#WHY is Trevor so hard to draw. WHY.

[askadrianalucardtepes]

"I'm glad I inherited the cool vampire powers and all, but it'd have been real nice if I also inherited the whole 'can't fall ill' thing for the vampire side. Luckily my friends are here to keep me alive."

[jesus-chain-smoking-cigarettes]

Been playing a lot of gta v lately, so here’s Trevor :3

[tigertofu]

i get chest pains when i think abt them 💕

[rowdyluv]

summary: a requested prompt with trevor, trevor and y/n cuddling up sharing memories of their years together.

warnings: none, absolute pure tooth rooting sweetness, quite literally, “its so fluffy I’m going to die”

word count: 2.8+

notes: request made by @sweetestdesire - “Tell me again how you fell in love with me.” “I literally told you yesterday. “I don’t care, I wanna hear it again. Plus, I love hearing you speak.” - altered slightly but not much

© property of quinnylouhughesx43 ; do not copy and re-upload as your own - anywhere. do not place my work inside AI codes, do not translate.

The rare California rain gently fell against her bedroom window, carrying with it the faint echo of wind and the occasional honk of a vehicle. Trevor and Y/n lay snug in her bed, their limbs intertwined in a familiar sense of comfort. The soft rustle of their sheets joined the sounds of the weather that filled the room, a stark contrast to the joyous and thunderous cheers of Ducks fans they had just left behind at the Honda Center, a lingering memory of the game that had just concluded.

Hopefully gone were the ugly memories of watching Trevor’s team lose game after game, the Duck’s were on a hot streak currently winning the last five home games as shutouts.

Y/n's head rested on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart, a rapid strumming that was slowly beginning to flow back into normal rhythm.

“I’m sorry we had to spend our 4-year anniversary at my game.” Trevor mumbled, he had apologized already at least twenty times, feeling terrible for not being able to do something for Y/n that day.

“Trevor, truly baby stop, I love going to your games!” She looked up at him, her eyes gleaming with affection. “I got to see you play, and score the game winning goal! I wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere else in the whole world, plus I am taking any opportunity to show off that I’m the only female who is wearing your last name with meaning.” She grinned a cheeky smile and he just shook his head.

They had met at one of his games, she had been dragged by one of her friends who was a die-hard Ducks fan. At that point in time, Trevor had been playing the not-so best season of his career. He was constantly in the box for silly retaliation calls, starting and finishing fights, he wasn’t scoring like a previous first rounder top prospect should have been. He was trying to keep himself from being distracted by the fans in the stands, so he hadn’t noticed her right away. It was her friend’s enthusiasm that had stood out among the sea of fans drawing his teammates eyes over during warmups.

However, when Trevor cracked and his attention was finally drawn by the way her friend cheered and yelled for his attention, his eyes fell on Y/n instead. The instant connection he thought that they had made, made him feel invincible on the ice that night. Trevor ended up earning himself a hat trick accompanied by two assists for a 5-1 win over the Sharks.

Trevor was determined to find her, after the game. He didn’t spare a single second for the media, he didn’t shower either. He wasn’t risking her leaving. In record time, he slung his gear off and changed into shorts and a t-shirt to make a mad dash out in hopes to find her still sitting in the seats behind the goal.

Luckily for him, she was still there. They ended up talking for hours after that game.

“Do you remember the night we met?” He asked her after being lost in his own memories about it.

Y/n’s eyes lit up, she had told the story to her friends and family a hundred times but hearing it from his perspective was something she never tired of. She nodded eagerly, “I was so nervous, I didn’t know why. Maybe it was because your eyes had this intense look when you were on the ice that night, or maybe it was just because you were so damn hot in your gear, I couldn’t keep my eyes off of you.”

Trevor pinched her waist playfully, a smirk playing on his lips. “I looked hot eh?” He teased, his thumb stroking the skin just above her hip bone. She giggled, swatting his hand away playfully.

“Stop it! You know you do.” Her giggle fit died down before she tried to speak again. “So, if we’re starting to share our memories together,” she smiled at him whole fully.

Y/n propped herself up on her elbow, sole purpose to be able to look at him better.

“Remember that night at the beach, when we had our first kiss?” Her voice was soft, a gentle whisper that danced in the air between them, stirring up the butterflies in Trevor’s stomach like it had that very evening as if he was a schoolboy again.

Trevor’s eyes searched hers, the question in her gaze so earnest, so hopeful. He couldn’t help but smile at the memory of the cool sand beneath his feet, the sound of the waves crashing in the background, and the way the moon had painted the horizon in a soft silver light. The night before she made a surprise trip to the Sharks arena to watch him play, unfortunately this game didn’t work out in the Ducks favor. When Trevor received her message post game about being there he turned towards one of Ducks equipment managers giving them directions to go get her.

“The night at the beach, the day after you surprised me by showing up at the game in San Jose?” He said, his voice carrying a hint of surprise. As if he would forget about it.

“Yes, the very one. Where I just showed up and you guys had just lost….but you still took the time to see me or I guess wanted to see me, so you sent someone out to get me.”

“It wasn’t a want after I knew you were there babygirl, I needed to see you. I knew you were going to be my girl after you bought your own $100 plus ticket to come watch me play and you went by yourself. You paid, knowing I could have got you free tickets all so you could surprise me.” Trevor's voice grew softer, the memory bringing a gentle warmth to his words.

He paused for a moment, his gaze drifting to the ceiling as he relived the night.

He had felt a fierce protectiveness over her as she approached the locker room full of raging hormonal men. He had almost immediately wrapped his arms around her, the smell of the generic body wash in the guest showers mingling with her perfume, something sweet and floral. The moment between the two shared in front of the locker rooms was when he had hastily asked her out to the beach later the next day.

Y/n layed back down on her stomach, her chin propped up on his chest, her eyes searching his as she spoke. "The night on the beach when you stopped suddenly when we were walking, I was scared you were bored or something," she confessed, a hint of vulnerability in her tone. She had never admitted it to him before, the small doubt that had lurked in the back of her mind that night.

Trevor stilled his motions before speaking, his eyes focused on hers, "Bored? With you? Not a chance." His voice was gentle, a warm caress that seemed to dispel any lingering shadows of doubt. "I knew right then I wanted to kiss you. I just had a moment of second guessing in case you smacked me or ran away." He laughed slightly as he smiled. “Then you turned back around and the way you looked, looked at me, I didn’t care if you smacked me. It wouldn’t hurt long. And hell, I’m a professional athlete. I'd catch up if you ran.”

Y/n felt her heart swell with affection as she laughed. "You're so dramatic," she said, her voice filled with love and amusement. She reached up and brushed a lock of hair from his forehead, her fingertips tracing the line of his cheekbone.

Trevor's smile grew with the soft touch of affection. "Maybe, but it's all true." His voice grew husky, the emotion of the memory thick in the air.

“Hey, Y/n?” He whispered, grabbing her by the waist with both hands lifting her to lay on top of him.

Her eyes searched for him, questioning and curious of the sudden change in position. He didn’t say a word, instead he leaned in and kissed her with a tenderness that could melt an entire ice rink three times over. It was the kind of kiss that made time stand still, where every beat of his heart resonated against her own. A kiss that was sweet and gentle, like a whispered promise of forever. It was a nice and welcomed difference to the passionate, urgent kisses they often shared in the bed they were occupying, but no less powerful in its own right.

When he pulled away, she found herself breathless, a soft blush painting her cheeks. “Trev, what was that for?”

He looked into her eyes, the warmth in his gaze making her feel like she was the only person in the universe. “I just wanted to remind you how much I love you, and that every day, every moment with you, makes me love you even more than I did the last time I said it.” He spoke with such conviction, his words a sweet melody that filled her soul. “I love you more now, than I did when we got home, and I’m sure you’ll give me a reason before tomorrow to love you more than I do right now.”

Y/n’s heart skipped a beat at his declaration, a feeling that was becoming as familiar as the sound of their breath mingling together. She knew she didn’t need the reassurance, but she craved it. She craved to hear his voice tell her that he felt the same way she did. That she wasn’t just some girl he had picked out in the crowd one night who had gotten lucky to get to know him, but the love of his life.

“Trevor.” Y/n whispered, laying her head against his shoulder, still lying on top of him, Trevor’s arms wrapped securely around her waist. “Will you tell me again how you fell in love with me?”

Trevor’s chuckle was a warm rumble under her cheek, a gentle reminder of his presence, and of his affection. “You’re like your little nephew asking for a bedtime story when he stays, you know that?” He said playfully, his eyes crinkling at the corners. But the request from her, nor the little guy, didn’t annoy him.

It was quite the opposite, it reminded him of their earlier days together. Back to when he first told her he loved her, back when she would ask him almost every day just to hear him say it.

He sighs and kisses her forehead before starting his story, his eyes closed as he recounts the moments that had led up to him falling for her. "I was in love with you far before I told you I was," he starts, his voice low and earnest. "Remember that summer when we got lost on our way to the Hughes’ lake house?"

Y/n nods, a smile playing on her lips, "You were so mad at the GPS," she murmurs, the memory bringing a hint of embarrassment to her voice, “thinking that it was wrong, but I had accidentally put the address in wrong. You never showed anger to me once we realized and wouldn’t let me apologize either. You laughed with me, not at me.”

Trevor’s arms tighten around her slightly. That summer had been one of the best of his life. It was the summer he had realized she was more than just the girl who had stolen his attention at the game. She was the girl who was breaking down every wall. Walls that he had no idea existed until she was in his life, because no other girl had ever managed to reach them.

"I was in love with you before I knew I was," he repeats in a caressing whisper. "It was the way you'd laugh at my terrible jokes, the way you not only cheer me on, but the entire team. It’s how even when I was playing like shit, you were still right there by my side. You see me for me I know that if I don’t or can’t play, you’ll still be here. You’re not here for the hockey side of me. It was the way you looked at me in a room full of people, like I was the only person in the room that mattered." His voice grew softer with each word, each memory weaving a tapestry of emotion in the air.

She’s heard the explanation a few hundred times over the four years, each time it fills her with so many emotions that she can’t help but tear up a little. She had never experienced such a love before Trevor, she never wants to experience anyone else’s but his.

“I knew it, when I had to pull over and ask that old man with his pet llama if you could pet it. You were so embarrassed I actually did it but you talked about petting the llama all day.” Trevor laughed remembering that specifically odd encounter.

“I still can’t believe I got to pet a llama because of you, that was pretty amazing.”

The warmth in her voice brought a grin to his face as he leaned further back into the pillows. She was so much more than he had ever hoped for in a partner.

"Every time I saw you, every moment we spent together, it was like you were throwing little glances of light into the darkest parts of me." Trevor's voice grew softer, his eyes still closed as if he could feel the moments more deeply that way. "You had this way of making everything feel right, even when everything was so wrong." He paused, taking a deep breath before continuing, his grip on her waist tightening slightly as the weight of his feelings pressed against his chest.

“The first time I told you that I love you that New Year’s Eve, when I flew back early to surprise you, during our first year together. I was so anxious. I had never felt this way about anyone before. And when I saw your face light up like the Christmas tree in Rockefeller Center when you opened the door to your apartment when I knocked, I had to tell you, right then and there. I blurted it out right in your face like the idiot goofball that I am. But whenever you feel so in love with someone the way I do, the kind that makes you want to jump out of airplanes to see if it matches the way they make your heart race or fight your way through the crazy mob of media instead of taking the interviews just to take a chance at meeting them.”

Trevor unwrapped his arms from her waist, only to move his hand to tilt her head to look up at him.

“Y/n, every day since then, that love has only grown and grown until it’s all I can think about, no you’re all I can think about. To the point I know that I want to marry you one day." His voice was steady, filled with certainty that had been growing in his heart for months, waiting for the perfect moment to tell her.

Y/n popped up with renewed energy, elated with the words that fell from his lips. “One day? Why not elope tomorrow? I have been waiting for you to say that for, forever. I don’t need big and fancy, I just need you.” She was beaming at him, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

Trevor shook his head in amazement, his eyes filled with love and amusement. "You're something else, you know that?" He replied, gently stroking her cheek with his thumb. "But no, not tomorrow, I want to do it right. Meaning I am going to ask you, not you ask me. I also know that you do want some type of ceremony, I’ve seen you scroll through Pinterest.” He stroked the side of her cheek with his thumb, wiping away the small tear that had fallen. The smile she wore let him know she wasn’t crying from him saying no. “I have always been one to rush into everything. I want us to take our time and make sure that when we do get married, it's a day neither of us will ever forget."

Her heart fluttered at his words, feeling the love between them grow stronger with each shared memory, and his confession. The room grew quiet once again, their breaths mingling together in a soft dance of contentment.

"I can't wait for that day," she whispered with a yawn taking over her words, her second wind of energy vanishing as quickly as it appeared. "But until then, I'm happy being with you just like this." Her eyes fluttered shut and reopened slowly.

“It’s okay to go to sleep, I will be here tomorrow. I can always talk about whatever it is you have ready to ask me then.” Trevor assured here pressing a kiss to her head from an awkward position. “Close your eyes and go to sleep, babygirl.”

tag list: @thedevilrisen @luke-hughes43

if you would like to be added to the tag list follow the link in the pinned post ♡

[beevean]

I decided to break down down this absolutely beautiful poster because I love it and there is some interesting content to notice <3

Starting from the big character portraits:

The Hecboi being his usual badass self. You can spot his earrings which I love, it's such a cute detail <3

Isaac practicing his "step on me daddy" routine. yes sir i get it your boots are fabulous and your pants can't contain your d

I find highkey underrated how Kojima associated him with skulls in official artwork. I wish it didn't get lost in time lol.

Trevor, my friend Trevor :) much more serious than the sass master he is in the game lol

Julia taking care of Hector's Innocent Devils :)

Side note, while I love most of their designs in the game, I find Kojima's idea of what Hector and Isaac's Devils could look like very fascinating. I like how she draws dragons.

The big man himself, St. Germain standing in front of a clock, and Zead holding a four-leafed clover for good luck (+ Isaac again lol)

Now, the more minute detail, going anti-clockwise:

Not only we can see Dracula's Castle, but the figure in the center is the Devil Forgery lab in the PtR manga:

Another underrated detail of lore :)

Oh, this one is just. juicy <3 It took me ages to understand what's going on, but with some help I finally realized it.

So this is essentially the moment where Hector went to Dracula and was like "hey boss, would you mind if you stopped to order me to kill humans? dunno if you noticed but i'm human too and it feels weird. thanks", and Dracula was like "hmm. let me think about it. no. have a nice day :)".

In the PtR manga, it was depicted like this:

With Dracula threatening Hector with his extended claws, and then throwing him off the castle keep. i don't know what you were expecting, man

But in the poster, he's straight up holding Hector by his throat and stabbing him with the fingers of his bat wings! So much that you can see blood dripping from his mouth! Ouch!

This only proves my headcanon that Devil Forgemasters are superhuman and can withstand wounds that would kill a normal person.

also, between this and his sippy attack in the game proper, dracula sure likes to manhandle hector a little too much.

the besties going to work <3

You have no idea how much this little drawing pisses me off. This is the closest thing I have of a canon depiction of Hector and Isaac working as Devil Forgemasters.

I need to see them slaughtering humans together in my bloodstream D: not even NFCV had the courtesy of depicting a villain Hector actually doing villain things D: guys. guys the potential-

Aside from that, this also incidentally proves that PtR's interpretation of Isaac's fabulous outfit (being what is left of his normal Devil Forgemaster outfit after Hector destroyed it) is retroactive. My man was apparently already going shirtless just because he felt like it. Imagine being killed by Dracula's most loyal soldier and your last sight in life is his tiddies. King shit.

also

yeah it's stupid but that's the vibe i get lol

I get it, Kojima-san, you love your blorbo. understandable

A bit more seriously, I really appreciate how much Isaac doesn't have the certified Kojima Pretty Man face, he's instantly recognizable. I like his big nose :)

Hector practicing Devil Forging, a smaller version of this panel from the PtR manga:

I like how in the poster it looks like a typical yin-yang symbol, but also closer to the black-and-white motif of the Devil Forging crest :) they look like two lil dragons chasing each other.

why does isaac look 150% more naked without his shoulder armor

It's hard to tell which even this is supposed to represent. I guess it's his defeat at Hector's hands, if we take the black splotches on the ground as his outfit being slashed. Notice the crest on the floor, similar to the intro of the game!

The worsties fighting. Hector is pissed and Isaac is a troll, must be a day ending in Y. they're flirting

The End! Hard to tell if it's Hector's golden Devil or Abel, but it looks awesome <3

This one... puzzles me. I can tell that Hector is being attacked by some little devils and he's defending himself. But why is he using a small pumpkin as a weapon??

(what if this is him trying to defend rosaly from the mob who accused her of being a witch :<)

Hector angsting. Sadly I'm not sure of what kind of flower that's supposed to be, perhaps a dandelion? I wish it was a lily of the valley like in PtR.

Our friend Trevor again. Interesingly, in the full poster, Isaac and Trevor are directly mirroring each other.

Trevor being like "bruh are you for real" after whipping Hector's ass black and blue. (i hate his second fight so much...)

I would say "Hector's revenge", but actually it looks like he's bleeding and in pain. So... I think this the moment when Dracula nearly clawed Trevor's eye out.

Trevor and Isaac fighting! Love that scene in the game :D

isaac how are you even twisting yourself. what are you doing. you're showing off, aren't you.

Not sure about what location these ruins are supposed to be, but fascinating detail of the skeleton holding a scale of justice. It's close to Zead...

tl;dr i want to eat this poster because it's just so fucking good and a great way to summarize the game

[rowdyhughesy]

Don’t run away, not now - Trevor Zegras

“ I’m burnt out, shit I need some rest. But how can I escape you if you’re in my head? “

- chase atlantic

requested: no

wc: 870

song fic inspired by This is what a broken heart feels like by Marina Lin

You gave it all away

Didn’t even let me in

You gave the worst goodbye

And people ask me how I've been

I wished relationships would come with a trailer, that you could watch it before you fall in love and decide if you wanted to continue. That if the impending heartache that could follow is truly worth it. If those two years filled with kisses on Saturday mornings, the smell of burning toast coming from the kitchen, warm fingertips drawing invisible shapes across my back in the early hours.

The fights when neither of us want to admit we've been wrong, when Trevor threw dirty laundry on the bathroom floor or forgot to put the dishes away.

Or when I let my insecurities become an obstacle I had problems crossing on my own. He would be there with a smile so big the ends of his eyelashes kissed the apples of his cheeks. Soft pink lips placing butterfly light kisses on my temple. Whispering how I was the most beautiful thing he's ever laid his eyes on.

How I wish I could've seen the trailer and been prepared for the ending. Saved myself the numbing ache that followed when I walked inside that door. Trevors facial expression void of any emotion as he breaks my heart into a million tiny glass pieces. 'I don't think it's working out.' Echoing inside my skull every damn time someone asks me how I'm holding up.

Replaying like a broken record that won't stop no matter how much I scream or cry. Palms pressed over my ears crying for it to shut up. Begging for silence. If only for a second

Friday nights got me feeling lonely

Saturdays are when the bottles empty

Why'd you have to leave me?

Dani strokes a comforting hand over the top of my head. Trying to smooth out the tangled rats ness I call hair her other arm wrapped around my body, cuddling me close to her side. Mumbling words of encouragement in my ear as I press my cheek closer to her chest. Hot tears wetting my skin as they run down, leaving small dark splotches on her sweater in their wake.

Throat sore from the cries of a broken heart I’ve been letting out for the past couple of hours.

It’s been two months since Trevor left but the tears still haven’t run dry. Every day there’s new ones along with the clenching feeling in my ribcage. It’s like someone has a tight grip on my heart and slowly but surely the grip becomes tighter and tighter. Squeezing with everything it has until the pain is all I can feel. Until it’s all that’s left.

‘Why did he have to leave Dani? What did I do wrong?’ Voice cracking as another wave of tears bubbles up. Eyes bloodshot, glassy from yet unshed tears and eyelashes clumped together.

‘You didn’t do anything wrong honey you did absolutely nothing. Do you hear me? This is not on you.’ Dani rests her chin on my head. Hand having left it’s previous position in my hair so both her arms are now cradling me close.

Small drops of her own tears that’s managed to slip out landing on my head. Troy gives her a sad smile from his place on the armchair across the coffee table. Trying to hold back all his frustration at his teammate for leaving someone so hurt and broken. For hurting a girl he’s considered as his little sister for two years.

But all he and Dani can do is be a shoulder to lean on and someone to confide in as the girl tries to get over the boy who left without warning.

Don't leave me

Don't leave me

Don't leave me

It’s hard to explain the feeling that crawls up your chest when you come across your ex boyfriends Instagram post. To see those light blue eyes and big smile that used to make your body tingle, lips twitching up at the corners and heart feel like it doubles in size.

Just that this time it’s shards of glass ripping through my skin and into my bones. Tears pricking at my waterline and breath getting knocked out of my lungs. Whole body deflating when I notice the pretty girl standing with her arms wrapped around his middle and kiss pressed to his cheek.

Love you to the moon and to Saturn typed underneath.

And the realisation that he’s never coming back crashing over me like a building being torn down. Rubble and dirt all that’s left behind along with my heart.

Flashes of a face red from crying as I beg for him to not leave, tell me what I could do to make him stay. Without even knowing that he’d been one foot out the door the whole time.

Heart already belonging to someone else. That I was the obstacle he had to get over to be with someone new, someone that would never be me. Not ever again.

[its-in-the-woods]

Down the Rabbit Hole Chapter 18

Chapter one here, two here, three here, four here , five here, six here, seven here, eight here,nine here, ten here, eleven here , twelve here , thirthen here, fourteen here, Fifteen Here Sixteen here, Seventeen here,

master list

Pairing: Walton Goggins x You

Rating/Warning:  As always minor get out Almost entirely fluff, vague suggestions of sex, lots of comfort, it's sweet and sappy

Synopsis: Packing sucks, not as much as getting interrupted did.

Note: Chapter is a hair shorter than normal, but I promise more is coming soon < 3

The last weeks of filming are done, you're exhausted but time stops for no one. There had been so many phone calls after the trip down south. Letting the head of department know you won’t be coming to their show after this one. Next, selling the car, which Deacon happily bought. As long with selling a lot of things that you won’t need anymore. Now you have four days left to pack all your stuff, label it, and have it ready to be picked up by the moving company by Friday. Though you lived in essentially a closet you were surprised at how much stuff you had accumulated over the years. Right now on day three of packing you are ready to dump everything in the trash and disappear into the night.

“Here,” Walton hands you a glass of wine. He has his cup, a sharpie tucked behind his ear as he sits cross-legged in front of a stack of boxes. You were so grateful for his help, the man hadn’t even hesitated to stay and pack with you. Trevor and Deacon had been over to help the first two days but had quickly been brought onto another show. The two of them promised to come down and visit as soon as they could. 

“Oh dang, I need this.” You sigh, taking a sip to try and soothe your frazzled nerves. As you try to figure out how everything is going to get done. “God, if I never have to see another box. I will die happy”

Walton chuckles wrapping your foundations in foam cushioning. “Only downside to moving, packing. How many of these do you need?”

“Oh, this is a sampling of the shade range I would like to have,” You tease, grabbing some paper to wrap up some pallets. 

The two of you work for another hour somehow getting all the makeup packed and secured. You could pretty much lose everything, but those eight totes and five boxes were the most important. Two of those boxes were bankers' boxes of notes, a box with seven hard drives of photos, and the last two boxes were portfolios. Leaning back against the stack of cardboard you feel a little relief. Tomorrow would be clothes and anything left in the kitchen. If it all went well you'd be done mid-day.

Walton was currently splayed out on the floor flipping through one of your portfolios. Bare feet moving back and forth, head propped up by one hand., an empty bottle of vino beside him. You had offered to open another, but Walton had sagely pointed out that a hangover tomorrow would suck. 

“You should bring this with you when you go see Jamison,” Walton comments, pointing at a sketch of creature make-up side by side with the actual piece. You had regularly taken up any opportunity to work on indie films that required monsters, it helped keep you and your portfolio fresh.

You wiggle over and bring the glass of vino with you, “Oh, maybe. I don't want to impose. Just happy to see the place really.” 

Walton squints at you, “I promise Jamison would love these. Bring the book.”  

He flips to another page, it had his face in various stages of being shit kicked. Along with several sketches you had done of him after the fact. You can see his eyes light up as he looks it over.

“Why didn’t you show me these?” Walton gasps, looking at the closer, “These are fantastic.”

You shrug while sipping the last of the wine, “You've kept me busy, hadn't crossed my mind. I think I have one from each time we worked before.” 

“You like to draw me? Would you draw me?” Walton asks, turning to look at you from above his glasses.

You flush, biting your lip a little. “If you like, can't say how good it will come out. I should probably brush up on my sketching skills, it’s been a minute.”

Walton grins, closing the book carefully and sliding it back into its box.  He stretches, crawling over to you. Laying his head against your thigh, his weight a comforting familiarity you’ve grown to enjoy.

“Maybe some tasteful nudes,” He said with a crooked grin, “Hang them up in the dining room.” Walt’s large hands made an exaggerated motion across the air. 

You snort, almost losing your wine, “It would be a heck of a conversation starter.” You run your fingers through his hair, watching as his eyes close. “Then again, I have a feeling people won’t be too surprised.”

A grin spreads over his face, making his eyes crinkle at the corners. As he snuggles in against your thigh, “I’ve never been shy, no shame in a human body after all.” He sighs, kissing your jeans. 

Your hand runs down his shoulders and back, massaging at any knots you find, feeling them relax under your fingertips. He groans a little as you hit one between the spine and shoulder blade. Mentally noting that you should both get a massage once things have settled. You close your own eyes letting your head rest against the boxes. Enjoying the heat of his body against yours, the buzz of the alcohol having you nodding off. 

Walton is kissing your cheek, you open your eyes blinking a few times, your knees yelling at you for sitting so long. You move, stretching out as your joint clicks from being in the same position for so long. 

“M’shit.” You mumble, rubbing at your eyes trying to wake up. Walton is already up and stretching glasses and bottle up on the counter. 

“Should go to bed, sweetheart,” Walton rumbles at you, you let out a breath and push yourself up. Following him over to the bed, sleep was sorely needed. 

The bed is cold and empty, you huff wondering where your partner could have run off to. Grabbing your phone, you see it’s nine in the morning already, which meant you had five hours to finish packing.  Groaning you slide out of bed, finding a mostly clean shirt and some loose-fitting pants. You had already packed a suitcase for the flight that evening. The smell of coffee and a closing door alerts you that breakfast has arrived. 

You wander out from behind the stack of boxes, Walton balancing a coffee tray and a bag of goodies. A grin spreads across his face as he places it on the counter. He was also dressed in yesterday's clothes, a jacket covered in raindrops. 

“Good morning, gorgeous,” He beams, leaning in to kiss you. You linger there for a moment, really hating that you needed to continue to pack. 

“Whatever that is, smells amazing,” You smile back, reaching for a coffee that has your name written on top with a heart. He had taken to drawing little doodles on your coffee lid. Several you had stashed away as keepsakes. 

“There is this adorable cafe down the way, these breakfast sandwiches looked too good not to grab a couple,” Walt smiles, taking his own sip of coffee rolling his eyes, and moaning at the flavor. 

You chuckle digging a sandwich out of the bag, you take a bit repeating his groan at the food. He wasn't wrong, it was delicious food. Sighing you lean against the counter passing Walton his sandwich. The two of you munching on breakfast in a mostly quiet room. You take another sip of coffee and notice several newly packed boxes. You tip your head looking at them, walking over to see the writing on them. 

“Did you box up my clothes?” You ask, turning towards him. He has flushed a little, not meeting his gaze. You grin walking over to him, tipping his chin to look at you, surprised to see worry in his furrowed brows.

“What is it?” You ask quietly, putting your coffee down, and moving back over to him. 

Walt shrugs a little, placing his coffee beside yours, “Couldn’t sleep, didn’t know if I was excited or nervous. So I got up and packed while you slept, figured we could go down early?”

You squint a little at him, watching as he moves from one foot to the other, “Are you nervous about me moving in?”

Walton’s eyes go to the floor, his neck flushing red. It reminds you of the morning you woke up in his spare bedroom, nervous energy bouncing around the room. His usual cool confidence lowered as he looks anywhere but at you. 

“A little,” He finally looks up at you, those hazel eyes glowing in the morning light. “Haven’t had a lady living in my place in.” He looks away fiddling with his watch band, “Well it’s been a long time.”  

You pull him close so your back is against the counter and him standing between your feet. Your hands go to his waist, as you look at him for a moment, making sure to keep eye contact, before you speak. 

“You said you wanted to have hard conversations. Is this one of them?” You ask, trying your best not to let your stomach tie in knots. Since the last panic attack you'd learned to lean on him a little more, you found that getting out whatever was bothering you to ease the tension. Walton always listened, made sure that you were heard, then comforted or reassured you. You wanted to do the same for him, this wasn’t a one-sided relationship. 

Walton’s lips twitch into a smile, “I am anxious to be home with you, to have you there. I think I have this anticipation building, thinking that maybe we’ve gone too fast.” You nod your head, listening. He moves so that he is even closer to you. “But I also don’t want to slow down,” He lets out a breath. “Admitting that is terrifying. Cause the last thing I want is to push you away.”

You lean up and kiss him, holding him against you, “If we need to slow down, I promise to tell you. And if you need to slow down,”. You emphasize this, “You tell me. Open communication.”

He leans back looking at you, scanning your face. You watch his shoulder relax. “Promise?”

“Promise. I want us both to be content, however that is.” You lean up and kiss him again. “We will have our ups and downs, but knowing this.” You gesture between the two of you. “Is solid,” You shrug, lost for words. “Couldn’t ask for better.”

He moves forward, hands running over your knees, under your thighs to lift you onto the counter. Walton moves between your legs, and you wrap your ankles over his hips, hand looping up over his neck. The familiarity of the dance you two did making your heartache, 

“I will bring you the moon,” He whispers in your ear, lips trailing around your ear lob. “Pull down stars to decorate the backyard with.” He murmurs, kissing down your neck, his hands working at your hips. Soft fingers slip under the material of your shirt. “Give you the world.”

You wiggle a little, shivers running down your spine. “You’re my world.” You whisper back, letting your hands run through his hair, breath hitching as his warm hands splay across your skin. “Just need you,”

A bang on the door has you both frozen, Walton moves away adjusting himself to try and hide the obvious hardness, moving to stand behind a stack of boxes. You fix your rucked-up shirt and straighten your ow pants, face flushed. 

You open the door to see Tracy from a few doors down, you had completely forgotten that you had sold her the bed and frame. The woman had been your neighbor for the entire time you’d been in the building, the two of you only ever exchanging pleasantries. So you were surprised when she had offered to take the bed off your hands. The woman topped out at five feet, with sandy hair, leopard print glasses, and an oval face that always seemed a little worried. You were pretty sure she lived with her two sons a few doors down.  

“Oh hey,” You fluster out, trying not to look like Walton wasn’t just standing between your legs. “The bed right?”

Tracy takes you in, that worry deepening as she looks you over “Is this an okay time?”

You plaster a smile on, moving out of the way to let her in, “If you just give us two seconds, me and my-y-ah-boyfriend, will get the bed for you.”

Tracy slides in standing by the stack of boxes as Walton shuffles towards the back. Her arms crossed over her chest, a look of disapproval wrinkling her forehead more. She looks between the two of you as if you just admitted to dating a serial killer. 

“Oh, I thought that was your Dad,” Tracy says out loud, Walton nearly falls over at the words. You duck your head down as your whole face goes red. The two of you are close to having a giggling fit.

“Ahh, haha. Yeah, no.” You try not to squeak, Walton is now on the floor, hand covering his mouth as he does his best not to laugh. 

You smack his arm getting him to help you pull the covers and sheets off. Grateful that you were ridiculously anal and kept the mattress wrapped in plastic. Walton and you trip over each other moving it towards the door with it. 

“Can we bring it to your place?” Walton offers his face a lovely shade of pink as he comes to the door. You are purposely avoiding everyone’s eyes, trying not to make it any more awkward than it already was. 

“Oh,” Tracy says looking him up and down, “Do I know you from somewhere?”

Walton shrugs, shaking his head, “Probably not, just one of those faces.”

Tracy’s eyes narrow, but she goes to open the door, her two sons standing there. They give awkward waves and smiles. They were male versions of their mom, except with black hair and freckles. One had a tattoo sleeve, the other wore thick blue glasses. 

“Come on in, It’s got handles at least,” You grimace, the boys grabbing the mattress, the boy with the glasses looking at Walton again. 

You and Walton go back for the frame, handing it awkwardly to Tracy who is still staring. You all but drop the thing onto her, as she continues to eyeball your boyfriend. 

“I got the transfer,” You try to get her towards the door. “So should be good to go,”

“Wait, are you Walter.” Tracey moves towards Walton, who is doing everything but crawling into a box to get away from her. “Walter Googles, you were in that show..”

Walton looks a little stunned, mouth opening and closing a couple of times.

“Ahh, I think you got the wrong person.” You say, quickly stepping in between Tracy and Walton. You were pretty positive Walton would be more than fine under normal circumstances, but really you just needed her out of your apartment. 

She glares at you, hesitating before she grabs the frames and shuffles out.

“Well I hope you have a safe trip then,” The woman says, eyes still squinting at you suspiciously as she exits.  

“Thank you, have a good day,” You reply in your best customer service singsong voice. 

You close the door, locking it before turning back to Walton, he bites his lip, the two of you waiting a good several minutes before letting out a laugh.

“I feel so bad,” You squeak, moving back over to grab a drink of coffee, 

Walton is giggling sliding down onto the floor. “You think I should go ask if she wants an autograph.”

You choke on the coffee, “No, I think that woman has been through enough.”

Walton sits there still giggling as you bring his cup of coffee. You slid down the wall, the only thing left to pack was the kitchen and bed dressing. You lean your head on his shoulder, as the two of you continue to chuckle about the situation. 

“Kitchen left?” Walton asks, kissing the top of your head. 

“Yes,” You groan, “Think we could leave?”

Walton chuckles, “How much was that damage deposit?”

Chapter nineteen

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

*thank you all for the love as always, i can't believe we are hitting eighteen chapters! when the heck did that happen!

@ghoulphile @hiddlebatchedloki @live-logs-and-proper @justme12200 @ryankaylamartin96

@rachmar  @therest-stillunwritten @awhoresjourney @stankface

@itsyellow

[shads-shipposts]

Anachronism Ch 1

We did it chat

We surpassed the "Fandom is six people and a shoelace" meme. We are now seven people and a shoelace!

This calls for celebration.

In the form of another full chapter of my fic Anachronism! Unproofread of course, because this page is still the furthest thing from polished and I am to keep it chaotic.

The prologue is here!

CW: Language

Wordcount: 3086

------------------------------------------

It’s all fun and games until it happens to you.

Oh, sure, we’ve all laughed at someone else’s misfortune. I’ve done it, even at the most inopportune of moments. Like a kid tripping and eating asphalt.

Or when a character gets sucked into fanfiction and must survive the HorrorsTM.

I’d read my fair share of those fics in my fair share of fandoms. Star Wars, Assassin’s Creed Three and Four, and Tintin seemed to be the main ones.

Speaking of Tintin…

Maybe it was an odd sort of gift, granted by the universe with her oh so funny sense of humor. College had my stories stuck in a rut, so this could be the big breakthrough to jumpstart my creativity once more. Or this could be karma for never finishing my own universe-yeet Tintin fanfiction.

The Day Karma Bit Back.

I figured my habit of never finishing fics all the way through would eventually bite me in the ass.

I just didn’t imagine it’d be in the form of me waking up in a 1950s style apartment in the Tintin movie, something immediately apparent by the realistic yet stylized environment.

Slowly sitting up in confusion, I peered around at the room.

That only left me more confused when I saw my phone charging on the nightstand, and my laptop charging on a dresser.

Not the weirdest dream I’d ever had, because hellfire I’d had some off the wall ones that no amount of backtracking through my day could explain.

Useful for wilder story concepts, though.

Maybe college had finally pushed me to the breaking point. When I say I contemplated dropping out last Fall… damn those fruit flies and their entire lab-grown lineage to hell.

“Mornin’!”

I yelped and flipped out of the bed as a voice sounded right by my ear. Jumping into a right fighting stance, guard up, I found myself staring at a familiar face.

Not a sailor, or a reporter, or even a Tintin character at all.

Instead, I was looking at one of my characters.

Tan skin, shoulder length black hair that fluffed in every direction, mischievous green eyes, and a body built like a brick shithouse.

“T-… Trevor!?” I sputtered, blinking rapidly as if he were merely an illusion and a few resets would make him disappear.

How was he here? Yeah, sure, he originally started showing up in a Tintin fic snippet I had from like 2017 or 2018, so him in Tintin wasn’t too outlandish… but why was he in my room?

He flopped on my bed, rolling onto his back and grinning up at me.

Hell, those teeth are sharp.

“The creator recognizes me!” He flipped back onto his stomach, pointing a finger gun at me. “Ya know, still waitin’ on you to draw me.”

“Wait-”

“I mean, come on!” Trevor sat up and gestured to himself. “You only just recently settled on a design! I’ve just be a vague consciousness that plagues your story with no set corporeal form, do you know how hard it is to flirt with people like that?”

I shook my head, waving my hands in a weak attempt to get him to stop talking so I could get a word in. “Hold it! What kind of whack-ass dream am I havin’ that you’re in?” I exclaimed. “You’ve never shown up in my dreams!”

Yeah, college really has driven me past the brink of insanity. I’m really out here arguing with a figment of my imagination asking why he showed up.

Ain’t the weirdest dream we’ve had.

True that, but still!

Trevor’s grin, somehow, got wider. “Dream? My dearest creator, this isn’t a dream!” He frowned, scratching behind his ear like a dog. “Though, suppose it is in a way. Dream come true for your hyperfixated self, gettin’ to roam the Tintin movie from 2011! Ya know, the reason you’re writin’?”

I grimaced. “Ugh, please don’t remind me of that old role-play nightmare.”

“Hey, it was a start!”

“A cringey start at that,” I muttered, then shook my head violently to erase it from my brain like an Etch-A-Sketch. “Hey, stop changin’ the subject!”

“What subject?” Trevor asked, an innocent smile on his face.

“The subject of what the hell you’re doing here, in my dream. I know you’re self aware, you little shit.”

“That I am! Well, since you’re so persistent.” Somehow managing a backflip off the bed, he then raised his arms above his head like a successful gymnast.

“Try hard,” I snorted.

“Ah, but who designed me so?”

“Yourself,” I shot back. “I never even created your dramatic ass, you just started showin’ up. Like the personification of the plot or somethin’.”

“Ah, but you can’t say I ain’t useful!”

“Broken clock is right twice a day.”

“I could boot you back to the ‘waking’.” He used air quotes around the word. “World if you’d prefer!” His teeth flashed in a devious grin. “I’m sure the Spring semester would love to welcome you in.”

Nausea rose up my throat and I felt the beginnings of a tension migraine behind my eyes.

“Ugh hard pass.”

“So stay awhile!” Trevor suggested, spreading his arms wide. “Besides, what do you have to lose?” He winked at me. “Like you said, it’s just a dream.”

Boy, I do not like the way you said that.

But, he had a point. Or, I guess my subconscious did. This wouldn’t be the first time I lucid dreamed, or was self aware in a dream. And what else could it be other than a dream?

People didn’t jump between universes. That just wasn’t a thing.

A dream.

That was it.

Just… just a dream.

Given that it was just a dream, wouldn’t hurt to go rambling. It was odd the scene hadn’t shifted yet, since my dreams were usually pretty chaotic, but maybe this was the time for a scene shift.

May as well make the best of it before I wake up on Winter Break again. Happy New Year to me.

“Alright, fine,” I groaned. “I’ll bite.”

“You sure do!” Trevor looked at his watch-less wrist. “Welp, gotta get goin’! Things to do, places to be.”

Really?!

What cosmic entity did I piss off to earn this nightmare?

“Hold it!” I barked, following him as he started for the door. “Can’t I get at least a little explanation?”

“Nope!” Trevor turned to face me, grinning ear to ear. “This is not a well-thought-out and carefully crafted type of fanfic, no no! This is a wild ride of a fic where we just take the cards we’re dealt, and we run with them!” He shrugged. “All there is to it!”

“But-“

“Besides! Explaining things only slows the chaos down, after all no one has time nor patience for exposition dumps. That’s not why they’re here! They’re here for nonsense to fuel their escapism and yearning for found-family that would kill for them!”

“Who the fuck is they?” I exclaimed, gesturing at the empty apartment. “We’re alone.”

“Are we?”

“Hey, don’t pull a Polar Express train hobo,” I said, jabbing a finger into his chest. “Can’t I get a little info?”

“It’s a dream, right? They don’t do info dumped they go straight into the crack!” He held his hand up. “But if you insist.”

The moment he snapped his fingers a wave of images and information slammed into my brain and knocked me off my feet.

Dark alleyways, crowded marketplaces, peaceful courtyards, musty attics, cluttered apartments.

Quick glimpses really, like the faded, hazy memories of dreams. Enough of a visage to distinguish where I was, to feel a sense of familiarity, but not really anything more.

Blurry snapshot rather than a true picture.

Sounds muted and unclear, like hearing things from underwater. Just past the point of deciphering. Voices, lots of those. Gunshots? Yes, those too.

One particular scene came into focus.

The library, its aisles dark and shelves overturned. Books everywhere, some intact some not. Adrenaline pulsing through my veins, something heavy scalding my hand.

A pistol, recently and frequently fired.

Echoes of gunfire, accompanied by yelling. Angry, threatening yelling, the roughness and pitch unmistakably masculine.

Yet there was another above the din, a lighter tone that had yet to really mature into the lower base of a grown adult.

A glance to the side revealed a familiar freckled face and ginger quiff, its owner hunkered down behind an overturned table with me. A flash of white fur near his leg, adding his barks to the cacophony.

Was Tintin shorter than me? No, yes… maybe?

It was always so hard to tell when crouched, as I was all leg and hardly any torso at all.

Height didn’t matter here, but numbers did.

And we were losing.

Tintin grabbed my hand, yanking me towards a fallen shelf as he fired over his shoulder and forced the attackers to take cover.

Were they the sailors? Another faction? Simple thugs?

I didn’t know, and would apparently never know as the scene vanished like a mirage on an old dirt road during a summer heatwave.

In its place came the headache of the century.

“Hellfire,” I groaned, gripping my head. “I know they say to avoid infodumps in stories, but this is a-whole-nother bitch. What the fuck, Trevor?”

I received no answer.

I slowly sat up, cursing as the room spun. “Trevor?”

No one, just me in the room.

One of the windows to the fire escape was open, however, and with great difficulty I got to my feet to see if he’d escaped that way.

You better be gone gone, ‘cause boy if I get my hands on you you’re donezo.

I staggered to the back window, leaning heavily on the windowsill as the low drone of a ship’s horn echoed off the alley walls. A quick scan of the lower street revealed no Trevor, and as I blinked away the spots from my vision I also saw no sign of him along the rooftops.

“Trickster bastard,” I grumbled, rubbing my temple.

Another low drone from a ship caught my attention, and I looked towards the source. Just over the tops of some of the building, I could see the crane arms moving back and forth.

Go.

You know you want to.

It’s a dream, right?

My eyes moved to the sketchpad on my nightstand.

What do you have to lose?

My phone chirped, which was quite odd given I’d had that sucker on silent since 2015. The screen brightened, and as I picked it up, I found myself looking at the lockscreen.

My persona Scarlett Bloodsmoke embracing two dear friends, Thatcher Morgan and Skipper Anders, on the enchanted shores of the dreamrealm.

My eyes drifted to the text alert banner, and my nose wrinkled in a scowl as I read Trevor’s name at the top.

The contents of his text only deepened my frown.

“May as well get reference sketches for the Caroline even though you sink her!”

Of all the character deaths I concocted, the wreck of the Caroline and all the men who went down with her was probably the one that hit me the hardest. It’d been two years since I drafted the scene, and two years since I’d last read it because it was so painful.

It was also the reason I had my phone thrown at me by two of my friends.

Thatcher and Skipper had perished in the wreck, something that would haunt both Scarlett and me.

And got me yelled at by my therapist, but it was honestly very deserved.

I looked again out towards the distant cranes as yet again a ship’s horn echoed off the brick walls like a siren’s call.

This was a dream. It had to be. So any pictures or sketches would remain in my consciousness only as I couldn’t pull them into the real world . But even so…

Dreams had given me very handy inspiration before.

At the very least, I could update the Caroline’s design.

She had her roots in the Karaboudjan anyways, just like Thatcher had his roots in Allan and Skipper had his in Tom.

“Alright,” I muttered, heading to the closet to find something comfy to wear. “Let’s get some inspiration.”

-Allan pov-

The hair caught Allan’s eye first. 

Dark bluish-purple in the shade, a more vibrant reddish-purple in the sun. 

The owner of the hair only piqued his interest more.

He, or she, looked so out of place it was almost hilarious. At least among the dockworkers. She had enough sense to stay out of the way, sticking close to a large wall where she was cloaked mostly in the long, mid-morning shadows cast by the warehouse. But she wasn’t even trying to blend in with the rest of the men, sitting cross legged atop a crate scribbling furiously in a sketchbook.

The odd sight wasn’t exactly concerning, but the fact she frequently looked at the Karaboudjan was. 

Surely she couldn’t be a reporter or journalist. 

Then again, that ginger nuisance Allan and his men ran across near Egypt also didn’t look like a journalist but had caused a world of hurt for Allan’s operations. Looks could be incredibly deceiving. 

But there was something else.

He couldn’t be sure from this distance, but the kid almost looked… familiar? 

Maybe…

No. 

Surely not.

His dream that morning was making him paranoid, that was all. It was embarrassing really, that a simple nightmare had him so rattled he saw Scarlett’s face everywhere now. 

Yet his eyes remained trained on her. 

He had to know. Had to know why the hell she was sketching the ship. 

It was because of her clear fascination and focus on the ship, nothing more. He just needed... needed to keep an eye out. The FBI and Interpol could have spies everywhere. 

It was purely business.

It wasn’t personal.

It wasn’t dire.

It wasn’t Scarlett. 

“Hey, Al, what are ya lookin’ at?” Tom asked, coming up beside him. 

Allan dipped his head towards the kid. “We got a watcher.” 

Another one of Allan’s men, an Australian named Neil, joined them. “Yeah, she’s been there since I started unloadin’.”

Allan glanced at him. “Talk to ‘er?”

Neil shook his head. “Didn’t see a need to. She’s outta the way, and is mindin’ ‘er business. Ain’t botherin’ anyone.” 

Allan turned his attention back to the kid. “Right.” 

“Should I have?” Neil asked. 

“Not sure yet,” Allan replied slowly. 

And he hated that he wasn’t. Uncertainty could put you at risk to be blindsided, and blindsides were a death sentence in Allan’s line of work. 

“Nice hair, though,” Neil commented with a small laugh. “Reminds me of my sister, she always liked dyein’ ‘er hair fancy colors.”

Tom tilted his head as he watched her scribble. “Purple, though? Bit anachronistic, don’t ya think?” 

Neil glanced at Tom and elbowed him with a sly grin. “Didn’t think you could manage big words like that, Tommy.” 

Tom glared at him, clearly fighting down a smile of his own. “Piss off,” he growled, shoving Neil.

���Stow it,” Allan snapped as the pair started going for headlocks and rib shots.

This was just too weird to ignore, too odd to brush off as mere coincidence. 

He had to figure out why exactly she was here, and who exactly she was. 

“What’s wrong?” Tom asked, smacking Neil’s hat off in one last blow.

Tom, you well-meaning but unobservant idiot.

“Look at ‘er face.”

Tom gave him an odd look, but peered across the docks. “Is there… somethin’ I’m lookin’ for?”

“She doesn’t remind you of Scarlett?”

Tom’s eyes widened. “Oh… shit, yeah. I see it now.”

Neil frowned. “Who?”

“Someone we ran across a few months ago. She was…” Allan struggled to find the words to describe her that wouldn’t make him look like a madman spouting about aliens. “Unique.”

“She kinda just vanished without a trace,” Tom added. “We’re still not exactly sure what all happened those few days she was ‘round ‘ere.”

“And you think the sketcher is her?”

Allan shook his head. “Not a chance. Scarlett had some… unmistakable traits.”

“Like what?”

“Not important right now.”

As far as you’re concerned, Neil.

Neil glanced at Tom, clearly hoping the man would shed some light on the First Mate’s statement. When Tom offered nothing, eyes focused on the young woman, Neil looked back at Allan.

“Am I… missin’ somethin’, boss?”

Should he offer a little more information? Neil had proven himself a reliable secretkeeper, and fairly unshakable no matter what Allan threw his way. Harry Hobbs also spoke highly of him, assuring Allan that Neil could be trusted with their… more secretive operation.

“There’s a good chance,” Allan began carefully. “Scarlett wasn’t… earthly.”

Neil blinked. “An alien.”

“She had a bloody tail.”

“A fluffy one,” Tom added. “Black and white striped. Furry feet and ears too.”

“Ah.” Neil looked at the sketcher. “That explains the fascination. Really think this kid has a connection?”

“Think I’ll go find out myself.”

Tom looked at him, somewhat alarmed. “What if she bolts?” He gestured to the both of them. “We’re not exactly the most friendly lookin’.”

“Good point,” Allan muttered, then turned to Neil. “Go try and talk to ‘er.”

Neil wasn’t exactly any less physically imposing than Allan or Tom, but him alone may not be as threatening.

“Keep ‘er distracted, but don’t engage. No threats, got it?”

No need to make a scene, not yet. Usually he wouldn’t care, after all if you acted like you had something to hide people got suspicious, but after his nightmare coincided with Tom’s, he was on edge for anything unusual.

Her face, even from this distance…

It was just so damn close to Scarlett. Blood relation close. 

Could Alphians shift into humans? He thought he recalled Scarlett mentioning that once, but he couldn’t be sure. 

Either way, he could not let this kid escape without seeing if she knew the Alphian. 

“Not… gonna do anythin’ to ‘er, right boss?” Neil asked, a new hardness to his tone. 

“No, she’s not in any danger.” Not yet. “I just have questions for ‘er.”

Neil still didn’t seem convinced. 

“Just go,” Allan ordered. 

As Neil left, Allan turned to Tom. “Alert the boys. Get ‘em to block the exits, but discreetly. Wait for my word, this could be nothin’.” 

Tom nodded and left to carry out the order. 

Allan turned back to watch the kid, eyes narrowed. 

Nothing personal. 

I need answers. 

And you’re not goin’ anywhere until I get them.

[angstyaches]

for the sick or treat asks,,, what if we had shayne 🍫... a bit uncharacteristic but that's why i'm interested to see how you might write that! if you're up for it:)

Overindulgence also requested by @wussifer, thank you, my dears! Sorry the emeto isn't shown, I just really wanted some soft Sharlie and Belle.

Sick or Treat Game

CW: mention of emeto, overindulgence (soda; I still don't feel like he's at the point of actually overeating but still really loved the idea of this prompt!!)

___

“Happy Halloween!” Charlie waved as a tiny Jack Sparrow and a ghost sprinted towards where their parent were waiting at the end of the driveway. They stopped to wave again, almost spilling their candy buckets in the process. Charlie lifted Belle’s hand and gently had her wave back, much to the parent’s visible delight.

After all, how could one not be delighted by an adorable little cutie in a pumpkin costume? Charlie was about ready to drop dead out of love for his niece.

“You’re enjoying this far too much.”

A faintly raspy voice made Charlie turn his head as the trick-or-treaters walked down the street. He shut the front door again as Shayne skulked down the shadowy hallway, retreating from the noise and bustle of the living room. He hadn’t brought a costume, but in his usual dark attire, he didn’t exactly stand out. Charlie had wriggled into a cheap plastic clown jumpsuit he’d bought a few years ago, which Ingrid had – characteristically – stored in a box until the time came for it to be used again. He'd thought about doing face paint, but had decided that since Belle was probably still just learning to recognise him, he'd be better off without it.

“And?” Charlie grinned.

Shayne raised an eyebrow as he leaned against the wall next to the door, as though he intended to let Charlie come up with his own answer. His dark eyes swiveled to Belle, who was elegantly drooling around the tips of her own thumb, and then fixed on Charlie’s face again.

He looked... a little off.

“Hi,” Charlie said experimentally.

"Hi."

Charlie tilted his hip, drawing both arms around Belle and twisting his upper body in the opposite direction, so that he could lean over and give Shayne a kiss on the cheek. He felt Shayne’s fingers softly graze his hip, and Charlie ached with the need to bury his fingers in his boyfriend’s hair.

They’d been behaving themselves all night, due to the fact that they were barely ever out of sight of Charlie’s family; not that Ingrid or Trevor ever made them feel bad for being physically affectionate, but Charlie would rather swallow a spider whole than give Jonathan any excuse to tease or embarrass him. Besides, present moment aside, the thought of doing anything too intense near Belle made him a little uneasy.

“So..." Finger still lightly tracing over Charlie's waist, Shayne cleared his throat. "I threw up."

Charlie frowned, adjusting Belle on his hip again. “You what? When?”

“Few minutes ago.”

After making sure Belle was stable between his waist and his elbow, Charlie laid one hand against Shayne’s cheek, once more inspecting his complexion and the brightness of his eyes. “Are you okay?”

Shayne nodded, pressing his cheek into Charlie's touch. "I'm fine."

“Is it stressing you out? Being here?” Charlie asked, his mind racing as he struggled to recall any signs that Shayne was having a bad time. He’d seemed content enough to listen to Nicole’s complaints about Belle’s sleep schedule, and to Jonathan’s ridiculous ramblings.

“No, it’s fine. I just…” Shayne ran a hand over his stomach, shaking his head. “It... might have been the cherry coke.”

Charlie raised his eyebrows.

“Every time someone speaks to me, I can’t help drinking more, and people have been talking… a lot,” Shayne admitted, looking like he was working hard to suppress a shiver.

“I'm sorry, lovely. Are you sure you're okay?” Charlie asked again. He gave another glance towards the sitting room door.

Rubbing at his stomach again, Shayne shut his eyes and nodded. "I'm fine."

“Well… want to stay out here with us for a bit? Give away sweets?” Charlie broke into a smile as Shayne eyed the glass bowl that was just about half-empty by now. Whether he looked apprehensive because food was involved, or because he was still being required to be sociable, Charlie wasn’t sure. “You can glare at the trick-or-treaters all you like. Give them your scariest one.”

“Really?” Shayne glanced at Belle, and back up at Charlie. "Scariest?"

“Yep.”

“Can I teach Belle how to glare, too?"

Charlie barely held back a scoff as he turned his head to observe his niece's bright green eyes. She was gazing back at him, head tilted back as though to get a wider view, as though she couldn't get enough of the sight of him just as much as he couldn't get enough of her.

"She smiles way too much,” Shayne observed.

“Only you could think a baby smiles too much.”

They both started slightly when there was a knock on the front door, followed by a chorus of high-pitched voices calling, “Trick or treat!”

With some apparent effort, Shayne peeled himself away from the wall and moved a hand towards the door handle.

“Ready, Belle?” he whispered.

Charlie grinned, hugging his pumpkin niece a little closer.

[puckgoss]

why tf is trevor posting on his story with professional photos is he getting traded?!?!

i don't have insider access to the ducks org so this is just my opinion, but... yeah. i think the writing is on the wall here.

#1 : in a recent column, elliotte friedman (most important NHL reporter/insider) wrote:

"Zegras finished with eight points in the last 10 games. This is probably the most fascinating summer decision in the NHL. The Ducks challenged him to show them something when he returned from injury and Zegras did.

But, there’s a nagging sense not everyone’s comfortable with each other here. GM Pat Verbeek is very guarded so it is hard to properly predict what will occur. Anaheim’s got so many good young players who gained great experience."

if elliotte is reporting that "there's a nagging sense not everyone's comfortable with each other here"... that's a big deal. he has one of the biggest platforms in the NHL and he doesn't just say things like that lightly.

during trevor and jamie's contract negotiations in the late summer/early fall, elliotte said on the 32 thoughs podcast that verbeek is a "little ball of hate" and that he has to be careful as he could permanently damage relationships with these players

following that - trevor and jamie were faded out of the ducks media (not nearly as prominent as they used to be), jamie was then traded in january, and there have been constant trade rumors surrounding trevor all season

it's been reported by elliotte and others numerous times that verbeek wanted trevor to learn how to change his playing style/game

#2: during his break up day interview, verbeek stated that he is looking to add a top-4 right-shot defenseman and a top-six right-shot forward this off-season.

it's all well and good to add these players via UFA (meaning you don't have to trade for them), but there aren't many of them available this year, and there's no guarantee that they'll want to sign with the ducks.

additionally, players available in free agency are 27+ years old and are looking for a big money contract - usually with at least 4 years of term

top-4 D and top-6 forward players available via trade are likely to be 24+ (teams don't typically like to trade younger top-6 guys away). this means that if they're restricted free agents, they will need a new contract in a year or two, and will be looking for a big pay day

the ducks might have cap space now, but they'll need to re-sign their aforementioned "so many young good players" eventually (it comes at you fast), so they can't necessarily go crazy with acquiring super expensive guys through trade/free agency without shedding salary elsewhere

#3: as i've written on here before - post 1, post 2 - trevor might not have a clear spot in their depth chart/roster anymore, he's not necessarily a "pat verbeek" type of player, etc.

trevor is a top-six left-shot center who happens to... not play very well on the wing...

to acquire assets in a position of need, you will typically need to give up assets from a position of strength (left-shot center)

#4: yesterday he posted a bunch of pics to insta showing his close relationships with ducks players, including many of the young core/rookies (carlsson, dostal, zellweger). mctavish not included but it's already common knowledge that they're good buds.

in my mind this could be him trying to get ahead of potential "he causes issues in the locker room" type accusations if he does get traded - trying to preemptively prove any rumors that come out about that to be false

a couple weeks ago, cronin said this about trevor:

"Here's a guy that's attractive. The media likes him. The NHL likes him. Whatever those sports games they play, he's on the cover of that. He's a very sociable, likable kid, bounces around. He's like a butterfly, talks to everyone in the locker room. So, those qualities to me, when you draw that attention, you need to take that attention and convert it into some leadership. And if you frame that leadership around being great and trying to be excellent every shift, then you're in a win-win situation.

But if you sabotage that by whether you take foolish penalties or you turn pucks over multiple times and end up changing the momentum in the game, then you have to own up to that too. It's been a process with him but I do think-anybody that draws attention, there's an opportunity for those people to create an image and a standard for the team and if they don't do it, they're missing out on, again, going back to creating a non-negotiable standard and I've talked to Z about that and it's up to him to actually execute that."

that's the organization saying he's not living up to their standards for leadership - i can see him trying to show that he's well-liked despite the spin the org. might try to put on things

#5: today's IG stories

these give me "i've been happy here but i know the end is coming" vibes. i just really think he wants to show his side of the story while not being able to actually come out and say anything

again - this is all just my opinion, i could be completely wrong, and NHL teams can make moves out of nowhere sometimes, and use misdirection to assist with their negotiating

but... many legit hockey outlets have been talking about this (maybe not the IG stories part lol) for weeks...

sorry for the essay - i enjoy talking about this aspect of things as u all know

[llaberration]

Coyne's Chronicles: Shadow Over Yfiria- Chapter 24

The egg tumbled towards the ground, everyone else too far back to stop it. Fortunately Gregorio's plan had covered the possibility that Syd would drop the egg when he was grabbed, and the egg never made contact with the hard stone of the crater. Instead of a sharp crack, there was only a thud and an 'oof' as the heavy thing struck Trevor in the chest. At the precise moment Gregorio had gone in for the grab, he had done as instructed and hurled himself in front of Syd, intercepting the egg on its way to the ground.

Gregorio swiftly threw Syd to the ground away from them, and Glass, seizing the opportunity, threw up the dome over him once again, trapping him without his bargaining chip.

There was a moment of quiet as all onlookers took in what had just happened, then a cheer rose among the crowd of already searched creatures. Gregorio grinned a toothy grin and raised his arms in a victory action, drawing a much louder cheer out of the crowd. Then he quickly picked Trevor up and put him on his feet, helping dust the druid off with rough hands. “Good mage,” he said, “Followed instructions to the letter, you have done well,” he slapped Trevor on the back, forcing him to clutch the egg close to hold onto it.

“Now whose is this anyway?!” asked the Druid, looking around.

“Good question,” Jintintaska padded over to them, looking at the egg closely, putting his huge nose in close. “It has an illusion spell to make it look like an egg of light... but let me see...” his eyes glittered with magic as he looked past the spell. “Magma dragon egg...” he said, looking around, “Scrollkeeper!” he called.

There was a flutter of wings as Ditmar flapped out of the crowd and came to part-crash part-land before Jintintaska. “My lord?”

“Go find your lists, every Magma dragon here with a clutch, and take those two,” he gestured to the two Cave dragons that had been assisting in moving folks around. “To find the owner. Someone we have not yet searched must be frantic missing this by now.”

“Gregorio,” Balt's voice spoke up, a severe tone, “I trust you did not attempt such a risky move with my clutch about your personage?” the Mire dragon drew his werewolf close, his nose pressing against the creature in concern, trying to discern the presence of his eggs.

“No Baltran, I would not take such risk,” the werewolf gestured to Coyne with one hand as he gently patted the Mire elder's nose with the other. “I left them with someone proven trustworthy.”

Coyne smiled, still holding the three eggs close to his chest, now sitting so that he could better cradle them. He gave a little wave, and Gregorio strode back over to the mimic, gently taking back one of the eggs, “Good job too,” he said, raising one to his mouth.

Coyne looked away as the werewolf delicately swallowed the thing, passing the other eggs up one at a time as requested, finally looking back up when the werewolf slapped him on the back. “Trust me, they are a lot harder to look after once they hatch,” he patted his stomach, and after giving another toothy grin, nodded and headed back to Baltran.

“Something still doesn't add up to me,” said Coyne quietly to Fez.

“What's that?”

“Why risk being caught like that?”

“How do you mean?”

“Syd could see the egg was a fake, right?”

“Yes,”

“Then why go through all of that? Nobody would ever have suspected him of stealing it. Chief assistant to a council member? He could have just waited... no reason to risk revealing himself with some ludicrous fake.”

“You make a good point... if he wanted the egg for some magical spell... he could just have given it a while and eventually he would have gotten time alone to use it.” Fez rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Why do this?”

“Unless he needed to misdirect the search with a fake for a time?”

“Why though?”

“I don't know. If someone just wanted the egg they could have taken it from us later... when it was just us. None of this makes sense... is there anyone who can't leave the island to follow us and take it?”

Fez shook his head, “Dragons can come and go as they...” he frowned suddenly, “No. No.”

“What is it?”

“I cannot speak it,” said Fez, shaking his head, “I dare not.”

“Well... say it only to me then,” Coyne tapped his earring.

Fez frowned, still reluctant for a moment, he paced a few steps back and forth before saying through the earring. “The council. They cannot leave unless there are several of them going at once. No single elder can pass the barrier alone until the council ends.”

Coyne's face dropped, and he almost blurted an exclamation of shock, managing to stop himself. “Okay... but which one and why?” he said casually, as though discussing something else entirely.

Fez looked ashamed, “I... I did notice something. Wait. Say nothing, follow me and play along. I... have a thought.” He looked around for the Ground dragon doing the searches, which had naturally been paused while discussions took place about this latest development. Then he sidled over to him, Coyne following. “Excuse me, I am so sorry... my assistant needs to... relieve himself. You know how they are... can we sneak off for a couple of minutes? We'll resubmit to search afterwards?”

The Ground dragon looked a little annoyed. “And he can't wait?”

Coyne, picking up his cue, intentionally put on a look of desperation and started to stand awkwardly.

“Don't think so...” said Fez after glancing at him.

“I suppose I can't be suspicious of you after that display, alright, go on, but be quick.”

“Thank you,” Fez scuttled off swiftly with Coyne following.

They went off behind the plateau, and Fez drew Coyne close, murmuring a few magical words, causing a vale of sparkling smoke to blow up around them. “Alright, hold on tight, we have to be quick and quiet.” He grabbed Coyne, holding him against his chest as he flapped his wings, lifting them off the ground and swiftly, flying straight upwards, gaining height faster than Coyne had ever seen, the ground shooting away from them as he aimed straight for the huge opening at the back of the crater, the highest point, where the council stayed.

Coyne hung on for dear life until they landed in the entrance and Fez set him down, where the dragon shook off the magical vale. “Come on now quickly,” he said, hurrying into the dens.

“What was that?” asked Coyne, rushing after him.

“The spell? Magical vale... makes us less visible for a brief time.”

“I can think of a few times you should have used that before... like to get over the wall...”

Fez shook his head, “No good. Only works on dragons,” he said with a shrug. “Okay here it is...” he said, sniffing around the entrance of one den. All of the elders sleeping chambers were open to each other, presumably so that they could use them as more private meeting space.

“Whose is this?” asked Coyne.

“Never mind, just help me look for the egg of light,” Fez dashed into the huge cavern and began rummaging through bedding, sniffing here and there.

Coyne nodded, beginning a search, then frowning and slapping himself on the head. Dumbass, dragon eggs were valuable. He went to stand in the middle of the space and activated his value seeking spell. One of his eyes glittered gold and he was almost immediately blinded by a bright spot of light in one of the walls. “Fez...” he said, shielding the eye as he went to that spot on the wall and starting to press and push at it.

Fez trotted over, finding the spot and drumming his claws on it. “Here?”

Coyne nodded.

“Some kind of illusion spell...” muttered Fez, starting to claw at the wall. It had been made to look like stone but that fell away as damp clay crumbled beneath his claws, revealing the glittering light of the egg. Fez drew a slow breath of relief and swiftly extracted the egg, nursing it close. “So cold...” he said worriedly.

Coyne took the egg gently from the dragon, bringing it close to himself, “I give off more body heat, let me,” he said, holding it close.

“Yes. We must go quickly,” said the dragon.

They ran for the cave exit, but both skidded to a halt as there was a flapping noise, and something huge and black suddenly blocked the exit. Millicent, one of the assistants they had met their first night there, stood in the opening, tall and threatening. The long black cloak that had once concealed her shape spread open to reveal a ghastly visage beneath. Beyond emaciated, the creature was humanoid, at least ten feet tall, but the skeleton was angular and awkward in shape, the rib cage far too thin and the face far too long and pointed. Her legs seemed too long, folded in the wrong places, with at least one too many set of joints. Her face, now revealed fully for them to see, looked like that of a deer, but with the thinnest layering of hairless, charcoal grey skin stretched over it, indented at the eyes into black, bottomless pits.

Millicent hissed at them, flexing her cape, which Coyne now saw must be part of her body, as it was 'controlled' by extremely long bone-like fingers, like those of a bat.

Fez bristled in return, his tail flicking and his scales flexing, making the sharp points stand up just a little. He actually looked quite threatening as he let out a hiss, his sharp, metallic teeth glittering as he displayed them.

Coyne frowned, “Stop stop... we don't want to fight...” he said, looking up at Millicent. “We just want to take the egg back where it belongs... this... whatever this is about... it's wrong...”

Millicent seemed to consider this a moment before speaking. The voice seemed to rattle and echo directly from her chest rather than speaking properly. “Mistress says keep the egg. Guard the egg. Hide the egg.”

“Oh I see... you're one of the council's assistants? I didn't know that,” he said, trying to keep his tone gentle. “You must know this isn't right. Syd has already been caught trying to fake another egg as the real one...”

Millicent paused, looking at Coyne, “Syd... caught?”

“Yes...”

The creature looked worried. “Syd... killed by other dragons?”

“No. No. He's alright but they have captured him.”

“Mistress? Do they know it was her?”

“No... we just found it so... please, let us sort this out... I have no idea what's happened. Why any of this was happened.” Coyne looked nervously at Fez, knowing the dragon felt the same way. “We don't want to be involved in anything this big... we just need the egg... to save my home. To save so many people... to make sure Ridgar didn't give all of this up for nothing...”

The creature looked indecisive, her breaths rattling in and out of her fragile shape as she struggled to make up her mind. “Mistress says to guard the egg...”

“Mistress is wrong...” said Fez, his voice low, speaking through a growl. “Mistress has gone against the wishes of the entire council.”

Millicent hissed through her teeth at him, “Mistress is never wrong...”

“Maybe not wrong then!” Coyne spoke up, trying to de-escalate the situation. “Maybe desperate. Maybe misled. Maybe even hurting. Either way, Ridgar is not hers to take,” Coyne held the egg close to him.

“Many creatures want egg of light. Mistress said someone else would take it if not us.”

“We know the dangers of this,” said Coyne, “But we have to try... what point is there in any hardship if you never try?”

Millicent's cloak began to fold down slightly at the fingertips. “You... speak wise. Simplistic but wise. Some things more complicated than that...”

“But not this thing... not now,” said Coyne, “this is so simple... is the egg yours?”

“No...”

“And is it mistresses?”

“No...”

“Then taking it is wrong,” Coyne found it ironic that he, a creature that had spent a good chunk of his life as a thief was saying this. Though, in all fairness, he had never stolen anything alive. Apart from Alan.

Millicent looked towards the exit again. “Mistress... did wrong,” she concluded, a little forlornly.

“All dragons make mistakes,” said Coyne, “Mine can. Yours can. Dragons are glorious and magnificent and intelligent but... they can make mistakes.”

Millicent straightened up, withdrawing her 'cloak' back around herself. “Yes. Even dragons. Even mistress. Tell them. Tell them she hurts. That she did this because she hurts. Try to make them forgive her, and Syd. Know that Syd was only serving his mistress. Trying to protect her. He would never have done real harm. It was all bluster to try and take the blame for mistress.”

Coyne nodded, and followed as Fez sidled past her, dashing towards the cave entrance. He gently picked up Coyne, who held the egg secure as the Cave dragon flew out of the entrance. He aimed right for Jintintaska, landing with the huge elder between himself and the rest of the council, urgently calling for the elder.

The huge head swung around in surprise at the sudden arrival, and Fez swiftly spoke up, “My lord... we have found the egg. It was in Daelyn's cave. Hidden behind a false wall made of clay. Millicent was there... she admitted to being told to guard the egg.”

Jintintaska turned, his huge wings sweeping forwards to conceal them from the view of the others as he asked. “Daelyn?”

“Yes.”

“Show me you speak the truth Myfeziah.”

Fez lifted a hand, crackling with purple magic, it swiftly spread up his arm and to his chest, pulsating with the beats of his heart. “I swear on this heart of mine, let it cease beating if I lie. My words are absolutely true my lord,” he said confidently. “We found the egg in Daelyn's chambers, guarded by one of her assistants who had been commanded to keep it there.”

Jintintaska looked visibly wounded as he thought for a moment, then withdrew his wings, not onto his back though, letting them lay on the ground at his sides. “Council members, we must immediately confer. Myfeziah come with me, bring your mimic.” He raised his voice to call out, “Everyone else, the egg has been found and is safe. Resume what you were doing and please attempt not to conjecture on what took place at this time.” He gestured for the council to go to their plateau, but Daelyn was already visibly uncomfortable, pawing at the ground rather than following the others.

“Sister?” said Jintintaska, “Let us confer,” there was a hard edge to his voice, but it was not unkind or angry, merely showing that this was not a request.

Ears back as though scolded, the Magma dragon elder lowered her head and padded up onto the plateau, going to sit in her place beside the other elders.

Jintintaska followed her, and Fez moved up last, Coyne in close pursuit, the egg still clutched in his arms.

Fez came to stop on the same balcony he had stood on before, looking around at the circle of elders silently as they settled into their places, their eyes shifting curiously to each other, then to Jintintaska as he got settled, and let out a deep sigh. The ancient dragon was quiet for a long moment, his stony grey gaze on the ground as he considered. When he did speak, it was without the bold strength of tone Coyne had heard before. “It is tragic that on this day, following the departure of our beloved Ridgar, another of our number should choose to take an action so... unexpected,” he looked slowly up at Daelyn, “Sister please tell us. Explain to us why you have done this?”

Every other elder's neck snapped to face Daelyn as though triggered by a bolt of lightening. Not a single face was without shock.

The Magma dragon did not look up. Her gaze remained on the floor, her expression pensive rather than angry or resentful. “I...” she began to speak, then paused. “I did not mean for any harm to come to the egg... it was never about that...”

“Then... why sister? We want to understand, please help us do so?” Glass spoke up now, but like Jintintaska, there was no inkling of anger in their voice, just pure confusion.

“It was about the humans,” she exhaled the words in a regretful sigh, her head raising, but not to meet their gazes, she looked straight upwards instead, towards the top of the dome, glowing blue tears began to slide down her scales. “I wanted the humans to suffer the consequences of their own stupidity. They awoke this plague and allowed it to run rampant for almost a century... I just wanted them to suffer the consequences of what they had done.”

“Why would you want that for anyone?” Tyn asked, their expression soft, not resentful or telling of any anger.

“Humans are evil... selfish... they do only harm to us. Kill us freely and then wear our scales like trophies in their idiotic wars. Then they bring back plague and destruction long since laid to rest and do nothing to stop it from ravaging their home and everything that lives there. And they call us monsters.”

“This is about Teegan isn't it?” Balt's face was hard, less forgiving than the others.

The red elder lowered her head to shoot him a guilty, sideways look. “That is... part of it.”

“When we found the egg, and spoke with Millicent... she did say that her mistress was hurt, and that is why she did this,” said Fez, keeping his tone gentle despite his own anger.

Daelyn paused a long moment, then nodded, “Yes. I suppose when Teegan fell to the humans it left a mark of hatred on my heart.”

“If humans had created this plague for themselves, we might have possibly left them to their own fate,” said Jintintaska, “But this darkness was our doing. It was birthed from hatred between dragons, not from the hatred of men. Ridgar understood that, and that was why he chose to rebirth for it.”

Daelyn dragged her long claws across the ground before her. “I was just... so angry... that men cost us so much and yet we freely save them at such great expense...”

“This time. Only because it is our debt to pay. Even given another century humans could not have cured this plague because it was the work of dragon magic. If anything we are fools not to have realised this and done something sooner,” clarified Jintintaska.

Daelyn's ears flattened and she lowered her head.

“I know. You have a lot of anger in your heart, and you have allowed it to fester into darkness,” said the Ground elder, his expression mournful. “We have all lost dear friends and family to the humans. None of us are without that burden, but it is below us to act upon it on this scale. Daelyn I do not know how you can continue to sit upon the council with this anger inside you.”

The Magma elder glanced up at him. “I know. I have already decided to step down from where I stand. I believe I had decided that before I ever acted upon this. But I ask you not punish my assistants. They were acting only on my orders.”

“Even Syd when he attempted to break that egg?” asked Baltran.

“Even Syd. He was being a little fool, attempting to attach blame to himself to protect me. His words were nothing more than the act of someone desperate to serve. I suppose he thought that if he bring enough hatred to himself and his actions... nobody would think to look for a larger plot. Please do not put your anger on him. It was fortunate there were others there with more selfless goals.”

The elders looked at each other reluctantly, but seemed to agree. “Very well. You shall sit the rest of this council. Spend the time between this and the next preparing your successor for stepping up to your post. I believe that is the best way to avoid disruption,” he shook his enormous head, his stony scales creaking with the movement. “Myfeziah, I would ask you not to spread what truly happened around freely. We need time to think how best to explain this to everyone. For now, take the egg. Conceal it. Keep it safe and care for it. Go save your land, then return here once it is done.”

“Yes my lord,” said Fez, bowing his head low.

“Thanks once more to you and your assistants for their surprising input over the last few days.”

“Wait, one more thing...” called Coyne, trying to sound as polite as possible. “If I may my lord.”

“I suppose the council owes you their attention for a moment longer, what is it little one?”

“Iewan... he was imprisoned for taking the egg... I do not believe that he had anything to do with that... I really think he was framed like Heric... will you please let him go?”

“Of course,” nodded Jintintaska, “Now we know the truth, we have no reason to suspect Heracleon or Iewan of wrongdoing. It shall be done.” He turned back to the others, “Now go to your task. Nobody may leave this island other than those travelling with Mylfeziah until daybreak tomorrow. To ensure that they get a head start on any more trouble.”

Fez drew slow breaths, “Come, let us get our things and prepare,” he said to Coyne as he turned.

As they walked down the steps from the plateau, Alan and Trevor were already waiting, looking worried. Fez gave them a short recap, and then moved them one by one (Not forgetting Bubbles), back to their cave. “We're leaving as soon as we can,” said the dragon, “change and pack up your books and good clothes into Coyne's bag, we will get food supplies on the way out. Coyne come with me.”

He led the mimic over to the nest and pushed him gently onto it, “We need to hide that egg, and we need to hide it well,” he said, “It cannot be left flying around freely.”

“Okay so what do you suggest, my other form?”

“No, we have not yet tested what happens to anything alive in that pocket dimension... so I do not believe that is safe. With your consent... I am going to modify you.”

“Modify me?!”

“Yes.”

“What do you mean?!”

“You cannot be killed, which means I can magically interfere with your physiology without fear of it doing lasting harm.”

“I mean... that's great and all but... I'm pretty happy with my physiology as it is?”

“I understand,” said Fez, nodding, “But I need somewhere to hide that egg... and right now you are my best bet.”

Coyne softened a little, “What... did you have in mind?”

“Another stomach. A simple one. For storage.”

“Alright... I guess that's not too terrible but... how am I supposed to fit the egg into it?” he held the thing up to show how big it was to him, “I struggle to fit you down and this thing is quite a bit larger than you,”

Fez rubbed his chin. “That's a good point... how are we going to do that...” then he snapped two claws together, “Got it...” he gently took the egg from Coyne and set it aside, “Now... this is going to take some magic... and you might be uncomfortable when we're done but I know you can adjust to it.”

“I'm going to regret this aren't I?” sighed Coyne, resigned to some kind of dragon weirdness that was about to follow.

“Until this is over and pays off... probably,” replied Fez, “After that not so much. But I can always put you back to the way you were once this is over.”

“It's reversible then?”

“Yes, most things are reversible through magic... at least in some capacity. This will certainly be reversible.”

“Is it going to hurt?”

“It would, but we're going to take care of that,”

“How are you going to do that?”

Fez grinned, looming over him and gently placing a long claw on the mimic's cheek, “Sleep,” he said softly, a waft of purple smoke billowing from his hand. Coyne's eyes immediately unfocused, and slid closed, dropping into a deep slumber. “There. No consciousness, no pain,” said Fez to himself as he got to work.

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Yeah having a dragon comes with some notable down sides. There is no insignificant risk that they will do stuff like this. Hope you didn't want your organs the way they were!

(Still playing catchup on here to the main upload schedule, we're only a few chapters behind now!)

[qqueenofhades]

I hope this isn’t weird or something that I should just deal with on my own and all that, so I apologize in advance because this is incredibly recent and I’m still hurting and trying to figure out what to do next.

One of my friends of quite a while now turned out to be a massive fuckin transphobe. Yippie. The thing is, he’s fully in support of the non-straight side of the queer community, always has been, but apparently that’s where he draws the line, and I just learned that today, and it sucks. It sucks so much that someone I really cared about turns out to be a kinda terrible person who ended up saying some incredibly hurtful and disrespectful things when it all came to light.

But the thing is, while the trans hatred is DEFINITELY there, it all seems to be stemming from a place of generational hatred and ignorance because he just can’t see how his actions and words are hurtful. It turns malicious when he’s pushed, as I learned the hard way, but I feel the root of it is simply ignorance.

We got in an argument via text, which, of course, is always the worst way to do things but it was a normal conversation that went downhill incredibly quickly and I’m like 3+ hours away so we can’t hash it out in person and I wasn’t willing to just go and call.

For your uh. Viewing displeasure. I’d send screenshots (and can, if you’d like additional context) but people who have a stake in this are very likely to see this and I don’t particularly want my name attached without anon.

I didn't say that transgender people are mistakes, and I didn't mean to suggest that. People can make the mistake into believing that they are who they are not

Yes, I don't believe a transwoman is a real woman. They are biological differences between both man and woman that can't be changed

Cue me going on a bit of a tangent about suicide rates, Trevor project, intersex people being a thing, what transitioning is like, etc etc. I was pissed, I was hurt, and I admit my first reaction was anger but I also think I did a very good job of keeping calm, explaining things, while also trying to impress upon him just how incredibly shitty saying those things is

Why are you so mad? I just wanted to open up to you. I didn't mean to sound rude or anything like that

Upon which I explained that I’ve lost friends to suicide and yet again how problematic some of his statements have been

I think we both need some time to think about this

I don't. I know exactly where I stand with this issue and who I care for and what it means to me personally. You're more than welcome to call so we can talk about it that way, if that's what you'd prefer or what would help you

It seems like things right now are a bit heated, I just want to talk about when things have calmed down

If that's what you need in order to decide whether you support trans people or not, go ahead. As I said, I know exactly what my opinion on this is, and it's on the side of the people whose beliefs don't disrespect certain people's existence

I respect and love everybody, but I'm not going to change my values or beliefs because they "disrespect" other people's values or beliefs

Which… yeah. That’s where it left off. Other shit was said, other shit went down, and I stand by everything and don’t regret it, even if this guy used to be my friend.

But as I said, I very much feel that this is coming from a place of ignorance and having been taught by religious, queerphobic parents, having very little experience to the queer world and having no understanding of our history, our pain, and the battles we’re still fighting. I believe he genuinely doesn’t see how his words are hurtful and how his actions genuinely cause issues and how his words are the things that drive trans people to suicide and hatred.

Which is what I’m reaching out for, what can I do, I don’t want to cut him off because I don’t want to abandon him to be a hateful person because I believe everyone, however horrible their beliefs, can learn and grow and change, and I want to know any sort of resources or help or advice you have, anything to try to fight that ignorance-based disrespect and make him realize that they’re not just words and that his behavior isn’t just his personal beliefs, that his beliefs are genuinely harming other people.

Thank you, and much love to you. We all need a bit more kindness and love and acceptance right now with this world we live in.

I'm sorry to hear about your friend, and it's understandable that you feel deeply upset and betrayed. At this time, however, I don't think you have any obligation to "educate" him or do more than you have already done. If this is a friendship-ending issue, well... it sucks, but it is what it is. If you want to, you can communicate that he's welcome to reach out to you again if his feelings change. Otherwise, it's not your responsibility to continue or spend extra time trying to talk him around. It's something that people either accept or they don't, and while feelings can evolve, it's usually something that will happen with time and space and on their own accord. So yeah. It's up to you whether you want to signal that you're up for further communication or not, if you want to take some time to let feelings heal, or if you don't want to continue being friends with someone who feels that way. Either way, it's not your responsibility to endlessly try to talk him around. Make a decision about what you feel comfortable with, set that boundary, and do your best. It sucks, but such is life sometimes. Alas.

[byronlc]

@neverfittedin sent

[ 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 ] : sender and receiver are having lazy morning sex. (for trev)

𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝  𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐬

Someone had forgotten to draw the curtains last night and the late morning sunlight made Trevor blink and groan, and turn his head to that someone. Nick lay next to him on his side, back towards Trevor. The blanket ruffled and hardly covering anything as it was entangled with his legs. His back moved with the slow breathes he took. Trev couldn't see the other's face. Was he still sleeping or just pretending to be asleep because he didn't want to get up?

Trev moved closer, the mattress tilted slightly under his weight, and that was probably the reason why the other's body moved closer to him too. Trevor's chest touched the other's back, a film of sweat from their nightly activities between them. His fingertips playfully wandered over Nick's side, rubbed gently over his hip bone.

With his mouth shut, still a groan left Trev's throat, as he felt Nick's butt pushing back against his already hardening cock. He couldn't see it, but he was sure, the little shit was grinning smugly, with his eyes closed and still pretending to sleep.

Trevor lazily rocked his hips against him, so his length rubbed against that perfect piece of ass. His hand gripped his hip, held him there, making him feel his growing need. He lifted his head to whisper into the dark-haired boy's ear. “You can pretend to be asleep all you want, baby. Unless you start snoring, I'm gonna fuck you now.” While speaking his hand moved over Nick's stomach, moved between his legs and was now stroking the other's cock that was anything but asleep. His own hard member pushed between the firm cheeks, and he hissed a curse when he felt the sticky remains of himself there. Positioning his tip at the entrance, he waited for Nick to just move up his leg a little bit, so his cock could slide in.

[bi-hop]

HEY. your essay on alien shapeshifters is FANTASTIC and reminded me of a question i've had for a bit. it's about human shapeshifters who aren't Black most of the time, but do shapeshift into being Black. or really any shapeshifter who shapeshifts into a minority that they weren't born as. a lot of debates about "transracial" people like oli london are founded on the belief that race is innate, or at least that the current concept of race is unchanging. i'm white and jewish and i really don't know enough about the structure of race to know how being a shapeshifter would change being "transracial", but it's a question i would be delighted if you could explore, or at least narrow down for me so i could find sources that aren't you.

Hi! Thanks for reading my essay!

My mind definitely went to the concept of 'transracial' when I was writing; while it's predominantly used nowadays to describe people like Rachel Dolezal and Oli London, it's also been used previously to describe adoptees who are raised by people of different racial and ethnic backgrounds than themselves. As what I linked says, how the term is used nowadays has been pretty controversial among this community. In connection to comics though, there are an oddly high number of transracial adoptees who are also aliens. The Clark and Lex graphic novel coming out in early July casts the Kents as a Black couple raising a white child, Naomi McDuffie's adopted parents are white (one being also an alien), and even Augustus Freeman in the absolute loosest sense of the word could be read as a character loosely based on this phenomenon.

But back to the question at hand, which is more focused on human shapeshifters. Honestly, part of why I focused so heavily on alien shapeshifters is because the nature of a human shapeshifter and how that relates to race is a hard thing to tackle. I'm not particularly sure if I could even find the amount of panels I did for Icon and Martian Manhunter if I went looking for 'DC or Marvel human shapeshifter who changes race regularly'. And I think that's because, in today's day and age, we'd conceptualize a white shapeshifter changing to look Black for extended periods of time more as Blackface (or equivalent terms) than the sort of identification I described in what I wrote.

This article about race not being genetic is long, but I think it helps to answer the primary concern that we see race as this constant, permanent thing. It absolutely isn't. But how we define it in specific cultures at certain points in time offers more concrete snapshots while also illuminating fringe cases, such as the one linked in the essay of Ernest Cole and Trevor Noah, who details how he was classified as Coloured despite it being illegal for him to have a white father during apartheid in his autobiography Born a Crime. I haven't read the full thing, full disclaimer, just parts assigned for a college class I was in last month, but his discussion of identity on paper versus identity in the mind stood out a lot to me.

And I suppose that's where I'm at? There are papers out there defending 'transracialism' (not sure if that caught on as a term) and drawing parallels between it and being transgender, and I've never quite enjoyed acting like they're one and the same as a Black trans person, but people wanting to present themselves as other races and genuinely identifying with these racial or ethnic categories isn't exactly new. So that's identity in the mind. But I don't know, it's not like some of the examples I'm giving are utilizing this identity in benign ways. Dolezal's pretty famous for leading a branch of the NAACP, claiming people fraudulently as family members to verify her identity, falsely filing hate crime reports, and also positioning herself as a Black professor of Africana studies, which is pretty unethical to say the least. Like, I can't really control how people identify or present themselves, but I can still be critical of their intentions and if they're actively harming the communities they want to be a part of. In a fictional sense, I would also be examining it that way.

But either way, I don't think there's a big list of writers who I think could handle the idea of a human shapeshifter changing their body to match an incongruent mental racial identity with effective nuance. Hell, I don't think I'd be able to write it too well either, mainly because of my own discomfort (that I happily admit to). I think probably the best example might be Kamala Khan's early comics having her shift to look like Carol Danvers, and how that reflected the sort of insecurity and internalized self-loathing a lot of Black and brown people feel about themselves. But it wouldn't be read the same if a white Inhuman shapeshifter decided to take on Kamala's visage permanently bc they felt Pakistani.

I don't know if any of this is helpful, but I hope the sources give a good jumping off point for discussions surrounding this, and again, thanks for taking the time to read everything!

[corens-relisten]

MAG 36 Taken Ill

i have so many thoughts about the statement giver's little, rant i guess?, at the beginning. "I try to see life as a pleasant holiday from non-existence." that hits so hard omg. ive thought that dying isnt that bad, we didnt exist for so long before, yk? its still tough tho. and thats a beautiful way of putting it

ANYWAY SPOILERS OML

MELANIE KING. HER TRAUMA. HER DAD. ELIAS. THAT WAS THIS WASNT IT?? THE IMAGE OF HER DAD DYING IN THERE. "smoke inhalation" huh? good excuse, there was a fire... but still OMG its melanies story im so sure of it!! isnt there also the perspective of the one who burnt it down, eventually?

anyway, im really not sure for this Dread Power! could be the Corruption, its gross and all. plus jon rightfully compares the statement giver's hand to prentiss. could be the End, and the fire gives me the idea of the Desolation but i think im reaching there. is this the Extinction? was that power ever comfirmed to exist?

ok turns out it is the Corruption! that checks out. theres also the Hunt avatars there, being trevor and julia.

spoilers done!

aaaaaaa omg its the not!Graham table!! i wonder why they got it in the first place...

anywho heres my offering!

this beautiful ss from my favorite tma fic (and favorite fic ever tbh) (im going to cry)

i swear i have been drawing, just less bc ive been busier. plus my personal life keeps getting more complicated... and i keeo drawing spoilers oops. ill have stuff soon tho ;)

have a great day!

[beevean]

You know if we wanna be perfectly fair to the show the games themselves show a portraial of the Church that is mostly negative

We've talked about Sypha being taken in by monks and accepted as a vampire hunter by the Church...but was she really accepted?

I mean she was forced to wear robes and hide her gender to throw people off from her being a witch (presumably), which tells me that the Church only "accepted" her as a weapon to be used, not as her own human being that would like to live free from persecution. At best you could say that the monastery that took her in was being genuine but there's nothing to imply that the larger institution saw her as anything more than a tool, especially given the witch trials at the time

Leon had to give up his title to go rescue Sera because otherwise the Church wouldn't allow to go because they were more interested in fighting heretics than go rescue a kidnapped girl

Vincent as a priest is depicted as being somewhat greedy and a little seedy

I'm pretty sure that both Isaac and Hector faced persecution and Rosaly was killed because of it

Yeah the Church often helps out against Dracula....but it kind of has to or face destruction

So I don't have issues with the show's CHURCH BAD from a principled standpoint since the Church has been, and in many ways still is, bad.

The issue is how hard and often it beats you over the head with it and how there isn't a single religious person that isn't depicted as either evil or stupid, not to mention characters like Trevor, who in Castlevania 3 was seen praying at an altar, being turned into a cynical atheist.

In the games God exists, the holy items that the Belmonts, who are presumably all believers, use draw their powers from Him essentially and we are explicitly told in the Sorrow games that Chaos and the Dark Lord exist as counterbalances to God. The games never seem to criticise the notion of believing in God, just the way said belief is institutionalised.

The only time God is ever called into question is by Mathias for Elisabetha's death, which calls into question the usual conundrum of "but if God is good why are there bad things?", and he feels like a fool for ever fighting for God...but he's also depicted as being in the wrong with how he....expresses his disappontment. Meanwhile Leon certainly is never depicted as being an idiot or in the wrong for simply being a believer, only for being a former Crusader Knight fighting heretics for the Church aka an often corrupt institution.

Hell Rinaldo, an Alchemist and technically heretic, also believes in God given his description of alchemy, and he's a 100% positive figure, just one who has seemingly suffered persecution by the Church as indicated by the way he approached Leon at first

I actually like the scene with "Blue Fang" where he says that God does not love people like the corrupt bishop and does not recognise himself in their actions. That is a much more nuanced take!

...where did it go past season 1?

You said everything, lol

We know that Church Bad. This is not a new take. Church Bad in real life, Church Even More Bad in the time period CV3/the show takes place, and Church Morally Questionable in the games too for all the reasons you said. Yes, in short, you can say that in the games God is good and so are the people who genuinely believe in Him like the Belmonts, but the Church as an institution has caused many problems. (although I like that it's the Pope himself who finds Trevor in CV3, when his family was shunned by common humans - there seems to be a misconception that it was the Church who exiled them)

NFCV simply doesn't add anything new, and beats on this point as if we didn't get it by the time the bishops all celebrate to themselves after executing Lisa. All the church people are evil, and the humans are purposefully kept ignorant by the Church, unlike vampires who are superior because they retain old knowledge and that's why Dracula has a whole magitek castle complete with electricity and teleporter instead of a creature of Chaos at his command. It's just boring. Berserk treated the same argument in a less "reddit athetist" way.

And I have mentioned the water-blessing zombie bishop a lot of times, I know, not my fault it's so fucking stupid. But it says a lot that fans point at it and instead of seeing it as a lore-breaking deus ex machina, they see clever commentary that the bishop is more "holy" as an undead creature possessed by a demon.