#ok maybe

what I imagine Elliott does after I give him the pomegranate

Reference:

A Human's Touch by TWRP

(WATCH THE FULL THING BEFORE PAUSING THE VIDEO!!!)

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You may be wondering what this is. WELL—

I saw this very cute, very innocent brOTP art post HERE of Rebecca, Desmond, and a bit of Shaun by @sneaky-eel —and listen. LISTEN.

It was supposed to be a normal reblog. A casual little "aw look they're cuddling on the couch <3" kind of moment. Adorable. Wholesome. Mentally stabilizing.

Because Rebecca's just casually snuggled on top of Desmond while he's napping (HE'S NAPPING), gacha mobile game in hand, and Shaun standing there all faux-haughty like, "this is where you were?"—but you know, YOU KNOW he wanted to be in that cuddle pile too and is mad he wasn't invited.

And I just—didn't expect that to open PANDORA'S BOX in my BRAIN. I didn't expect it to KICK MY SOUL DOWN A SPIRAL STAIRCASE or SET MY NEURONS ON FIRE.

Like my brain just LOOKED AT THIS, took a deep breath, and said:

"Okay, but like…what if this was devastating actually?"

and now it has been a week and I have NOT known peace.

And listen… this would have been fine. Normal, even. Like, I know I'm impulsive. I know I'm easily obsessive. I'm usually pretty good at keeping it contained.

Except—

Except.

I've had these 1 hour work meetings that somehow, mysteriously, have kept turning into 3-4 hour soul draining marathons EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. LAST. WEEK.

Camera off. Mic muted. Expected to sit and 'observe' because corporate inefficiency is eternal.

So my brain, predictably, left the premises. Exited the building. Wandered straight into the ether.

And in that cold void of the ether?

The lore found me.

It whispered sweet nothings directly into my ear. It showed me visions. It said:

"What if Rebecca went full dystopian cryptid—lightly drugging Desmond's soup so he sleeps like a baby, puts a bug on him so she can listen to his heartbeat like its Spotify Premium, and sets up silent alerts to monitor every variation of his breathing pattern like a lovesick surveillance state—and still smiles like :) it's fine :)?"

"What if Shaun is out here writing Renaissance AU fanfiction with forged primary sources, straight up doctoring courier logs, and using the dumbest background details from Ezio's memories to 'confirm' his wildest assumptions—all so Desmond skips filler episodes but still skill‑syncs flawlessly—and Rebecca's gaslighting the Animus so hard to make that fanfiction canon that even Ezio's memories are agreeing like, 'yeah, totally, we definitely did that'?"

"What if they're both committing independent federal crimes but covering for each other so well it's functionally flawless—like two raccoons driving a stolen Ferrari straight through Abstergo's front lobby, high fiving mid heist, and somehow getting away through pure audacity?"

"What if Rebecca and Shaun are soft… but also softly deranged?"

I went, "oh no."

And the void said, "oh yes."

AND HERE'S THE THING RIGHT—I ONLY WANTED TO WRITE THAT ONE SCENE.

Just the couch scene. Just that. That was all.

But…then, the ether asked:

"Okay, but… why stop there?"

And I folded faster than Ezio's trousers in a Venetian brothel.

And now there's a fic. …A one-shot actually. ( …Or maybe a four-shot, if I'm feeling particularly feral and lose all restraint. Which, statistically speaking, is inevitable, who's to say?)

So anyway, this went from:

"ohhh~ look at Becca being soft and affectionate and snuggling Desmond while he naps~ (◠‿◠✿)"

To:

"Make it insane. Make it feral. Make it so she planted a hidden heart monitor onto his body, regularly drugs his dinner so he'd sleep better, and now secretly curls with him during said sleeps while Shaun quietly plots federal crimes in the background. (⊙‿⊙✿)"

I am… starting to see a pattern in my writing and I think I'm fine with that. Probably.

(Please do not perceive me.)

Also. Completely unrelated. But actually very related.

I downloaded Umamusume because that's the game Rebecca was playing in the art and I just wanted to try it for research purposes for ONLY ONE SINGLE SENTENCE in the fic.

I thought it was stupid for the first thirty minutes. And now? Baka mitai. The horses own me now.

So yeah. Thank you, Eel. Your cute lil broTP art? Your harmless little serotonin post?

It has directly resulted in:

A 10K word feral one-shot

A new mobile game addiction

and a concerning amount of feelings about two feral disasters who just want their boy safe and warm and alive.

Like ooohhh you’re gonna show me the insides of that mouse? Yeah? Gonna show me how well it scrolls and clicks?

hello dca fandom,

i have the marital affection right here along with your appetizers coming up shortly

enjoy your meal

i certainly did when drawing it