#as always i couldn't figure out which one i like more!!!! so therefore i post both!!!!!

[lottiesnotebook]

Happy DADWC day!

Ok so this is weirdly specific, but feel free to be open in the interpretation. So I want more Cara, because of course I do 😅 and I saw this prompt in one of your lists : your OC’s description of their game’s events.

But I'd like to alter that slightly... So you said she was born after an ill-advised post deep roads encounter (I forget your exact words) so... Therefore she saw a lot of the DA2 narrative... As a kid... So I would like to see her interpretation of any of the DA2 events 😝

Ask for more Cara Hawke-Laidir and you shall receive! I don't know if this counts as exactly what you asked for, but the end of Dragon Age 2 is possibly the most formative moment in her whole life (pre-Veilguard, at least) so this is what you get! Apologies in advance, this turned out WAY longer than I expected...

Cara 'Rook' Hawke-Laidir & Orana, Cara 'Rook' Hawke-Laidir & Anders, Cara 'Rook' Hawke-Laidir & Rhiannon Hawke, Justice/Rhiannon Hawke/Anders (mentioned), angst, tragedy, canonical terrorism

@teine-mallaichte | @dadrunkwriting

when hell bares its teeth

Cara was curled up in her favourite window-seat when the world ended. She felt the explosion rather than heard it - a low reverberation that shook the house to its foundations and cracked the panes of the window she was snuggled against. She flinched away from it in shock and rolled onto her knees, peering out through the broken panes, her book cradled against her chest. The street outside was empty, peaceful, even - but as she glanced up, she could see the climbing column of smoke cutting the bright blue sky in two.

"Orana?" she called out, her voice trembling. There was no immediate reply. She forced herself to her feet. Orana was the grown-up, and on days when her parents were busy, she was in charge, but Orana got scared, sometimes, when people shouted or magic flared, and then Cara was meant to leave her alone or make sure she was safe and comfortable.

She took the stairs down to the kitchen two at a time, where she found more broken glass and embers knocked from the fireplace scattering the stone floor.

"Orana!" she tried again, fingers beginning to flicker in the familiar pattern of a seeking spell. A soft, sobbing sound crept from under the table. Orana was down there, curled into a ball and shaking, shaking, shaking, like her father after a bad dream.

Cara tried to make her voice low and calm and commanding, like Mama's: "Orana, don't be scared. Are you hurt?"

She didn't know what to do if a grown-up was hurt, though she knew where the elfroot potions and the bandages were stored in case of emergencies. She'd figure it out. Daddy always explained what he was doing when he patched up her cuts and bruises, and she wasn't a baby to burst into tears at the sight of blood.

She felt a little like crying when Orana looked up at her, pale and glassy-eyed, but they couldn't both sit here and cry. Well, they could - they had three years ago, when the Qunari revolted, but they had kind Master Bodahn then to take care of them: he'd hurried them into the cellar and told them all stories to keep them quiet, and Cara had tried to make rabbits out of light for Sandal until Orana flinched away from them. She'd only been six, then, though. She was nine now, and practically a grownup.

"Miss- Mistress Cara!" she said, which wasn't right - Orana wasn't supposed to call anyone Master or Mistress any more, but sometimes she got scared and forgot. "I'm sorry, I'll clean up the mess-"

"We can clean it up later," she managed to say, though there was a wobble in her voice she didn't like. "Something is wrong. We should go somewhere safe."

That was the first rule when things got scary, Master Bodahn had told her - find a safe place, or safe people, and stay with them as long as you can. Safe people would be Mama and Daddy and Justice, or maybe her uncles and aunts, but none of them were here, so she and Orana would have to find a safe place, and be safe people for each other.

She took Orana's hand and slowly pulled her out from under the table. They were almost the same height now, but when she was stood up, Orana blinked and came back to herself, and squeezed Cara's hands.

"Very sensible, Carissima," she said, smiling, and Cara relaxed a little, just for a second. Then there was an urgent banging on the front door, and they both flinched.

"Cellar?" Cara suggested, and Orana nodded.

"Cellar indeed."

She leaned into the fireplace and grabbed something from the far side of the hearth, and chivvied Cara down the stairs as the sound of splintering wood shattered the air behind them.

Cara felt a chill go through her as she remembered her father's warnings: If you hear the Templars coming, you run, Cara-hase. You don't look back, and you don't stop. Who else would dare to knock down her mother's door, but the monsters that still haunted her father's dreams?

"Orana," she whispered, into the dark. "Did I ever teach you the Rabbit Game?"

The Rabbit Game was one of Daddy's inventions. They'd played it ever since she could remember, ever since she was small enough to toddle after him, clutching the hem of his robes. The rules were simple - you had to make it through the passage from the cellar to the clinic, as quick as you could, making no noise, leaving no footprints. When she'd been very small, he'd given her a handful of veilfire to light the way, but grownup girls and clever little rabbits had to play the game in the dark. Foxes and wolves could smell smoke or magic on the wind, and if they caught you, they would eat you all up.

When she was a baby, being eaten all up wasn't scary. It was being scooped up in her father's arms and tickled and kissed and fussed over until she squealed. But then she got older, and realised he wasn't trying to teach her to hide from foxes and wolves, and that there were worse things that could happen to a girl than to be eaten.

Still, as she crept along the narrow passage between cellars, Orana's hand gripped tight in hers, she pretended she was playing the Rabbit Game again, that the footsteps she could hear distantly were her father's, that the worst that would happen if they were caught was that she wouldn't be taken out to the market for sweets. Panicking wasn't how you won the Rabbit Game. If you froze, or you made too much noise, they'd catch you easy as anything.

Run, Cara-hase. She ran, as light on her feet as they'd practiced, making cushions of air beneath the soles of their shoes to catch them before they could clatter. She heard, distantly, a shout that sounded a little less muffled, and felt Orana squeeze her hand and try to muffle a sob. She tightened her grip, and kept running until she felt her outstretched hands catch on the false panel that led to the clinic. She closed her eyes, remembered her father's voice in her ear: Just above your head, there are three nails to press on. The second, then the third, then the first, got that, little rabbit?

She was taller now - they were on a level with her breastbone - and she pressed down on them until she heard the reassuring click of the door opening. She pulled Orana through and closed it softly, collapsing against it. The passage continued round a corner, and hopefully the- whoever was chasing them would follow it rather than them. She'd done it. She'd won the Rabbit Game, and they were in the clinic, and Daddy would be here and tell her everything was alright-

Orana was staring at her, and she realised she'd said her names three times, and she hadn't heard. Why hadn't she heard? She was meant to be listening, meant to be calm and grown up, but she felt suddenly small and shivery and scared.

"Cara," Orana said, crouching to take hold of her shoulders, as if she was a very little girl. "Do you know where your father is? He seems to have- stepped out, for a moment."

That didn't make sense. Mama had gone to the Gallows, she said, to make sure the mages were safe, but Daddy had said he'd be at the clinic. He was supposed to be at the clinic-

Cara's breath was quickening in her throat, and now she really wanted to cry, which was stupid, because nothing bad had actually happened, and at any minute her father would be back and would explain everything. Nothing was actually wrong. Nothing was actually wrong, because if something was actually wrong-

She could hear the sound of people rushing around outside, of crying and screams, of wood cracking, and she knew in her bones that something was Actually Wrong, which made no sense. If something were that badly wrong, Daddy would be at the clinic, making sure people had a safe place to go, that anyone who was hurt was taken care of. And yet, the clinic was empty, holding nothing but a silence more horrible than the noise outside when it should have held warmth, comfort, safety.

"I don't-" She swallowed, tried to make her voice less shaky, because she had to be brave, because Orana was probably more frightened, "I don't know where he is. I- he'll be back soon."

It didn't feel like he'd be back soon. The surgery was too tidy. Daddy's desk was usually piled high with papers she wasn't supposed to look at or (when she was too little to understand) draw on. Now it was swept clean, his healer's kit sat neatly on the chair, as if waiting for him to return with far more patience than Cara. It felt wrong in a way she would not have the words for for years. It felt like he was already gone, and fear sank into the hollow between her ribs and made her heart flutter like a caged bird.

"I- I'm sure he will," Orana echoed her, and squeezed her shoulder. Cara wished she hadn't. Orana was not a very good liar.

A fist slammed into the door to Darktown, and they both flinched at the sound. Orana shoved her down under the desk, so hard and so sudden she slammed her head against it and cried out.

"Ow, Orana-!"

The rapping came again, more urgent this time. Orana's hand clapped down over her mouth, her grip on her shoulder painfully tight.

"Please!" A rough voice called from outside, "For pity's sake, if we ever needed a healer, it's now!"

Cara was not a healer, was barely even a mage, but when the banging came again, she knew what her parents would have done. She wrenched herself from Orana's grip and ran to the door, yanking it open. Outside there was a small crowd of people, pressed tight against the clinic's wall to hide from the chaos outside.

She looked up at them, feeling suddenly very young and very out of place in her pretty embroidered dress with its fine ruffled petticoats. Even of the smallest of the children looked older and more tired than she'd ever felt. She swallowed, looked up at the nearest grown-up (a man, heavily scarred, bleeding from a deep cut on his scalp, and said: "He isn't here, but- I can help you, or try."

He stared down at her through his one remaining eye, and she felt a little sick. "You're just a kid," he said, with something like disgust, and she almost wanted to cry. Then she felt Orana's hand on her shoulder again, and realised that if she could be brave for Cara, when she was so much more scared of so many things, Cara would have to keep being brave for everyone else. She wondered if her mother had ever felt like this - too small and too frightened and having to do the brave thing anyway, because there was nobody else to do it. She hoped not. Being a hero shouldn't feel like this.

She swallowed down the sick she could taste at the back of her throat. "Maybe, but- I'm all there is right now."

He made a scoffing noise, moved to wheel away, but another man, shorter, face badly bruised, caught his shoulder and gave him a glare. "D'you know anything about healing?" he demanded, and she wanted to say No, she wanted to say Go away, she wanted to say I tried to be nice and you're being rude, because nobody had ever spoken harshly to her before, but that isn't what a hero would do. That isn't what her parents would do.

So she put her hands on her hips and said, in her mother's voice: "I know everything my father taught me, and Orana knows some too. And- and if I can't help you, you can wait here until he comes back."

He would come back. He always came back. It was the promise he made every time he had to leave unexpectedly, and couldn't tell her when he'd be home. He'd kiss her forehead and say: I'll be back soon, Cara-hase, and I'll bring your mama with me. He hadn't said it this morning, but then, they'd argued this morning. He'd been in one of his black moods where only Mama could reach him, and she'd pestered him for attention rather than leaving well alone. Maybe that was why she couldn't find him now.

She shook that thought off and stood aside, letting the people flood in. Some of them were limping, supported by friends or family, or favouring arms that were clearly broken. Cuts and scrapes she'd seen plenty of - she knew from memory how to clean a wound out with elfroot, and Orana, steeling herself, could close up the longer or deeper ones with neat, careful stitches. She'd never seen bruises so dark or so big, but she spread spindleweed balm across them nonetheless and said calming things like There, all better, and It'll be fine if you're careful, even if she wasn't sure it was true.

"The tunnels keep collapsing," the man with the bruised face told her while she smeared gooey spindleweed across it, as his husband swore loudly through Orana's stitching. "Whatever happened up in Hightown, it's shaken the foundations, and the Templars… they're looking for- someone."

He cut himself off as he seemed to focus on her face for the first time. "You said your daddy would be back soon?"

She nodded. "He always comes back."

He sighed, looked past and through her. "They always do, kid. Until they don't."

She shook her head, tried to remind herself that he didn't know her parents, that they always came back to her. That they were heroes, and that meant they always came home. She told herself that over and over again as the hours passed, as more people flooded through the door - some she could help, most she couldn't, even as she rationed and diluted the few elfroot potions kept aside for emergencies, and she didn't feel like a hero at all. She felt like she was a little girl again, and school had finished, and nobody had come to collect her - the cold, uncomfortable feeling of being forgotten, mingled with the fear of something Very Wrong having kept her parents away. At least now she was busy - now she was helping people, if only a little. Then she'd had to sit in the Chantry while the sisters did evening prayers, the stench of incense making her feel sick and sleepy and even more forgotten than she felt now.

Like the last time, when her mother finally came, she burst into angry, relieved tears like a baby, and flung herself into her arms. She'd been trying to be a hero, or at least a grown-up, for far too long, and suddenly she was hot and tired and hungry and scared but her mother was here and those were no longer her problem to fix.

"Where's the healer?" someone demanded over her head, and she relaxed, waiting for the reassuring answer.

Instead, her mother said: "Gone," and that was when she realised that this was nothing like the Qunari attack, that her life would never be the same again. That the world could be cut into two neat halves by a single syllable.

[jensonsbuttons]

mild seven benetton renault presents: playboy

(pngs under the cut)

[calmcoldevening]

Pov: You knew slashers, when you was a child (Slashers x fem!reader)

I'm back! Well, it os a lazy post from my drafts, until I end my new idea <3

TW: no

Characters: Thomas Hewitt, Brahms Heelshire, brothers Sinclair

P.S.: English is not my native language, so lot of these words was translated by simple translator, sorry for misspells and e.t.c.

Enjoy this!

Thomas Hewitt

The transition to a new school has always been a great stress for a child, especially in the middle of the school year.

You and your parents often moved from city to city. Maybe it was their work, or maybe they just wanted to show you as many different places as possible so that your childhood would remain really memorable — you didn't know. But the constant moving was followed by a change of schools and kindergartens. On the one hand, you liked it — new acquaintances, interests and a lot of positive emotions, after all, you were a cheerful and active child — but it also brought its inconveniences — you didn't have "best" friends, you had no more than a couple of months to communicate with each of them, and multiple the change of the team has made you a real chameleon in society.

You were ten years old when you and your parents moved to Texas. The age when most classes have already been divided into peculiar interest groups, which are quite difficult for a new person to join. That's why your mom decided to bake cookies that you could distribute to new classmates. Who doesn't like homemade cakes? You actively participated in the cooking process. A little more practice, and you could learn these cookies on your own. As soon as the treat was ready — several pieces were successfully taken away by your father — your mother beautifully put it in a colored box, now tied with a ribbon. The inscription "Welcome" was painted on the lid in gold paint.

It was very hot in this area of Texas. Therefore, on your first day of school, you decided to limit yourself to a beautiful white T-shirt with some simple pattern and black shorts. The first impression is the most important, right? Your mom took you to school by car. At the reception desk, your mom introduced you and found out the number of the right office. After kissing you goodbye on the cheek, she left you to your own luck. Although you were already used to it, a nervous feeling of anticipation bubbled somewhere in your chest; your palms were sweating.

After a good seven minutes, you were standing in front of the right class, 212, clutching a box of cookies to your chest. Adjusting the strap of the gray backpack, you exhaled anyway.

Your homeroom teacher, Mrs. Sullivan, introduced you in the office. A lovely woman with curly locks hanging down on both sides of her face and freckled cheeks. Her soft figure, dressed in a white blouse and a black pencil skirt, caused a surge of strength and confidence in you. The woman lightly put her arm around your shoulders, so motherly, and asked you to tell about yourself.

"My name is Y/N Y/L," your voice trembled slightly while your gaze ran over the children sitting in the classroom, "I'm ten. I like animals and beading... Mm, my parents and I move around a lot, so I don't think I'll stay here for more than two months. I hope we'll become friends."

You ended your performance with a sincere warm smile. Mrs. Sullivan asked you to take an empty seat. Your choice fell on the farthest place by the window; a guy was sitting behind it, hunched over and staring at the street. Was he weird? No, rather unusual. He had long black hair, so unusual for a boy; his gaze was lowered somewhere on the dusty road near the school, so you couldn't see his eyes. Sitting down next to him, you quickly took out a notebook and pencil from your backpack.

"Hello?"

The boy seemed startled by your voice. He looked at you uncertainly, and you saw a face wrapped in bandages. Sad cornflower blue eyes peeked out from under the white cloth.

"I'm Y/N," you whisper, holding out your hand to the boy, "And what's your name?"

There was no response. Disappointed, you lowered your hand, now paying attention to the teacher's explanation. The woman was writing down her words on the blackboard, and you quickly began copying them into your notebook, clutching a pencil until it crackled.

There was something about this boy that attracted you. It doesn't matter if it was his shyness or isolation — you decided that you definitely want to make friends with him.

At recess, you approached a group of girls. They were dressed up like girls from fashion magazines that you often saw in kiosks by the road.

"Hi," — you said with a light smile.

"Well, hello," said one of the girls, popping a bubble of gum.

"I want to ask. M, that boy," you pointed to the long—haired boy, "What's his name? I asked, and he ignored me."

"Haha, he won't answer you. That's our little Tommy," another girl hissed sarcastically, giggling, "Thomas Hewitt is weird. Very strange. I heard that his father is his brother!"

"And he's also a terrible freak!"

You awkwardly put your hand in your hair. Thomas didn't look as disgusting as the girls described him. It's all rumors. And what to take from these children, they probably didn't even try to talk to Hewitt!

You didn't talk to this company anymore. After waiting for lunch, when all the children went out to the garden at the school, you again approached the boy. He didn't budge. It seems he hasn't even written anything since you sat down next to him.

"Hey, hello?" you waved your palm in front of the guy's face, "Thomas, right?"

This time the boy paid attention to you. There was no emotion visible under the thick layer of bandages, but you were sure that he arched an eyebrow questioningly. He's wondering how you know his name?

"You were sitting alone, so I came over. Your name is Thomas, right?" you repeated the question, finally the boy nodded, "That's wonderful! I'm Y/N, let's get acquainted."

Smiling happily, you hand the guy an open box of cookies. Golden crust with chocolate chips. You had no desire to share such a delicious thing with such terrible and tactless people. And Tommy. Tommy was different. He was timid and calm, unable to cause harm.

"Help yourself," you babble, sitting down next to Hewitt, "I made them myself! Not without my mommy's help, of course..."

You blush slightly and see Thomas's eyes narrow. He smiled! He seems to be starting to like your company.

"Can I call you Tommy?"

• Thomas has become noticeably happier since you met him. The boy began to spend more time outside the house, in your company (Luda was very surprised by this, because usually after school Tommy always came home and sat in his room).

• For your birthday, Thomas himself sewed a soft toy for you, a fox, as he found out later, this is one of your favorite animals. The toy was sewn from different, but matching pieces of fabric, a little sloppy, but quite skillfully. It made you smile. You threw your arms around Hewitt for joy.

• Once you praise him, Tommy immediately blushes a lot. It's good that it's not visible under the layer of bandages. From the moment you became friends, Thomas's self-esteem has risen a little.

• When you first offered to help Thomas change the bandages, he strongly refused. The boy just couldn't let you see his face. But when he finally gave up, Hewitt was pleasantly surprised that you didn't scream and run away. You didn't call Tommy a freak or a monster, but only sympathetically stroked his scarred cheeks.

• Over time, you began to understand Thomas without words, absolutely. You found the right answers in his movements, grunting, awkward head turning or excessive gesticulation. Even Luda was a little amazed at your nonverbal communication, but the woman was glad that her son finally found a real friend.

• Tommy often showed you his drawings. It was like the scribble of a five-year-old child, but you were always happy to accept the leaves and hang them over your bed. Basically, Thomas drew his family: angry Charlie in the corner of the paper, Monty sitting next to him in a chair, a little further away, Luda was cooking, and in the center of the drawing you and Thomas holding hands and smiling.

• It was the first time you begged your parents to stay in this city longer. Fortunately, they agreed after seeing your enthusiasm for the "strange boy".

Brahms Heelshire

• Your parents and the Healers kept in touch for a while, you can say your families were very close. You first met Brahms on his fifth birthday. He was a very well-mannered but private boy, so Mrs. Heelshire was only too happy to introduce you.

• At first, your communication did not work out. Brahms was a rude child in places, took away your toys and teased you.

• His true attitude towards you showed up when you didn't come to his house, although you were visiting the Heelshire family every Monday and Wednesday. He was seriously worried. All morning Brahms sat in his room by the window and looked at the road going through the forest, waiting for your little body in your favorite blue dress to appear from behind the trees. But you were never there. It turned out that you were just sick. That day Brahms went to your house and did not leave your bed, squeezing your hot palm.

• Your parents worked most of the time, so they were not against your games with Heelshire Jr. You stayed in their house more and more often, sometimes even overnight, and you and Brahms made noise all night, forcing his mother to swear. But still, the woman was glad that at least Brahms was behaving quite comfortably and boldly with someone.

• You were only a couple of months younger than Brahms, but you thought it was a good reason to tease you.

• The boy allowed you to enter his room without knocking, consider it a worthwhile privilege, because Heelshire does not let everyone into his personal space.

• When you were sad, Brahms brought you bouquets of flowers hastily made with his own hands. That's why his palms were green most of the time.

• Brahms makes wonderful sandwiches. He often makes them when the two of you are having a "picnic" in the garden. Although in fact he agrees to it only to admire you.

• Heelshire loves sweets very much. Very. His mom doesn't allow the boy a lot of sweets and cakes, so you secretly bring them to him from home. The boy is insanely happy.

• Brahms loves kissing. This habit, or rather the need, appeared in him because you praised the boy in this way. Has he finally cleaned the room? A kiss. Did he break his mom's precious vase during the catch-up today? A kiss! So now he can demand them for any reason. He especially likes it when you kiss him before going to bed, and Brahms falls asleep hugging you.

• You're his best friend. That's why Brahms trusts you with all his secrets. You are the only one to whom he has told about the strange and frightening thoughts that sometimes sound in his head.

"Good night," Mrs. Heelshire said, turning off the light and closing the door behind her.

You smile and blow her a kiss, covering your mouth with your palm. When the woman's footsteps recede, you exhale with relief, plopping down on the pillow with force. Squinting your eyes, you wrinkle your nose, trying to blow away the stuck strands of hair from your face. Brahms giggles and gently tucks your hair behind your ear.

The room is cool. The window is slightly ajar, letting in a light autumn wind. The curtains are swaying from side to side, taking chaotic frightening shadows.

You get under the covers up to your nose. Brahms follows your example, pressing his whole body against you, and you stroke his head.

"If I ever do something very, very bad, will you stay with me?" Heelshire whispers, looking up at you.

You look into his sad emerald eyes and laugh. He likes to put pressure on your pity, because he knows that at such moments you see him as a tiny abandoned kitten.

"I don't think you'd do anything so bad, Brahms."

"But if I do. What if everyone turns away from me. Even mom and dad. Will you stay with me?"

You pressed your lips together, frowning. Brahms had never asked such strange questions before. And how can a child who is only eight years old think about something like that after a while. Looking down at the ceiling, you turned your head, looking into Brahms' eyes.

"Yes. I'll stay."

"Honestly?" Heelshire asks incredulously.

"Honestly."

"Promise?"

"Yes, I promise you, silly boy!" you abruptly cover his face with a blanket, holding the edges on both sides of his head.

The boy was kicking, trying to get out from under your weight, while you tried not to laugh. Taking pity on his futile attempts, you took off the blankets, admiring Brahms' flushed face. Heelshire was breathing heavily, and his cheeks and nose were burning like Chinese lanterns that your parents launched on your birthday.

"I won. Again," you grin.

Brahms is silent. You sigh and lie down again, turning your back to Heelshire. Your eyes are shining with joy, and your lips continue to curve in a smug grin. You know that Brahms will not dare to do something to you in return. He always let you get away with such antics. Absolutely always.

When you are ready to fall asleep, through the chatter in your head you hear a plaintive whisper. Having opened your leaden eyelids, you groan with displeasure.

"Kiss me," Brahms whines, and you get up on your elbows, chuckling softly.

"Okay," you kiss Heelshire on the lips, "Good night, Brahms."

• "Now I've won," Brahms croaks, pressing you against the wall and spreading his hands on both sides of your head. Just like a child. Except now he's not the victim here, but you. Although was he ever a victim in your games? Rather, he always played the role of a presenter, you just didn't notice it, as if you were looking through your fingers. And who would have thought that that innocent little boy would ever stand in front of you, towering over your body by a good two heads, and grinning with eyes shining in anticipation through the black slits of the mask.

Sinclairs

Christmas is the most mysterious and magical holiday of the year; the day when the whole family gathers at one big table to properly celebrate this moment together; the day when you receive a lot of gifts from all kinds of relatives, which you sometimes did not realize; the day when all wishes come true.

You clumsily shuffled along the road, shaking your back every now and then to adjust the heavy backpack. Things inside rattled a lot, and you tried to straighten your back faster to avoid crumpled packages.

Christmas was your favorite holiday. And although your parents have been working constantly lately, you were glad that you could spend this family holiday with your friends.

You met not so long ago, only about four months ago, when you first moved here. Ambrose turned out to be a very nice and cozy city with friendly and caring people. Mrs. Sinclair, Trudy, and your mom became friends right away— their interests converged on art. That's when I met her sons, the woman suggested that you make friends with them because of their similar age. And it turned out to be a very good idea. The boys quickly became addicted to you.

Once again adjusting the canvas straps of the backpack, you quickly climb the steps requested by the snow and knock on the sand-colored door several times. On the other side, there is a fussy shuffling and dissatisfied grumbling.

"Hello," you say, smiling, when the door swings open in front of you, revealing a view of the timid Vincent.

The guy nods to you and opens the door wider, motioning you to enter. You kiss Sinclair on the cheek of the mask. Brushing off your feet at the threshold, you quickly take off your shoes and leave your backpack at the shoe shelf. Music from an old radio is coming from the kitchen, some station unknown to you is playing old songs from the seventies. As soon as you entered the room, Vincent stood at the stove again, frying something in a frying pan. Whenever Trudy was busy making figures and arranging a museum that she someday wanted to open, it was Vincent who did the cooking and other household duties. Bo was stubborn and didn't want to do "women's" work, and Lester was still too young for such a large-scale activity. The latter was now sitting at the table and skillfully sliced an apple with a hunting knife into neat pieces.

"Morning, Lester," passing by the boy, you leave a small kiss on his forehead.

"Hi, Y/N!" Sinclair winces contentedly, flapping his big copper eyes.

You sit down next to the boy and imperceptibly take a piece of apple from under his nose, throwing it into his mouth contentedly. There were already several plates and cutlery on the table. Vincent loved order, so he prepared everything in advance.

"Where's Bo?" you ask, rocking slightly in your chair, for which you get a menacing look from Vincent.

"Mom asked him to help at the museum," Lester replied, "He should be back soon."

You notice how Vincent turns off the stove and turns his whole body in your direction. The guy takes a notebook lying on the table and quickly scribbles something.

"Have you had breakfast?"

"Yes," you say shortly, when Vincent closes the notebook and puts it back, "Honestly."

Sinclair puts the hot omelette on plates and pushes you a bowl of oatmeal cookies. You happily take one piece. Vincent sits down across from Lester and lifts the mask just enough to see his mouth. You frown, noticing the edge of his deep scar.

"Hey everyone," it was heard from the threshold, when the front door slammed shut with force, "Oh, honey, and you're here," Bo walks past you, lightly touching your shoulder in greeting, and sits down next to Vincent.

During brunch, you watch Lester and Bo actively negotiate. When their plates are empty, you decide to step in.

"Since everyone is here," you babble happily, clapping your hands to attract the attention of the guys, "I want to give you gifts a little earlier than planned, do you mind?"

"Of course not," Bo abruptly pushed away from the table, "I'm all for it, babe."

Bo winked at you playfully, to which you rolled your eyes. Vincent signed something, and you looked at Lester. Your sign language was not yet good enough to understand most of the phrases, you barely remembered the words of politeness. That's why you've always relied on little Lester at times like this.

"He said: "Why are you doing this so early?"", Lester explained, innocently blinking his eyes.

"What's the difference," Bo frowned, "Sooner or later — the main thing is that she gave."

You didn't comment on the elder Sinclair's words, but just got up from the table and went to your backpack resting in the hallway. When you came back, the brothers were already sitting in a kind of semicircle on the floor. Bo sprawled impressively closer to the sofa and grinned in anticipation; Lester, in his usual manner, sat cross-legged; while Vincent tucked his knees to his chest.

You sat down between the twins and put the backpack next to you, unzipping it. You said "Close your eyes" and, as soon as the boys fulfilled your request, you began to take out colorful boxes. All packages had the same color, different sizes. Alternately, you put the gifts in front of them and allowed them to watch. Lester giggled when he saw that his box was the biggest.

"Merry Christmas," you drawled, spreading your arms out to the sides.

The very first gift was opened by Lester. The boy happily tore open the package, scattering the paper around him, and screamed when he saw the cherished surprise. A big stuffed fawn. He had a soft beige body and neat brown horns sticking out in different directions. The muzzle was cheerful, with a big nose and shiny button eyes.

"I knitted it especially for you," you babble, smiling, when Lester looks up at you with an enthusiastic look.

"Thank you!" the boy throws himself on your neck with lightning speed, squeezing your body until the bones crunch; you stroke his back.

Bo was a little surprised when he saw a set of tools under the wrapper. He loved tinkering and was well versed in mechanics; the fact that you remembered about this hobby touched the guy a little; his lips curved in a slight smile.

"Well, thanks, babe," Bo grins, patting your hair.

You're pouting a little. All the time spent in the morning combing this tangled nest has gone to waste. You are dissatisfied with blowing off a few strands that caught your eye.

The last person to open his gift was Vincent. The boy very tenderly unwrapped the package, not trying to tear it, as if stretching and savoring this moment. You watched the deft but careful movements of his fingers with burning impatience. Finally, Sinclair took off all the paper, removing it from the side, and looked down at what he saw. A large set with colored pencils. Exactly the one that the boy looked at with undisguised envy in the window of an art store about a month ago. Did you remember that? With slightly trembling hands, Vincent takes the box and turns it in his hands. There were several more drawing pads under it.

Vincent looks at you, and you see the trembling gaze of his azure eyes in the slits of the mask. Such unbelievers, but at the same time grateful. You crawl up to the boy and hug him tightly, nuzzling his neck. Vincent lets out a ragged sigh.

"Merry Christmas to you, boys," you congratulate them once again, seeing the boys' satisfied smiles.

"So why did you decide to give it to us so early?" Lester asked, clutching the toy to his chest.

"Oh, that," you awkwardly fix your hair, "Well, my parents decided to leave. To another state. We'll leave tonight. So I thought I could have some fun with you now."

There was an oppressive silence in the room. You were afraid to look up, but you could feel the disappointment on the boys' faces. Your heart was painfully squeezed in your chest, from which you gritted your teeth with a creak.

"Will you come back?" Bo broke the silence.

"I don't know. Dad was offered a job in another state. Mom just said I wouldn't be able to see you."

You looked at each of the boys in turn. Vincent's head drooped, Bo's brows furrowed, and Lester's lips tightened into a crooked thread. The elder Sinclair sighed heavily.

"We'll be waiting. All together," he looked at you from under his brows, "Just try not to come back to us."

• Vincent loves sweets; but, often, Bo takes most of the goodies. That's why you put an envelope with several edible bracelets in one of the donated notebooks. Bo will probably consider them girly and will not take them away from his brother.

• You have been knitting a fawn for Lester for about five days; the boy is very happy with your gift. Your relationship is like a brother and a scary sister. He is always ready to rely on you; Sinclair is glad that he has such a caring person, unlike the same brothers (in particular Bo).

• Trudy adores you. You could say that in these few months she began to perceive you as her own daughter. You even know where the spare keys to the back door of the house are.

• Bo always tries to impress you as a self-sufficient high school student. He saw his father's old magazines with tackles, seduction and other materials not for children, so he decided to train on you. He didn't notice how he fell in love.

• Vincent is a good cook.

• Most of Vinnie's drawings in the new notebooks are you. He will paint your portraits for many years after your leaving.

[waynes-multiverse]

The Exit Strategy – Part 2

Summary: Russell is ready to hang it all up and retire, open up a brewery, and enjoy the rest of his civilian life. However, there’s one important thing missing before he can take the big plunge. Luckily, he knows just the right person to help him find it.

Pairing: Russell Shaw x Female!Reader

Warnings: +18, language, minor injuries, a bit of angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, a reunion, more secrets and revelations 😉

Word Count: 6.3k

A/N: Guess, the cat's outta the bag! Couldn't reveal too much about the reader beforehand without ruining the surprise now, could I? 🤓 Cozy up in your favorite chair with eggnog. Hope you have some lovely holidays, guys ❤️

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Part 2: This Is a Russell Mission

If Russell hated one thing in this world, it was playing The Waiting Game. The thought of being helplessly stuck inside a car with his hands metaphorically tied behind his back nearly wrecked his sanity. Well, whatever was left of it, anyways.

Colter had a point. Russell knew he could be a little paranoid sometimes, but considering everything he’d seen and done in his life, who could honestly blame him? It was only natural to feel a certain level of paranoia in his particular line of work. It kept him on his toes and, therefore, alive.

But maybe it had nothing to do with the job as he had always told himself. It might have been just a family trait he had inherited. And, well, he hated that fact even more than The Waiting Game.

As he impatiently watched a set of doors once more, he pondered if he was still seeing things clearly or if his kooky mind was playing tricks on him. Adjusting to civilian life wasn’t always easy.

What normal people would see as a perfectly nice, faithful woman picking up mail from the post office, Russell saw as a dead-drop pick-up.

There was a construction crew about three hundred yards to his right that seemed to be on constant break by their lack of work ethic. They also took turns to watch the supermarket closely. Ever wondered why there was so much street construction seemingly everywhere and yet America’s roads were still full of potholes? Russell didn’t.

And then, there was the cashier who handed you a flyer of some sort, which you accepted with a polite smile and stuffed in your purse. Live drop, Russell noted as he watched you walk out of the store hand in hand with your supposed husband.

It was all so abundantly clear to him, he almost couldn’t believe no one else could see it. It certainly worried him that Colter couldn’t.

What if…

What if he was in fact seeing things? Things that weren’t actually there. Ghosts of his past. No drops, live or dead. No secret surveillance in disguises. No fake husband – just a very real one.

Was that even legal? He figured it was under your new identity.

Russell shook the uncomfortable thought out of his mind and concentrated back on you. You stopped short by a row of shopping carts, exchanged a few words with your “husband”, and headed back inside. His little brother, of course, was hot on your tail, following you back in too.

That was when several alarm bells went off in Russell’s body. His head felt like the Liberty Bell on the Fourth of July. Experience told him: If it smelled like an ambush, it usually was.

Jumping into gear, Russell’s gaze snapped to your husband, who not only unloaded the groceries into the trunk of the car but also loaded a pistol and hid it underneath his sweater vest before heading toward the supermarket again.

Russell sprung into action rather quickly then, snatching his own semi-automatic from the glove compartment. Soon enough, he heard two familiar voices flowing out from a back alley behind the main building. There was no doubt in his mind that it was you and Colter.

As he rounded the corner, he had to stifle a laugh once he saw his little brother down on the ground, straddled by your legs. Russell had found himself in similar positions with you, but they had been mostly out of pleasure.

“If it helps, my name is Colter. Colter Sh–”

“Shaw.”

Russell watched as your hold on his brother swayed and shock claimed your expression.

“Hiya, sweetheart,” he greeted your eyes with a cheeky smile as warmth spread through his heart.

Fuck, he had missed you.

“Russell?!”

Your jaw had fully dislodged itself as you slowly got back onto your feet and let go of your prisoner. But the shock of seeing your ex here of all places didn’t last long till it made way for your anger.

“Are you fucking insane?” You stormed towards him, shoving his chest. Whoa, broad! Shit, what had he done? Spent more time at the gym? “No, wait, don’t say anything. I already know the answer to that one!”

“I’ll second that,” Colter chimed in with a groan and dusted off his jeans. He stretched his sore muscles briefly before glaring at his older brother, who only offered him an apologetic smile and a half-assed shrug of one shoulder.

“Did you tell him to follow me?” you asked and pointed an accusatory finger at his younger brother while still glaring daggers at Russell. The similarity between them suddenly struck you, and you cursed yourself for not putting the puzzle pieces together sooner. “What was the plan here, huh?”

“Oh, trust me, he had no plan,” Colter muttered sourly, still recovering from your attack.

Russell clicked his tongue and sighed, scratching the back of his neck. “Look, he’s right. There wasn’t a plan. I just-… I had to see you. But once I did, well… here we are.”

Full disclosure: There might have been a little bit of a plan. Just tiny, really. Not worth mentioning at all.

You scoffed and shook your head. “You, of all people, should know better. You could’ve blown our cover. Months of work down the drain…”

“I think your cover’s still good,” Russell assured you with that same old lazy grin of his that was scarily charming and glanced at your partner. “Might wanna call off the cavalry, though.”

You shared a look with Tom, your partner during this mission.

“I’ll signal them. Clean up here,” he said, unamused, and disappeared back to the parking lot.

“Road crew in front of the store?” was all Russell asked. You confirmed it with a simple nod. Internally, he celebrated his little win. His instincts were still intact.

You exhaled a deep breath and threw your hands up. You had been so incredibly relaxed before that menace of a man waltzed back into your life – with a goddamn wrecking ball, no less. Now, the tension was crawling back into your shoulders.

“Russ, what the hell?”

Your question wasn’t filled with anger, however. You were just exhausted by today’s surprising turn of events. The life of a spy…

And probably the life with Russell, too.

“I know. I know, okay?” Russell held up two placating hands. Large hands. Warm. “Can we just talk? Somewhere… I don’t know.”

With some reservations, you still nodded. “There’s a church picnic at First Presbyterian tomorrow. It starts at one. We can talk there.”

There had never been a day in your relationship where you had denied that man a thing – till that last day at least.

“Church picnic?” Russell cocked a brow but was only met with your glare.

“Don’t mock. Be there,” you told him firmly and walked back inside the building. You still had to buy that damn milk. Covers were complicated to maintain – much like relationships.

Once you were out of sight, Russell let out a long sigh of relief, followed by a laugh of happiness. Step One was done. Only when the high of his meeting with you subsided, did he notice his brother’s exasperation.

Colter threw his hands in the air and stared at his sibling with incredulous eyes. “What the hell, Russell? What was that, man?”

“Right, yeah.” Russell bobbed his head calmly, smacking his lips. He knew he owed Colter an explanation at this stage of the mission.

“So, I’m guessing she’s not an old Army buddy of yours,” the younger Shaw started.

“No, not quite. She’s in the CIA,” Russell explained at last. He couldn’t help the grin. He was sure Colter would laugh about it eventually, too. Well, here was to hoping he would. “We worked together when we were both stationed in Baghdad. You know how it goes. We met, and a couple of hours later, we were doing it on the kitchen island of some safe house.”

Well, alright, that was braggy. There was a lot more going on than that. Best night of his life, really. But Russell considered it classified.

“Romantic,” Colter scoffed with sarcasm lacing his voice. Honestly, a part of him was happy for Russell. Another part, though, was incredibly furious for obvious reasons. “But I’m sorry – you had me stalk a CIA operative? During, what I assume is, some elaborate undercover mission?”

“It’s actually not that elaborate,” Russell quipped with amusement. “You shoulda seen half the things I’ve seen her do, so…”

“Oh, hilarious!” Colter shook his head at his childish brother. “Are you nuts?!”

“I think we’ve already established that,” Russell chuckled.

“You know, if Reenie finds out about this, she’s gonna kill me,” Colter said, and Russell swore his brother seemed close to breaking into a sweat. “Oh, you think this is still funny, huh? Guess who she’s gonna kill right after? You.”

Russell rolled his eyes at the unnecessary theatrics. “She’s not gonna find out unless you tell her, brother.”

With pursed lips, Colter nodded in defeat. “Can’t say I like you a lot right now, Russell.”

His older brother only snorted a laugh in response. “Oh, c’mon!”

“You probably would find it less funny if you had been beaten up by a 5’4” woman,” Colter continued and pressed a hand to his ribcage, wincing. “Yeah, pretty sure she cracked a rib or two…”

“Don’t be a baby. Soldier up! You’re fine.” Russell patted his back roughly and inspected the swelling nose for good measure, causing Colter to groan in pain once more. “And by the way, pretty sure she’s only 5’3”.”

“What?! No! She’s at least… 5’4”, okay? Probably even 5’5”,” Colter argued, following Russell back to the truck.

Russell’s lips rose to a teasing smirk. “Yeah, you keep telling yourself whatever gets you to sleep at night, little brother.”

“I will, thank you,” Colter deadpanned and unlocked the car. “So, you’re gonna go to this church picnic thing tomorrow?”

“Oh, no, not just me. We are going to this church picnic thing tomorrow,” Russell said with a cheeky grin and slid into the passenger seat.

“Well, you know, technically, I’ve already… found her. This is usually where my job ends,” Colter said with a tight smile and popped the key into the ignition.

“Yeah, well, not this time,” Russell replied, chuckling. “This ain’t a Colter mission. This is a Russell mission.”

“Oh, I got that, yeah. Thank you,” Colter said with a laugh that made his bruised ribs ache. “You know, you could’ve at least told me she was in the CIA.”

“Yeah, probably. But this was more fun,” Russell grinned.

“Did you know this whole time this was a clandestine operation?”

Russell sheepishly twitched his shoulders. “Well, not when we first got to town, but once I saw her in that outfit, I had a pretty strong inkling. I’m tellin’ ya, even if she had changed her entire life and personality, there’s no way she would have accepted Jesus Christ as her Lord and savior. I mean, maybe if she suffered a traumatic brain injury…” Russell mused and then grinned. “Or if she got abducted by aliens!”

“Oh, not the UFOs again,” Colter sighed with a shake of his head.

“It’s UAP, man. U… A… P,” Russell corrected him once again and let the last letter pop from his lips for emphasis.

“Uh-huh… Did you even need me for this?” Colter leaned back against his seat and quirked an eyebrow.

“Hell yeah!” Russell assured eagerly before changing course. He dialed his enthusiasm back a little. “Well, honestly, I just needed your op analyst. I could’ve used one of my guys, but then that would’ve flagged it with someone upstairs, so… But c’mon! This was fun, right?”

“I don’t know, Russell. I usually prefer my fun to look a little different,” Colter deadpanned.

“With Reenie?” Russell wagged his eyebrows. The huge smirk on his face spoke volumes.

“Would you stop?!”

“‘Sides, this is nice, isn’t it? Us… hanging out?” Russell’s sly grin then morphed into a much softer and genuine smile.

“I guess, yeah,” Colter reluctantly agreed and shrugged his shoulders. But the tiny smile on his face wasn’t missed by Russell.

“Alright, let’s get some fuel,” Russell announced and playfully slapped his brother’s chest. “I’m starving. We also need to find a place where we can park that Airstream of yours. Maybe get a nice fire going, drink a few…”

“What is this? A sleepover? Did you just invite yourself?” Colter really wasn’t used to family members dropping in like this, but he couldn’t deny that it felt sort of nice, too.

“Yeah, I am. I mean, you didn’t offer. Would’ve been the polite thing, you know, considering I saved your ass last time,” Russell retorted puckishly.

Colter exhaled a humorous breath, shaking his head with a chuckle. “Alright, okay… Consider yourself invited.”

“See? Wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

Russell’s nerves leaped through the roof as he set foot onto the church grounds. A part of him expected his boot soles to leave burn marks in their wake on the perfectly green and trimmed lawn, considering his extensive list of sins.

Families, children, couples, and the elderly had all gathered in front of the church. There were picnic tables, blankets, even balloons and a banner. His green eyes, however, landed on the giant buffet, his mouth already beginning to water.

That’s also where he spotted you, handing out cupcakes and slices of pie with a pious smile on your face. Your hair was stuck behind your ears, a headband keeping it tightly in place. Your dress looked the same, only the flower pattern varied, with a tight cardigan around your shoulders that hid any naked skin.

Deceptively innocent, Russell thought, causing his mouth to water for a different reason.

“You okay? You nervous?” Colter checked with a curiously raised brow.

“Nervous? Me? No.” Russell gave a quick shake of his head, but his eyes were transfixed on you. “Gotta admit. That outfit’s doing something to me, though.”

Colter patted his shoulder blade. “Yeah, might wanna keep it in your pants, Russ. Pretty sure you get kicked out for impure thoughts.”

Russell snorted a laugh. “Yeah, probably.”

The Shaw brothers then made their way over to your stand. Russell’s heart thumped louder with every new step he took towards you. And once he was so close he could smell your irresistible perfume, his smile only widened.

You, on the other hand, played your role flawlessly and pretended you didn’t know either brother in front of you. Your brows knit in question, but your devout smile remained the same.

“Gentlemen, how can I help you? I don’t think I’ve seen you here before,” you said and subtly gestured your head to the pastor next to you.

Russell’s brow raised in understanding. He cleared his throat. “Oh, me and my brother just moved here. Looking for a new church. Heard this is the place,” he stated loud enough for the pastor to hear. “You know, we are very devout Christians. I mean, especially my brother here. If he doesn’t pray at least ten times a day, he gets real cranky.”

Colter threw him a look but decided to play along. “Oh, yeah, I just-… I hate that. Can’t pray enough, right?”

“Amen,” you said with all the sincerity you could muster. On the inside, however, you were bursting with laughter. Leave it to Russell to make you smile brighter than the sun.

“Well, you’ve certainly come to the right place,” the pastor chimed in with a cheerful smile that spelled kumbaya all the way through as he shook the brothers’ hands. “I’m Pastor Jeff. Welcome to our little congregation, folks.”

“God can never have enough sheep, am I right?” Russell quipped and wondered how long you’d already been undercover, playing your dutiful role as a Christian housewife. Five sentences in, and he already was at his limit.

“That’s right!” The pastor grinned broadly. “Please help yourselves to our delicious buffet.”

“Well, lookey, what do we have here.” Russell’s eyes zoned in on a plate of apple pie, rubbing his palms in delight.

“Oh, you have to try the pie,” the pastor eagerly suggested and put an arm around your shoulders. “Our Nora here is an excellent baker. Her desserts are a real trend in our community. It is downright sinful. But shhhh, don’t tell the big man upstairs.”

“Secret’s safe with me, pastor,” Russell grinned slyly before meeting your eyes for the briefest second. “Say, do you do marriage counseling too?”

The glare you shot him had enough power to kill him from afar. You might as well have ordered a missile strike on him.

“Oh, my, yes, of course!” the pastor eagerly replied, causing your frown to deepen. “Are you married? Having a little trouble with the missus?”

“You could say that,” Russell earnestly played along and propped up his hands on his hips. “Everything was going fine, you know? And then one morning, just whoosh, gone. No explanation, no letter, no anonymous call from a pay phone…”

“Wow…” The pastor was stunned and enthralled by Russell’s colorful storytelling at the same time. You weren’t, however.

“Well, I’m so sorry to hear that,” you feigned your sympathies with tight lips and a fierce glare at your former lover. “But you know what they say, the Lord giveth and he taketh away…”

“You know, Nora here is right. Our Lord does work in mysterious ways,” the pastor chimed in agreement.

“Amen, Pastor Jeff,” you said, smiling contentiously. “Do you have any idea why your wife left?”

“Oh, I’m afraid she’s as mysterious as the Lord,” Russell replied.

Crossing your arms over your chest, you forced a tight smile. “I don’t mean to overstep, but it sounds like someone was having a little trouble with commitment.”

“It does,” Pastor Jeff agreed. “Why do you think that is?”

Clearing his throat uncomfortably, Russell’s head bobbed, his tongue poking the insides of his cheeks. He was definitely feeling a spotlight on him. Even Colter seemed to curiously lean in. Then, the oldest Shaw clicked his tongue. “Rough childhood.”

Amused, Colter scoffed under his breath behind him. “You could say that.”

“Oh no.” The pastor sent the brothers a pitying look and turned his attention to the younger Shaw. “And what do you do?”

“Oh, uh… Well, before I moved in with my brother here, I lived in a trailer and traveled all over the country.”

“Sounds… lonely,” Pastor Jeff stated worriedly.

“Yeah, this one is a big lone wolf. He has commitment issues too,” Russell replied, earning him a scolding look from his brother.

“Uh, I don’t think we need to overshare, Russ.” Colter gave an awkward smile, turning to you and Pastor Jeff. “He’s kidding. I don’t have commitment issues.”

“It’s a sin to lie, Colter,” Russ noted. His tone was serious, but the twinkle in his green eyes was impish.

“What happened to your face there?” The pastor cocked his head and inspected the younger Shaw’s injuries.

Oof, he looked rough. The skin under his eyes and bridge of his nose were swollen and bruised, ranging in color from blue, purple to black. A thin burgundy line also graced his throat. You had done quite a number on him.

You should kick Russell’s ass for setting you both up like this. Who would do this to their little brother?

“Uh, you know, moving boxes…” Colter stammered with a shift of his weight from one foot to the other, pursing his lips.

Russell was a better liar than him, you noted.

“Yup, walked straight into one of those wood planks,” Russell added, oozing just the right amount of charm and humor to wrap the pastor around his finger. “Tiny thing, honestly, but still got him good.”

Oh, he was so proud of that too, you could tell. He smirked right at you. Well, they were both terrible liars.

“Not that tiny. Big, big plank,” Colter corrected. Apparently, you had bruised his ego, too. “Lucky to be alive, really.”

Yeah, he really was.

“Well, speaking of taking things away, I still have to get the eggs from the chickens,” you said, segueing the conversation to an exit strategy. “Excuse me.”

“Oh, you have chickens here?” Russell enthusiastically slapped Colter’s arm. “Did you hear that? They have chickens.”

“Yeah, uh, very exciting,” Colter said, subtly clearing his throat.

“We’ve always wanted chickens,” Russell clarified for the pastor, joining you by your side as you rounded the table. It wasn’t true, though. The brothers actually had a chicken coop at the cabin when they were kids and hated it. The hens were noisy, the rooster was the worst, and it was always a mess to clean up. “I love those clucking little buggers. And now that we have a big backyard… Mind if I come along and check out your setup?”

“Not at all,” you replied with a friendly smile.

“Great. Be right back,” Russell told his brother, hurrying after you before he eloquently made a U-turn back to the stand and grabbed a plate of pie.

“Take your time,” Colter said through a pressed smile, although he wondered how long he’d be stuck here for with the pastor and your fake husband.

“Clear,” you said and held the creaking wooden door of the coop open for Russell to follow inside. As soon as it fell shut behind you two, you crossed your arms. “Okay, talk.”

“What? Here? Now?” With squinted eyes and a cocked brow, Russell looked around the small and dark space full of farm fowl, hay, and feathers.

You threw your arms up in exasperation. “You said you wanted to talk, so talk. What’s wrong with this place?”

“Nothing,” Russell said timidly and swallowed. He scratched the back of his neck. “You know, I just imagined this conversation a thousand times in my head, and it never happened in a chicken coop on church grounds.”

“Adorable,” you commented unamused, your brow knitting even more.

“All I’m sayin’ is, this just takes some time gettin’ used to…”

“Get used to it faster.”

Russell sighed. Then you did.

You softened your stance, crossed arms falling freely to your sides. “I’ve missed you,” you said earnestly and gifted him a small smile, taking in his changed appearance for the first time in detail.

He was hairier than you remembered. That you knew for sure. If you went back even further, he was also a lot broader, too. When you’d met, he was just a kid – as were you. It was only in the last few years of your relationship that he started to gain some serious muscle and really began to fill out his uniform. And all of a sudden, the tall and broad-shouldered soldier became more threatening – and more protective.

Now, clean-shaven, young, somewhat naive, and rule-following was replaced by a rebellious, midlife-crisis beard and the matching hair.

Ah, the t-shirt… Mötley Crüe. He found that thing eleven years ago at a thrift store in Arizona. It had a (bullet) hole on the left side of his lower back that you had patched – thrice. Once even with teething floss in a tent.

“How have you been?”

Russell’s head bobbed. He shrugged. “So-so.” Then he smiled. Soft and warm. The first few rays of sunshine on frozen winter skin. “I’ve missed you, too.” Then, the smile disappeared from his lips, replaced by contempt. “Got your divorce papers. Not signing them, by the way.”

“Good.” You smiled weakly. “I didn’t want you to sign them. I just sent them to get your attention.”

The relief that surged through Russell’s body was ineffable. For months, he thought he’d lost you – that you’d finally given up on him for good.

“How’s the new job working out?”

Russell’s lips drew a smirk, flirtatious charm glimmering in his forest green eyes. “What, you keeping tabs on me, sweetheart?”

You matched his expression. “Who do you think recommended you, huh?”

Russell stumped for a beat. His lips pursed, eyebrows drawing into a wondering v. “Well, they said someone did. Just didn’t think it was you.”

All this time, he’d believed you had crossed him out of your mind with a red pen as soon as you’d walked out the door that very morning.

“I told you. I’ll always look out for you,” you replied simply, a caring smile dancing on your lips. “So? Did it help? Are you any closer?”

“Yeah, guess so…” He paused for a moment, his gaze focused on the tips of his boots as he thought. “Not sure it was worth it, though. Actually, I’m fucking sure it wasn’t.”

You exhaled a long breath. You knew this day would come eventually. You knew he’d come back for you. Granted, you had expected him on your goddamn doorstep years ago, but he never showed. Sending divorce papers was a last resort in hopes he’d wake up then. That had been nine months ago.

“Why are you here, Russ?”

“Things have changed.”

Ah. That made things perfectly clear.

Lifting a brow, you crossed your arms again. “Is that why you brought your little brother along? As a show of good faith?”

“Kinda.”

“Poor Colter… How’s his nose?”

Russell wiped your sincere concerns away with a shrug. “He’ll be fine. Don’t worry about it. Just a scratch.”

Just a scratch…

“It’s weird… seeing you two together,” you said. For more than fifteen years, you had wondered. A part of you thought this day would never come, so maybe Colter being here was indeed a show of good faith and Russell was finally, finally dealing with his shit.

That man could easily fill the Denver airport with his baggage.

“You look good,” you noted. You were trained to control your heartbeat, but he had always made your job harder. “Different.”

His fingers brushed his beard as if to emphasize the newness. “Yeah? You like it?”

“Well, uhm, I don’t hate it,” you said rather coyly. Did you want to give him a win? No. But if he stepped any closer, you would falter. Your cheeks blushed as the tip of your shoe drew circles in the sandy ground. Why did your ears suddenly feel so hot?

Russell smiled as heat crept to his cheeks as well. “Your new look is somethin’, too.”

“God, shut up.” You rolled your eyes at him but couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face.

“Oh, I don’t think you’re allowed to take the Lord’s name in vain here,” Russell teased. “Don’t let good Pastor Jeff hear ya.”

You laughed, scoffing. “I hate that man.”

“Pastor Jeff? I can tell,” Russell chuckled in amusement and finally stuffed his face with the first bite of pie, chewing a mouthful as he spoke. “But c’mon, he ain’t half bad.”

“Really? You don’t wanna shoot yourself after spending five minutes with him? ‘Cause I do. And it’s been months for me,” you said. “You don’t know what that man does in his office.”

“You bugged his office?”

“And the confession booth. Two words: game changer,” you said, wide-eyed. Russell whistled lowly. You narrowed your eyes at the half-eaten plate in his hands and the pie crumbs in his beard. You raised a scolding brow. “Did you really have to bring the pie?”

“Do you even know me at all? Of course I did.” Russell then shoved the last bite into his mouth to prove his petulant point. “Did you actually bake this?”

In expectant offense, you stepped back a little, crossing your arms again. “Why?”

“‘Cause it’s good.”

“Do you even know me at all? What d’you think?”

“Thought so.” Russell gave a shrug of his shoulders. “The first bite of this didn’t give me immediate food poisoning.”

“Fuck you. I’m a great cook,” you huffed but couldn’t help the grin on your face. You had missed this – the bickering, the bantering, the fun. And Russell, the sly asshole, knew that, judging by his own smirk.

“There’s a lot of reasons why I love you, but your cooking skills ain’t one of ‘em, sweetheart,” he quipped.

“I’ll use you as shooting practice, Shaw,” you threatened playfully. Russell laughed, but it sounded more secretive than a laugh about a joke. “What?”

Russell’s eyes found yours. “Nothing. This is nice, right? We slid right back into it. Like the last three years never happened.”

“Russ…” You sighed, your heart hurting. For you, they happened.

“Just saying it was easy. That’s all,” he said with placating hands. “How’s the family? How’s your dad?”

That caused you to suck in a breath. You had wondered when he would finally dare to ask. You knew this was the real reason why he was here. “Dave finally married Jill last spring. It was a nice wedding. Florence, Italy. Got to wear a sun hat.”

“That’s good.” Russell smiled softly, although it stung that he wasn’t invited. He had always imagined he would be, once your brother popped the question to his longtime girlfriend. After all, Russell was the one who introduced the couple in the first place.

“They wanted to do it sooner, but because of the pandemic…”

“They shoulda done it ten years ago. I kept telling him to lock it down,” Russell quipped, the irony not entirely lost on him. He knew even if something was locked down, didn’t necessarily mean it would stay forever.

“You did,” you remembered with a fond smile. “They wanted you there,” you added, noticing his saddened expression. “It’s just-…”

“No, I know. Don’t worry about it,” Russell brushed it off with all the coolness he could muster at that moment.

“Russ…”

“I said it’s fine,” he repeated and forced another smile. “So, how’s the old man?”

Silently, you bit your lip and sent him a look that spoke volumes.

“Uh-oh. That bad, huh?”

“It’s the reason why I moved back here. To be closer… As close as I can be with this job. Figured it was best for everyone,” you explained. “In the beginning, he had a lot of good days, you know? Now they just all seem… bad.”

“Yeah… I’m sorry,” Russell replied, dumping his empty plate by the chickens. He stepped closer.

Uh-oh. Now, you were in trouble.

“I’m sorry, too.”

Russell’s brow jumped up. “What are you sorry for? It’s your dad.”

“I know. But… he kinda was yours too, right?” Russell’s green eyes meeting yours confirmed your statement. “He still talks about you on his good days. God knows you couldn’t throw a football before you met him.”

“Hey, that’s not true. I could throw the old pigskin around perfectly fine,” Russell defended.

You snorted. “You could not,” you argued with a teasing smile. “You knew how to kill sweet little forest critters and turn your pee into drinking water. But you did not know how to throw a damn ball.”

“You’re never letting the pee thing go, are you?”

You shrugged. “It was a very memorable trip.”

Russell laughed at that. Then the melancholic sadness returned to his face. “How’s-, uhm, how’s Lewis?”

He’d made it through the list of your relatives, finishing with the most important one. And it stung so unbearably much it broke your heart for him. But in the end, you knew he’d done it to himself.

Fighting the tears in your eyes, you forced a smile to your lips. “He’s good. He’s a sweet boy. Keeps asking questions about his daddy that I don’t know how to answer…” you scoffed humorlessly but decided to forgo the pettiness. It would be so easy to be mad at him, but not even on your darkest days could you do it. “He’s starting school this fall.”

“School, huh?” Russell huffed a devastating chuckle, the tears brimming in his eyes as the lump in his throat only grew. “Shit…”

It was getting to him, you could see, and he hadn’t expected that it would. Knowing Russell, he probably figured he could push through the pain and be fine. But he had never really been fine since the day you met him – and he wasn’t this time either as he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to blink the tears away, and turned his back to you with a hand clasped over his mouth.

“Should I stop?”

It felt like you were torturing him with a cruel new method of some PsyOp. Even if you had cursed this man for the past three years, your heart refused to see him hurt.

But Russell shook his head, finding your eyes again. He offered you a weak smile. “No, uh, don’t. Just tell me something about him, okay? I’m fine. Please.”

Sighing, you nodded in acceptance. “When my dad was better, he and Dave would take him fishing a lot. He loved it. He’s in his ‘backyard adventures’ phase,” you said, giggling softly. “He’s catching frogs and releasing them in the house. Never imagined I’d wake up with an amphibian on my head. It’s been a delightful experience.”

Russell laughed, but it was feeble at best. “I can imagine…”

And I can’t imagine I missed it all, he thought self-punishingly. But the hard part still hadn’t come yet.

“And, uhm…” Russell wrung for words, taking a deep breath. “How’s the baby? Is it–”

“She,” you stated, watching him swallow upon your correction. “Her name’s Amelia. She turned two in April.”

“Huh, girl…” His heart beat faster, grew bigger, and painfully yearned. His feet trembled to get home, wherever that was, and see them, but he knew he couldn’t. It wasn’t so easy, after all. “Guess I was right…” he said with a sad smile.

You had been sure you’d have another boy. However, Russell had bet you ten meatball subs – your craving at the time – that it wasn’t.

“What happened to Ann? Thought that’s the name we picked,” Russell teased in hopes of lightening the mood.

“Yeah, well, if you wanted a say, maybe you should’ve been there…” you retorted.

Russell should’ve known winning you over wouldn’t be as simple as spelling the ABC.

“You’re the one who left,” Russell muttered finger-pointing-ly under his breath.

“Don’t pretend you don’t know why,” you bit glaringly.

Russell swallowed lightly, nodding. “You’re right. I do. I’m sorry.” Pausing, his eyes glanced around the coop before he gestured with a hand at your outfit, looking you up and down. “So, speaking of the kids, what’s going on here? Thought you were done with the deep-covers,” he changed the subject with a clear of his throat.

He knew if he continued talking about what he’d missed, he wouldn’t make it out of that chicken coop for the next several hours, sobbing uncontrollably in the hay with the hens.

“I was. Had a desk job. Kinda…” A desk job in the CIA still never really was a desk job. “I was station chief in Paris.”

“Paris, huh? Fancy,” Russell said, but the joke didn’t reach the crinkles around his eyes.

“It’s the job I took after I left. We only moved back to the States in the beginning of the year,” you explained. “The kids loved it there, though. Lewis still gets a craving for crêpes every once in a while.”

Russell chuckled, even though every story added another bruise to his heart.

“Anyways, I got a job at Langley. Desk. Bought a house not too far from here, actually. It’s nice. Got a big backyard. Even bigger oak tree,” you told him with a smile. “Lewis wants me to build him a treehouse, but I’m not sure I can swing it.”

“I could help,” Russell offered, trying to keep his eagerness at bay when truly all he wanted was to race there and build the damn thing now. “I mean, if I can come by sometime…”

Your heart sank. “You can always come home. You always could, Russ.”

Home.

That four-letter word filled him with so much warmth and longing it brought back the tears in his eyes.

“So, uhm, why are you here and not there then?” This time, he switched the topic because he would’ve kissed you if he hadn’t. “You running a sting on the pastor or…?”

“One of his sheep.”

“Ah.” Russell nodded. “Need any help?”

“From you and Colter?”

“Yeah.”

“No, thank you.”

“Oh, c’mon, just lemme help. The faster you get this done and over with, the sooner you can stop clutching your fake pearls and get home to the kids,” Russell reasoned.

You sighed, knowing he was partially right. You did hate your disguise as much as you hated the annoyingly nosy pastor. Moreover, you missed your children a fucking lot. It had already been three months. Fall was coming soon, and you had promised your son you’d be home by his first day of school.

“C’mon, how did they lure you back in, huh? Who’s the naughty little sheep you’re working?”

“Can’t talk about this here,” you told him, automatically lowering your voice. It was hard to remember who you were right now, when what you were used to be was standing right in front of you.

Russell quirked a brow. “Did you bug the coop, too?”

“No, the pastor’s scared of the chickens, which is why I didn’t bother. But you never know if someone else isn’t listening. We’ve already shared too much. We shouldn’t do this here,” you insisted, and Russell nodded in agreement. He knew the dangers as well as you did.

“Then where?”

You exhaled a deep breath and thought for a moment. You wanted to see him again. You knew he didn’t just come find you to catch up and then leave again.

“Come by the house tonight. Make it look natural. I’ll invite you guys to dinner as a sort of friendly welcome wagon to the neighborhood. The pastor is gonna buy it in a heartbeat. Just give me a good reason to invite you over.”

Russell nodded in understanding. “Alright.”

Part 3: This Is a Heart-To-Heart

Welp, seems like Russell omitted having a wife and two kids... 🙈😂

I'll post the next part in the beginning of the new year or straight after Polaris has finished. We'll see ☺️

Enjoy the rest of your holidays, loves! Can't wait to read your comments on this one 😉🤍

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[studentinpursuitofclouds]

Howdy, dear Mouse! I have a question, I want to know your opinion about it!

I was on the SVE Wiki and realised something that's been on my mind for a long time! Lance hates most of the candies in the game. I want to know what you think about this, what do you think would be the reason?

Best regards and have a great week, dear Mousey! 🤗🌻🌻

Hewwo :3 Glad to see you again, dear moot! Thank you so much for the question, and have a wonderful week as well 💕 So... (Warning for SVE 1.15 spoilers):

_________________________________________

I put the question off until the weekend, wanting to look in the mod files first, hoping to find some useful information on this topic after the 1.15 update. And oh boy, did I find something interesting...

Going back to the discussions from a couple of years ago, the very first theory of the reason for Lance's hatred of all things sweet and baked goods was the idea that the gallant adventurer is very strict about his health and appearance. Always perfectly ironed clothes, always clean skin, always well-groomed, healthy, not a single blemish. And he wouldn't eat anything that could ruin his figure or teeth, not even Magic Rock candy, which is considered one of the all-powerful foods in the Stardew world (Prismatic Shard essence, that's rare Lance!). The exceptions were maple syrup (apparently because it is a healthy sweet, low in antioxidants and vitamins and minerals).

Another theory (which @sapphicastral said, thanks moot!) was that Lance is diabetic and therefore couldn't eat anything sweet. He can't consume it because of his health. Maple syrup is still liked gift though (let's write it off to the mechanics of the game, because syrup is loved by almost everyone, except Maru).

But now those two theories can be thrown in the trash, because as it turns out, this pink-haired bastard loves chocolate, more specifically - Chocolate Truffle Bar, the new item in SVE, the recipe for which we can buy from a Traveling Merchant at the Festival of Ice for 12000 gold (damn, expensive 🥲). It's made, as you might have realised, from truffle (which already makes it an expensive food), milk, sugar and hazelnut. And Lance will happily accept the chocolate, saying he doesn't usually eat sweets, but will make an exception here...

Of course he'll make an exception - a bar of such an expensive sweet sells for 4500 gold!!! So, the first theory (about not wanting to consume excessive amounts of sugar and carbohydrates in order to maintain his health and figure) partly remains, but he only accepts the best, natural and expensive chocolate, I guess... That's only 500 gold cheaper than a treasure chest! (Jesus Christ...). Mister, I love you, but your flavours of gifts are frickin expensive.

Well, mystery solved - our noble Lance only wants the best and the finest 🤌 But he's always on the job protecting people from monsters, so let him treat himself to something yummy. I still can't understand tho why he hates Magic Rock candy, because it's even more expensive than Truffle Chocolate and more useful in the plans of buffs imposed on Farmer. Maybe this will be fixed in future updates - who knows.

I'll end this post with a follow-up to his quote about chocolate, which made me think really, really hard:

"...In the northern Highlands, there's peculiar monsters that carry just a right ingredients for the chocolate. I've yet to uncover their origin."

🤨

Hmmmmmmmmmmm....

[nadiresdiary]

"Poly" in Polytheism

mostly an open, and very raw talk about Lady Athena by a baby helpol

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* This is a very big yap session, I apologize!! I am getting more and more interested in Lady Athena, Lady Demeter, and Lord Ares.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

But it's weird... especially with Lady Demeter. I am SO out of touch with nature, yet I crave it. I hate cooking, and I only bake if I have to. I only stay outside if the temperature is alright to me. I would LOVE to support local farmers and buy organic food, but I can't afford either. But She feel so incredibly motherly to me. I feel like Her domain is calling to me. I truly believe that humans were made to live and frolic in nature.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Lord Ares is an interesting one... All of my life, I have struggled with anger issues (I get angry easily), passed down on me from both of my parents. At this point in my life, I hold my anger in very well, and tend to go away from situations that make me angry so I they don't "escalate" . I have seen just a handful of posts by Lord Ares' worshippers, and how much He helps them, not just with their anger.

I sometimes tend to forget that anger is not a necessarily bad emotion. It's here to protect, and to make your body recognize when you are being mistreated, for example. From what I have seen, lots of Lord Ares worshippers see Him as a father figure, and I have read a lot about how good of a father He is.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Lady Athena, however... oh, it's a complicated tale on this one.

As I have stated in a prior entry, I don't feel worthy enough to be under Her domain, even though I'd like to be.

All of my life, I have felt inferior, especially in the smarts-area. I have never been book-smart, and my mother never finished school, so there was a LOT she didn't know, and therefore, couldn't teach me. And I don't have a dad, lol.

Anyways, from what my best friend and boyfriend have been telling me, is that I seem to be socially smart. I seem to be wise. But I don't look at these aspects of myself all too fondly all of the time, since those were shaped by trauma.

I had to be careful.

I had to read people and identify their intentions immediately for my safety.

I received a lot of bad grades in my school years, which always made me feel dumber than others. Since there is a high possibility that I have ADHD, I've started to be easier on myself. The system just wasn't made for people like me.

But I love knowledge. I crave knowledge.

I get overwhelmed when my (possible) ADHD wants to suck up Every Single Piece Of Information Ever in the span of one (1) day. And I sulk when I'm not perfect.

I get frustrated when information doesn't stick immediately. I get upset when I have to read a passage over and over and over again because I can't concentrate on Just That.

I don't feel worthy yet, even though I want to finish my high-school diploma somehow after dropping out two years ago, and even though I see and recognize that some things that I say or do, are because of my craving for knowledge.

Should I still reach out? Should I somehow "wait" for a sign from Lady Athena where I know that I am allowed into Her domain? As I see Lady Aphrodite as a gentle, loving and kind Mother, I see Lady Athena as a stern Mother that expects perfection. Am I wrong?

Thank you for reading 🕊️🤍

[high-fantasy-sw]

I kind of hated his old design. So have a new one

As always please click and zoom for best quality, my phone hates me

Edit: WAIT I FORGOT TO POST THE NOTES

His armor is the closest of CF99's to the reg armor he wore as a member of the 501st. I don't know what this means for the reg armor cause I keep changing it's design every few months but you know what. We'll cross that bridge when we get to it.

He keeps his ARC Legionary pauldrons because one does not simply stop being an ARC Legionary after one is exploded, half-necromanced, and rescued from Islands Of Death (tm). He also keeps his handprint because why did you take it away from him The Bad Batch Design Team

His right arm (scomp) and legs are completely skeletonized from the mid-upper-arm and mid-thigh down. So basically everything below the elbow and knees. He does hate having to look at them so his legs are pretty heavily-armored, but his arm, because the necromancy that holds it together is slightly different than the necromancy that does his legs (I'll explain this in a second) can't hold armor because the Death Magic (tm) corrodes right through it and is therefore usually uncovered. For entirely unrelated reasons, he goes barefoot and doesn't wear sabatons, as you can kind of see here (it's cause all the little bones kept getting stuck in the hinges, and even when he tried to wear Ye Olde Socks, they'd get. Stuck on the socks instead.)

His arm itself actually holds the capacity to Necromance, because how else was he supposed to be used as a human conduit for The Evils. As you can see in his portrait. Anyway. So I took a little bit of creative license in the reference because there usually isn't that sick-green magic swirling around it, only when he is actually Being A Necromancer (which have i mentioned he hates). However. Even when he is not actively engaged in necromancy, since his arm itself is held together by this more potent kind of magic, it'll still seep a kind of what I'll call passive necromancy all the same- this is what keeps corroding his arm armor. What this does not mean is that he kills or corrodes everything he touches- it's only when he touches it for an extended period of time- like, an hour or more of unbroken contact.

His headpiece was given to him during his time on Skako Minor. He hates it (like he hates his skeleton-ness) but he wears it because it helps keep his necromancer-abilities in check- meaning, he can regulate when he wants to use the full extent of his arm. When he's not wearing it, it's constantly necromancing all the time and can't really stop it. This makes Tantiss A Fun Time For Him (it doesn't fit right under helmets that are not his custom helmet, so he can't wear it undercover, which means that the whole time he's trying to be undercover on Tantiss his arm keeps melting his stolen armor, he has a throbbing necromancy-induced headache, his eyes are glowing through the visor of his stormtrooper helmet, and he has to watch how much he speaks lest people say to him, "Hey why do you sound like you're speaking with the multitudinous voices of the dead?")

Small Little Details For Funsies:

The skull on his chestplate can be found on the left medallion of his pauldrons.

His kama has two layers. why? IDK but it looks cool. It's also after the style of his 501st kama.

His belt buckle has a 99 on it. Because I couldn't figure out what to put there.

Alrighty there's The Commentary!

[digitalgate02]

BTW, regarding this post re: the digivices in that Beyond crowdfunding art -- I'd like to point out that 02TB did not mean they couldn't make the digivices ever again, but that they weren't more needed to form bonds with a digimon and a human partner.

The movie puts a whole emphasis that at some point of the timeline, the digivices gained this role to mean you're a Chosen Child with a digimon partner, when the actual role they played was to be a tool and assist the human partner to raise their digimon.

yes, like the Crests. And we all know what happens in Adventure episode 53 & 54, right?? -- The kids realize that the power of the Crests were always inside themselves. So the tags only existed with the purpose to guide them to achieve that power by themselves.

If you remember well... Taichi and Hikari in the very first movie of the franchise had no digivices when they had contact with a Botamon who evolved into Koromon and then Agumon and once more to Greymon. Yes, there was like NO DIGIVICE depicted or mentioned before. The math count starts indeed with Rui because he had a digivice when he met Ukkomon for the first time.

⚠ I'd ask for pardon for the tri. fans, but while I don't believe in a legit complete retcon, I do believe the OVA staff misinterpreted the lore -- The "first" Five Chosen depicted in Adv'99 last episodes and also briefly mentioned in the novels cannot be the origins of the Chosen Children or else the whole digi-partnership math rule would make no sense. To explain it, let's just point out that the math rule must start with ONE individual in 1996 and then the year by year that number will DOUBLE. If you had like, FIVE kids at the start, the doubling math per year will also go out of the control -- and thus the Epilogue (2028) would have, like... 5 times the actual number (which is already 8.589.934,592 Chosen Children around the world, so this number times 5 would be... 42.949.672,960 people partnered in the world, i think?). However, i'd like to believe they're the Chosen Children from 1998 and they are the first human group to go to the Digital World. Therefore if there's a change in order to keep Maki and Daigo as part of the main lore, they are not in high positions as the Data Bureau or too older in 2005. And I'd like to prefer to ignore pt5 & pt6 because I don't like their deaths sorry, they're important to me... 😭

ANYWAY, i'd prefer to believe the digivices in Beyond are figurative. Perhaps in the same shape as Adv'99 ep 53-54 showed the Crest like this to rep the power inside their hearts:

And it would've been cool if every time the Chosen had to evolve their partners, something like this but in the shape of a digivice could appear in their hands or chest idk...

I'd prefer to believe the digivices are now the smartphones... They're so cool gdi...!!

look at how cool those are!! Can we PLEASE keep them...

[fareehaandspaniards]

Ultimative Rom post

I was going to post my headcanons, but this turned out to be basically a chronological sequence of facts about her life, almost a biography (as always, I am sorry ).

Thank you, @pyro-madder for the opportunity to finally talk about Rom! I hope you will enjoy that!

Rom's father was a physician and biologist who researched the fauna of the Yharnam counties. He was one of the "old school" doctors - a graduate of Byrgenwerth, a conservative.

So how about the family drama? Here we go. At first he had an affair with a poor woman named Aglaya, Micolash's mother. But after learning of her pregnancy, he disappeared from her life and began a new affair, from which Rom was born. Rom spent a few years of happy childhood with her parents, and then both died in a fire. That's how Rom ended up in an orphanage.

Rom has been very curious since childhood. She was often scolded by her mother for eating grass and flowers xd And one time she even ate a bug… No evil intentions, it was just her way of exploring the world!

She has one single photo left from her parents, capturing her in a cute dress and her mom and dad. She got her red curls from her dad.

Rom's orphanage had strict discipline and focus on the old Yharnam religion (I don't want to openly call this religion Catholicism because it's not :0 But the vibes are generic. Reminds me of the movie adaptation of the novel Jane Eyre, where little Jane gets to go to school). But her extraordinary intelligence helped her stay afloat amidst cruelty and other people's malice, and then her relatives showed up - an uncle and aunt close to her dead father.

They helped Rom to enroll in Byrgenwerth, as the girl showed talent and curiosity for science and medicine. After spending a short time with her relatives, she studied the entire home library, and also at family evenings talked about her observations of the flora and fauna around their estate.

In Byrgenwerth, Rom was quiet at first. She endured ridicule for her red curls and overweight figure. A few generations ago, though, such a figure had been valued more than any other in Yharnam - it showed a healthy body and the ability to bear children.

Almost immediately Rom had a friend, Yurie, a girl who wore a male uniform. They studied at different faculties - Yurie aspired to become a chemist. And it was Yurie who had started this friendship, too. Rom didn't know, but despite her cold temperament, Yurie fell in love with her almost at first sight and was eager to protect her. And she was good at it! But she couldn't express her feelings. Therefore, she was often silent, rebuking Rom or resentful.

At first, Rom became friends with another young man. It seemed to her that she was making friends. The son of a wealthy family, an ambitious historian and future doctor, Laurence, with whom they had once teamed up to pass an exam. But Laurence quickly saw her as a competitor, and also experienced unwanted sympathy, and became her biggest bully. And created for her very many unpleasant situations, shameful and ugly. Her skirt fell off in front of everyone, her chair got dirty, rumors started, and many, many other things that silly children like to do (even if they are adults) :0

But the insults from Laurence allowed her to meet another victim of his taunts. A young man confined to a wheelchair, pale and seemingly almost dead - Caryll. Frustrated and genuinely hating Laurence, Caryll felt sympathy for Rom. So did she for him. This allowed the two to grow close. Gradually, an affection grew between her and Caryll. Rom even felt in love. One night the two of them spent together, secretly, on a Byrgenwerth balcony. They tried to kiss and tried to become a couple. But such feelings are not for Caryll, he loves differently. During that night they shared almost everything - life story, troubles, resentments, joys, secrets, and Caryll even told her about his dreams, how he often has nightmares related to multi-armed monsters (*wink wink*). They became best friends, and in fact, almost family.

Rom and Caryll also found a friend in the main comforter of all students, the librarian Damian. According to my headcanons, Damian is a former graduate of Byrgenwerth and a failed doctor. He was unable to start work as a doctor, and so he asked Master Willem to set him up at his alma mater. Willem valued him as an apprentice, so sometimes Damian got essays of Willem's written works, and those related to the research of the catacombs of Pthumeru once fell into Micolash's hands carelessly… But that's another story xd In the library Damian could do what he loved most - sorting, record keeping and, most importantly, guardianship and supervision. And there was always tea and his cookies available in his library.

There was also another man who had studied at Byrgenwerth. Unfashionable and strange to everyone, but too independent, proud and cunning to be an object of ridicule (In fact, Lawrence was very interested in him). Micolash. He and Rom talked, saw each other, though they were in different faculties, but sometimes found themselves in classes together. They were good together, comfortable. They were both drawn to each other's intellect. And… Romantic feelings were born in Micolash's heart. (Sorry, I really love love and everything related to it, in my stories crushes and feelings are VERY IMPORTANT xD It's my way of exploring characters). But her red curls kept reminding him of something he couldn't guess himself. He began to search for the cause of his embarrassment. Started looking for Rom's papers, found her last name. He found her parents' names on the paperwork. And the name of her father awakened a memory in his mind! Micolash found out about their kinship by breaking into Rom's dorm room while she was away and searching all her things. One picture in her things was enough for him to realize everything. He was hurt and offended because the only person who had attracted his mind and heart turned out to be not just a relative, but the daughter of the man who had once abandoned his mother, leaving her and little Micolash to live in terrible conditions, and also making the woman suffer for him for the rest of her life.

(Forgive me for the Santa Barbara xD)

Over the course of their studying, the relationship between them all only grew stronger. Caryll and Rom had become literally inseparable! Yurie was still wooing Rom, but from afar, without talking to Caryll. She wanted to look strong and tough in Rom's eyes, but she didn't realize that she didn't realize it. Rom had gotten prettier over the years, and that was helped a lot by Caryll supporting her and forcing her to eat food so she wouldn't get physically exhausted, bailing her out of her depression. By this point Caryll had already suffered a small clinical death, and Willem had injected him with a portion of the Great Ones' blood as an experiment. He had already started dreaming about the Runes, hearing voices, and had gotten quite a bit of insight! He even changed his wheelchair to a cane - his legs could move, but only weakly! And only worked when injected with a dose of blood. Rom became more independent and began to engage in debates with Laurence during lectures and outside of school. And even managed to shame him once (piquing his interest even more). Rom was gradually transforming into a grown woman - her body was transforming, as was her mindset. She became one of Willem's favorite students - demonstrating theories on the effects of flowers and plants on perception, as well as (without knowing it herself), revealing the unusual nature of Lumenflowers. Also during this time Damian and Micolash became a couple, and Damian couldn't devote much time to the students besides him. But he and Rom still kept exchanging things and stuff - like scented soap, cloth, and other household trifles.

Laurence had changed, too, and so had Rom. And he had gotten away from the "spoiled boy" image with what Gehrman had helped him by becoming somewhat of a father figure to him. Laurence looked forward to the future, communicated with Willem and promoted the theory of the Blood, studying it with Willem himself. Thanks to Laurence also, one day Willem took the students on a field trip to the catacombs, where Laurence was able to collect even more samples. At this time, Willem also starts working with a rebellious knight from Cainhurst, who actively helps with the exploration of the catacombs in exchange for shelter and organizes his own little order, which he named after the warrior-soldiers in Cainhurst and one of his old mentors (Logarius! I'll write about him later for sure! In another huge as Bayle post of headcanons).

There goes a visit to Fishing Hamlet! Which had already been destroyed by the hunters, Maria and Gehrman were already here, as well as Willem and Logarius. The students visited what was left. But were able to see the corpse of the Great One. And it affected each of them in its own way! But it was Kos's parasites that interested Rom. She spent a long time rummaging among the snails and worms, examining and studying. She even found the corpse of a female snail in a pile of rot. And something was keeping her in suspense. Everyone around her was grieving, and she couldn't do it. She just couldn't feel the bitterness and fear and remained calm. She felt interest and excitement. She felt not the pain of Kos, but the remnants of her spirit and desire to live that were leading her to the sea!

Laurence contemplates a future marriage, the first project of treatment with purified blood appears, and the study of sea water. And… He has a weakness for Rom, who absolutely does not care about him! He saw in her, finally, not a rival, but a beautiful young woman with a brilliant mind and extraordinary character. He even offered her an engagement, it would be beneficial to both of them. But Rom refused (and Caryll showed him a middle finger lol).

Rom hates direct eye contact. She also has a hard time understanding irony and sarcasm - she takes everything literally. Rom is great with facts and direct arguments! She's also a perfectionist. Sometimes she felt like she was forcing herself to express emotions and doing it "too" artistic? She really wanted to let others know how she felt because she was considered "ice cold" at the shelter. (Yes, she is autistic. And I haven't yet consulted with my friends who have autism about how Rom might feel. And I've only used what I've read myself (or seen) to create it. But if you disagree with my view of her as autistic person, please text me and tell me what's wrong, I need corrections)

Rom met Gehrman at Willem's request (much to Laurence's delight). And she also met the huntress Maria, originally from Cainhurst. The four spent one evening in his workshop, and Rom enjoyed listening to stories of his life. Actually, she and Maria found common ground too - with the help of blood gems. However, Maria always felt uncomfortable around Rom. Under Rom's gaze, it was hard for her to say anything, she felt guilty and ashamed of what she was doing. Rom didn't understand her feelings, but she realized that something was wrong with her.

Opening of the Research Hall. Rom was supposed to work there as a doctor. But positions and jobs don't interest her much, she cares about research. She works with parasites and injects seawater into herself. Rom researches growing eyes on people, and here she is helped by Caryll, keeping an eye on her health. Rom gradually becomes a patient of her own free will, and lives on the upper levels of the Research Hall, in a laboratory, alone, visited only by her doctor.

Rom's hair is almost impossible to put together in a neat bundle - it will always stick out in different directions. Despite the fact that she and Micolash are complete opposites, they have a lot of similarities - those protruding locks of hair, the frown, the passion for unethical research lol

Laurence, already a vicar, Willem's assistant, begins now to care for her openly. His work takes up all his time, but he carves out hours to check on Rom and ask the doctors what is happening to her. He sends her small gifts and food and tries to visit her. And… She reciprocates. I can't count how many shitpost sketches I have in my head about this. Because Caryll was horrified when he found out that Rom had forgiven Laurence for all his wrongdoings and become his lady of the heart!

The Tomb Prospectors under the command of Ludwig, a knight from the southern lands, are hard at work for the Church. Olek, Gremia and Damian are among his charges. Tomb Prospectors discover the first Augur of Ebrietas, and Laurence, as a gift (giving her food for thought, so to say) gives him to Rom to examine. Augur lives in Rom's terrarium and crawls on her hands. She discovers that it gives off vibrations similar to those she heard in the Fishing Hamlet. And she discovers that Augur has the ability to leave burns on her skin. These burns are treated by Caryll and kissed by Laurence.

Yurie also works at the Research Hall. But Rom won't let her near her. And the girl's broken heart is healed by another lady doctor of the Research Hall named Madlene (And in the future it will be Imposter Iosefka)! Also, Yurie picks up her little nephew named Edgar from the orphanage :^)

Micolash ignores his sister. He is solely researching Saint Adeline and making her his own test subject (At her own will). From the moment he found out about their sibling bond, Micolash and Rom have been distant from each other and even feuding. He now considers Rom "unhinged" and "stupid" because of her research methods. He believes that trying everything on her body is barbaric and a waste of resource.

Tomb Prospectors dubbed Rom a "hottie" when they saw her with Damian! :D

Also Rom is incredibly tall among all other women! (Except for Maria maybe who is also tall) Rom is 6′ 0″, and while Laurence 5' 5" lol... They are quite a funny couple. But Laurence never complains. Actually he has the best view when he talks to her.

Rom is the first to bandage her eyes to discover her new vision. And is the first to start seeing "more". Caryll helps her settle into life with the insight lol. Her bandaged eyes will become the basis for the Choir hat.

Rom and Laurence go on dates when she manages to get out of her research center and he manages to get out of the Church. But Rom is more interested in discussing augurs than romance, and Laurence has to temper his own passionate feelings for her each time. Still, the two gradually come to bodily intimacy. Laurence also becomes very caring. He feels like a child with her, and suddenly begins to show guardianship and attentiveness.

Rom studies the Augurs and hears their call. She learns from their singing about the "daughter of the stars". And builds a theory about the sacredness of the mother-child bond.

She and St. Adeline had seen each other several times. And they saw each other as rivals - both aspiring to the Great Ones in their own measure. Adeline wished to have a child, she heard voices in her head assuring her that Kos was blessing mothers and families, and that would set Rom on a future idea >>>

Rom makes a plan for her own pregnancy. She wouldn't admit it, but she sees Laurence as her instrument. Her research takes her head over heels, and takes her very much away from the people closest to her. In an attempt to learn more about the Great Ones, she even rummages into Caryll's papers, waiting until he falls asleep to check what he has in his researches. Rom realizes Kos's mother nature, and tries to make contact, again using only herself for the experiment. And this idea she shares with Willem, who is proud of Romina and supportive, helping to plan for all future consequences. He becomes her new "family". And now she gets secrets from her two favorite people, Laurence and Caryll.

She does become pregnant after a night with Laurence. She hears much, much more. And one night a call comes to her, a real crying cry for help. She hears Ebrietas. (Laurence is the last to learn of this news. But he is still happy and hopes that they can become a family)

Ebrietas, discovered by Tomb Prospectors in the catacombs of Isz, is frightened and confused. She screams into the void, and Rom takes her signal as a beacon. Several Tomb Prospectors die in the battle with Ebrietas, and the survivors experience their first doubts about what they are doing. The monster that tore and trampled their companions is elevated to "Holy" by the Church, and no one mentions the dead so as not to taint the image of the new icon. Damian renounces here the teachings of the Church. But despite his resentment towards Rom, because she doesn't seem to care about his grief, he maintains a friendship with her, albeit a weak one.

Speaking of how Ebrietas ended up in the Church, or rather, in a large cave under the Upper Cathedral Ward. I think it was simply that there were ancient ruins under the Cathedral District that Ibraitas managed to "summon" to. Honestly, I have no idea how else she could have been transported xd Crawling through the catacombs and the city? Nuh uh. Teleport? Maybe. Or summoning with ritual and stuff in a certain place where the voices and whispers are particularly strong.

Rom is known as "weird" in the Healing Church, and it is known to quite a few that she is the vicar's sweetheart. Logarius is very judgmental of the vicar for allowing a woman taking up his precious time. But Laurence is a good enough leader to not let him talk about it much xd

Around this point, Micolash already has intentions of leaving the Church and establishing his own line of study of the Great Ones. Damian is absolutely on his side, for his encounter with Ebraitas has left a wound on his soul, as well as a deep aversion to the Church's perception of the Great Ones. They both choose Kos as their beacon, separating her from the rest of the Great Ones. Damian and Rom are forced to cut off their friendship for good.

The Choir was founded! And Rom becomes its idol and prophet (My version of Rom in the transparent blue dress is already relevant here. This dress was created for her by Laurence, or rather, designed for her by him). He decorated it with stars. Rom didn't do any more research. She only broadcast Ebrietas' will and communicated with her. Her body starts changing - a plate of chitin appears on her cheek, one eye darkens, and the pupil in it multiplies by eight. She begins to grow flowers that will cover her entire body in the future.

Caryll leaves the church to pursue the study of runes at the Mensis School, and… Rom, to his surprise, feels nothing. Moreover, because of her prolonged contact with Ibraitas, she begins to forget her old life and the people she loves.

Rom's child is never born - she loses the child. But that child will return to her, becoming a multitude of spiders that appear with her during the battle. Laurence has been heartbroken - his girlfriend, his love, the one he chose to marry - has isolated herself and given herself over to an insight. He wanted to be a father. And all their shared dreams of a family went down the drain. But he doesn't complain - his feelings are less important, than coming fall of Healing Church and Yharnam that Laurence can feel. He never knew that he was part of her plan. Though Rom did love him. But curiosity was paramount.

Yurie went from the Research Hall to the Choir, following Rom. But Rom hardly noticed her attempts to protect and be near her. And this annoyed Madlene (Imposter Iosefka), who despised not only Rom's working methods but also her impulsive nature.

Rom and Ebrietas find each other as two halves. A daughter finds future mother. An orphan meets a similar orphan. They resonate with each other in the strongest possible way, and Rom learns to understand her by transmitting the Great One's speech. Rom spends all her time with Ebrietas. And will exist next to Ebrietas without reacting to anyone around her. Everyone will think she's lost her mind, but Caryll will know it's still the same Rom, just on different levels and planes.

Rom will exist already as a spider and she will be visited by Laurence, Caryll, Yurie and then Damian will come to her when his life's work proves to be a failure. Willem never came to her - he had stopped contacting anyone. But really, Rom and he didn't need to - Willem knew his apprentice had ascended.

And then she'll shelter Yahar'gul at the cost of herself. And Micolash will be annoyed - such potential, and wasted. Rom achieved what he couldn't - Contact. And wasted it, in his opinion. That's why he calls her an "idiot."

I can say that Rom has always been a loner, and even being surrounded by people - she remained lonely. Only Caryll could understand her and was practically her soulmate, but gradually they started to keep secrets from each other - secret knowledge creates jealousy and fear. She experimented only on herself, not out of fear of harming others, but more out of a desire to feel the results, even if it hurt and was bad. She is probably the most successful of scientists - she accomplished her goal.

I apologize for the amount of text! Adding my old art with Rom: (just because)

[gunsandspaceships]

Sorting Hat

In this post, @van-dyne perfectly described why Tony is a Gryffindor. Although @sortinghatchats themselves put him in Slytherin, having made mistakes on all fronts with their reasons.

I took it upon myself to take their test for him based on his actions in the MCU. I'll show all the answers and add notes on why I chose them.

Remember IM1, when Tony returned from Afghanistan and stopped weapons production at his company? His closest people, Obadiah Stane and James Rhodes, were unhappy with this and tried to convince him to get back and work with the military. Did he act against their wishes? I hope you watched the movie.

Pepper was shocked that Tony became a vigilante and was strongly against it, knowing that it would kill him sooner or later. The mission was too important for Tony to abandon it for the sake of his "inner circle."

The list of examples would be too long, so I'll just add one more: in Infinity War, Pepper told him that he shouldn't wear the nanoparticle housing on his chest all the time, which he rationally couldn't agree to. He then rushed to rescue Strange on the Donut ship, and Pepper told him to fly back immediately. He felt guilty, said he was sorry, but there was no way he was just going to abandon Strange and go home to Pepper.

To suggest that Tony puts "his people" above others is simply ridiculous.

"I just finally know what I have to do. And I know in my heart that it's right".

In addition to what has already been said about his intuitive morality:

In Tony's case, it is difficult to distinguish intuition from conscious reasoning. Mainly because the other characters don't seem to have any conscious reasoning at all (guys, you almost lost to the Chitauri. What makes you think you can handle the next alien attack?). It is therefore unclear whether his understanding of the coming imminent threats from space is reasoning or intuition. But in any case, he listened to it and took action to prevent the catastrophe.

We can also use examples like when he realized Loki's plan in The Avengers, created Vision from JARVIS, and chose to trust Peter.

That's what he always did. From the cave in Afghanistan when he decided to build the arc reactor and armor, to the choice he made in Endgame to stay with his family or go and complete his mission. He took a breath, checked with himself and figured out the path he wanted to take.

Family was what he desired. What he never really had before Endgame. But that wasn't his top priority because HE wasn't a priority for himself. He had a mission to make the world a better place through science, technology and heroic deeds. Although he would prefer to delegate the latter to a protective AI and send the superheroes, including himself, into a well-deserved peaceful retirement.

In IM3, when he was told that he could only save the US President or Pepper, he decided to try to save the President first.

In Endgame, although his reasoning told him that he shouldn't mess with time and should stay with his finally found family, he knew that if he chose that option, he wouldn't be able to live in peace. Because his heart had another priority.

This question is quite difficult to answer because of its complexity, and there are not many situations like this. But I'd go with the Senate hearing in IM2, where the senator from Hydra tried to take the suit away from Tony. Tony didn't know Hydra still existed, but he felt it was wrong to give that to this guy and the military in general, even if their arguments made sense.

Another example is the conversation between Tony and Strange in Infinity War when they were deciding whether to go to Titan or return to Earth: "I don’t know what to do. So I’m not so sure if it’s a better plan to fight him on our turf or his… but you saw what they did, what they can do. At least on his turf, he’s not expecting."

In IM1, he learned that his friend tried to kill him, that his weapons were sold to terrorists, and that he didn't know what was going on in his company. He believed in the wrong people, and he believed in the wrong premises whose people fed him. He fixed it and moved on, doing better.

In IM2, he learned that his belief that his father didn't love him was wrong (at least from his point of view). He learned it, moved on, and became a better father than his own ever was.

In CA:CW, he learned that Barnes was framed and that he did not carry out the attack on the UN. He decided to do better and went to help Rogers and Barnes in Siberia.

No matter how many times and for what reasons Pepper, Rhodes, and the Avengers disagreed with him, he never stopped caring for them and respecting them. Even after betrayals, when other people would never forgive and trust again.

It's a bit of a paradox: Tony didn't trust his own decisions, as Happy told us in SM:FFH: "Tony was my best friend, and he was a mess. He second-guessed everything he did", and didn't trust his abilities, which we see in IM3 and AoU (his biggest fear is not being able to protect Earth, not doing enough). But he trusted his inner feeling of what is right.

Tony's fuel was his mission. Even if he were left completely alone, he would not abandon it. This happened to him in IM1, when he returned from captivity and no one from his inner circle supported his new cause. Or CA:CW, when he was betrayed and abandoned, but he had a job to do and a planet to protect.

Tony in IM3, when told he can either save the US President or Pepper: saves both.

When he is told he can only save 4 people who fell from Air Force One: saves all 13.

Tony in CA:CW: mourning the death of a boy who died in the Battle of Sokovia.

In SM:H Peter and Tony: "I just wanted to be like you". "And I wanted you to be better".

Tony and Pepper in Endgame: "I can't help everybody". "Sorta seems like you can". "Not if I stop. I can put a pin in it right now and stop". "Tony, trying to get you to stop has been one of the few failures of my entire life". "Something tells me I should put it in a lockbox and drop it to the bottom of the lake and go to bed." "But would you be able to rest?"

Between being a "kind liar" to comfort delusional people and being harsh but sticking to what he believes is right, Tony mostly chooses the latter.

Although there were also many times where he chose to be kind and "not right" because being kind was more important to others in those situations: letting Nebula win their paper football competition, agreeing to mess with time to get back 50% of the universe, fixing and returning the shield to Rogers, etc.

Tony is known for his tendency to isolate himself and try to do everything alone. He takes responsibility and would take all the blame in the world if he could. If he believes something needs to be done and others may disagree, he will be brave enough to at least try and then live with the consequences.

Powerless to protect people. In the movies, he got angry several times when he thought he failed to prevent something (save people from Thanos - the anger he unleashed on Rogers in Endgame), that he did something wrong (gave Peter the suit in SM:H), when he couldn't convince others not to make mistakes (CA:CW before the airport battle).

He literally ignored Ross' call in CA:CW to help the rogue Avengers escape from the Raft.

But seriously, it depends on the calling: I chose what Tony would most likely choose. Although if the calling was to save lives at the cost of letting a friend down, he would pay the price, but would later feel guilty about it and would do everything to help his friend once the people were out of danger.

Tony made some decisions in his life that he regretted, actually saying that "it was selfish and stupid": IM3 - after the attack on the Malibu mansion Ultron ("My fault")

Tony tried to save Stane when he was falling off the roof in a deleted scene in IM1. He forgave Rhodey after he stole the Mark II and gave it to the military and Justin Hammer. He forgave Rogers, Natasha, and the rogue Avengers. None of them have changed. He just always forgives.

But not in a selfish way. That's exactly how Tony would answer, even though he wasn't the most important thing to himself and would sacrifice everything he loved for the sake of other people. He was not "specific people-focused", but "cause-focused", where the cause was to protect people.

When he sacrificed his life in Endgame, he sacrificed his daughter too because he killed her father. He asked her for forgiveness for this in a deleted scene of the Soul Stone vision before he died. He couldn't die peacefully without it, but he also couldn't let others die. He sacrificed his wife because he killed her husband. He did this so that all people could live except himself, and so that all families could be reunited except his own family.

And let's not forget the episode of What If? where Tony, unlike Thor, cared about the people of Sakaar (a Gryffindor/Hufflepuff trait), while Thor only cared about his people from Asgard (a Slytherin trait).

Here we are. Pure Gryffindor. There's no "you may also consider that you are a Snake/Bird/Badger". The real Sorting Hat would not even hesitate. I got the Lion primary too, but with "you may also consider that you are a Snake primary".

He also got Lion secondary, but that doesn't fit into this post. If anyone is interested, I will make a separate post.

And if someone disagrees with the options I have chosen - bring your own booze arguments.

[karenandhenwilson]

"Don't trust any statistics you haven't faked yourself." That's a quote my math teacher in 10th grade put on the front page of our statistics exam that year. And it's stayed with me, taught me to be cautious. It's not always so easy to take apart a so called statistical analysis as the one I read yesterday, though.

Let's talk about how the tag system on AO3 works for the free tags.

There are tag wranglers who group tags together that appear to have the same meaning. That creates a mix of different tags that are originally meant differently that can be found under the same parent tag. And that means you'll find all different kinds of stories under a certain tag that you really weren't looking for.

The "Chimney Han bashing" tag for example.

Go to the oldest story you'll find when you filter the tag. It's not a Chimney bashing fic. I'm not even sure which of the tags on the story have made it appear under "Chimney bashing". It's a pretty lovely written (as far as I've read, and I haven't read much of it because I can't deal with a cancer storyline right now) fic about Chimney's journey after he is diagnosed with cancer in season 2. It's focused on Chimney, Hen, and Maddie. But you don't even need to go into the story to figure that out, you'll see it right in the tags.

So I dare to say that any statistical analysis that even mentions this story but doesn't point out it's actually a very decidedly Chimney positive fic that somehow shows up in the Chimney bashing tag is flawed from the get go. You really wasted your time writing all that when you couldn't even look at your data without your bias showing from the very first moment.

And this is really just the most obvious flaw in that whole thing. I'm not going to adress much more of it, because my time was already wasted enough reading the original post, but one little reminder of 9-1-1 fandon history under the cut.

There are a lot of common tags that show up if you just filter by the "Chimney bashing" tag. Like "not Chimney friendly" and "Chimney critical". And those tags are mostly put in place because you'll have Chimney stans jumping at your throat in your comments about anything that looks at any of Chimney's actions even just a little critical. Many of those stories don't even mention Chimney much, but some of his actions are discussed by other characters from their POV, and therefore aren't always very favorable. But because in 2021 and 2022 a small group of fans decided to harass everyone who didn't worship their two favorites, many writers saw themselves forced to be extra cautious with warning about that.

If you really want to do an analysis about the "Chimney bashing" tag, you'll have to do the work and actually separate the different tags and then also check if that tag is warranted or just put there as a precaution so Chimeny fans know to stay away. (Not that they ever learned that lesson until the moment they attacked a Korean artist for depicting a Korean character "wrongfully" earlier this year and were called out for their bullshit. And instead of apologizing they cried about being the victims of harassment and then promptly left tumblr.)

[hopepetal]

Welcome to villain Hotguy and the Scarlet Witch! Based off of this post by yours truly! Enjoy!

Hotguy was a very well-known hero. Not only that, but he was well-liked. So much so, in fact, that he was rarely ever out of the public eye. It was hard, after all, to be so famous and still be able to sneak around the city as he once did as a teenager. Not helped at all by his signature colours and outfit that stood out from the general populace, Hotguy always found it quite difficult to visit his boss.

Not his “boss” as the civilians of the city knew it. Hotguy felt his lips curl up in a disgusted sneer just thinking about that fraud that called himself the mayor of the city. It made him sick to his stomach just to recall those fake smiles, pressed suits, greasy hair and poisonous words.

No, his true boss was one he once greatly feared. They had been enemies at one point, even, before Hotguy had discovered the true horrors of the city's council and what they had done to Cuteguy. After a thorough butt-kicking, Hotguy had been offered a place not necessarily by her side, but still on her side. That had been enough for him and he had taken the offer gladly, working under the notorious Scarlet Witch to expose the corruption of the government.

As he walked down the darkened hallway, Hotguy couldn't help but admire the amount of effort that went in to maintaining the “villainous ambiance” if he did say so himself. He wasn't sure if it was more because of the Scarlet Witch being a moth hybrid and therefore a little more sensitive to light than most, but whatever the reason was, the whole low light kind of deal made everything just a little more spooky.

Hotguy's boots clicked against the hard gray floors as he made his way to the large, ornate door. He had never really figured out what the floor was made out of, and had stopped asking after the Scarlet Witch had responded with “the bones of my former soulmates” and winked at him. Which, one, terrifying, and two, he was dating Cuteguy. So. He was fairly certain he was not the Scarlet Witch's soulmate.

Stopping at the door, Hotguy took a deep breath. He raised a hand and knocked once, twice, thrice upon the wooden panels, grabbing the doorknob and pushing at the light “come in!” that rang out from inside. In true Scarlet Witch fashion, she was sitting in a comfortable chair behind a desk, the curtains closed tightly behind her. Hotguy did not question the decision of the builders who put windows in the room of someone as light sensitive as the Scarlet Witch, at least not out loud.

Having donned her signature red cloak and hood along with a white dress shirt tucked into black leggings, the Scarlet Witch wore a light smile on her face. The upper half of her face was covered by the masquerade ball-esque mask not even Hotguy had seen her without, but her expressions came across through her body language. She was happy, having clearly heard about the successful mission Hotguy just returned from. “Take a seat!” she exclaimed, gesturing to the chair across from her on the opposite side of the desk.

Hotguy sat, leaning back in the chair with a bright smile on his face. “Well hello there, Scarlet! Fancy seeing you here!” he said, like he wasn't fully aware that this was the Scarlet Witch's office. “I'm guessing you got the good news?”

The Scarlet Witch nodded, leaning forward and clasping two of her four hands in front of her on the desk. “You found Cuteguy and successfully extracted him from the facility alongside the vigilante Redstone Man?”

“You know it!” Hotguy's smile fell for a moment. “It was pretty bad. We got him to the private hospital though, so he'll be right as rain soon enough!”

The Scarlet Witch hummed thoughtfully, continuing to nod. “I hope that is the case. What is the status of the Listener and the Canary?”

Hotguy shrugged. “Weren't present, so I guess they had bigger fish to fry. I know something was going on downtown but I didn't really pay attention to it. Something about potatoes... Redstone Man vehemently denied any sort of involvement which makes me think he's involved, but hey, a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do.”

The Scarlet Witch sighed, breathing out a soft chuckle. “Vigilantes. Always so... interesting.” Her word choice left much to be said, but Hotguy could kinda figure it out from her tone.

“Yep! Life certainly wouldn’t be the same without them!” Hotguy chirped, thinking back fondly on all of his encounters with Redstone Man and Potato Boy. Despite them insisting they were not the same person, Hotguy knew they absolutely were but decided to humor them. “Right, so that was kind of about all I had for now. Did you have a next move for us, or…?”

The Scarlet Witch shook her head. “I should have a plan by our next weekly meeting with the others, but all I wanted to do at the moment was check in with you and make sure my bro- that Cuteguy was alright.” All four of her hands tightened into fists. “I swear that the ones who did this will pay,” she got out from in between clenched teeth, “no one hurts an ally of the Scarlet Witch and gets away with it. No one.” 

Hotguy kept the smile on his face despite the fear that ran ice cold through his veins. He held in a shudder as he subconsciously hugged himself. “Right, of course! Same goes for good ol’ Hotguy over here. No one hurts my friends! That’s the Hotguy promise!”

The Scarlet Witch gave him a wry smile. “You’re a good friend, Hotguy, and a good person to  have on my side. I’m glad I kicked your butt that day.”

Hotguy let out an exasperated huff. “You only slightly kicked my butt, and I was distracted-!”

“Uh-huh, I’m sure. Let’s go with that.” The Scarlet Witch stood, walking around to Hotguy’s side of the desk. She gestured for him to stand and follow her, and he did, following after as she walked to the door. “I’ll see you at the next meeting, then. I’m heading out myself, but I wish you a safe trip home.” She opened the door and held it for Hotguy before slipping out after him. 

Thanking her for the kind gesture, Hotguy nodded. “You as well. Don’t get kidnapped or something, m’kay?”

Although he couldn’t see her face, Hotguy knew she was giving him the most deadpan stare right now. “Yeah, because that’s something I have to worry about.” She turned and began walking away, raising a hand in goodbye without turning back. 

Hotguy let out a sigh, and began his own journey back home. He’d have to take the back alleys, of course, but he didn’t mind. He was just glad to have his boyfriend back, even if Cuteguy was in the hospital for the time being. It was a start on the long road to recovery, and Hotguy was optimistic even as he recalled how fragile Cuteguy had been, strapped to the operating table in that paper thin gown, completely oblivious to the world around him.

The image of how Hotguy had found his boyfriend and “nemesis” as the public thought, with Cuteguy being a villain, made his chest ache with a grief he didn’t understand. Cuteguy wasn’t dead, he was alive and on the mend thanks to Hotguy! As he ducked into the alleyway, Hotguy figured it was the self blame coming back to eat at him again. Logically, he knew he had done all he could, but Cuteguy’s capture had still been some of his fault-

Nope! Not thinking about that! Just get home, go pet Jellie, and cry about everything in bed! That sounded like a great plan. 

And that was exactly what he did.

[dokk-fukuro]

hii! ive really loved your "your relationship with ___" posts and I was wondering if you could do one with ranpo

Of course, anon-chan!     A/N: f!reader, mention of female genitals, smut

۞₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪۞

Ranpo as your friend:

You can hang out together, chilling out somewhere. Since there are no truly “interesting” things for him, your doing nothing happens very often;

Fool around somewhere away from everyone. Edogawa loves spending time with you, sharing secrets. However, Rampo also likes to listen to what you tell him. It's so fun to listen to the lives of ordinary people, far from forensics and detective investigations;

Sometimes you can't see how a guy can steal your goodies on the sly, coming up with an absolutely stupid reason for it;

Sometimes he can call you quite suddenly, entrusting a “very important mission” to accompany him somewhere;

Watch horror movies together, because it's impossible to watch true-crime with him, 'cause Rampo immediately spoils who the criminal is and what are the motives;

Your friendship started thanks to Kenji. You have known each other for a long time due to the fact that your grandparents often buy fresh vegetables from him. Miyazawa thought it would be a good idea to introduce you to Ranpo;

Not as open with you as you'd like, but you're not too upset about it. After all, Edogawa trusts you, which is more important;

Ranpo as your boyfriend:

Tomfoolery is not a hindrance to your relationship. Rather, on the contrary, you like that he is easy-going;

Spend time together quite often. He will always find time for you, because there is not a single case that he would not unravel in a couple of minutes. Therefore, you become the only reason why Rampo often does not visit the ADA headquarters;

If you come to the guys, then you start the whole quest “Find all the hidden sweets”. You always carry something tasty for him with you;

You are the only one who has seen his entire collection of Ramune soda glass balls. As Edogawa said: "It's an important secret." By the way, you still haven't figured out the cipher of them;

Doesn't say directly that he loves you, because it's obvious. In general, when you couldn't solve the glass balls cipher, Ranpo even took offense at you;

His hugs are breathtaking, especially when you're making love; ۞₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪۞ Edogawa's arms, under your back, wrap around you tightly as the Great Detective moves rhythmically inside you. At the moments when Ranpo's dick is especially deep inside you and you tight up around his length, the young man groans unrestrainedly. It is very difficult for him to restrain himself at times when you bite him on the earlobe or your walls are squeezed his dick very tightly. In the moments of your solitude, he does not resort to his "ability", because spontaneity and suddenness are much more pleasant. “Come on sweetie, just a little more, I’m so close!” the brunette moans, trying to squeeze you as tightly as possible to him. If only you knew how much he loves when there is not a centimeter of distance between your bodies. ۞₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪۞

You are the second person, after Fukuzawa, from whom he expects praise for his actions, because deep down he considers you to be a special person for him;

[anncanta]

***

It's amazing how some things reveal themselves when you look at them from the outside, through someone else's eyes, or after some time, when you forget the details that lie in the foreground and therefore seem obvious.

I couldn't figure out where I got this pattern in which Dracula in my fanfictions is very careful with Agatha the first time he bites her. It was so bright and acutely palpable, and it appeared again and again. Dracula behaves gently, he does not rush her and somehow makes her understand that it will not be painful and scary, and interesting discoveries await her. You see, it seemed to me that this was just my fantasy. Well, you never know what kind of kinks a person can have. Such light BDSM in a vampire way.

And then I understood, thanks to @moremoveslessannouncements-blog and her post, why. It's in the text. Fanfiction never lies. Fanfics always show what is in the canon, it just may be the main feature of the hero or plot or a secondary one. But in this case, everything was right before my eyes.

You see, I always thought that in the scene in the workshop, he was threatening her. ‘I will make you last’, ‘You'll be part of me’, ‘You'll travel to the new world in my veins’ ... This text is truly threatening. If it weren't for the body language that accompanies it.

Context is important, especially the physical, bodily context.

This is not a threat.

This is a threat.

If you forget about the text for a moment and watch what Dracula is doing, he slowly approaches her, looks at her intently, and gently runs his hand along her neck.

Let's turn on the sound and look at everything together. And again we ask the question – what is he doing?

I mean, not what are his actions, but what are they about?

And I'll tell you. He explains to her what will happen.

And when I realized this, I realized how blind I was. Because, well, look. How many of his victims did Dracula explain what he was going to do to them and how it worked?

Jonathan didn't even know what Dracula was doing until he found himself exhausted at his desk with the prospect of being locked in a box in a couple of weeks.

The Grand Duchess was eaten during a passionate waltz, without further ado.

Abramov and Portman were devoured almost without ceremony.

With Dorabella, Dracula made a good attempt to be polite and gallant but did not go into details of what was happening.

I purposely describe this so cynically so that it is clear what I mean.

Agatha is the only one of all Dracula's victims (perhaps except for Lucy, but that's a separate discussion) to whom he explains what would happen.

I only now realized what it was.

Let's return to Agatha's workshop. Dracula lets Mina go, and he and Agatha are left alone. He knows she's scared. He doesn't see, he knows it. He has an animal sense and can smell her fear. Agatha can be calm outwardly as much as she wants – he senses it. This is not yet Dracula we will see in the third episode, so it doesn't even occur to him to let her go. But he is interested in her. He likes her. And he – clumsily, in his own way, as best he can – calms her down. ‘Don't be afraid. You won't disappear. You will become a part of me. Your life will continue in the new world in a new form.’ And then this touch on the shoulder: ‘Hush, it won't hurt.’

I heard it. This appears in literally every text I write about them, one way or another. But I sincerely thought that it was my imagination.

If anyone still doubts it, then there is a scene between Dracula and Zoe in the third episode. Here, Dracula has already come a long way and therefore can express what he feels, not only with a gesture – now frankly intimate – but also with words. He can tell her this, still rather rudely and seasoned with mockery, but directly: ‘It doesn't have to hurt.’ The scene in his mind palace is not only a dialogue with Zoe here and now. This is a memory. He can afford more now. And he does. But it's still not quite ‘that’. We will see how he succeeded in the finale.

Well, to summarize, I would like to note that this entire storyline is missing in the script. It has the text that Dracula speaks on all three occasions (episode 1, in Agatha's workshop, episode 3, in the mind palace, and the finale), but it doesn't have the body language and subtle interactions that create this entire plot. Which is logical – the film and the script are not the same thing, the film is formed in the process of working on it, and some things are simply born on the set. But when the text is ready, they are impossible not to be noticed and impossible to be ignored. Luckily, fan fiction exists.

Thanks again @moremoveslessannouncements-blog.

[lock-my-feelings-in-a-jar]

What do you do when you feel lonely

i honestly feel like loneliness has been such a permanent part of my life every single day, i don't even know how to not be lonely anymore. it always feels like that's just life and i have to live with it forever no matter what i do. going for walks helps sometimes, thinking a lot(depending where my thoughts are at), letting myself feel the feelings if i need to. wait for the feelings to lessen. for most of my life, i haven't felt like i can do much else about it, really.

when it's really bad and i'm in a very emotional state, sometimes i just go in my bathroom and cry as much as i need to. the thoughts tend to make me spiral a bit when i get in that negative kind of mood. memories, fears for the future, "why am i like this" etc.

i never used to do this when i was younger, but now that i feel like i've kind of learned how to cry(thanks to music), sometimes it feels like it's all been so built up over the years that it comes out in big emotional spurts now.

it's like i had a self defense thing going on where nothing felt like it bothered me, even if it did. i just couldn't feel it at the time. but in typing this now, i do remember being a kid and occasionally crying at night and thinking, because my dad was very religious but i was always secretly kind of a skeptic, i remember thinking "i don't know if there is a god, but just in case, i'm gonna pray that i meet some friends". i almost completely forgot about that. another thing to relate to a lyric.

speaking of lyrics, now, in the times that it's not enough to make me cry like that but still gets me down, i usually end up listening to songs that make me feel better on repeat. (certain russ ballard songs) sometimes i just need to hear some simple words outright telling me that i'm not alone, or telling a story that i can relate with that reminds me i'm not the only one that feels this, therefore i'm not alone.

sometimes i also turn toward multiplayer games, you know the kind that have a game chat and you can talk to people about the game or whatever else. even if i don't have anything to add to it, sometimes just seeing other people say things makes me feel better somehow. i don't know if that's weird.

over this summer, i didn't really feel it that bad though, because i was trying to figure out what i needed to do for myself. like all focus was just on me trying to learn to do basic everyday things, as kind of a first step towards independence(and instruments). which i very much need. i was happier about everything this year while i was doing that. the best year of my life, actually.

yes this is a post about loneliness and i'm talking about trying to learn how to support myself and not needing anybody else. but that's kind of where that starts. because if i can learn to be more independent, self confident, etc. i think a lot of other things would kind of start to fall into place for me too, including socially(hopefully). i need to take care of myself first so i can build myself up to a better place for other things to happen and actually start trying to live life. it's like a house having a sturdy foundation.

it's winter now and winter is always the worst for me mental health-wise, so i'm giving myself a break and hoping to resume all of this in the spring when i start feeling better again. but i'm still keeping up on some of the things i started in the summer, so that's already a step up for next year. one step at a time.

to attempting to tackle problems at the roots, which may or may not be different for different people!

🥂

[clink noise]

🎉

[humunanunga]

Say it came through science. Simple rituals to levitate objects. The first result was the most surprising. You tried to explain it using quantum mechanics and still couldn't place an explanation.

What would you call it, as gravity vanished?

I... think this is supposed to be some kinda gotcha, under the impression that I said not to believe in magic? But I have more than one answer to this, some in direct response to this and some not. So let me just go down the list and maybe I'll figure out how to abbreviate myself along the way.

I'll start by saying that what is science to us in the 21st century would very much be sorcery back in the Bronze Age. And that's before even touching upon alchemy, which played a major role in the development of the scientific method. In this way, the difference between science and real-world "magic" is the framing. Programming could be described as spellbinding. 3d-printing could be described as conjuration. Pharmaceuticals could be described as potions.

So realistically, if it were discovered in the Digital Age that a ritual could induce levitation, and parlor tricks were ruled out, it would most likely be called a new physics discovery until further studies were made. Is it telekinesis, or is something actually canceling out the force of gravity upon this object? Is this object also experiencing the negation of air pressure, and how is it not affecting anything else? (There's a lot of gases in the sky pressing down upon the ground, as even gases are matter and therefore mass, which becomes weight under the effect of gravity, which is how we get less air pressure at higher altitudes.)

If this phenomenon could be reproduced simply by a ritual, every capitalist corporation would want their employees to do it too and before OSHA regulations catch up with the discovery, so they'd call it a job position.

If this phenomenon could be reproduced by equipment, then buddy, it's gonna be called whatever the leading brand named their device, just like "bandaid" or "dumpster."

People didn't always understand why some rocks seemed to curse their bearers either, but then we developed equipment and studies that could perceive radioactivity. So even if this scenario really did happen, all it would mean is that we either haven't figured out which known force is acting upon the object or the device necessary to perceive the acting force hasn't been invented yet. And I mean, hey, we're still at least a few years short of mind-readers or Ghost in the Shell brand telepathy.

Now, here looks like a good place to interject with what @claire-starsword and @no-foxgiven said so well in the notes:

#to believe in the supernatural is to be open minded about the things we don't and possibly can't explain #not to throw away the explanations we do have

#this is why i love Clarke's Third Law (and its reversal) #''Any sufficiently advanced science is indistinguishable from magic'' #Like yeah computers are magic #electricity? if you don't know enough it certainly is #but also the reverse #''Any sufficiently understood magic is indistinguishable from science'' #the mitochondria may be the powerhouse of the cell but also we just magically process magic #diseases transmit through curses (pathogens) #Life is magical and science is magic!

Even if we have no understanding of engineering, frankly, the reason we don't usually think of computers as magic is because they're mundane. Basically, most real-world magic like physics or sentience or morality isn't called magic because we reserve that word for mythologized interpretations.

There was one more point I was gonna tack on at the end, what was it... ah, right.

My post didn't say not to believe in magic. I was saying to be careful. Not to tell anyone to touch grass, but having a sense of wonder is important. Indulging in a little whimsy is fulfilling, but believing something that doesn't hold up against fact-checking just because you want to live out a fantasy where you're the heroic rebellion against demon overlords is how you get an angry mob bringing a noose to the White House.