Whaou... He's Almost Androgynous, With A Very Feminine Body... That's Really Impressive And That's Exactly

Got bored and stressed like crazy these past few days and I really needed to focus on something nice and cosy so I went back drawing that girl ahah ><

I know it is of no valuable interest but still, it feels vetter to share it rather than to let it rot inside my phone as a nameless screenshot ahah X'3

Anyway, if Bill possesses Rania, this could be what would happen to her. She'd be somehow granted the gift of seeing it all, like a cosmic being, part of the stars and somehow becoming a constellation herself. However, she'd still get used by Bill as some henchwoman, to help him assure his dominance on Gravity Falls by hunting down every member of the Zodiac to stop people from trying to stop him.

In this version of the story, Ford escapes the bell tower with Dipper and hides with everyone else in the Shack. After Rania is sent there to capture them all, everyone splits and tries to hide away from her huntress form.

The more she is transformed like this and the more she loses herself and what makes her human, like sympathy, empathy, sadness, attachment etc. She's still Rania, but under a layer of complex feelings, so one would have to dig up her very core-self to bring her back to normal and to reason.

Her capacities include creating wormholes to move, like teleportation, and some sort of blackholes that are like pocket-timeless-prisons in which she keeps her "preys" until she get them locked up at the Fearamid.

Chapter 2 : The man on the motorbike

Desmond was upstairs, in his room, reading a book he had borrowed to his father about archaeology and Azran stuff. Donald Rutledge was the only well-known expert as it seemed that had written a book so detailed and so complete about this civilisation, and it was incredibly thin regarding how advanced such people must have been. However, every information about them was good to take, and when he would grow up, he would be helpful to his father, he would find back his brother and his mother, and he would make sure his family would be complete again. So, while his father was out for groceries, he could borrow his books and look at his research a bit without worrying him too much.

However, the more the time was passing by and the more Desmond was beginning to worry since his father hadn’t come home yet. Each time he would go to London, the boy was always worried he would be caught by some undercover agents, or spotted, or lost, or worst, and since his father was the only family he had left, he was more than worried in fact, he was terrified that someone could take him away from him one more time.

Just when he thought he would go to the shop down the street, too afraid to stay alone again, he heard the sound of a motorbike running outside and then stop near the house, while two people seemed to be bickering about something.

–For God’s sake, you truly are insane when you ride that… that… that machine !

It was his father’s voice ! Without thinking twice, he quickly put the book back on the shelf in his father’s working room and he quickly came down the stairs to go to the hall, hearing things more clearly and suddenly pausing in front of the door. Wait, if his father was speaking to someone… then who would it be ? And why were they so angry at each other ?

–Oh, shet up, sassenach, A’m perfec’ly able to drive that beauty anywhere, with or without yer commentary !

Without waiting much longer, Leon sighed, got down the motorbike and quickly entered the house to look for his son… almost falling on him when he saw the youngest behind the door, anxiously looking at it.

–Hershel- !

He kneeled and took his son in his arms before hugging him tight, relieved to see that he was doing fine. Since Targent first came to their house, he has had some sleepless nights making sure they were never around their location, and the whole event left him almost paranoid about it. Losing his son would be the last strike of a dagger inside his poor broken heart.

–I’m sorry, I was so worried… Everything is alright my boy ?

Desmond was getting more worried himself since his father’s behaviour was everything but normal.

–Dad ?… What happened ?

But, as soon as he saw the other man getting down the motorbike, he took a few steps back and looked less of a child all of the sudden, completely analysing the manners of this new face. The same age his father, approximatively, not so tall, not a friend, a perfect stranger, strong Scottish accent, not really serious right now, and too much at ease. How could he be so relaxed and how on earth could his father be coming home with such an individual ?

–Who is he, dad ?

The Scottish man looked at the young boy, with a puzzled expression engraved on his face. He didn’t know exactly why but he had been driving this strange English man to his home because he heard him called his son. He had done it because of the light tremolo in his voice, because of the worry of this man for his child, because Targent was everything but merciful with children, and because somehow this man seemed truly pathetic. Of course.

–Hey, balach beag, how’s yer day ?

–Who are you ?

Desmond snapped before getting in front of his father, between both men, not ready to let anyone enter their home to take anyone away. His little hands were trembling like crazy but he stood his ground and was trying to look as intimidating as possible.

–I-If you’re there to hurt my dad, t-then you’ll have to go… to go through me f-first !

–Hershel…

Leon sighed and his expression grew more guilty. It was because of him if Hershel was behaving like this, trying to put all that pressure on his shoulder rather than just letting his father bear it. It was because he hadn’t been able to protect either Rachel nor Theodore. Because of Targent, they were forced to live like outcasts, always hiding, never trusting anyone but themselves, and moving from place to place to make sure never to be caught since that bloody organisation knew he was the archaeologist with the most extended comprehension of this bloody Azran civilisation. All of this, it was because of him.

Slowly, he took Hershel’s arm and stood up to ask him silently to do or say nothing too harsh.

–It’s fine, my boy, he helped me coming home.

–Aye, and we met at-

–We met at the grocery shop, interrupted Leon before the lad could finish his sentence.

It was not necessary to worry Hershel more than he already was. But the boy looked at his father, then stared at the man and at his motorbike. Then she shook his head with a very sad expression.

–Dad, you brought no groceries… And you were way too shaken when you hugged me. Please, tell me the truth… Do we have to move out again ?

This was also a subtle way to ask, in front of that stranger, if Targent had found them again. Leon sighed again, deeply ashamed of himself and how bad of a father he was.

–I… I think so… But it would just be a precaution, to be sure-

The Scottish man, however, was still there and he was a bit embarrassed, because it was somehow a very good delusion if the English man would hope to stay near London while having been spotted so close to his location.

–Hum, A don’t mean to int’rupt ye but… Ye better go far from London. In the deep countryside, mate. Because they’ve found ye around, and they won’t give up. It's as braid as it's lang, ye can’t stay here.

Leon stared at the man and his dark red eyes seemed even darker.

–I think we had an agreement. I thank you for the help but as you remember, you have to go back to your place already.

The man in leather jacket raised an eyebrow, then sighed and rolled his eyes.

–A've no jist come up the Clyde on a bike, ye know ? Targent never gives up, do they ?

Desmond opened wide eyes.

–Wait- you know about them ? Dad, what’s going on here ?

–Nothing Hershel, our friend was on the departure anyway, right, « mate » ?

The man sighed again. They were off their heid, no doubt, but anyway he couldn’t get involved with them. For how much he would hate a child to get into troubles, he couldn’t allow himself to be close to people. He almost paid it too highly years ago. But for now he had at least to spend the night in this little town since it was beginning to be late and his motorbike had run out of gas.

–Ok, ok… A’ll leave, but… at least, do ye know where A can take some rest ? A didna get a blink o sleep last nicht. Is there an inn ? a hotel ? something ? where A can spend the nicht ?

Despite not being very fund of the idea to help a total stranger, Leon gave him an address down the street of a very good inn ready to find him a room for the night. However, the salutations were short and quick. Once alone in their house, Hershel and his father were staring at each other with guilty frowns, knowing perfectly well that tomorrow they would have to move out again, as soon as possible. Even if Leon didn’t know nor like that Ray guy, he was right at some point. They couldn’t stay here and certainly not so close to London if some agents have had spotted them. Without another word, they went to the kitchen to prepare something to eat, but the silence filling up the air was way heavier than a lead ceiling.

———

In town, “Ray” had found the address of the inn the “legal grave-digger” had told him about, and once he was certain his motorbike was already full of gas, he parked it somewhere in the street -just below the window of the room he had been given for the night- and finally sit in front of a desk on which there were a bottle of single malt whiskey, a pen and a blank sheet of paper. He looked at it for a few minutes while taking a pipe out of his jacket inner pocket, filling it with tobacco before lighting it up and taking a few puffs. After some other long minutes during which he wasn't certain to agree wih his own mind, he finally decided to take the pen to write something down but, as soon as he wrote the name of a person on the top of it, he stopped and let go of the pen with an upset little snappy move of the wrist.

–Feck...

He dropped his head back and closed his eyes, reflecting on the past few years and on his choices. Things were hardly nice these days. First, he had thought he could win over a bunch of idiots a few amount of money by cheating at card games and drinking a bit in a town he wasn't supposed to be. But then that man came here in a Scottish pub to get wasted even though he was supposed to... go get some groceries ? for his little boy ? How was it even possible that such coincidence and such ill omen were disposed to be put like this on his way ? And now Targent was back. And they have noticed someone, and now no matter whoever it was, him or the sassenach, now they were both involved because they had fled together. This was suspect enough, and when these assholes would look into their archives, they would remember those faces. His, and the sassenach's.

He sighed and took another puff from his pipe before folding the paper and make it come closer to a lighten match before looking at the paper burn to ashes into the ashtray. When the name on it disappeared, he stood up, went to his window and opened it to lean on the threshold and look at the starsky while smoking. The night wouldn't be long...

....

Or maybe not.

What were these shadows running behind the houses and in the streets ?

The Scottish man frowned. A few years ago he would never have noticed this kind of details but now he was more than aware this was everything but a nice thing and even more... it was a very worrying thing. He looked at them crawling in the shadows and then opened wide eyes.

-Oh feck !

He grabbed his jacket, turned off his pipe in a hurry and rushed out of the Inn. These people were heading to the sassenach's house.

-> First chapter

-> Next chapter

Incorrect quotes again because well that's funny :

if Descole and Bronev had an argument while Layton's group is near

Luke : Oh my god professor ! Descole and Bronev have an argument, again ! And Descole looks pretty mad...

Layton : Oh not again...

Emmy : rha, you know what ? Let them be, they will never understand anyway...

Luke : but what if he kills your uncle ?!

Emmy : He's not pointing a gun at him, is he ? So it's fine.

Descole *who has heard everything, from the next room* : Actually I also have a sword in addition to the gun !

Emmy : .... are you kidding me ?!

Descole : Do I look like I am running a circus ?!

Emmy : ...

Luke : ...

Bronev : ...

Layton : ... are you expecting the truth or not ?

Hey, remember some time ago about an alternative PL scenario in which Bronev and Raymond raise Desmond together and want to take down Targent ? Weeeell 👇👇👇

Chapter 1 : Unexpected encounter

The alarm was buzzing like a tolling bell in the corridors. Two silhouettes running, out of breath. Their were holding hands as if Hell was after them and as if their touch was the only thing keeping them alive. And the bell ringing, again, again, screaming at them. “Don’t give up, we’ll find the way !” But no answer, except a panting voice, exhausted by their mad run. “I-I can’t… Please, dear, run away...” “We’ll get away together, darling, come on, don’t give up !”

A dead-end. They were trapped. Again. Dark figures behind them, holding guns and wearing uniforms. A shot. A scream. “RACHEL !”

Leon woke up abruptly, jolting from his desk covered in papers and books, causing a few sheets of paper to fly away. He took the time to remember where he was and when. Alright, a little house away from the centre of London, three years after this awful nightmare, nightmare that was, in fact, a memory.

With a tired and frustrated sigh, he took his face in his hands and drew a decent breath before taking off his glasses and putting back on the desk the flying papers. He closed his books, looked at the clock on the wall and sighed again. Four in the morning. Wonderful. Again he wouldn’t sleep much tonight.

–Dad ?…

The archaeologist looked up with a slight jolt and stared at the young boy with brown hair and ruby eyes who was waiting at the door, holding tight a little plushy rabbit in his hands. His face winced with concern and he slowly came closer from his father who took him in his arms to hold him and hug him, trying to be comforting.

–I didn’t know you were awake, my boy… You should go back to bed.

–But… I heard you scream mommy’s name…

The man’s heart skipped a few beats but he did his best to keep on smiling and stared at the youngest with some tender eyes, taking his son away from the desk and from this bloody room to bring him back to his tiny bed, in his room full of books and little creative games, some piece of metal and woods were laying on the ground. Nah, he would ask his son to clean it all later. Tonight wasn’t easy for them both. Once the boy was comfortably under his blanket, resting against that big fluffy pillow of his, the oldest smiled a bit and patted his hair.

–Now, you have to go back to sleep… Tomorrow, I’ll have to go down to London, you know what to do right ?

The young boy grew worried again, almost hiding his face behind his plushy rabbit.

–Are you sure I can’t come with you, dad ? he muttered. I don’t want to stay alone in there… w-what if they come back ? What if they got you in London ?! Please, I’ll be silent and discrete, I swear-

–Hershel, please, calm down my boy… Hush now…

Leon took the time to breath and sighed while shaking his head.

–They won’t find us there… You’re my son and I work at the tea shop down the street. I am always very careful when we have to move somewhere else and I don’t want you to get involved. You are safe here, I promise. And if anything, you go down to the shop and ask the nice lady here to keep you with her until I come back. No one, not even the Birds, are going to look for some herbalist in a small English village. We are no longer the Bronev family. For everyone else, we’re Desmond and Nikolaï Sycamore, remember ?

He kissed his forehead and smiled a bit more.

–Do you remember what I told you when I chose this name, “Desmond Sycamore”, among any other name ?

The boy discretely whipped a tear from his eye and nodded slowly.

–Yeah… You said that there was a tree named like this in the Bible… it represents comfort, refuge and abundance. And… About “Desmond”…

–… I said it was an old English name, with German roots, meaning “valuable, courageous and protected”. And when I chose these names, it was indubitable. I would make sure they would protect you, and I will protect you too, my boy…

The oldest chuckled a bit and hugged him again while the youngest was starting to smile, slowly, while hugging his father back. This was a bittersweet feeling indeed but it was worth it, because at some point it was sweet and less bitter.

–… I miss mom and Theo…

The hug tightened a bit.

–… I know, my boy… I know… But for now, you have to go back to sleep. And, if you do your lessons well, I’ll bring you a new book from London tomorrow. Sounds like a good agreement to you ?

This was enough to bring a big bright smile back on the boy’s lips. He wasn’t an idiot, his father was trying to distract himself from grim thoughts to make sure he would fall asleep quickly and have a good night. But he also knew that the situation couldn’t be changed and he was happy to at least have his father by his side. So, not to worry him any further, he nodded and kissed his father’s cheek before almost diving into his pillow to find the courage to sleep. Leon smiled too and made sure he was comfortable before leaving the room as silently as possible after having left a soft light in the corner of the room to look after his boy’s sleep and to keep nightmares away. Once alone in the corridor, the man sighed again and anxiously went back to his own room to go to sleep, but for sure it wasn’t going to be easy. “I am sorry Rachel… Our family is like a broken glass… But as long as I live, I’ll protect our dear boy. And I’m going to make sure they never use that legacy to hurt him.”

“Whatever the cost may be.”

Leon had become incredibly good at lying. The more the time passed and the easier it was getting because he was feeling less remorseful for the lies he had to make up to keep his son and himself out of troubles. So when he said to Desmond that he was going to London to buy him a book and to go buy groceries, it wasn’t a complete lie but it was enough of a lie to be mentioned. In fact, he was not here only to buy food and books, he was also there to drink a bit and to listen to what was going on in the capital city of England.

There was, in the East End, a few very good places to be when you were desperate enough to use questionable means to achieve questionable goals, and so it was the perfect place to learn some crucial informations if you needed to know, for example, if some Birds of ill omen were about to go somewhere, or what they were currently interested in. Also, Leon still had a few friends in town ready to help him. To find these informations, Dorset Street was the best –or worst- place to go. And, in Dorset street, there was a Scottish pub, the “Trì drongairean daoine”, also called, in proper English, “Three drunk men”. Here, there was a few men always ready to talk too much and to ask very few questions.

The ex archaeologist entered, sit at the counter and asked for a single malt whiskey, before staring at the glass half-empty in front of him and drinking him in a matter of seconds. The barman said nothing and went to serve other customers. Leon knew drinking was only bringing problems on the table and it was, at best, only a temporary solution. But he needed some strength before going back to his son and pretending he was doing fine. He missed Rachel, he missed Theodore, he missed their little house, their little life, and he knew it was all his fault. If he had not been so stubborn about finding more evidence about the Azran, then nothing would have happened.

While he was busy blaming himself for every unfortunate things happening to his family, some Scots playing cards were beginning to get agitated at a table, not so far from him. They were speaking some weird dialect Leon didn’t understand and they seemed to be quarrelling about something. One of them seemed to be the target of some accusations, judging by the fingers pointing at him angrily. The man didn’t really catch Leon’s attention, at least not until he bumped into him while trying to escape the quarrelling table. The archaeologist grunted and looked at the stranger with angry eyes. Fuck, couldn’t he even drink and drown into whiskey in peace ?

–Hey, careful ! No one taught you how to properly apology ?

The Scottish man turned around and stared at the little man in front of him with merely an annoyed look. A beige pullover, jeans, old shoes, long face, some thick hair tied as much as he could in a ponytail resting on the neck, ruby eyes, the beginning of a moustache and the attitude of a man who just lost his job or something.

On the contrary, the Scottish lad was quite peculiar. Leon glared at him but didn’t forget to notice a few details. That guy smelled fuel, and whiskey, and he was wearing some leather clothes and heavy boots. Probably he had a motorbike, if he hadn’t gambled it already. Strange look, his hair was thick too, despite being shorter than his and brushed to the back. His eyes were dark, almost black, and he barely had some goatee growing on his chin. But, even if he was annoyed, there seemed to be a mischievous smile hanging at the corner of his lips.

–Apologies ? A’m sairy, can ye say that again ? Leuk, a’m not in the mood fer this, so ferget ‘bout it, right pale ?

Leon frowned and stood up while crossing his arms.

–Quit your bullshit, I’m not having a good day so now you’re going to apologise, “pale”.

–Oh, feck off ! A’m not havin’ a guid day either so go get drunk som’here else.

But then, while they were almost going to pick a fight over some damn apology, another voice came to their ears and made them stop to turn to the source of the noise.

–Hey, you !

And then, when they saw these two men in blue/grey uniforms with their hat and sunglasses, they both opened wide eyes and exclaimed the same.

–Fuck/ Feck !

They jolted and looked at each other, not knowing who these men were addressing to.

–Ye know these clawns ?!

–How do you know these guys ?!

The agents in uniforms were already making their way inside the pub, so the man in leather coat and the ex archaeologist decided it was better not to stay and they quickly fleed by the other entrance, momentarily allies because of having had to face the same enemy. They blocked the door with some old pipe lying in the alley and they took the time to look at each other again. The Scottish man was more than surprised.

–Fer feck's sake, pale ! Ye're a damn legal grave-digger ?!

–What the fuck is this supposed to mean ?! I'm a herbalist !

But the other one shook his head, grabbed Leon's wrist and was quick to go in the street, looking for some way to escape that place without being followed by the agents trying to break free from the pub. He then came closer to a red and black motorbike, took the keys out of his pockets and made the motor roar. The man with ruby eyes frowned and broke free from his grip.

–You look like everything but an archaeologist, looking at the way you're being such an asshole with people.

The other one sighed, frustrated, and did a little curtsy, mockingly.

–Oh, A didn't know only British archaeologists were geid with their manners ! Now, can we stop bickerin' and get outta here ? If Targent is there, we're doomed ! Now come on, A take ye out o' town and we part. OK?

–No, not OK ! How did you-

But it was no time for questions because the agents were getting out of the pub and they were actively looking around to search and find the person they had spotted, and neither the Scottish man nor Leon knew which of them they were after. The herbalist sighed angrily and got behind the biker who was already ready to put the max distance between them and these birds of ill omen.

–You better ride fast because once we're far away, I swear I'll-

But the face of his son imposed itself to his mind and he gasped as they were heading away from Dorset Street.

–Oh no no no, Hershel-

–A call meself Ray !

–Not you ! My son ! If they follow me, they'll...

Said "Ray" sighed but looked into the mirrors. The agents were way behind them, and the man seemed to be in troubles. He sighed again. Fuck, this was supposed to be a cool day, he was supposed to bluff and trick people while winning at cards and drinking whiskey. Dammit.

–... OK, hold on tight and tell me where to go, we'll heid there. A've got no Bentley but trust me I'll go 90 miles per hour in this bloody city as long as we're far away from these birds. What's yer name, sassenach ?

Leon didn't want to trust that man but he had no choice. Right now the only thing worth it was going back home as soon as possible and leave again. For a better place. A place without any birds.

–... What makes you think I can trust you ?

The man sighed and used his brakes to stop the motorbike, with little to no care for the circulation, causing Leon to gasp under the surprise and almost fall off the motorbike.

-Listen, pale, A know Targent is lo'kin after us, both of us, ye were involved, A was too and now we need to flee. Ye don't trust me ? Guid, then get down me motorbike and I'll disappear. And guid luck with yer lad, sassenach !

Leon took the time to think about it. He couldn't just pretend everything was fine because it wasn't, he could put Hershel in danger if he was bringing a stranger to their house. However, they both seemed to be in trouble anyway and Targent would not abandon so easily. A danger against another bigger one. Or, to be more precise, choosing between the plague or the cholera.

–... you better not swear in front of my boy. Once we're there, we part. Fine by you ?

The Scottish man had a grin on his face and chuckled a bit before accelerating once again to go back on the road.

–Fine by me ! Now, what's yer name ?

-...Nikolaï.

-> Next chapter

Dunno, wanted to draw something sad and a bit shattered about a game I just discovered again thanks to a friend.

Since Bronev and Desmond do have the same look and the same eyes, guess his reflection isn't something he likes to see, especially his eyes.

Well I love this thing XD really cool !

So here it is, my magical me ! @narumitsu-lawlu but I dunno who to tag XD

Everyone stop what you’re doing and create a magical you with this picrew

@thechaoscult @pluto-is-real @goswlogpncmcrfobpjstltruaqhtma42 @everyone

Chapter 4 : Train trip

The compartment of the wagon was oddly silent. Well, in fact, neither Ray, nor Leon nor Hershel had anything to say. Or rather they wanted to say a lot of things but they didn't dare to, mostly because they didn't know where to begin.

Hershel was still wondering how Ray had managed to got them a compartment without any reservation, but deep down he already had the beginning of an answer, and it was not all about being legal. For now, and because he hadn't slept very well during the previous night, he was sleeping on the bench seat, with his father's own coat to keep him warm and cosy, after having watched the landscape running outside for quite some time.

Leon was staring at the Scottish man, sitting next to his son and making sure his plushy wasn't going to fall from his son's embrace. His eyes were more tired than before and he had crossed his arms, not ready to let any emotion pierce again through his face. He was thankful indeed, because without him they would be taken to the Nest already, but he was also very distant and worried, because it wasn't common to know Targent, and less common was Ray's abilities. Leon had been trapped in this bloody tower for weeks with his wife and, even if he hated to admit it, Targent's soldiers were good. Very good. And from what he had understood when they quickly got a few explanations while waiting for the train, Ray put four of them to sleep with no apparent difficulties, which was... almost impossible. And the man who was aiming at him seemed to know him well, and to be afraid of him too.

–Are ye goin' to stare at me like this for long, sassenach ?

Leon jolted. Ray didn't even looked at him, he was still looking at the fields, behind the window, and he knew perfectly well what Bronev was thinking in this instant. And in fact, the English archaeologist sighed and looked away.

–Stop calling me that.

Ray smiled a bit.

–Calling ye what ?

–That thing, "sasnar". What does it even mean ?

The man in the leather jacket chuckled and rolled his eyes before looking at the English man. His eyes were tired indeed but he refused to sleep, to have an eye on his son and to have an eye on him too.

–"Sassenach", it means "stranger". Or "English". To Scots, it's the same. Also, A think this name suits ye well since A'm sure ye're English at least. "Nikolaï" huh ?

Leon's face grew more serious and his eyes were almost as cold as a statue in the middle of a winter storm. This was a very sensitive topic indeed but they had to talk about it, or else their alliance was meant to end quickly. Judging by the man's willingness to protect Hershel, and how he looked at him, he had principles and a moral code, and he seemed reliable regarding Targent and his hatred toward this terrorist organisation.

–You heard him, huh...

–Leon Bronev, the famous Azran expert. Ye disappeared from a li'le village near Stansbury with yer wife, 2 years ago. And ye are one of the very few people to have escaped Targent.

Ray paused and stared at Leon who was livid and pulling his son closer from his side, as to protect him from an invisible menace. The Scottish man sighed and looked back through the window.

–Sorey...

–To anyone else, I'm Nikolaï Sycamore and he's my son Desmond. As for you, I'm still concerned about my son's safety since tonight you were clearly out of these agents' league. "Ray", seriously ? That's merely a nickname.

He smiled a bit, bitter, and sighed. This situation was really awkward and making them both uncomfortable but they had to adress the issue because it was the key to build a mere sense of confidence. However, the other man seemed to brush off the idea of talking about his name and focused back on a more important topic.

–Ye're not bad either. Nice hook, by the way.

–Thanks but... you're avoiding the topic. Why are you helping us ? You could've let us go on our own and then go on your own as well.

That question wasn't surprising, and somehow Ray was waiting for it. But even if he was prepared to hear it, he had no answer which would be satisfying enough to give to the archaeologist. This was his sensitive topic, the one he wasn't comfortable with, because the answer was also very unsatisfying for him as well.

–I... made some very questionable choices in the past... and...

He paused for a few seconds and stared at Hershel, or rather Desmond, who was sleeping under the coat and close to his father, before looking away again. In his eyes, Leon was certain to have spotted some guilt.

–Let's just say that I seek redemption... for the people I hurt. And I hope I'll achieve it someday...

Another long and heavy silence. Leon observed the man sitting in front of him with curiosity and yet with the clear impression that he was trying to hide the elephant in the room. And it was working rather well indeed since he had no idea what it could be. But the voice and the eyes of that strange Scottish biker were everything but full of lies. Deep inside, the English archaeologist knew his newly found ally was truly trying to make amend for something that happened in his life.

Ray sighed again but his dark eyes stared at Leon for some time before he finally decided to keep going.

–The past, A don't care. Ye want to be called Nikolaï, A'll call ye Nikolaï, same for yer boy, A'll call him Desmond. But for now... we need to head to somewhere safe. And nowhere will be, unless we put as much distance as possible between us and them.

Leon sighed again and kept his son close while looking outside. The sky was slowly starting to be covered with grey clouds and the air seemed to get colder. Judging by the direction the train took, and by the fact that they needed to head far away from London, they were probably heading north.

To break a bit with the heavy topic, Leon focused back on a lighter matter.

–You're wrong though. I'm not entirely English.

Ray raised an eyebrow. Leon rolled his eyes a bit playfully.

–My father was from Saint Petersburg.

Both men looked at each other before chuckling a bit, to ease a bit that pression that had been concentrated for a few hours now. Ray couldn't believe it.

–Ye're English AND Russian, fer God's sake !

–Da ! Now hush, you'll wake my son up...!

But the more he was thinking about it and the more they both wanted to laugh because that sounded like something absolutely uninteresting and yet oddly funny in this particular context. Ray shook his head and kept going.

–Well, as fer me, A owe ye the truth... Me real name's Raymond and I hate it.

–Oh... it explains a few things.

–Is that so ?

–...In fact no, it's just so... so not Scottish-sounding. Sounds like a French waiter at the Ritz.

They both began to laugh again after a glare from the Scottish man. This sounded rather strange to Leon, to hear himself laugh, because it had been weeks since the last time he truly was able to release all that stress. However, they had to come back to focusing on serious matters.

–I see... But it will still be rather risky and probably hard since being a single father with a young son is rather tough these days.

–We could... be roomates ? Flatmates ? A dunno, what do ye call two people livin' together and both paying the rent ?

If there was any kind of idea that was supposed to be crossing Leon's mind right now, it was certainly not this one ! In fact, this sounded so uncommon and unpredictable that he lost an instant to stare, his mouth wide opened and his eyes round and more round even.

–I beg your pardon ?

Ray raised and eyebrow and his shoulders.

–What ? Can't we somehow make it work ? A'm broke, A can't afford to live in a house by meself. And ye can't take good care of yer boy without an ally. It doesn't sound so crazy to me.

Leon stared at the man, his face, his eyes, his leather jacket, his position on the bench -quite relaxed, occupying the space he had- and his attitude until now and suddenly he began to laugh a bit, and the more he was thinking of the man as a "normal man doing normal things in a normal house", he couldn't help but to laugh a bit louder. This was enough for Desmond to yawn a little and open one eye, then the other, and looking at both adults who seemed to have been discussing important matter during his little nap.

–Hmm ?... Dad, why are you laughing ?

–F-For nothing, ahaha ! No, truly, don't worry, don't worry my boy... ahaha !... it's just that, oh god, Ray here just-

–What ? Is it so insane ?!

Desmond looked at both the men with a confused frown, waiting for an answer to his interrogation, and also rather surprised to hear his father laughing. Raymond sighed and shook his head while explaining a bit more what they were talking about a few minutes ago.

–We were talking about livin' together.

–Wait-what ?!

The little high-pitched voice of the boy was enough to make Leo laugh again, even though Desmond was, after this moment of blunt surprise, was seriously pondering the idea. It was risky, for sure, but at least they were together in this awful situation and they could possibly make it work. His little mind was way too serious sometimes and it was now one of these times.

–Well, it all depends on where we are going to move in... also, I doubt I can still be doing homeschooling. I love you dad but... you always tell me it's better to find knowledge everywhere rather than taking it always from the same source.

His father stopped laughing, opened his mouth with the intention to say something, but in the end he just closed it and mumbled something before sighing.

–That's... true, but... you know we have to be discrete.

Raymond thought it was his time to intervene.

–Neh, don't worry sassenach, ye're not goin' to be spotted where we're headin' !

–Oh, that's true... Where is this train going ?

–To Dingwall. It's a li'le town near Iverness, north Scotland. Targent is never goin' to come here, they wont suspect ye're hidin' with me.

Leon looked at the weather. Yup, typical Scottish weather coming ahead.

–I should've guessed. It's raining, in Dingwall, I guess ?

Raymond stared at Leon for a good minte long anf took a deep breath, trying to stop his tongue from being bitchy, but he couldn't help it.

–Of course it's raining ! Where do ye think Scotland is ? The freaking Pyrenees ?

–Language !

The archaeologist snapped before rolling his eyes and sighed once again.

–Why Dingwall ?

–Because A know where to find a house fer us three.

–A house ? Whose house ?

That was surprisingly... quick. There's no way he had been able to look for a house so soon so here it was, the elephant in the room. At this one too, Ray seemed a bit awkward and he muttered something no one heard correctly. Leon frowned.

–I beg your pardon ?

–... me mom's...

He muttered while blushing and looking away. Desmond and Leon looked at each other and then stared back at the Scottish man.

–.... what ?!

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Here is a little something I was working on for a few days, it's quite gloomy and sorry if you don't like this, then skip the following drawing and animation ><

So it's basically an AU where my OC Madeline / Magpie ends up being taken care of by Targent but doesn't rest in peace. Welcome to the haunted Nest of Targent !

It's been a stressful week so I worked on this to cope with anxiety X'3 I can't do something too big ( I'm working on my phone so not easy peasy lemon squeezy ) but I'll probably continue if I have time and energy to waste on this silly concept 🙃

Looks like Claire is not that impressed by the Captain X3

And looks like the Captain knows more about the Azran gold that he would tell ~

This was supposed to be a file linked to the previous little Undertale Animation I found back. Also, there will not be so much to see so...

Context : Because of [file not found], WingDing has got nightmares all night long sometimes and it's hard for him to get over them. This way, he isolates himself a lot and was mute moat of the time. Arial knows he's a sensible and sensitive little brother so she often tries to communicate while learning sign language and wingdings. And sometimes it works enough so she can help when he needs it.