#i live a life so sweet

[avara-avara]

a few journal entries from recent

PORTLAND -> BOSTON -> ZÜRICH

[gunsatthaphan]

just bro banter 🤙🏻✌🏻

[charlietheepicwriter7]

Talia found Yasmin's hide out only two days after the bomb.

It wasn't easy. Yasmin had hidden herself well - her monthly reports had never mentioned an acquaintanceship with Vladimir Masters, the absolute gall of that girl - in the middle of nowhere Wisconsin. She bypassed the few security measures with ease, eventually finding her daughter sitting at a kitchen table, hyperventilating.

"What happened?" Talia's voice was cold and demanding.

"The-" Yasmin gasped before stealing herself. "The Fentons are dead."

"I know the Fentons are dead." Talia circled the girl. "One split navel to throat, the other strangled. What. Happened?"

"The Fentons discovered their son was a Meta. Specifically, they thought he had been replaced with the extradimentional species they study." She took a deep breath. "By the time I had discovered their actions, Daniel was... dissected on a table."

Talia closed her eyes. She knew from Yasmin's reports that she'd been acting as the Fenton child's primary caretaker since her adoption and a fondness had developed. "Yasmin-"

"Don't, Mother." She snapped. "Don't act like this is anything less than a tragedy."

"I know-"

"He was a child-"

"Everything's been taken care of," Talia said. "As far as the authorities are concerned, Jasmine Fenton died in that explosion you caused. You need to return now-"

"No!" Yasmin bolted to her feet, glaring at Talia. "He's dead, Mother! An innocent child, the child I raised as my own, is dead because I couldn't protect him! Don't you dare try to sweep this under the rug like... like Danny was something shameful! I'm not leaving! I have to-"

Time Out.

Yasmin shut her mouth mid-sentence, giving Talia time to convince her off her self-destructive path.

"What happened to Daniel is a tragedy, Yasmin. But wallowing in grief and what-ifs only leads to further pain." Talia sighed. "The Fentons and the research you were so fascinated with are gone now. You made sure of that. It's time for you to return home and put that knowledge to use."

Yasmin stared down at her hands. Odd that Talia hadn't noticed, but Yasmin's hands cradled a small, dark blue jewel, polished into a smooth, oblong oval. It glittered under the candlelight, like stars in the sky.

Yasmin swallowed the rock and spoke, refusing to acknowledge what she'd just done. "You are right, Mother. The time of Jasmine Fenton is gone now." She stared straight at Talia, no trace of fear in her gaze. For a moment, Talia wondered where her child had gone. Yasmin never met her eyes unless prompted to when she was growing up. Now she was met with a younger version of herself with cheap dyed-red hair, with the same level of determination that made Talia the Right Hand of the Demon Head. "I will mourn for Danny... on my own time. For now, what is my mission?"

Talia studied her daughter. There was a reason why she'd hidden the girl so far out of the way of her Father and her son. Yasmin was a strong fighter, but had her father's heart, despite her willingness to kill. She'd always reminded Talia of a bodyguard rather than an assassin, but Yasmin wanted to go her own way, wanted to study everything. For years, Talia had indulged her daughter, but now it was time for her to return to the fold.

"For the next month, you will be training to remove any weakness the Fentons may have left in you. After that, you will be guarding an ally for me."

"Which ally?"

"A boy a few years older than you, a son of the Bat." Yasmin didn't react to the mention of her father. Good. "His mind is infirm, but by the time you finish your training, he will be ready to strike a blow against Gotham. You will act as his guard during his training and act as my spy while he's in Gotham. Do you understand?"

For a moment, Yasmin's hand brushed her stomach before she forced her fists to her sides. "Yes, Mother. I will do as you ask."

[likeyourfatherinhell]

$28,500/$30,000 !!

i love this family like they were my own. they tell me constantly how much they love my siblings and i, and they sent me voice messages teaching their little son Hamoud to say my name.

does that touch your heart? they need your help!

my dear friends Ayman & Kariman need to raise a short-term goal of $30,000 on their GoFundMe campaign by Friday, TOMORROW! They're already so close, I know we can do it!

EVERY DOLLAR HELPS SAVE THEM, EVERY TINY CONTRIBUTION HELPS! Please never feel like your donation wouldn't be enough! They need us!

$28,500/$30,000!!

LET'S GO GUYS!!

copying some taglists for reach, IF YOU WANT TO BE TAKEN OFF THE TAGLIST PLEASE JUST ASK ME AND I'LL REMOVE YOUR NAME!! THANK YOU!! i'm sorry but this is life and death and i literally have no followers. please share,

@sillyandquiteawkward @sakurai96 @90-ghost @virovac @maester-cressen @meshugenist @markodragic @akajustmerry @angelicbreadroll @tamamita @turtletoria @tnaky @ot3 @paper-mario-wiki @pcktknife @prisonhannibal @kropotkindersurprise @komsomolka @khizuo @heydreamchild @neechees @gothhabiba @ghostofanonpast @fabulousairpirate @determinate-negation @dogfishmonger @amygdalae @a-shade-of-blue @batmanisagatewaydrug @mysharona1987

@serial-unaliver @appsa @beserkerjewel @paper-mario-wiki @prisonhannibal @tamamita @postanagramgenerator @anneemay @schoolhater @ot3 @ankle-beez @spongebobssquarepants @spicymochi @sayruq @punkitt-is-here

@blackmetalbats @sideblogforhitgameobeyme @didoleonina @cheeseburgersinparadise @badolmen @vilecrocodile @madeline-kahn @fantasynovel @punkpal @newtlesbian @bunnypotions @lesbixch @lesbiantaurus @seekerofthesightlessway @seedy @lilyveselka @irangp @sandyisswag @virologistandpotato @a-shade-of-blue @ankle-beez @a-titty-ninja

@sar-soor @appsa @akajustmerry @annoyingloudmicrowavecultist @thatdiabolicalfeminist @sayruq @tortiefrancis @tsaricides @riding-with-the-wild-hunt

• @calibeautyteen

• @querida-muerte

• @wrinklesoftime

• @ramshackledtrickster

• @tyunlouv

• @yastronaut

• @ubernegro

• @imageingrunge

• @orangeskins

• @polarmoon

• @anaysusmemes

• @studydiaryofamedstudent

• @dreamjerky

• @fresafresitawrites

@gaza-evacuation-funds

• @hazelminesims

• @jussanother

• @kopimoss

• @longhorned

• @zoo-logic

• @xenshi

• @crustace

[mrshargreeves]

i hate these homos

[lazylittledragon]

Please ignore if this is too personal but IIRC you were/are dealing with caffeine addiction? I hope you're doing Ok, as a former addict I know how hard it is so wishing you the best xx

thank you for checking in!!

i'm doing very well!! i haven't cut out coffee completely bc i really don't think i can (it's been one of my daily pleasures for SO long), but right now i only have 1-2 espresso shots and i don't even have it every day anymore

also remembering that i used to have 4-6 shots per drink, sometimes multiple times a day, makes me want to throw up now which is probably a good sign ajkdhdsh

[gentlebeard]

If I could hold you for a minute, Darling, I’d go through it again

For @edsbacktattoo & @stedesearring 💕 Show: Our Flag Means Death - Season 1 & 2 Music: Francesca by Hozier YouTube

[ruporas]

bound to want (part two) /// part one rest of pages under READ MORE after ID

[ID: 23 page digital comic of Vashwood from Trigun Maximum. The comic is in a limited palette of a dark blue, light pink, white, black, and a light beige color for Vash's skin and a mid-brown color for Wolfwood's. This comic is the second part to "Bound to Want" and is spoiler-free. The first part is linked here.

It begins with a panel close up of Vash's expressions. The sky colored in dark blue can be seen behind him. He has a neutral expression, but he holds a slight frown and the reflection of his glasses covers one side of his eyes. Wolfwood says, "Hey. What's with the distance?" In the second panel, the shot widens to show both of them, a clear physical distance separating them with Wolfwood walking ahead and Vash trailing a little behind. Vash responds, "What? I'm just walking a bit slower today..." Wolfwood looks at him with a an irritated expression, clicking his tongue. Wolfwood says, "I was going to wait for you to start... But yer just running away away."

Vash is seen looking away, unable to hold eye contact with Wolfwood as he continues, "You've been avoiding me since that night. Did ya think I wouldn't notice? It's about that dream, right? Tell me about it already if you're going to be moping like this." Vash looks slightly downwards, his brows furrowing and he starts to walk ahead of Wolfwood without looking at him and responds stiffly, "I really don't want to talk about it..." Wolfwood looks at him with a surprised expression, but doesn't probe.

A panel close up to Wolfwood's eyes as he watches Vash go on ahead before he follows suite with an irritated sigh. The panels are overlapped by Wolfwood's hand holding the bottle of the Bride with motion lines, indicating a transition in time.

A wide shot of Vash and Wolfwood in a room now. Vash is seated, his back turned away from the viewer, while Wolfwood's body faces the viewer with his eyes looking towards Vash. He rests the bottle of the Bride on the table with a "clack" and his other hand holds two shotglasses. The background is coated in a light pink.

A panel shows a close up of Wolfwood's face, his eyes looking downwards to Vash as he says, "Let's drink." Next to this panel is Vash looking up at Wolfwood, his brows furrowed and a slight frown. The bottom half of the page is a wider shot with Vash's body turned away from the viewer as he says, "I'm not going to talk about it." Wolfwood responds, "You don't have to." as he sits down.

A wide panel of Wolfwood holding the shotglass, pouring in the drink as he continues, "I'll talk." The next panel is a profile view of Wolfwood, his eyes looking down at the now filled shotglass as he continues to say, "You're..."

"... upset with me." Vash can be seen next to this speech bubble with narrowed eyes, looking towards Wolfwood. The panels are all coated in with a dark blue background. Wolfwood continues, "I can't be certain why since yer not telling me a thing -- but it's probably... my bad." The panels show Wolfwood about to bring the shotglass to his mouth but he turns way as he continued to speak, his eyes not on Vash. The bottom page shows him looking away completely with a guilty expression as he says, "I'm sorry.

If you can ever tell me why, I can try and adjust to make it more bearable. But if you're just trying to get rid of me--" The panels follow Wolfwood's certain expression as he says this, "I don't intend to leave you. I can't... and I won't." A panel shows Vash's wide-eyed expression, surprised upon hearing this, and then his eyes soften as Wolfwood again concludes with, "I'm sorry."

Vash's inner thoughts begins, a boxed speech at the center of the page and panels of his eyes, his brows furrowing again and a resigned, but frustrated expression. His thoughts starts, "Stop. I shouldn't be happy hearing that. And why are you apologizing? I should be the one to..! I can't let anything like that happen to you. You deserve to live a long steady and peaceful life. I want to be optimistic. I want to protect you, but I might end up doing the opposite." The text surrounds Wolfwood from Vash's perspective, the other man drinking out of his shotglass, his eyes downcasted.

"I shouldn't have you. And you won't leave." Behind these text is a panel of Wolfwood's eyes finally looking over to Vash. Vash's thoughts continues,  "It's so unfair." When Wolfwood sees Vash, his eyes soften and he frowns. The last panel shows the lower half of Vash's face, but tears begins to flow down his cheek. Wolfwood's hand is already reaching to wipe at them as he starts to say, "You know..."

A wider shot of Vash and Wolfwood, Vash slightly leaning forward with his mouth tightly shut, and tears steadily continuing to flow out of his closed eyes. Wolfwood continues to wipe at them with his hand as he continues, "This isn't a dream anymore. I don't know what you saw for you to be this shaken up, but whatever happened, you'll overcome it, right? If not you, I'm here too. You'll be okay, Spikey. So..." Wolfwood's expression grows more tender, "Have a little faith in me... and come back already." The dark blue starts to fade.

The wide panel has the dark blue background faded and replaced is the light pink. It shows Vash in full up to his shoulders, his eyes are still tears littered, but there's light in them as he says, "Wolfwood..." making eye contact with the other. The next panel shows Wolfwood's tender expression, his eyes and brows fully soften and he has a small smile on his lips, finally seeing the other return a level of sincerity with him.

The next panel shows the bottom half of Wolfwood's face and his hand is offered towards Vash for a dance as he says, "C'mon. We don't have to talk, but this is okay, right?" The background is now white and a ribbon flowing across the page separates this panel from the next sequence. Vash's inner thoughts continus, "I've spent too long avoiding this. It's scary to want after I've taken so much from others." A sequence close up of their hands is shown, with Wolfwood's outstretched hand on the right and Vash's reaching hand on the left. Vash gently places his hand in Wolfwood and at the bottom, Wolfwood wraps his fingers across Vash's.

Throughout the page, a dark blue ribbon starts to flow around the both of them with confetti raining alongside the effect. Vash and Wolfwood are hand and hand, dancing together with Wolfwood as the lead. The viewer can see a peak of Vash's expression, full of fondness but also a hint of sorrow as he looks down at Wolfwood. His inner thoughts continue, "I don't deserve this. I don't deserve you. But why is that even though I have these burdens, I still want to love you. I still want you to be by my side."

With a close up of their mouths, Vash's thoughts continue, the text covering his mouth, "Wolfwood, I--" Wolfwood's speech bubble covers Vash's text as he completes his sentence, "want you." Vash's eyes widen for one panel and in the next, his eyes spark, a blush appearing on his cheek and the confetti flows and spark. Tears ease up on his eyes again.

"Want me too already, Spikey." Wolfwood has leaned in enough to rest his head against Vash, a hand of his on Vash's neck, holding his nape and another hand pressed gently against his back. A ribbon separates this panel from the next, a mix of confetti flows across the page, as Vash envelopes Wolfwood in a hug too, holding him and his hand gripping tightly onto his back.

This page is just the ribbon flowly throughout the page on the white background, one white ribbon and the other a dark blue. Near the bottom, the ribbon envelopes each other in a loop. A conversation of Vash and Wolfwood is held over these ribbons, Vash starting to say, "What if I hurt you? What if you..?" Wolfwood responds, "You? How could you hurt me?" Vash, "You know what I mean... You see it everyday..." Wolfwood responds, "If you think I'm going to kick the bucket so easily, I suggest you look at me more closely from now on, idiot. I'm not that easy to get rid of."

The next page has the ribbon criss cross over the top of the page. Vash and Wolfwood can be seen in their dancing position again, Wolfwood now resting a hand on Vash's shoulder, as Vash takes the lead. Vash continues, "Well, I know that... I tried." Wolfwood responds, "But you won't anymore... since you want me... around, yeah?" Wolfwood's head cocks to the side, smiling with assurance, cheeks flushed. Vash looks at him with a wide smile and fond, loving eyes. The confetti flows across the bottom of this page and as it eases into the next page, it starts to disappear.

Vash responds, ".. Yeah... I do..." as he pulls Wolfwood into a hug again. Wolfwood says, "Not going to run away anymore, are you?" Vash says, "No... I trust you." A panel shows Wolfwood's turning away slightly with a shy expression, muttering "Geez..."

In a more simplified style, Wolfwood is seen gripping Vash's cheeks now with his hand, "Though... You do remember you avoided me for two weeks straight, right? How are you going to make that up to me?" Wolfwood asks. Vash responds with eyes closed and a pucker of his lips. A vein of irritation appears on Wolfwood's face. Wolfwood starts to squeeze at Vash's cheek with both hands, shouting, "Now that you've recovered, you're trying to be funny, huh?!" Vash says through the squished cheeks, "I'm just happy..."

The next page opens with a closed up panel of Vash's widen eye as Wolfwood's hand moves from squishing his cheeks to gently holding them and Wolfwood leans in. The inner thoughts starts again, "There's a chance I'm not making the right choice... My dreams, my fears of losing you, it will never go away. But you said you won't let it happen... And I want to hang onto your words closely this time. After all, if it's anyone who can make me believe, it's you."  The white ribbon from previous pages flows across the page and it visibly ends at the bottom of the page, enclosing the two of them as they share a gentle kiss with Vash holding Wolfwood's face, a tear in his eye.

The next pages starts with Wolfwood saying, "You cryin' again?" Vash responds, "I'm just grateful..." Wolfwood responds, "But you've always had me." Vash responds, "Being like this is different from staring at you from behind all the time though..." The two can be seen together again, Wolfwood pressing his elbows against the table with Vash leaning over him. Wolfwood is easing the tears out of Vash's eye again, just like earlier. A close panel of Vash's fond expression is seen as he says, "Thank you, Wolfwood." Wolfwood looks up at him with a small smile, gentle eyes. Confetti starts to flow lightly across the page as text starts to appear against the white background, "I'm the one who's grateful...

That you'd embrace someone like me, when I'm not fit to hold you in the first place... But I know better than to hesitate. The moment I acknowledged it, I knew I'd spend the rest of my life loving you. So, have as much of me as you want, Vash."

The final page shows the confetti gently falling down the page and at the bottom shows Vash and Wolfwood pressing their foreheads together, Wolfwood's hands cupping the side of Vash's face gently, and both of them smiling brightly with each other. ID END]

[faaun]

last night i got home kind of tipsy and very much in tears and my mother told me the force you exert to keep someone in your life is proportional to the force with which they will leave your life. if you have to fight tooth and claw to keep them, their leaving will be just as hard, just as harsh, and just as definite.

[hyperfixationtimego]

I love you fucked up tv shows I love you gorey movies I love you traumatized characters who perpetuate the cyclical nature of abuse while still managing to remain sympathetic I love you intentionally morally ambiguous media that exists specifically to pose questions about psychology, ethics, and human nature I love you unflinching examinations of what it means to dance the line between acceptable and unacceptable behaviors I love you I love you I love you

[altcvnningham]

picture frame {request}

adler x f!reader (pregnant!reader)

request: for anon, who asked for pregnant!reader x adler who does nottt wanna get on reader's bad side!!

tags: fluff, pregnant!reader, reader is ex-cia, domestic, so domestic it's practically an au, adler is ooc but let him be happy, future girldad!adler, author is feeling christmassy so christmas mention wc: 1.3k

a/n: i'm not usually a fan of pregnancy fics or fluff without underlying angst but i enjoyed this one, it was so comforting to write!! i hope i did this justice!! adler is a bit ooc but i don't wanna succumb poor reader to deadbeat dadler, so this is like post-bo6. also had to bind my hands to make sure i didn’t veer off writing an honorary uncle woods segment….. that man already has a whole david mason to worry about never mind miss adler junior. anyway enjoy !!

There isn’t a thing Adler fears in this world, but if he had to choose whose bad side he’d rather avoid getting on, it’s yours.

And that being said, it’s a fear coupled with excitement that verges on delirium- the ex clandestine special officer had never thought himself fit for married life, given his failed attempt in the past, and had all but given up on the faraway white picket-fence dream long ago.

There existed an Adler once, Russ, soft-faced and scarless, who’d dedicated such a dream to a snippet he’d spied once in a magazine; some schlocky, oversaturated Home Style issue perched upon a grocery store counter, featuring a staged photograph of an all-American nuclear family on some Christmas morning by the tree. Husband kicked back in a recliner with a cigar and eggnog, pregnant-bellied wife tinkering with baubles on the tree, two bright-eyed girls at her feet in matching pyjamas tearing into red-ribboned gifts. So sweet and saccharine a picture it verged on tooth-rotting.

A man of twenty or so at the time, already welded to the army fatigues he donned like a second skin, he’d rolled his eyes, checked out his pack of cigarettes, and went on his way. But he’d never forgotten the picture, or the bittersweet sadness lodged in his chest beside it. Perhaps partly knowing that such a life could never be his, fictitious and just out of reach. Were he a different man- a better man- maybe he’d wake up one morning to a pretty wife sleeping beside him, kids giggling down the hall, his hands soft and bloodless. Were he a better man, maybe he’d deserve such a thing.

And Adler is not a better man. Certainly no more than he was the day he’d seen that picture, and even then he doesn’t reckon he was wholly good. So God knows what he’d done to deserve this.

“No, no, a little to the left,” you say as you gesture with a rolled up interior design magazine, lips pursed in a sigh. A hand caressing your belly, crumpling your agitated, paint-flecked face, you’d been working on the nursery for hours.

Adler won’t admit how his aged back strains when he holds the picture frame up to the wall, nor can he hide the amused smile that starts to unfold when he catches wind of your ire. Balancing effortlessly atop the stepladder, he throws you a look back over his shoulder.

“Any more to the left and it’ll be goin’ out the window. You’re asking me to move mountains here.”

“And I’ll be asking you to move out if you don’t get that picture straight,” you tease, half a smile. “I’m not telling our daughter that she can’t know what gramma and pop looked like ‘cause you couldn’t hang a picture frame.”

Adler raises a hand in a surrender as he blithely succumbs to your demands, moving the frame leftward and fastening it exactly as you’d asked. He knows not to provoke your anger, a little pricklier now in your last few months of pregnancy, and though it’s all in good fun he could almost swear he’d near lose his head last week when he’d made a joke about your odd cravings, your empty coffee cup primed and ready to be launched at him.

But he’s as loving as any man with a blackened heart like him could possibly be, doting on you to a degree of obsession that was nigh unimaginable; both of you a world removed from your respective lives within the CIA, a far cry from having to dig out the odd bullet from one another and patch each other up in the midst of gunfights, sheltering for cover behind old splintered buildings. Domestic life wasn’t exactly a warzone, but it had been hard to settle into a vague sense of normalcy, almost like adopting new identities entirely. A prospect he’d joked about, now he was no longer officially CIA, changing your names to Mr. and Mrs. John Doe. Yeah, you’d groused, good luck hiding anywhere with that scar.

Still, it was fair game when he chose to get on your bad side. You’d once laughed, pelting him with your oven mitt after he’d thought it wise to joke about your cooking- your fault for getting caught in the crossfire.

“There,” he groans as he descends from the stepladder, shuffling back next to you so he could glimpse the frame from your perspective. “How’s that please you?”

It was a lovely thing. Not just the picture frame now hanging perfectly above the undecorated cot, but everything. This, your quaint home in the suburbs, away from the noise, playing your little game of house. Between the odd intel request from Woods, who’d jokingly insist he’d trade your help deciphering transcripts for him hosting the next Fourth of July cookout in your backyard, it was, relatively, a normal life. One that in truth you never thought you’d live to see.

It’s the little things, you suppose. Like the picture frame above the cot, in the little pale blue and pink nursery, half-complete.

You caress an idle hand over your tummy, feeling Russell’s own waver on the small of your back. Admiring your shared handiwork, you tilt your head with a smile.

“Mm. Perfect. Looks nice with the walls- wouldn’t have picked it for a girl but I think the duck-egg blue is just right.”

If Adler had resisted the urge to snidely tease just to get under your skin, he’d sorely lost. And if hours of sifting mindlessly through paint swatches had taught him anything, it’s that you took the choice of particular hues deathly seriously. He smirks.

“Oh? I thought it was periwinkle.”

There’s a deafening beat of silence before Adler flings his arms up in defence, warding off your attacks as you smack at him with the rolled up magazine; no amount of time out of the CIA had made your right hook any weaker, and you’re relentless with your barrage of attacks, met only by sounds of feigned agony and raspy laughter.

He doesn’t much remember what that picture in that old Home Style magazine had looked like, as his life slowly assumed the shape of you. He had everything he needed right here, and wanted for very little else. Wasn’t exactly choice to be excommunicated from the CIA after the mess in Panama, but he’s happy working for himself, for Marshall, teaming back up with Woods for the occasional op, only now he has an excuse to actually watch his own six, knowing who and what he had waiting at home for him. Home. A foreign word. It almost frightens him, to think how simple and easy a life he’s got between all the blood and the mess, how undeserving he feels of even a lick of it.

But a month or so later, come Christmas morning, he gets struck with the strangest frisson of déjà vu. Over a glass of eggnog, helping you fix the tinsel that had fallen from the tree again, he looks at you and he sees it. Feels it, some nameless void in him suddenly filled. A blink in the back of his mind and he sees that faded magazine article, only it’s you, rosy-cheeked and smiling as you are now, tinsel tumbling from your hands as you rush wobbling to his side. You let out a frantic gasp, seizing his wrist, and pull his hand to press against your belly, insisting that you feel a kick. And all he can do is laugh, teasing with a dry smile.

“Look at that. Just as strong n’ mean as her mama.”

[jesncin]

Noah Ikumelo and Ray Monde meeting each other. Thank you once again @hbosscreations for donating to DC Gotcha for Gaza and for requesting some of my fav Hellblazer characters!! A special thank you to @scoliwings for informing me on pocket-sized boogie boards (I think they're perfect for Noah to use)!

We're entering the last couple of hours of the donation period! If you've been meaning to get something out of this initiative NOW'S YOUR MOMENT!! Fill out the form here!

[aimbutmiss]

I'm going crazy over this vid somebody sedate me

[fatuismooches]

Oml I just saw your tag on the Dadtorre with identical son post (same anon as last time here! Thank you for the kind words :3) if Traveller and Paimon meet the son it's going to be so funny but confusing for both parties 😭 It's a jumpscare!

The Traveller is in Snezhnaya, exploring the place, walking through yet another quaint scenery. Then they see a glimpse of a blury blue in the distance, a shade of blue they know all too well.

"Wait, Traveller - was that...?" Paimon whispers to her companion warily. "Uh, you saw that too right? That looked like—!" She gasps, her tiny hands cupping her mouth as she frantically whispers. "Do you think he saw us?!"

The Traveller gestures for Paimon, gaze hardening. "Get behind me."

They tail the all too familiar shadow. He may be wearing a heavy cloak to stave off the frigid heart of the Tsarista, but they would recognise that hair anywhere... It's shorter than last time, but this is not the first they dealt with a segment. The Doctor is stalking the village, what could he be up to?

It's a small village, far from the capital. What if he's here to exploit the vulnerable? There's so many ill and elderly residents here, it won't take much to station a lab here in the guise of a clinic, he would have his test subjects.

They have to stop him.

They continue to follow, but slowly, doubt starts to creep in.

What is Dottore doing? He's just... he's window shopping?

Sure enough, this familiar shadow is simply strolling through the streets without a hint of hurry, out of character for a man who does not waste time. Admiring the scenery and occasionally stopping. That's when the anxiety starts to build. Is this a trap? It must be.

If it is a trap he'd laid. They will bite - only to get closer to him.

They follow until the figure is in an isolated part of the settlement. The cloaked man is looking side to side, head turning this way and that. Not the most subtle way to check for your reinforcements, but whatever. They raise their sword—

Dottore turns around, an unfamiliar gleam in his eyes. A shine that struck the Traveller as though a snake had reared its head and bit with venom to paralyse. Not one of deep seeping crimson of blood. Kind, gentle eyes - the red of a comforting hearth, the red of a sunrise.

"Ah! Perfect, there's someone else here!" 'Dottore' chuckles awkwardly. "Uh... I'm lost? Can you help me out? It looks like you know your way around here— wait, isn't that outfit a little too cold?"

What.

What is this.

Paimon yells this sentiment for them: "Huh?!"

(Dottore's son snuck out for a little outing. He inadvertently pulled the same headache of a stunt Dottore's lover had done ages ago: sneaking off when bored. Said father is tearing Snezhnaya through looking for his boy. It's only a matter of time before the Harbinger finds his son. He lacks the rigour to cover up his tracks.)

Meeting a Harbinger so quickly into their visit to Snezhnaya was not on the Traveler's agenda. Especially since they snuck into the nation without anyone knowing. But how could they see those familiar blue locks and not do anything about it? Sure, it wasn't the best idea, considering how they planned to hide out a bit more, not to mention there was still a wide gap in strength, but they couldn't pass up the opportunity. At the very least, they don't think the scientist would kill them. There seems to be a greater plan, one beyond what they know.

Of course, the Traveler's immediate thought is that the blue-haired man is up to no good. Perhaps immediately thinking the worst seemed a bit harsh, but this was the Doctor. What else would they think, especially after what happened in Sumeru? They had to be wary and cautious - there was no such thing as too much of it when dealing with him. And cautious they are, carefully stalking behind, not a noise made even in the crunching snow.

And so they cautiously watch with narrowed eyes as the "Harbinger"... casually strolls by numerous stores? Looking at outfits that certainly don't fit his style, peeking through the glass of some local restaurants. For some reason, civilians don't seem to bat much of an eye at his presence either. It's strange. Very strange. Unfortunately, the Traveler and Paimon still can't get a good look at the man's face, but they're positive it has to be Dottore. Who else has such fluffy blue hair? Are they overthinking it? Is he pretending? There are always so many questions to deal with when it comes to the Doctor.

Until they realize it's not the Doctor.

The man in front of them bears a striking resemblance to the Harbinger, but he simply couldn't be, not even a segment. A small smile that wasn't cocky, sweet eyes that could envelop another in a warm embrace if it came to that. These features cannot belong to a man such as Dottore. The laugh and concern for the blond was also something that couldn't be an act. After getting over their little surprise, they'd be an idiot not to take advantage of this outcome. Perhaps they could get some information... of course, they only end up more confused when they find out the truth.

(You, while also concerned for your son, know he's a capable boy and he'll be fine. You like to see how much Dottore secretly cares for his kid too, although you feel a bit bad for the poor Fatui agents who are currently dealing with his orders. If someone does end up hurting your son, however, well... you can be scarier than Dottore if you want to. At the end of it, Dottore ends up giving you both a scolding... but neither of you takes it seriously as you giggle with each other.)

[raineandsky]

Hi (if you are okay with writing this)

What about a hero (who’s a trans man) captured by the villain and the villain finds his top surgery scars and is surprised of the fact but not judgy or disgusted like the hero thought they’d be

Love ❤️ your writing,thanks

i hope you enjoy - thank you for the request!

“We don’t want to ruin this lovely suit the agency put together for you,” the villain purrs as they run a hand over the seams of the hero’s shirt. “Let’s get you into something more comfortable, hm?”

“Oh, uh, no,” the hero refutes weakly, “you can ruin it.”

The villain looks entirely unimpressed. “We have to wear unflattering uniforms when you catch villains. It’s only fair you do the same.”

“No, no, [Villain],” the hero tries, which the villain is pointedly ignoring in favour of moving too close, with too much purpose, “you don’t get it, I can’t—”

The hero’s protests are in vain. The villain’s hands are already on the hem of his shirt, and with a hefty pull they yank it directly over the hero’s head.

The hero can feel their stare burning into his chest. He directs his eyes to the ground to avoid seeing whatever disgust is inevitably on the villain’s face. Then, after a moment that’s painfully long, the villain says, “what kind of fight did you get in?”

The hero accidentally glances up at them in surprise. It’s not disgust on their face—it’s confusion. Not a look that the hero is unfamiliar with; the disgust will come once he explains.

“Fought a doctor and lost,” he says with a short laugh. “They’re, uh… it’s from top surgery.”

The villain’s face is blank. “Huh.”

Here comes the disgust. The hero sucks in a deep breath, crossing his arms over his chest without thinking. “Do you have something I’m meant to be putting on?”

“Oh, yeah, ‘course.” The villain grabs a shirt and throws it at the hero, waiting patiently while he hurriedly puts it on. “So you’re, y’know…”

“Trans,” the hero finishes awkwardly. “Yeah.”

“Cool.” The villain turns to gesture to a door across the room. “Alright, through there, please. Let’s get this torturing on the road.”

The hero’s the one that’s staring blankly this time. “What?”

“What did you think you’re here for?” The villain’s scoffs. “I’ve caught you, and now I’m going to torture you about it.”

“No, I get that, I just, uh…” The hero glances around the room idly, like something will give him the confidence he direly needs for this interaction. He waves his hands vaguely at his chest. “Don’t you, like, have anything to say?”

The villain’s face contorts into a confused frown. “… I accept you?”

“I thought you’d be more…” The hero grapples for an appropriate word. “Judgy.”

“I’m a villain, [Hero], not an asshole,” the villain says with a tired sigh. “Being a guy or not doesn’t change the fact that you’re a hero and I hate you. If anyone does have a problem with it, though, send them my way. Always fancied myself a bit of an anti-hero.”

The hero can’t help the relieved smile pulling at his lips. “I’ll make sure to do that.”

“Thanks.” The villain waves impatiently at the door again. “Now, are we doing this or not?”

The hero nods plainly, some of his usual heroic confidence back. “Only If you don’t mind me breaking out in a few days.”

“Ugh, if you have to.”

But the villain smiles, the friendly kind, and the hero decides that maybe his nemesis could be his ally too.

[2hoothoots]

So I was going through your blog (again) and found some of your stuff mentions fsau Raz having ADHD, as somebody with adhd I’m intrigued, may I have some of those headcanons (canons??) related to that? Also, I would give “a penny for your thoughts” but I’m out of pennies, so here’s various images of a drawing of ur blorbo I put next to my animals, note that a rock had to be added in one picture to keep him from flying away (BONUS: his now permanent place with the wifi guardian frog)

NOTHING brings me more joy than seeing physical drawings of these guys, like, out and about. in situations. thank you for this gift, and ALSO for the great ask because it's a perfect chance to ramble

so first of all, canon Raz having ADHD is very real to me. he's constantly fidgeting and moving around, getting distracted by sidequests and scavenger hunt objectives, always talking to himself out loud, gotta write everything down so he remembers it because there's so much to DO!, running away from home because his dad yelled at him one time and now Raz assumes he must hate him forever... i could go on, but i think there's a lot of room for interpretation there!

in my headcanon, he never got diagnosed as a kid. maybe there were some notes about it in his reports each year, sure - but a little hyperactivity and distractability never seemed to slow him down. he excelled in lessons and on missions, and when he was with his family their performances gave him something to focus that energy into. it was only really when he turned 18 and graduated to a full agent that the cracks started to show.

because there's a big difference between the responsibilities you have as a minor, and the responsibilities you have as an 18-year-old living away from home! one who's expected to cook and clean for themselves, and take care of adult life stuff, and also work the 9-to-5 office job he's just graduated into that involves sitting in front of a computer and write reports all day.

short-term, he found he could get himself to power through a deadline with energy drinks and psi-pops (a lot of psi-pops...)

long-term, something had to give. he was working himself to exhaustion, constantly stressed, swinging between days spent staring at his computer screen doing nothing and all-nighters desperately trying to finish his paperwork before the deadline. it just didn't make any sense to him. he'd finally started his job as a Psychonaut, he was living independently like he'd always dreamed, he'd gotten top surgery after planning it for so long. he should have everything he ever wanted. why wasn't he happy?

following a deep post-surgical depression, about a month before his 19th birthday Raz was living out of his car, couch-surfing or sleeping in his office. he got kicked out of his apartment after falling behind on bills and rent. it wasn't that he didn't have the money, it was all just too much for him to stay on top of.

he'd probably have stayed in that misery hole for a lot longer if Frazie hadn't marched into his life and demanded he let her help him move into a new place, or she was telling mom that he was homeless. together, they sorted through all of his possessions from the last place - everything that had been hastily shoved in his car, or tossed in a box in his office, piled in a heap that was giving him anxiety even looking at it.

things do get better for him from there.

when he eventually explains things to Hollis, she gently suggests that he should get a roommate. he ends up moving in with Phoebe, and they become pretty good friends after a couple months! something about having another person around to help do the chores and wash the dishes and share the space helps, even if it takes him a while to admit it.

he gets his ADHD diagnosis, and finding the exact right medication and dose is a journey he's still on years later - but they're a huge help in getting him to actually knuckle down and finish his work on time. and the whole thing ends up being a chance for him to take a step back and really think about what he wants to do with his life. he'd always assumed that being a Psychonaut was his dream, but he'd never really reckoned with what that dream would look like before.

in the end, he sticks with it, but also decides to follow Lili's example in branching out. he applies to study a part-time Bachelor's in Psychology on a remote course, and gets accepted. juggling missions and paperwork and study and relationships (because the whole thing made him realise he also wasn't setting aside any time for himself, and wow, dating is a thing) is a lot - but he manages to figure it out, day by day.

(Lili comes back to the Psychonauts after graduating. she and Raz have both changed a lot over those four years, but on their first mission together they hit it off like a house on fire - and the rest is history!)