#jaynix#draco#monolithsoft#wii u
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Top Dogs, Top Docs: Minding the Muscles at Westminster
At least the athlete was able to walk into the medical tent on his own four legs.
Earlier, when he had faced the broad jump during his Masters Obedience Championship trial at the Westminster Dog Show, Finn, a six-pound toy poodle, had tried to settle into his normal pre-takeoff sit position. But he wriggled uncomfortably, struggling to hold something in.
Sensing disaster, his human, Abby Cooper, swooped him up, managing to get him out of the ring just before he vomited and pooped on the sawdust.
Off to the veterinarian tent they rushed.
Official dog competitions typically include a standby vet. But Westminster, perhaps the premier elite canine event in the country, demands a crack medical squad of another order altogether. Special dogs need special docs.
Finn was monitored by Dr. Christopher Frye from the Cornell University College of Veterinary Medicine, an assistant clinical professor in the new area of sports medicine and rehabilitation. Also on the 15-member team from Ithaca and its satellite specialty office in Stamford, Conn. were a radiologist and a theriogenologist, who specializes in reproduction — of keen interest to breeders of show and performance dogs.
Throughout Westminster Week, they would be fielding questions from spectators and owners as specific and general as their practices: about breed genetic problems; refractive eye tests (is my Boston terrier nearsighted?), stem cell injections for aching joints; clinical oncology trials; how to care for a first puppy.
Westminster is famous as a gathering of spectacular dogs, with all the people and products attendant with canine beauty pageantry: sprays, mousses, gels, conditioners, curlers, straighteners, bows, hair implants (I’m looking at you, Standard Poodles!) and mascara (flutter those lashes much, Papillon?).
But in the last few years, Westminster has added competitions in agility and obedience, events that bring in a very different crowd — jock dogs and their humans. (“Vanish is not just some Barbie collie,” Aaron Kirzner said of his border collie, which is both a breed and agility champion.)
Those athletes are attended by a throng of health and wellness specialists, including canine acupuncturists, massage therapists and chiropractors, along with vets like Dr. Frye.
Over the last few days, the vets’ cases have included: a broken toenail; a sore toe (stuck in the crate during a long car haul); lots of nauseous anxiety (planes, crowds); a flopped ear (inflammation); and rash (the quality of the hotel sheets disagreed with one top show dog).
Finn was fine, by the way. Dr. Frye excused him from the show and sent him home. “‘Home’ is his pillow on my knee,” Ms. Cooper said, during a relieved telephone call from her hotel room.
Massaging strains and stress
The sign was parked before a quiet, curtained corner of the hall: Dog Massage.
Marisa Schmidt, a certified canine massage therapist from Hazlet, N.J., had all her agility-day slots booked for months. But throughout the day, owners and dogs were lined outside her curtain, pleading to be squeezed into her schedule.
Kyan, a border collie, was on the table. “She has some knots,” Ms. Schmidt informed Deborah Salerno, Kyan’s owner. She leaned into the dog’s spine, lifted a hind leg, working an inner thigh muscle. Kyan’s eyes rolled blissfully.
“These dogs are in incredible shape,” Ms. Schmidt said. “Their owners take care of them like any professional athlete. Would you believe this dog is 12 years old?”
Nope.
One challenge, she said, is that dogs can almost love the sport and their commanding owners too much. “Dogs are so resilient that they will run through the pain,” she said, “and sometimes we may not know right away that they’re injured.”
The athletes warm up
For the Masters Agility Championship, 330 invitation-only elite athletes raced over a course of jumps, tunnels, seesaws, A-frames and weaves. Before each round, the humans were allowed to preview the course once, walking it to memorize the series of hand signals they would give their dogs, which would not be permitted to sample the course. Spitting out rapid-fire voice and hand signals for about 30 seconds, the humans would direct their dogs through the course, the two moving as one, a mind-meld team.
Athletes never compete with cold muscles. Here is the warm-up routine for Chelsea, a gleaming, champion six-year-old black Labrador retriever that, with her teammate Dr. Elizabeth Dole, a veterinarian, has competed for the United States in European agility trials.
Walk: three to five minutes. Pee. Trot.
Stretches: loosen neck and spine by bringing muzzle to hip, both sides. Play bow. Weave between Dr. Dole’s legs. Spins. Back up. Come forward.
Work that core! Sit pretty in a begging position, paws up, hold it, hold it. Release.
More stretches: Dr. Dole leaned on a table, extending a treat. Chelsea put her paws on the table, head up, legs splayed. Hip flexors, shoulders, laterals, obliques.
Dr. Dole pulled out a toy. Tug, release, tug, release. “It’s to give her some excitement but also some control,” said Dr. Dole, who has worked in agility competition for 18 years.
“Some dogs need to be in the optimum arousal state,” she said. “But Chelsea is already so eager to play that we want her to be more thoughtful, so when she walks in the ring she’s not over the top.”
A basset hound?
Dr. Frye took a break from the vet tent to watch some of the agility trials. He makes canine prosthetics, studies gaits, manages pain. He sees the world of canine sports as vast and varied, having worked with athletes ranging from sled dogs to racers to dock divers.
Like any sports fan, he stood in the thick crowd, whooping as the dogs sped in a blur through the obstacles. The crowd racket matched the dogs that barked and yelped as they raced along, in sheer excitement. Unlike the conformation — the formal name for the sport of showing purebreds — agility and obedience welcome mixed-breeds, here simply called All American dogs. That’s because these sports are fundamentally a celebration of the human-canine bond.
Because the obstacles are adjusted for height classes, all sorts of breeds were competing: dachshunds, Papillons, Havanese, pugs, corgis, rat terriers, Nova Scotia duck tolling retrievers, Berger Picards, Belgian Malinois and Doberman pinschers.
Well, maybe it’s not suitable for all dogs. “Sometimes the giant breeds, like the Great Pyrenees and St. Bernards, can’t quite squeeze into the tunnels,” Dr. Frye said.
Border collies, with their laser focus and pliant, quick-cut, low-slung bodies, tend to dominate.
Dr. Frye had a soft spot for one unlikely agility athlete: a basset hound. “It was like a cartoon of itself,” he said. “There’s nothing about a basset hound that’s made for this course! But I loved watching that dog navigate and figure it out.”
And good for humans
Lou Avant, all but vibrating on an endorphin high at the conclusion of her agility trial, bounced out of the ring with Whimsy, her gorgeous Borzoi (tail dyed purple for the festivities).
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“Wasn’t that frigging awesome?” she shouted. “How did the universe put me together with this dog?”
Dr. Avant, a veterinarian from Atlanta, has taken Whimsy and other large dogs for years to many sports, including dock diving, barn hunting, obedience and tricks, where she meets up with a regular circuit of passionate large hound dognoscenti.
“I like running with the big dogs,” said Dr. Avant, 63. “I’m not ready yet for some little old lady dog!”
Emergency!
On Sunday, Tyson, an eight-year-old-miniature American shepherd from Minnesota, needed to go to the vet tent.
Tyson is an obedience champion. He is also an anxious flyer with a sensitive stomach. After arriving in New York, he started vomiting. And kept it up, almost hourly. “I thought, where are we going to find an E.R. vet?” said his owner, Shannon Wacker, who was there with her 17-year-old daughter, Mara. “I was heartbroken for my daughter. They had worked so hard to get here.”
Mother, daughter and dog found the Cornell vet tent, who ministered to all three. “They were a godsend,” Mrs. Wacker said. “And they didn’t bill me!”
A vet gave Tyson a 24-hour anti-nausea injection, which calmed his stomach.
By Sunday afternoon, Tyson was good to go. He did not win a ribbon, but Mrs. Wacker and Mara were thrilled. “Considering all that happened with him, we’re tickled,” Mrs. Wacker said, saying that Tyson had pushed through his misery out of devotion to her daughter.
“We just needed to get his nerves untangled,” she said. “He’s just such a little overachiever!”
—
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A WARRIORS-CELTICS FINALS?
by Bert A. Ramirez / May 11, 2018
My younger sister Lourdes is a diehard Golden State Warriors fan, having lived for more than a decade in Newark, California some 25 miles away from Oakland. Occasionally, she and her husband Mel go to Oracle Arena to personally cheer the Warriors. At the same time, since she knows I’ve been a Boston Celtic fanatic since I was a teenager and I was initiating all of them to the love of basketball, she also cheers for my Celtics in the East as a matter of respect.
Well, that liberalism may eventually give way to partisanship if and when, against all expectations, my Celtics and her Warriors face each other in this year’s NBA finals. How does this happen? It simply would be inevitable if her Warriors overcome Houston in the Western finals and my Celtics get past Cleveland on their Eastern side of the conference championship.
It would be one hell of a denouement if it happens. Consider that nobody, or at least no one among detached observers, expected the Celtics to still be alive at this point. The Celtics lost top free-agent acquisition Gordon Hayward right in the first quarter of their season opener with a gruesome ankle injury while Kyrie Irving wrote finis to his season when an infection developed on the screws in his left knee that was surgically repaired in the 2015 finals a month before the regular season ended.
But the Celtics overcame all that, plus an assortment of injuries to practically their entire rotation at one point or another during the season, with a “special kind of toughness,” in the words of ESPN’s Zach Lowe, to reach the conference finals for the second straight year against the same Cleveland team.
Want to know how tough these Brad Stevens-coached Celtics have been? On top of the injuries they’ve had to overcome, one must keep in mind that only four players from that conference finalist last year – Al Horford, Jaylen Brown, Marcus Smart and Terry Rozier – returned this season, showing just how good this practically new team became in just a short span. These Celtics also registered the third-highest single-season total of games won in 22 years (eight) after trailing by at least 15 points. In Game 2 of their East semifinal series against Philadelphia, the Celtics overcame a 22-point deficit to beat the Sixers in the end. And how about this? These Celtics also became the first team in NBA history to win multiple playoff series without that season’s leading scorer (Irving) appearing in a single game, as per the Elias Sports Bureau.
The Cavaliers, of course, are favored, as evidenced by 19 ESPN experts picking them to beat Boston against a mere three who went with the Celts. Despite themselves having gone through what one may call a “mid-life crisis” that saw them send away offseason acquisitions Dwyane Wade, Isaiah Thomas, Derrick Rose and Jae Crowder as well as Iman Shumpert and Channing Frye during the trade deadline, the Cavaliers have ridden the coattails of LeBron James to reach the conference finals for the fourth straight year.
The 33-year-old James, the leading scorer in this year’s playoffs with an average of 34.3 points, has been nothing short of phenomenal, literally carrying the Cavs on his back as they knocked off a tough Indiana team in seven games before sweeping the Toronto Raptors for the second straight year. It was the third time in as many years they eliminated the Raptors, sealing the fate of seven-year Raptors coach Dwane Casey, who was fired shortly after the elimination of his team over the week.
James already has two game-winning baskets in this year’s playoffs, one against Indiana and another against Toronto in the only game the latter had a realistic chance of winning after dropping their opener in overtime at home, and he will present the biggest problem for the young Celtics. The other Cavs, only one of whom (Kevin Love) averaged in double figures in the Indiana series, also seem to have recovered from that slump during their sweep of the Raptors, with Love (14.7 ppg, 10.1 rpg), Kyle Korver (10.5 ppg), J.R. Smith (10.0 ppg) and George Hill (9.8 ppg) expected to provide more support in this matchup with Boston.
For the Celtics, however, to overcome the Cavs, they have to at least contain James, who is turning in one of his greatest postseasons even at his ungodly age and whose 979 total points in 34 playoff games against Boston (a 28.8-point average) is the most by one player against a single team. Boston has the players who can put up a reasonable defense against the Cav superstar, with Marcus Morris, Jaylen Brown and rookie Jayson Tatum, the Celts’ leading playoff scorer with 18.8 points (he’s the only Celtic in history with at least seven consecutive 20-point playoff games), expected to try to do it by committee along with another rookie, Semi Ojeleye. But Stevens is also expected to try to limit the other Cavaliers just like Indiana did and take away the Cavs’ three-point shot the way the Celts did against the Sixers.
The Cavs trounced the Celtics in five games last year in the same stage, but the Celts have the homecourt advantage once more, and they’re not about to waste it this time. If they can hold serve at home, they could win this one, probably in six or seven games.
Out West, meanwhile, the matchup everybody has envisioned since the start of the season – defending champion Golden State versus top seed Houston – is finally on deck. The Warriors welcomed back Stephen Curry from injury and overcame a monstrous series by Anthony Davis to beat New Orleans in five games, while the Rockets finally brought back Utah down to earth with a five-game victory of their own.
The two teams present a contrast in style. The Warriors play with tremendous ball movement and fluidity rarely matched around the league while the Rockets are one of the best practitioners of grinding isolation basketball. But they have the same goal – score in the paint and score from three-point range. The Warriors were third in the league in passes per game in the regular season while the Rockets were dead-last. They were also first in off-ball screens while the Rockets were again last. But Houston was first in isolations per game against the Warriors’ 20th. And the results were eerily the same, with Golden State ranking first in offense at 112.24 points per 100 possessions and the Rockets next with 112.23, just literally needing a shot to have gone in to take over first.
ESPN Stats and Information said it’s the best offensive matchup in modern NBA history, or since 1973-74, a good 44 years. It also features star power rarely matched at this stage of the playoffs.
The Warriors have perhaps the best group of top four players in the league in Curry, Kevin Durant, Klay Thompson and Draymond Green. Durant (28.0 ppg, 8.0 rpg, 5.0 apg), Curry (24.5 ppg), Thompson (21.2 ppg) and Green (13.1 ppg, 11.5 rpg, 9.0 apg) provide practically everything a team would need from its core.
On the other hand, James Harden (28.5 ppg, 7.4 apg, 5.0 rpg, 2.3 spg), Chris Paul (21.8 ppg, 6.4 apg, 5.5 rpg) and rising center Clint Capela (14.4 ppg, 1.9 bpg and the top remaining playoff rebounding norm of 12.2 rpg) provide the Rockets a trio of players who can give the Warriors some problems when they’re on. If sixth man Eric Gordon (12.9 ppg) can get out of his playoff slump, Houston would be even more of a handful.
The Rockets lost to the Warriors in five games in both the 2015 and 2016 playoffs before being eliminated by San Antonio in six games in the conference semifinals last year. They thus brought in the 33-year-old Paul to provide Harden that second All-Star partner and more help in both scoring and playmaking. The result was a club-record 65 victories that has Harden looking at the Warriors with fire in his eyes.
“We had a vision, and in order to get where we wanted to go we needed the right pieces. That’s what they’re here for,” Harden said of Paul’s addition alongside such role players as Luc Mbah a Moute, P.J. Tucker and Gerald Green. “I know that if we give the effort we know we can, it’s pretty tough to beat us.”
“They have made it known that their team is built to beat us,” Green said. “Their obsession, or whatever you want to call it – obviously you want to build your team to beat the defending champs because that’s usually the way you’ve got to go to get a championship. That stuff has been said for about a year now. It’s time to play.”
Who wins this time? Make ours the Warriors still, in not less than six games.
(Photo from WBUR News)
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The Human Side of No Sports
"Day 4 Without Sports: Looked over across the couch and noticed a strange woman sitting there. Apparently we’re related, along with these two kids running around. Strange. They seem nice though."
It’s a variant of a constantly updated meme circulating throughout social media about what sports fans have been doing since athletic competitions from the professional level down to youth sports came to a grinding halt as the battle to contain the coronavirus wages across the country.
Sure, they are funny, and for some, might be downright cathartic. But there’s a human element to the canceling of sports, and it’s not just the professional athletes it’s affecting. After all, nearly all of them will be back for another season, whenever sports resume.
For high school and college amateur athletes, though, that next chance may never come. Some who are eagerly awaiting the prospect of starting back up spring sports are hoping against hope. Others had their championship dreams dashed right as they were about to reach them.
LEDENews wanted to put a human face to this decision and asked four area athletes, three high school seniors and one collegiate athlete, just how they felt when they had a dream, a goal they’d worked for their entire careers suddenly ripped away.
She Was Right There
Danielle Stewart spent her first two collegiate seasons at Notre Dame College in Ohio. The first two seasons, she won the Mountain East Conference’s pole vault title. But following her sophomore season, NDC opted to drop its track program, necessitating a change of scenery for the Strongsville, Ohio native.
She found Wheeling University, then still known as Wheeling Jesuit, and made the transfer. While she came up short in the conference meet her junior year, finishing second, Stewart returned atop the podium her senior season, setting multiple PR marks along the way.
“It was definitely a change being this far from Strongsville, but I love it,” Stewart said. “It was the best move I could have ever made. I’ve PR’d by over a foot since coming here and I’ve got to experience so many new things. I love the school, my teammates and my coaches.”
Another on that list is qualifying for the NCAA Division II Track & Field Indoor Championship Meet. Stewart’s mark of 3.93, her PR to date, at a meet in Youngstown earned her the qualifying mark. She equaled that mark later in capturing the MEC title. Stewart was pumped when she learned of her automatic qualification. After all, she and another athlete each finished with the same height, 20th best, last season. They took her and left Stewart at home.
“I had to hit a big height this year to guarantee my spot,” Stewart said. “Hitting 3.93 felt like a dream. Honestly, I was in shock. I could not stop smiling and hugging my teammates and coaches. Honestly, it was one of the best moments of my life.”
In Shock
One of the best moments that sadly, gave one to one of the worst. Stewart and head coach Patrick Stanton had been in Alabama two days when the decision was handed down. She had a good two days of practice and was ready to take on her competitors.
“I honestly had just had the best vault practice of my life,” Stewart said. “The head coach and I were out to lunch when he got the email. I did not believe him at first. I had to call my pole vault coach and tell him not to get on the plane and fly down. I just sat there in shock but when my vault coach called, I bawled. After what happened last indoor season, I was so ready to prove myself.”
Stewart had thought of the possibilities prior to the announcement, but already being there, she figured the meet would go on, just without spectators. Her parents were already told not to travel down.
She definitely has some unfinished business and goals to achieve. Fortunately, the NCAA has given spring sports athletes another season of eligibility. So, if the credits and financials work out, Stewart plans to be back.
“I am happy I qualified for nationals, but I do not feel like I finished my goal of becoming an All-American,” Stewart said. “And my goal ever since I started vaulting was to clear four meters and so that is another reason I feel I am not finished. “We were allowed to take practice jumps at the facility (in Alabama) and I cleared a 4-meter bungee.”
Kiersten Kesselring (15) is Fort Frye's lone senior and is a four-year starter at center.
Lone Senior’s Last Chance
Getting to the final four in Ohio is a monumentally difficult task. The Fort Frye girls program, in all its storied history, had only done it once. That’s until this season, when the Cadets knocked off No. 2 Portsmouth Notre Dame in a Division IV regional final, 49-31, to advance to Columbus.
Always in the hunt, Fort Frye fell to Shadyside last season in the district finals as it was the Lady Tigers who advanced to the Final Four. The previous two seasons, the Cadets’ demise came in the district semifinal round. But not this season. Something about this season’s team clicked early.
“The entire year felt like this was our year as a team” said Kiersten Kesselring, a four-year starter at center and the team’s lone senior. “Even from the beginning, this year felt different … We just play so well and strong together and are extremely close.”
Kesselring would know. She’d been around for the previous years’ narrow losses in 2019 and 18, and the blowout loss to Hiland her freshman season. So that family feel she picked up early this fall during preseason camp gave her the feeling like this could be there year.
“Our team is definitely a family,” Kesselring said. “We are all close and care about one another. None of us are selfish and we can all score.”
Should Have
The stats attest to that statement. Fort Frye had multiple players average double figures, but not even leading scorer Hannah Archer averaged better than 15. You won’t find any Cadets on the all-Ohio first or second team. But you will find them at St. John Arena. Or, that is to say, you would have … should have.
“It was definitely a shock and no one was prepared for it,” Kesselring admitted when she and her teammates learned the game would be postponed. “We are still shook up about it and not knowing if we’ll ever get to play together again or not is hard. I’m devastated by the fact I could’ve played my last game as a Lady Cadet and didn’t even know it.”
The OHSAA has a press conference scheduled for noon Thursday when the fate of the Cadets, and many teams like them in basketball and wrestling across Ohio, will likely be decided. Given the continued efforts to quarantine the public from one another in effort to slow the spread of COVID-19, the upcoming presser is ominous.
“This was our year to make history and have the opportunity right in front of us to make the finals; to do it for the community, our families and coaches,” Kesselring said. “These games meant so much to us and it’s a heartbreaking feeling to have them just taken away. My heart goes out to all the other teams and athletes going through the same feelings we are right now.”
Alex Vargo is pictured with head coach Michael Jebbia, receiving a plaque for breaking the school record for most points in a game with 53.
Ending a Lengthy Drought
Wheeling Park is one of the more tradition-rich boys’ basketball programs in the Ohio Valley, and in West Virginia with multiple state championships. Yet the school had hit a bit of a snag in state tournament appearances on the boys’ side, not having been to Charleston since the 20-plus win season of 2011-2012. That changed this season when senior all-state Alex Vargo canned a mid-range stepback in the waning seconds against Morgantown, followed by a steal from junior D.J. Saunders to seal the game and end the drought.
Or at least it should have.
“Winning the regional game was definitely the best moment in my four years as a Patriot,” Vargo said. “I’ve never had the chance to play in the state tournament so winning regionals was and always has been my main goal. Finally accomplishing that was the best feeling ever.”
Like many others across the state, that feeling quickly changed. First the NBA announced the suspension of its regular season, followed by the NCAA opting for fan-less tournament games and ultimately a cancellation of March Madness.
Canceled
“I found out an hour before practice,” Vargo recalled. “I saw it on Twitter and then everyone starting sending me the news through text. When the NBA and NCAA started canceling their games and tournaments, I figured ours would be canceled too. I was angry when I first found out. My teammates and I’s hard work was taken away.”
Vargo noted that Morgantown had been a thorn in the Patriots’ side throughout his career, including a humbling defeat at the Palace on the Hill to those same Mohigans prior to the start of the sectional tournament. But Vargo and his teammates ultimately got the job done when it mattered.
“Being on the other side of that felt great,” Vargo said of the win. “I was shocked/angry/sad the whole day after finding out because I know this year’s team is special and could’ve made some serious noise down at the tournament. But I still have hope and I’m going to continue to work hard every day as if it’s being played next week.”
St. Clairsville's Derek Witsberger is shown atop the podium at the Jimmy Wood Invitational earlier this season.
Finally His Time
St. Clairsville Derek Witzberger is a fun loving guy, but when he’s on the field or on the mat, he’s all business. Once football season turned to wrestling, Witsberger’s singular focus was finally getting over the hump and qualifying for the state meet. He’d came close in the past, placing fifth as a junior at 195. He qualified but failed to place as a sophomore.
Wisberger narrowly missed finishing as District Champion, losing a tough 5-4 decision to River View’s Dalton Cunningham in the semifinals. Cunningham went on to win by technical fall in the finals. Witsberger, meanwhile, secured his third-place finish with a pin. Now was his time. Finally.
“I was more prepared and hungry than excited,”Witsberger said of qualifying for the state meet. “I put my whole heart into one goal and when it became postponed, it broke my heart. We were almost ready to lead and head to Columbus when I found out.”
It Came True
Witsberger is the team captain and is the lone St. Clairsville senior to qualify for states. His win total is fourth in the school’s history. He placed at OVAC’s twice, finishing runner-up this season and fourth as a junior. He was ready to go for that state medal. He admitted he began to worry about it being canceled as news kept rolling but still, it took a bit to sink in.
“When everything began getting canceled and postponed, I started to worry but it never resonated with me until it actually became true,” Witsberger said. “It’s still too early because I feel like I have some unfinished business left to prove.”
While Witsberger’s wrestling days may be over, depending on Thursday’s announcement, his athletic career is not. He earlier signed on to continue his football career at Marietta College in the Ohio Athletic Conference, joining a large incoming recruiting class of some of the OVAC’s best. But is he holding out hope for Thursday?
“It’s already been done and in three weeks, everyone will either be way overweight or completely out of wrestling shape,” Witsberger lamented. “It’s very difficult to get into wrestling shape and compete at a high level.”
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