#transformers cordon

[redfoxdude07]

I'm assembling a team...

I shall call them...

D.O.R.C.S.

Destroyer Of Remaining Critical Survivors

(AKA they walk through the aftermath of a battle once the Decepticons win and kill everyone that's hiding out in their territory)

(they suck at their job and accidentally adopted an Autobot with memory issues that lost his badge)

[aeonmagnus]

Transformers Missing Link C-05 Sunstreaker & C-06 Cordon Official Stock Images

Coming to us via new Amazon Japan listings we can share for you a complete set of official stock images of the highly anticipated Transformers Missing Link C-05 Sunstreaker & C-06 Cordon.

These are the next installments in the Missing Link line collection of modern articulated renditions of the original G1 molds. We have a look at Sunstreaker in robot and alt mode, and to top it all we also have images of his Diaclone-inspired white redeco as Cordon. Both figures include a Diaclone-inspired “worker” figure.

Each figure is listed for 13200 Yen/$88.37 USD and planned for release on June 28, 2025.

[thelastgherkin]

LEGACY UNITED Deluxe Rescue Bots Universe Chase

Half machine, half cop.

More like this:

Beast Hunters Deluxe Class Prowl

Transformers (2014) Protectobots Evac Squad Protectobot Hot Spot

Legacy Evolution Deluxe Class Robots in Disguise 2015 Universe Strongarm

[merrybloomwrites]

It's Just a Game, But Really

Summary: When your brother starts dating Taylor Swift, you figure your wild dreams of dating Harry Styles are now definitely crushed. But some meddling from Jason, Travis, and Taylor may make some dreams come true after all.

Word Count: 3K

AN: This idea randomly popped into my head months ago and I couldn't get it out until I fully wrote it. I feel like this falls into the category of "Crack treated seriously" lol

Also, I understand this is niche, but as an Eagles fan (pls don't come for me) I've watched the entire Travis/Taylor relationship unfold and just thought this would be silly. Writing Jason and Travis was pretty fun too since I've been listening to their podcast for years and it was a cool challenge to write in their voices

Finally, I took creative liberty here and while I normally try to keep details as close to reality as possible, I've changed some things. So the Packers vs Eagles game that happened in Brazil now takes place in philly, and the Chiefs game on Christmas is now against Baltimore so it would be plausible to have the dinner scene in PA. None of this actually matters, this is fiction lol

Title from "So High School" by Taylor Swift

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Growing up with two athletic brothers had been quite an experience. Hundreds of hours were spent at sporting events, often bundled up to watch them play ice hockey or attend the late season football games. In your family, it was important that everyone supported each other.

It went the other way as well. Your brothers attended every spring concert, theater performance, and dance recital you were in. They were your biggest fans, always cheering you on and bringing flowers to give you.

They also took time to learn about your interests. Instead of getting annoyed when Taylor Swift’s music would play through the house, they started listening.

Especially Travis.

He liked the music, and thought she seemed pretty cool. He didn’t admit it, but you guessed that maybe he had a bit of a celebrity crush on her.

Life continued to change as your brothers left for college, then moved to different cities when they got signed to two different NFL teams. You missed them, but it was great seeing them succeed.

Jason and Travis still made time for family, even when Jason got married and started a family of his own. You and Kylie became friends right away, and you immediately loved having another girl in the family. You couldn’t wait for it to be Travis’s turn to find someone. But preferably not through his dating show.

When Taylor Swift announced her Eras Tour, you desperately wanted to go. So you were highly disappointed when you weren’t able to get tickets.

And then Travis surprised you with tickets to her show in Kansas City. By this point you had moved in with Jason and Kylie near Philly, but Travis assured you that he’d take care of all the travel logistics to get you to the concert.

You flew in the night before, getting to spend the day with your brother before heading to the stadium. It was weird to be there for a concert, having attended numerous games there before. It was cool to see how it was transformed into something almost unrecognizable.

Being there with Travis meant getting to be seated with a great view in a cordoned off section. It also meant Chiefs fans coming close to the barrier to talk to him before the show. Watching your brother trade friendship bracelets with these people was a strange moment, one you never would have imagined happening.

Through all that, there was one bracelet he had that you noticed he wouldn’t trade. Taking a closer glance you see what’s written on it and give him a confused look.

“Travis, what in the world is this?” you ask.

“Friendship bracelet,” he answers simply, dodging your true question.

“Obviously. But why is your number on here? Who is this for?”

He laughs nervously but before you can press it further another fan comes up to say hi. You can’t help but wonder what his plan is for that bracelet, even though you have a pretty good idea who its intended recipient is.

The concert begins and you have a wonderful time, dancing and singing along, Travis just as excited beside you. As it ends, Travis speaks with one of the staff members, looking slightly disappointed but not too bothered. Once again you’re left wondering what that was all about.

It’s a couple weeks later and you’re listening to the latest episode of Travis and Jason’s podcast when they bring up Travis attending the concert. Sure enough, he confirms he was trying to get that bracelet with his number to Taylor, and you have to commend him on his creativity and optimism.

What you don’t expect is for Taylor to find out about that and get in touch with Travis. Now a year later, your brother is in a happy, committed relationship with Taylor Swift. She’s come to family dinners, you’ve been next to her during Chiefs games, and she’s made it so you could come to a number of concerts on her tour. You cannot believe that this has become your life. And you have to give your brother credit for his powers of manifestation.

One afternoon you’re hanging in the living room while Jason records the podcast in the basement. He calls out for you and you go down to see what’s going on.

He hands you a set of headphones so you can hear Travis as well, and fills you in on the topic.

“So,” Jason begins. “Fans are starting to give you credit for Travis and Taylor getting together. Do you think that’s fair to say?”

You laugh for a moment that this is why you’re called to speak on what should be a sports podcast, before answering, “I think that’s fair. I mean, he did the work but I would say my childhood Swiftie obsession planted the seed.”

Travis replies, “You don’t think I would have found out about her on my own?”

“Oh you totally would have. But I got the ball rolling ages ago. Timing is everything, what if you’d been too late?”

“Alright, I’ll give you that. We can say you had a hand in this.”

“So that means you owe me,” you say.

Jason chimes in, “Yea Trav, your turn to manifest for Y/N.”

“You want me to manifest a boyfriend for our little sister?” Travis questions.

“Oh, right, wait, don’t actually do that. I forgot, Y/N’s not allowed to date until she’s forty,” Jason says, leading you to roll your eyes at his overprotectiveness.

“Ok, but if I were to try, who would it be? Y/N, who’s your celebrity crush?” Travis asks.

There’s no way you’re answering that on camera, especially with who the answer actually is. You clench your teeth and lift your eyebrows before cheekily saying, “Oh, no, I cannot answer that on the pod. That’s uhm. That’d be messy.” You then shrug and laugh, trying to play all of this off as a bit.

While Travis tries to dig and get you to answer, it clicks for Jason and he says, “Wait, I think I know who it is. Is it, uhm-”

“Don’t you dare say anything!” you exclaim to shut him up.

“Alright, alright. I won’t spill your secrets.”

“Well at least tell it to me later,” Travis says, to which you reply, “Absolutely not. I’m afraid you may actually try to meddle.”

“Who, me? No way,” he replies only to be met with an unimpressed look from you.

The boys drop the subject and you head back upstairs as they finally talk about football again.

You assume that they’ve moved on, and you’re happy when they don’t bring up your celebrity crush again.

You’re even happier when Jason tells you he’s taking you to the season opener Eagles vs Packers game in Philly. You’re super excited to be able to experience an Eagles game alongside your brother. You’re also glad you can be there for him in case it’s hard for him to watch them play without him for the first time since his retirement.

What you’re unaware of is the plan that Jason and Travis had made behind your back.

“So now you’re on board with trying to set up our little sister?” Jason had questioned during a phone call a couple weeks prior.

“Yes. And I have a way of making it happen,” Travis had answered.

“And you want me to help Y/N meet and potentially date a popstar who happens to be your girlfriend's ex-boyfriend?”

“Yes.”

“And he’s a Packers fan?”

“Yea, that is the unfortunate part. And you’re not really helping them date. That’s all on them. But you could at least help her meet him at the game.”

“This is ridiculous,” Jason says. “But I’ll do it.”

And that’s how you find yourself walking through the tunnels of the Linc with Jason before the start of the game and bumping into Harry Styles.

“Hello, I’m Harry,” he says cheerfully, holding a hand out for you to shake.

Mustering up all of your chill, you smile in return while reaching out to clasp his hand and say, “I’m Y/N. It’s so nice to meet you, I’m a big fan.”

“Well, thank you for your support,” he says.

“You kids want a picture?” There are few times you want to kill your brother, but him butting in while you’re talking to Harry Styles is definitely one of them.

“That’s alright,” you say, trying not to impose on Harry too much. So you’re surprised when Harry says, “Of course, let’s get a photo!”

You stand next to him, and his arm wraps around your shoulder and you hope your expression doesn’t show how crazy fast your heart is beating while Jason takes the picture.

“It was so nice meeting you both, I’ll see you around!” Harry says as he walks away.

Before Jason can begin to tease you, you say, “Don’t even say a word.”

He listens to you and instead just laughs as you keep walking.

After some quick hellos to the stadium staff, you’re led up to a box.

“I thought we just had seats today?” You question.

“We did. But when I was talking to Mark he said we got upgraded.”

When you step into the box you’re once again surprised by the presence of Harry Styles.

“Okay, we are definitely in the wrong place,” you murmur to your brother.

“Oh good, you guys found us!” Harry says. You look to see who he’s talking to and get shocked to see it’s you and Jason. “There were some open spots so I asked if you two could join us,” he explains.

“Wow, thank you!” You manage to squeak out.

Suddenly you’re realizing what is about to happen. A four minute encounter in the hallway? Easy. An entire three hour football game? There’s no way you make it through without embarrassing yourself.

And yet, halftime comes and you’ve so far managed not to make a fool of yourself. In fact, you’re even impressed by your witty banter as the Eagles and Packers go back and forth taking the lead.

“So, I read about these botanical gardens nearby,” Harry says.

“Longwood?” You ask.

“Yea, have you ever been?”

“A couple times. I went with Jason, Kylie, and the kids earlier this summer. They’re really nice. If you’re thinking about going, I highly recommend.”

“I actually got a couple tickets for the fountain show tomorrow night. I was wondering if you’d like to go with me.”

Quickly processing that Harry is asking you to hang out with him, possibly go on a date with him, you reply, “I’d love to!”

“Fantastic! I can pick you up in the afternoon?”

“Sounds good to me, thank you.”

You exchange phone numbers and give Harry your address, still in disbelief that all of this is actually happening.

The game resumes, and as the Eagles make their comeback you can’t help but cheer and get wrapped up in the game. And even as Harry’s team starts losing, he still stays happy and continues to joke around with you.

When the game ends and the Eagles fans celebrate, you say to Harry, “I hope this doesn’t affect us hanging out tomorrow.”

“Not a chance, in fact I think that will cheer me up,” he says with a smile.

“Hey Y/N, I’ve gotta go talk to a couple people. You hanging here or coming with me?” Of course, there’s your brother interrupting again. And while you’d rather stay with Harry, you don't really want to be separated from Jason in the post-game chaos. So you say goodbye to Harry with the promise to see him the next day.

On your way back home you put up with the teasing from your brother.

You beg him to be on his best behavior when Harry picks you up the next day.

You know he won’t.

So it’s no surprise that he gives Harry “the talk”, telling him that if he hurts you at all then he’ll have to face two NFL players.

You’re hanging in the living room with Kylie and the kids while this happens, and when the two boys come back Kylie asks,”He wasn’t too scary, was he?”

“No,” Harry replies. “Just scary enough I’d say. Shall we get going?” He addresses this last question to you and you agree, more than happy to get out of the house before Jason takes his big brother role too seriously.

When Harry drives away he lets out a deep breath and you say, “You good?”

“Yea, just- Your brother is scary.”

You start to laugh at the fact that Jason managed to actually shake up Harry Styles. But you decide to help him out by saying, “He seems scary, but it’s mostly all talk. Unless you do something to hurt me. Then you should be scared.”

“Oh I feel so much better,” he says, laughing along now.

The two of you have a wonderful time together at the gardens, especially since Harry manages to somehow fly under the radar. The fountain show is fascinating, and you stand together, Harry’s arm around your waist sending butterflies through your belly.

It’s late when you get home, and he walks you to the door like a gentleman.

When he asks if he can kiss you, of course you say yes. He leans in for a soft kiss before saying goodnight, not leaving until you’ve made it safely inside.

Jason is waiting up for you, and as you tell him about your night you watch his gruff exterior fade away. He looks truly pleased by all you have to report and you’re glad that he seems to approve of Harry.

For the next couple of months, it all goes well. Your relationship with Harry flourishes. You get to see him more than expected since he starts working out of a studio in NYC, only two hours away from where you are.

There is one mild bump in the road, occurring on a Friday evening when Jason and Kylie are supposed to be out at a party with the girls.

You’d been planning on a quiet night home alone. But then Harry had surprised you by showing up at your front door, a bouquet of flowers in hand.

One thing led to another, and before you know it you’re both on the couch. You’re straddling his lap, his hands sliding under your shirt as the two of you make out.

As much as Harry had surprised you, Jason surprises you even more by suddenly coming home and walking right into the living room.

Harry notices him first, and in an effort to save this interaction he pushes you off of him, luckily managing to shift you to the open spot next to him on the couch.

There’s a moment of oppressively awkward silence as Jason stares at the two of you, speechless. Without saying a word he walks to the mud room and grabs the diaper bag that had clearly been left behind earlier.

As he passes through the room to leave he says, “You are adults. Just- don’t be stupid. There are enough kids in this house already.”

Without waiting for a reply he leaves the house. After another moment you and Harry break into nervous laughter.

The mood is pretty much ruined but you still have a nice night watching a movie together. Harry stays with you but has to leave at lunchtime the next day.

That afternoon Jason knocks on your bedroom door, asking if he can talk for a minute.

“Sure, what’s up?” You say, not expecting the conversation that follows.

“I just wanted to ask how things are going between you and Harry,” he says.

“Oh! Good! Yea, things are going well. I really like him,” you answer.

“And you’re being safe?”

“Oh my god, Jason! We are not having this conversation,” you say as your cheeks warm at the implication.

“Well you’re living in my house, I just, you know. I feel responsible for your well being.”

“I’m safe. Very safe. You don’t have to worry.” You hope your words will convince him to drop the topic.

“And you trust him? Cause I mean, he’s a big time Popstar. Bet he’s broken a fair number of hearts before.”

You find yourself needing to defend Harry and ask, “Have you had this conversation with Travis about Taylor?”

“Fair point,” he concedes. “I just don’t want you getting hurt. You’re sure about him?”

“I am.”

“Okay then. That’s what matters. I’m only looking out for you.”

“I know. But Harry and I are happy. I promise.”

With that smoothed over, the next few weeks continue drama free.

And then comes Christmas.

Due to scheduling, Harry had yet to meet Travis. You’ve talked to your brother about him, and you know Travis has talked about all of this with Taylor. So while you’ve been told that it’s no big deal that your boyfriend and your brother’s girlfriend are exes, you’re still a bit nervous for Christmas dinner.

It’s a late meal, since you have to wait for Travis to get there after the Chiefs vs Ravens game, and you spend the afternoon entertaining your nieces and helping prepare the food.

Finally Travis and Taylor arrive, and for a moment you can’t help but feel self conscious. The room is full of NFL players and international pop stars. You excuse yourself to the kitchen for a moment to collect yourself. When you walk back to the living room, Harry greets you with the biggest smile, and those feelings of self doubt melt away. Because those big accomplishments and accolades aren’t what matter to him. What he cares about is how kind you are, how fun and loving you are. He wraps an arm around your shoulders, pressing a kiss to your head and you blush knowing your whole family is watching.

But looking up at them you see nothing but support. Your mom is practically glowing seeing all her children with their significant others, and quickly organizes a family picture.

It takes some time to get all three of the little girls to cooperate, and by the time the photo is taken, dinner is ready.

There is something surreal at seeing Harry and Taylor pass the potatoes or bread basket, never having imagined this is how your life would turn out.

But that night, as you all agree to break the internet by posting the family picture, you know you wouldn’t want it any other way.

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

AN: I wrote the first half of this as the Eagles lost to the Commanders, thus breaking a 10 game win streak soooo that was a bummer.

I wrote the ending after watching the Eagles beat the Cowboys, so at least that turned back around!

I think this may be the silliest thing I’ve ever written.

[penvisions]

gone to the dogs {chapter 3}

Pairing: Boston QZ! Joel Miller x F! Reader ; Implied Boston QZ! Joel Miller x Tess Servopoulos

Summary: A person from your past makes you feel the changes that transformed you into what you are today. A meal shared feels like another change is coming.

Word Count: 4.9k

Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical language, canon typical gore, outbreak fic, age gap (only by about ten years), dark fic, dark joel miller, mean joel miller, joel miller is uptight, degrading language, sexual language, heated interactions, adult language, fighting, argumentative language, mutual disdain, sexual content, implication of sex work, unprotected piv (mentioned), sexual acts, reader is snarky, reader meets joel toe-to-toe with insults and it's amazing both reader and joel pov, lemme know if there are any i missed!

A/N: this honestly came out of nowhere. i haven't been writing lately beyond jotting down scene notes and vague ideas,so i've taken a step back from forming actual chapters for the many wips i have at the moment. but this was a good thing to get down amid all the stress of preparing to move for the second time in three months

ao3 link || series masterlist || joel miller masterlist || ko-fi

You step back a few paces, instincts reminding you of the last time you saw the man. He looked older, older than he should if only seven years went by. But the stresses of the world made each one seem like a lifetime.

But upon closer inspection, as you realize that maybe he looks…actually in better shape than when you had seen him last. But not being covered in dirt and grime was an easy difference. No, though, he looked healthy. Far better off than your rumpled and stark appearance.

He says your real name and you feel something soften deep inside. You hadn’t heard your actual name since…no, you cut the thought off, not wanting to think anymore about anything to do with the day you lost your brother. You feel the watching eyes of Joel and Tess as the meeting with strangers turns into anything but. Your connection with one of the men seemingly the last of the outcomes they had anticipated.

“Cane.” You correct him. “My name is- it’s Cane.”

“I can call you that, if you prefer. I’m just so glad you’re okay. When that raider dragged you off, I thought-“

“I got away.” You cut him off, not wanting to reveal the way you had ended up being a resident of the Boston Quarantine Zone. It wasn’t important, it was personal, and it was no one’s business but your own now, how it had come to be the reality of your life. It hadn’t been the first blood you spilled but it had certainly been the beginning of the path you walked and paced and snarled your way around today. He must sense your snub, the way you don’t want to dwell on the past. He nods once, eyes glinting as he takes in the two figures behind you. His eyes focus on Tess, a nod to her in greeting as he connects a face to the voice he had been conversing with for a few weeks now.

Frank turns to Bill, his counterpart on the other side of the fence. Allowing you to let out a huff of breath in relief at the passed moment. Or so you thought, Joel’s eyes were heavy on you. Far too weighted and far too vigilant as he no doubt picks up more than the exchange had been.

“Let’s, Bill, let’s get them inside. Get Cane into the shower, you look a little rough around the edges. You didn’t run into any trouble did you?”

The feeling of water cascading hot from the shower head and down your aching body was something you thought you’d never get to experience again. It was such a rare occurrence to get even lukewarm water in the zone, the water pressure weak.

A soft knock sounded through the hush of water, followed by Frank asking if you were comfortable with him coming into the bathroom. You call out a muffled affirmative, body beginning to ache from the way you had trudged through the night to get to the cordoned off city, especially after the way large hands had roughly pushed and pulled at you atop Joel’s shared bed.

“I just…wanted a second alone with you.” The man broke the heavy silence as he settled on a small bench in the room, opposite the vanity. He was worried, you could sense that much.

“That’s okay, it’s your house and I don’t mind.”

“…it could be your house too….if you wanted.”

On the other side of the door, Joel tries to keep his breathing light as he listens in on the conversation. A feeling of protectiveness hard to squash as he saw the other man slink off in search of you. There was something between you two, a shared past. A worry the other man felt entitled to have over you, the utterance of a name foreign to him but meant something to you. Joel wasn’t sure what to think, the way Tess had described him had been all positive and hopeful, a potential trading partner for things they couldn’t find in the rubble of the city remains or within the walls of the zone.

A connection to you was the last thing he had expected out of this trip. And he was on high alert for any issues that might bring to light. He keeps his eyes trained on the end of the upstairs hall, instincts telling him that Bill knows he hadn’t really been in search of a restroom for himself. Another dog with something to protect, with something to defend and fight for. The two men far more alike than they would want to admit and they had only just met. Your voice is quiet, something he had only ever experienced when he walked in on you and Tess alone. So used to you projecting it, to speaking loudly to ensure people heard you and understood the intent behind them.

The vulnerability with a man you obviously knew isn’t lost on him.

“Don’t think Bill would like that.” Cutting under his offer, you want him to realize that it would never work, his life is set up here due to the other man. Even if you were to be minimally evasive and keep to yourself, it was a life you weren’t sure you deserved let alone were worthy of being offered. It would be a disturbance to their way of life, from the gardens they tended to the house they obviously shared as their own.

“Yeah, but even so. We could convince him, if that’s something you’d be interested in. I don’t…I don’t like the thought of you all alone in the zone, fighting everyday for things you deserve to have…”

“I found my brother, I’ll be fine, I promise.”

“Did…I just…I’m sorry to ask but are you- okay after-“

“Yes.”

“It’s okay if you’re not, you know. That kind of thing, that violence changes people.”

“I am…okay, for the most part. Change or no change.”

“You don’t…I just want you to know you have a place here. If you’re…resorting to certain things.” His words are hesitant, but firm. He knows you, had known you through your college years. He had been an artist of local renown, in Baltimore. Where you had moved to go to college and stayed after you graduated. You worked with him in his own studio, helped him to organize classes for those interested in the arts and helped to manage his small gallery. But that was a lifetime ago, a paintbrush traded for the butt of a gun in your palm. A flash of teeth in a gummy smile you had offered too easily exchanged for the snarling of teeth as you bared them for anyone who threatened you.

It was a lifetime ago, the turn of your age into the next decade of your life bringing endless and adaptive change. If it was for the better you weren’t sure, but your survival was dependent on it and that’s all that mattered.

Joel feels a tightness in his chest, the inference of the man’s words of violence that had been acted out on a younger version of yourself not settling well, violence that ripped you from the one person who you had been with at the end of the world. The weight of the realization like rocks in his stomach, churning around in his middle. More weight is added as he hears the admittance of you’re the activities he had caught you in the act of doing to earn ration cards, of the activities he had been all too willing to indulge in with you just the night before.

“I don’t like doing it, but it’s kind of a ‘use what ya got’ kinda world now.”

“Cane…”

“It’s fine, I’m not…I’m not bothered by it.”

“Honey, of course you are. Anybody would be. We used to- we used to spend our days painting and setting up gallery shows and that- that’s gone from the world now. There is no more art, there is no more humanity, there is only-“

“I’m not anybody.” You feel your lips part in a show of teeth, hissing the words out as anger flares and memories of a time passed cross your mind. You were so naïve, to think the world would allow you to be who you wanted. For anyone to be who they wanted, but now it molds you into something inhumane, weather you find yourself infected or not. “I’m a survivor and I have power in the zone, with or without those I traveled with here today.”

“Okay….I’ll let you finish washing up and I’ll get you a change of clothes, that sound alright?”

“….thank you, Frankie.”

“Of course, anything for you. Always.”

Thoughts of a younger you set in front of a large canvas atop an easel flashes before Joel’s eyes as he quietly descends the stairs. A paintbrush replacing the commonality of a gun in your grip, light in your eyes instead of a dark threat. It was an uncomfortable one, to find out just how much you had been altered. He knew the pain of being transformed beyond recognition and he hated for the knowledge of your past as it burrowed into his brain and refused to leave.

A table is set up outside, Frank insisting on enjoying the gentle breeze that graced the day. A lace trimmed white tablecloth atop it for dishes and wine glasses and cloth napkins to be set atop. A meal to try and tide the churning waters of an agreement, the combining of two factions. Everyone is seated at one of the four sides of the small table, an extra chair beside Frank for you two to share one.

Bill’s back is to the house, to allow him a full view of the street and surrounding area within the gate of his land. Joel is opposite him and to your right, Tess is across from you. It’s all so close an imitation of family dinners you used to have before you left to embark on your own life. Though the people surrounding you couldn’t be any different.

The four of them had fallen silent at your appearance once you came down the steps. Hands itching to run over and smooth down the flowing fabric of the dress Frank had gifted you to change into. A white, floral-patterned fabric you would’ve once fawned over. But now it feels like some sick, twisted joke even if you knew the man hadn’t intended for it to be taken that way. He had been working off memories of your preferences, not knowing who you were now.

Tess’s lips had lifted at the corners, though she hid it well at the way your eyes had cut through her when you heard the small chuckle she had tamped down on. Joel’s eyes had roved over you, an expression unreadable and far too harsh in the daylight back outside. Frank had been elated, praising how well it fit you and he was so glad it was the right size, that the pattern looked lovely and you cleaned up nicely. Bill had nodded along, most likely warned by his partner to be nice to you, though he hadn’t looked to thrilled that you had been left alone inside his home. He seemed so much like Joel, though there was no worry for him to reach out and grab you by the throat.

“Well, this really is just- it- it’s amazing.” You keep your eyes downcast at your place setting, the way Tess stumbled over her words unfamiliar. She was trying so hard to keep her own tendency to come off as threatening out of her demeanor and you wondered if it was closer to the that of the woman she had once been. Shirking herself back into that mindset in order to appeal to the men whose trade you admittedly, desperately needed.

The city is getting more dangerous to scavenge as time continues on. Supplies and even everyday items so scarce it doesn’t justify the risk of sneaking out of the zone much. You worry for the future, as things only seem to be getting more dire. As the hangings increase, as the Fireflies gain traction and power among the unrest.

“Right?” Frank smiles so openly and brightly at her across from you, reaching for the bottle of wine in the middle of the table. He reaches over to fill the half-empty crystal glass before her, the scent of it strong as it catches in the wind. You take the final sip of your own glass, catching Joel’s gaze out of the corner of your eye. You feel more than see the way his eyes trace the stain of the dark wine on your lips, how it dampens them as it clings to the plush of your bottom lip. How he shifts in his seat as you swipe your tongue over it to collect the errant drops.

“Mhm.”

“Can you not, please?” Joel’s eyes shift to the gun gripped tightly in Bill’s hand atop the table. Frank’s as well, an exasperated edge in his voice. The roll of his eyes he tries to fight making warmth flare in your chest for being able to recall it so clearly and aimed at you in the past. He’s much the same man he was when you knew him, but almost…happier now despite the fall of the world. He’s found his person and that does change people, you can see it in his boosted confidence and comfortability. He’s protected here, until he wishes not to be.

“I’m the same way.” Joel offers, to bridge the gap and mind the tension in the air.

“Oh, you’re a paranoid schizophrenic too?” Frank chuckles, shoulder bumping yours but you don’t join him in the banter. You feel wildly out of place, aside from having to share an edge of the table. It had been so long since you sat down at a clean table, a dressed table laden down with crystal glasses and fine ceramic. A meal made from scratch, hot and actually tasting like food.

“I’m not schizophrenic.”

“Sure.” Frank moves to fill your glass at the nod of your head, he knows you favored red once upon a time, the perfect paring for the meal Bill had been kind enough to offer you all.

Tess clears her throat and it strikes something in you. She’s acting more like she does when she’s alone with you, letting the glimpse of who she is shine amongst the pair. It’s easy to see now why Joel is by her side, she’s much better spoken than you. She’s good at knowing what to do and when. But then again she does have a decade on you much like he does. More experience in a world that had been whole and allowed for different skills.

“Well, can I just say, uh, gun aside, which I get, by the way.” A nod to Bill, to let him know he’s seen and understood. “How nice this is to have a civilized meal in such a, a beautiful place. It’s been so long.”

The unspoken but very loud ‘can’t get these two to stay in the same room long enough to even eat rations without an argument breaking out’ sentiment hits you like a brick wall. She knows, is the first thought you have, and it freezes the blood in your veins. She knows what you and Joel did but she hadn’t voiced it or confronted you about it. Perhaps she confronted him or had just known the second she walked into the apartment last night but either way, you know you have to be honest when she approaches you.

“I just wanna say, uh, thank you. Even if we don’t end up working together. Which I wouldn’t fault you, these two tend to rub some people the wrong way. I really needed this.”

“We are working together.” Frank raises his own glass to mirror hers, his other hand reaching for yours atop the table to shake it gently and reassuringly. “We are. Even if Cane hadn’t turned out to be the third party of your group. Though it was such a pleasant surprise.”

They clink their glasses together, urging you to do so as well. Your glass now full for a second time as well.

“You know what? Let’s go inside. Tess, I wanna show you something.”

“Actually I have been…waiting to see inside.”

“No. Not inside.” Bill tries to reign them in but neither are paying much attention to the table anymore, already getting up from their seats, full wine glasses in hand.

“Darling, do you want to join us?” Frank offers, reaching for your hand to help you up. But you shake your head, not wanting to go back inside so soon.

“Oh, um, no thank you. The fresh air is…”

“Of course,” He slides a hand over your shoulder, comforting and grounding.

Bill calls out his name once, then again with more force as they begin to walk away from the table, leaving the controlled setting. Both parties are laughing as they disappear inside the house with their wine glasses. He huffs as he looks from you to Joel, not having anticipated this course of events.

“I understand.” Joel speaks up across from him. He’s chewing a bite he had just taken, a second helping taken when offered still on his plate. He doesn’t even look in your direction, his attention solely on the other man at the table. “If my, uh…if mine…brought strangers into our situation, I wouldn’t be happy either.”

“Thought this one was yours.” Bill tips his head in your direction, genuine curiosity thinly veiled in his tone.

“No. This one is on her own.” His voice hardens, giving away his distaste for the insinuation.

“I’m no ones, certainly not his.” You feel the need to speak up, not willing to let them both talk about you as if you weren’t right there. It was not only insulting, but to insinuate that you could be anybody’s was more than aggravating. Joel ignores you, but Bill’s eyes meet yours briefly, gauging you silently.

“But of all the people he could’ve found on the radio, we’re actually decent people just tryin’ to get by.”

“Oh, well aren’t I the lucky one.” Bill scoffs, eyes trained back on Joel and remaining.

“There’s stuff we have in the zone that you don’t have here. Books, medicine, machine parts. We can help each other and get that gun outta my face.” There’s a hint of the man he is in the zone as his voice pitches low, a threat that he would act on in a heartbeat with the slightest inclination. Bill heeds the threat, knowing he would meet it head on. Both aware of the fragility of the situation, both aware of their people inside the house alone with each other and getting along. Bill concedes and the gun is locked before placed back in its holster.

“So, what, you were a…prepper or somethin’?”

“’Survivalist’.” Bill doesn’t continue eating, like Joel does. Ever the picture of controlled ease as he chews bite after bite on his plate. But the language of his body is obvious to you, he’s primed and ready to lunge, ready to fight, to kill. Something you had washed off in the shower with the appearance of someone you once thought long dead. “Maybe you are decent people, Frank vehemently vouches for her. But maybe you aren’t and maybe she’s changed. Doesn’t matter. We’re self-sufficient here. I don’t need you or your friend, or her complicating our lives. Is that clear?”

Even if you aren’t focused on one of them for more than a moment, eyes flitting between them evenly, you see the way Joel glances at the perimeter fence. Seeing something you don’t or can’t, had seen since first approaching it, keeping it to himself and only revealing it with his next words.

“That fence has got a year on it, tops. The galvanized wire already started to corrode. I can get you ten spools of high-tensile aluminum. Last you the rest of your life.” He seems to think better of his words and with another swallow of chewed food, remedies it. “Lives.”

The realization that Joel could be polite, he could be cordial, and he could assert himself in a nonviolent way to appeal to someone and get what he wants without shedding blood, breaking bones, or slinging harsh words is a hard realization. All you’ve known from him is backhanded comments about your skills, about your willingness to let them into the world you had helped shape in the zone. Someone who had come in with the intention of asserting his dominance over those already in charge had faltered only when you showed your own teeth. And he never let you forget the way you had showed your belly to allow them to be a part of it, no matter how mutually beneficial the situation was.

He saw you as weak and it’s glaringly apparent in the way that he tries to appeal to the man across from him now. A man who has things Joel has set his sights on, wants to get his hands on. But it’s much more than them both being men, it’s much more than them both being so similar in nature. It’s about the respect they have for each other, it’s as plain as day. The commonality of a kinder and gentler handler of a partner at their sides. Someone to protect that have bonded with each other.

It further proves how alone you truly are. The wine sours in your stomach, the food spoils and you excuse yourself from the table. Bill’s hand is back over the gun holstered to his side but pushes up out of his chair and follows you. Joel watches until as the man follows you to where you had sought space on the curb of the street, his brow furrowing and his mouth turning down as he thinks you’ve just ruined any hope of finding agreement.

“Save it, neither of you have even considered what I have-“

“Look, I’m not much for being honest these days. The world doesn’t care anymore and I never did even before it fell. But,” He’s sitting down beside you, a grunt at the low level nearly flush with the ground. A few feet separate you, but you understand the meaning of him doing so. Willingly putting himself beside you and at a disadvantage should you be brave enough to try something.

“I wasn’t willing to even entertain the thought of reaching out on the radio. But Frank was determined to wade through the signals. And he did all of it in search of you. He’s devoted so much time to finding you, alive or dead. And when he couldn’t find word, he didn’t leave the bed for weeks. He’s been haunted by your ghost since the day he stumbled onto my land. And yet, God delivered you to him alongside two people offering trade. You say I think of you as fodder, but you don’t know me. I may not really know you, but I know what you mean to Frank. That makes this worth the trouble and the risk. Not some one trying to appeal to me across the table, not some woman who Frank is set on impressing. It’s you. I can see through the act of that one back at the table a mile away, he’s behaving though he doesn’t want to. But you haven’t tried to hide you who are, what you are.”

“I didn’t feel the need to, not here, not with Frankie.”

“I know you may not be the same person he remembers and share stories with, but he’s gone through all the efforts to set this up. He was going to ask them if they had any word of you, he never gave up hope that somehow you had survived that raider tearing you out if his grip as you both ran from the ambush of their group. Something tells me you have the sway the two with you think they have, have become accustomed to because you allow them to reap the rewards of it.”

“It’s a partnership. Protection for equal shares of everything. I provide the knowledge. One person alone can’t hold their own any longer, certainly not in the zone.”

“You have the knowledge.” He agrees quietly, his eyes locking with yours as you look over at him.

“We’re you runnin’ off to?” Joel’s voice doesn’t startle you, but it’s unexpected in the doorway of the back porch. You had slipped out of your room the second you were sure everyone had been settled long enough to sleep, or at least resolve themselves to trying to rest for the night. It can’t be easy for either Joel or Bill to rest knowing the other doesn’t trust them, but you hadn’t anticipated anyone leaving their rooms at the late hour. Stars twinkle above in the sky, visible through the windows unobstructed by screens. You had just wanted to come out and see them, get some fresh air.

“Didn’t want to impose.” Your voice is quiet, though not in meekness, it’s swathed in the worry of waking a house full of people.

“We were offered rooms for the night, wouldn’t call that imposing.” He exhales heavily as he moves to stand beside where you are before one of the large panes of glass, looking out. “Besides, Frank seems to be easy on you, doubt he would say no to anything you needed.”

“Yeah, well, room’s too big, house is too big.” He watches you, catching the sight of your eyes tracing the landscape bathed in night and shadows. You absently wonder if he can smell the body wash you had used earlier, different from your own back in the zone but had washed the lingering scent of him on your skin all the same.

“Can’t get outta the gate on your own.”

“No, but it’s better than being stuck in that house.”

“It bothers you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Truly, you don’t. There’s no way he’s privy to the feelings and desperation to push down memories of the past that have endlessly bubbled up today, trying to drown you as they reach for the surface.

“Don’t play dumb, we both know you’re not.” His hands rest on his hips, the clinking of his belt buckle ever present loud in the silence of the night. Of the open land just beyond the enclosed porch. “You’re uncomfortable because they’re in a room and me ‘n Tess are in one.”

“I couldn’t care less about the sleeping arrangements.”

“Then what is it?”

“It doesn’t matter.” You think to tell him of how suffocating it was in that room, not because you were alone but because of how much it reminds you of where you used to live. But Joel isn’t one for you to be open with, to share honestly with. He’s been nothing but demeaning when it comes to any humanity you dare to show, conversations with Tess cut short the second he opens the door to wherever you are. The reason you don’t linger or share meals, the reason you don’t know why he had allowed for last night’s activities to happen and now they feel heavy, like a mistake you had let yourself fall into that never should have happened.

“Cane.” When you don’t respond, he voices the name Frank had called from behind the fence when he recognized you. It’s like an arrow to the heart, striking true and killing that part of you all over again. A name you had never expected to be called again, let alone by Joel Miller as he tries to get you to speak plainly with him. For once and never likely again.

“Drop it.” Your voice rasps, the scream you feel building in your chest desperately trying to break free.

“Not until you tell me.”

“Just because your mouth’s been on me-“

“That’s not what this- Jesus, fine, be difficult like you always are. I’m goin’ back inside.” He’s turning away, stepping toward the back steps. You hear the sound of his boots on the wood but only the first step before he’s whipping back around with a glare. “If this falls through, it’s on you. Not me and not Tess, you. And if that’s the case, maybe you should begin to consider that offer to stay here. And if that doesn’t pan out, don’t come crawling back to us.”

You don’t look at him or think of telling him the deal has been made because of you, and his steps take him further away from you, leaving you to sit on the outdoor furniture that reminds you too much of your old home. Of the one you once shared with family, of the one you had shared with Franke. Both more than likely just rubble or overtaken by twisted and decayed cordyceps. You feel the scream thicken your throat, swelling it up to make you try to gasp out for air to release it but it comes out as a harsh prattling sob. Your resolve to be strong cracking for the first time in years.

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[redbatchedcumbermayned]

I have recorded different versions of my name, and the last time I was told it was Haynrix and I was like, really? Haynrix? - Interviewing Chris Tester part 3

We contiune talking about the transformative power of fanworks, a bit more about romancing Heinrix, how Heinrix is pronounced actually, what a dream come through project would be for Chris and why a stage production of Crime and Punishment was his most memorable work to date and his newly discovered interest in playing D&D.

Part 1 of the interview

Part 2 of the interview

This is the final part of the interview. Thank you so much for reading and listening! (the audio quality is not spectacular but tumblr limits uploads to 10MB). If you quote or reshare, please quote me as the original source.

F: It's very transformative. You take a game and you get your own stories after the game or with the people you interact with. It's very creative. Because Heinrix is very much an archetype, as you said, he has this duality about this very authoritative man with so much trauma underneath. There is a lot to explore, and that speaks for Olga's writing as well, because only a very well written character would draw you in like that into a story.

CT: I mean, it's a crazy balancing act, definitely. And at any time, it could close off, you shut him down, or he shuts you down. And you're like, Oh, okay.

F: And it was incredibly funny that the first romance lines straddled the line between workplace harassment and flirting. And he is so unnerved and then it doesn't like to cordon you off and say, well, you were too aggressive. Game over. 

CT: Yeah.

You can switch to this closeness path like in a real relationship, you are maybe very flirty, very teasy at the beginning, and then things get real and you get real and it changes. And that was very dynamic. I never experienced that before. BioWare writes great romances, but they are often very one note in their games.

CT: And there's still the kind of like, okay, so are we sleeping together? Yeah. Or we do not. All right. No, okay, great, fine. God, I had to go through all the different fucking options just to go like, Is this, is that, no, no, okay, fine, right, yeah. So in terms of nuance and dynamic, it's you've got your issues over there, but regardless, can I just say the right thing? Uh, or not, you know, or be pure, or whatever. Garrus was always a favourite for me.

F: Oh yeah, Garrus, Garrus is great.

CT: Yeah, yeah. I'll be honest I didn't really appreciate quite how subtly all of the pieces are put together until I played through bits of the game and watched bits of the game afterwards [this relates to Rogue Trader]. Because there are so many different moving parts, but also so much is recorded out of order, it's very difficult to get a full appreciation of the whole, and it's the credit of the directors to just be able to give you enough for you to get it in two or three takes, because we gotta move on because time is money is time. 

And so that's kind of crazy, where you've got to just act in faith in the moment and trust that the people who are listening on the other end feel as if they're getting what they need. Obviously the more you record, the more you get a sense of what the character is about and the palette and the playfulness and all of those kinds of things. But because there are such a multitude of choices anyway, no one can explain to you exactly the context of what it is because that's all such a movable feast as it is anyway.

F: That's a huge credit to voice actors to still get it right in three or four takes.

CT: Well, the aim is to give them options so that they can trial it out and be able to have a playfulness about things. It's always nice when you go like, I'm just going to try this different take on how this might traditionally be read as or something, and then you maybe hear that in the game and go like: Oh, okay, that's a little bit of whatever. 

Because quite often you'll probably be told to read a line no more than three times, and the first time that you read a line, that you read it out loud is the first time that you read the line at all. So, you don't read it in advance, and sometimes that goes in. It's normally the second or third take, I would say, but that depends very much on the voice actor. Because quite often, the whole point is to be quite good at sight reading, and sometimes there's a spontaneity in the reading of something for the very first time, which might give something a little bit unexpected, or a little bit fresher. 

And then you realise halfway through, there's a word I have no idea how to pronounce. Is it von Valancius? Von Valancius as it's written or von Valen and you're just like, the hell? Okay. And then you need to go back.

F: Or his name actually, because as a German, we have Heinrich as a first name. So is it Haynrix? Is this Hainrix? But we can say it's Low Gothic, so it doesn't matter.

CT: I have recorded different versions of my name, and the last time I was told it was Haynrix and I was like, really? Haynrix? Okay. Sure? But I've not had a definitive conversation about that, so I don’t know whether or not they change it or, or whatever.

F: I settled on, it's Low Gothic and not the German version and it's fine because that's a fantasy language. It doesn't matter. And I know from other voice actors that sometimes you don't get any directions on how something is pronounced.

CT: Quite often we're just taking an educated guess. I mean, they're very good in terms of some pronunciations, but if no other character is saying this word except you, then there's probably not a guide for it in which case you just make sure that you record it somewhere. So, it's consistent. So, if you're saying it more than once, at least you're saying it wrong consistently. So that becomes the new, right?

F: What was your most memorable work to date? Stage or voice acting?

CT: Stage or voice acting or whatever? God, I would say one was a production of Crime and Punishment. There you go. It was a three-person adaptation of the massive book really condensed into about 90 minutes, essentially. Quite a radical adaptation, but it was a beautifully written adaptation, and I think I did it probably about 2017, 2018. That was wonderful storytelling because it had so much of the original flavour in it and also this ambiguity of character. A much more ambiguous character than someone like Heinrix. Someone who is so eminently fallible and flawed, and yet trying to find a through line through it and a making of sense and the justification for the reasons why people do bad things. That is pretty iconic for me as an experience. 

I do feel lucky that a lot of the things that I'm able to explore in the video game or in the voiceover world generally are completely new and unexpected things. Whereas on stage, unless you're doing a lot of new writing, the vast majority of the time, it's a role that you're familiar with or have seen or have heard about. It's pre-existing. Whereas with some of these video games, you get to create that whole original world or character and that kind of stuff. Which is why if anybody asks me, what role do you want to play? I'm like, the role that I don't know exists yet, and Heinrix is very much one of those. Like, I had no idea and neither did I have any idea that it would develop in the way that it did. 

But the whole process itself is a lot of fun and you work with very cool people to tell a completely new and original story. But having that ambiguity, having that tension within the character, every actor has to find that for themselves anyway, just to keep creatively engaged and alive, but have that so vividly running as an undercurrent and for it to be able to go in different ways, that's such a cool kind of thing. I'm just so up for more of those kinds of opportunities. Maybe hopefully in the future, we'll see.

F: Has voicing Heinrix opened any doors? Did you notice an uptake in offers?

CT: I think it means that a few more people probably know who I am, and that's cool. A few more people. Yeah, it's definitely been referred to. Other than that, I don't know. But it certainly doesn't hurt being involved in such a high profile and well respected, well-loved game. I mean, for me as well, because I've done various different aspects of stuff in that world. That doesn't hurt. 

I love the whole Warhammer 40k universe, at the same time I don't want to just be like, I'm a 40k actor and that's all I do because that world also probably doesn't need just another white middle-class man in it, even if that is like 70 percent of the world. Like you say, they're trying to broaden it out and diversify it and necessarily if it wants to get to a bigger audience and have a healthier ecology on so many different kinds of levels. So, I don't want to go all in on just that, even if it's a very rich world. So, it was a real pleasure. 

F: Would you want to broaden your repertoire into radio plays, because I know on your LinkedIn, you write, you're the voice when Cumberbatch is busy and listening to you, there are undertones of Benedict Cumberbatch in your voice, and Benedict before he became really popular, he did something like Cabin Pressure, which is so fun.

CT: Yeah.

F: Would you be open to doing radio plays like that?

CT: Definitely. I've just recently come from a voiceover conference in the UK and did a couple of workshops and that reminded me of what the work is that I want to actively seek out. And there's a lot of audio drama stuff floating about, a lot of that is available via social media or is operated in the U.S. as opposed to in the UK., though there are some great ones in the UK. as well, and it's tricky to know why and how to validate some of those things. So, it's something that I would love to explore doing more of as well as, you know, you can do these audio drama things, which are kind of like shorter versions of audio books, almost essentially with not so many voices. And I think those medium and short form ways of storytelling would be lovely. It would be great because I'm not right for a lot of video games. 

I don't think I'll ever be actually a very prolific video game actor if that makes sense because I'm okay at shouting and I can play some monsters and I've got a couple of accents in the bag and that kind of thing in terms of doing voices. People will say it's about the acting Chris, it's not about voices, but doing some voices and being able to nail certain things there are people that are brilliant at that. But there are people who have probably a wider palette of voices than I will ever have. 

I never started out as a voice actor. I'm very much an actor who uses the voice, and I'm trying to broaden that out a little bit more as I keep on going. But I want to open myself up to more different types of stuff to be creatively fulfilled. The prospect of going into a recording session and screaming “grenade” and “bang” is not very fulfilling. I did that for a few games, and then I'm done with that. Like the money's not good enough for me to do that. I mean, never say never. If the money does become good enough, then we can talk. But you push your voice and it's a different kind of acting, I'll put it that way.

F: So, last question. What would be a dream come true project for you?

CT: A dream come true project? Probably something entirely original that I can't imagine. I would love to be able to work on an audio project where I'm working with other actors in real time. I would love to be able to work with most of the cast in Rogue Trader, for example, but I’d love it for us to be able to have dialogues where you're actually responding to each other as opposed to insert A, B or C here, that kind of thing. Because that's the one thing I kind of miss so much from the audio side of work is you getting something unexpected from the other person and then riffing off it. You have to self-generate as a voice actor that a director will go do you want to try it like this? Or maybe like this, it's supposed to be funny. Try it dead pan, that kind of thing.

But quite often that kind of spontaneous element of discovery only comes from when someone gives you a line in a way that you really didn't expect, and maybe it makes you laugh, when it's supposed to be tragic or whatever, those kinds of things. The biggest thing I miss about stage work is when you're working with an actor at the top of your game and they raise you up to their level. It's terrifying, but in the best way. Some actors can do that effortlessly because they're so in the moment, because they don't know what they're going to do next, even though they can find their light and make sure that the audience is still seeing their brilliant acting at the same time. Clever, clever bunnies. That feeling because they don't know exactly where they're going, you're kind alive to the moment in a way that quite often you're not, and if there was a way to be able to replicate that in an audio way and a long form storytelling way, then that would be cool. 

I've just started playing a little bit of D&D and I don't know if I'll ever get good at that, especially in terms of like, so I've got to come up with words. Oh my God. Whereas I will never watch a D&D playthrough for four hours on YouTube myself, personally, life choice, I can start to understand the appeal of that because there's an element of that spontaneity and playfulness, but in a group. So, if there was a way to do that with actually scripted drama, I'd be all in on that. That would be amazing. Or some kind of hybrid. So I don't know exactly what that is, but that kind of thing would be quite cool. 

F: That's what the BBC did with Cabin Pressure. I attended one live recording and it was just amazing. You have all the other actors [apart from Benedict Cumberbatch] that are household names. And to see them act and how little takes they actually need for the lines and everything is amazing.

CT: Yeah, there's an appreciation of the craft, but it's also the fact that it's not into a void. It's not like, okay, we've done three. Is that okay? We're onto the next. I think in many ways it can make the work much easier, because you're using your imagination, but in a different way, because you're operating with a stimulus. And that's always exciting.

F: And good D&D is just like improv theatre.

CT: Yeah, exactly.

F: Really good players are spontaneous. Just very creative.

CT: That should be celebrated and I think harnessing more of those kinds of things would be fun, because in all honesty, still probably about 60, 70 percent of the work that I do is in the corporate and business sphere. That's just because of how I sound. I didn't go out to court that work particularly, but in terms of the stuff that pays the bills regularly, that's the kind of stuff that I do. Even then, you're trying to find levels of playfulness or colour so that you're not just coming over with: “in a world where you can trust a big corporation to take your money.” So, there's any kind of nuance or subtlety to that, that will be a good thing. So that's the kind of stuff that I crave as a result.

F: Thank you for your time.

CT: Oh, my pleasure.

F: It went by so fast. We went over time; I still have a lot more questions.

CT: Oh, sorry.

F: No, no, no, no, no, no. That, that's, that's absolutely fine. Thank you.

[blackbird5154]

Hey! We've started posting our new multi-chapter fic about Terzo and Copia that we've been working on for the past six months. Unwittingly, it has become an alternative to the RHRN storyline, as the plot originated before the movie came out. An alternative with a lot of blood, darkness, and gore, but with an attempt to give the characters the development we think they deserve. It's called 'The Chains That Bind Us'.

Actually, this story began when V @grim-kazoo-player and I shared a sudden coincidental feeling with each other: Terzo is alive. Not as a person in lore chronology, of course. But as a complex of ideas. Ideas have a certain persistence and vitality; they outlive their bearers. As V's namesake from Alan Moore's comic said, "There's no flesh or blood within this cloak to kill. There's only an idea. Ideas are bulletproof." A little time passes, and already a whole crowd of people in identical masks goes to storm the cordons, and the English Parliament goes up in flames.

As another author we like states, the gods are alive as long as they are worshipped. Every idea created by man is fueled by belief in it. Amazingly, the Third Papa's fame has not faded even after seven years of his absence; the echo of his thunder still rumbles across the planet, igniting hearts. This sense of the uncompleteness of his story was what breathed life into this work.

The fic is written in Russian. If you don't read Russian, you can use an automatic translator. Also we are very much waiting for your comments: in Russian, in English, in Quenya (we can read runes), in any language you use. The Ghost Empire is international!

Characters: Copia, Terzo, Sister Imperator, Omega, Nameless Ghouls

Tags and warnings: AU, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Bromance, Magic, Revenge, Pre-Slash, Violence, Psychology, Psychological Horror, Trauma, Psychological Trauma, Tortures, Depression, Character Study

Summary: The fifth era is about to end. Copia realizes that his time is coming to an end, but sees no escape from the threat looming over him. Will he suffer the same fate as his predecessors? In a moment of hard thinking about the future, a mysterious visitor bursts into his life.

[leiflitter]

Oh, yeah, I've been busy.

DOUBLE DROP SUNDAY AND ART TO GO WITH IT!

Full size art here:

Oliver would probably know the right word, but Ollie wasn't particularly talkative right now, and Felix didn't blame him. Instead he turned to Farleigh, trying to look measured. It was hard to do; they all looked like spies, waiting in a cordoned-off line outside what Felix assumed was an abandoned warehouse, wearing big coats to disguise what was underneath. "Seems a bit shit not to warn us, Farls." "It is, isn't it." Farleigh's Cheshire-Cat grin was annoying, but Marcus was concerned, which made up for it. "Farleigh, you didn't." "I did. They'd have pussied out otherwise, and I don't want them unattended in the apartment. We'd need to have the couch professionally cleaned." Farleigh tossed his head. His braids had silver… Beads? Charms? Something decorating them, and a few of them clinked together. "They're not even dressed in anything that interesting." "You've got me in a fucking corset-" "Yeah. And it's barely even boned, so… God, you're such a fucking child." Hardly Felix's fault that he'd sniggered at the idea of someone boning a corset. He wasn't a tailor, or whoever made the bloody things, he didn't know the technical terminology. Oliver was still silent, but there was something in his manner that spoke more to quiet resignation than outright refusal. He knew this probably wouldn't be Oliver's thing; had done when they'd gotten back from the parade, been given instructions to rest for a bit, then another one of Farleigh's personal armies had appeared from God-knows where. Felix hadn't wanted to be separated from Oliver, but he had to suppress the urge to be dramatic, especially when Ollie being led away into one of the dressing rooms looked a little like a lamb being led to the slaughter.

[m0ns00n53]

Hi. Yes, this is my insanity [pats on head]. If it sounds familiar, I ripped it right out of my current project because it needs to be its own little stand-alone and I’m just dying to toss it into this void as well. Also because mentally torturing a certain someone (probably not who you’re thinking!) is great catharsis and I highly recommend it😉

Plus this is like, shameless self-promo. You know when you pick up a book and it’s got that two-page hook completely out of context? Or it’s at the end so when little-kid-you picks up the forbidden book to see if the story ends happy, you instead land on the next thriller’s hook-scene and become convinced that all Dean Koontz’s stuff has shitty endings

Welp, that’s this😏

(Oh, content warning: Huge Spoilers for Season 2. dark thoughts, intrusive thoughts—flirting with suicidal, but not quite there. Also, graphic violence to cars, and mention of blood)

If you do happen to find yourself “hooked” (teehee), the fic is

Without further ado:

Anger + Adrenaline (so christened for this post)

03:15

Two hundred horses growl in Jim’s ears, protesting against the two large boulders he’s using to both urge them on and restrain them. He stands still in the darkness, listening to them fight each other, fight the chunks of granite. They’re all too eager to throw themselves into that sturdy acer macrophyllum just sixteen feet ahead, glowing in the headlights.

Jim can relate to that need for movement, for action. It’s why he chose to do this himself. It’s why he just took the jet all the way here. He needs….

In. Out.

He isn’t sure what, exactly, has kept him from releasing the car to its destruction.This road won’t be deserted for long: he should’ve removed the rock from the brake pedal ten minutes ago, gone on to bash out what remained of the windshield and spatter the interior in some of Angus’s bagged blood from Phoenix Medical. Cordoned the whole thing off so they’d have realistic evidence of the crash that has left Jim’s son lying half-dead, twenty miles away in Colorado River Medical—

This is why, he wants to scream as his fist bangs into the hood’s dark, warm metal. This is why Jim stays away. Matilda can judge him as much as she wants, because she won’t ever understand. And that’s fine, as long as she does her job, carries out his orders and minds her own business. She doesn’t have to understand him, or his choices.

In. Out.

She probably doesn’t realize just how easily he can hear her judgment, as well as all the other things she didn’t say during that most recent phone call he’d initiated after too many hours spent tossing and turning. But Jim has always been good at reading between the lines. He didn’t need to witness Dalton’s grief-crazed attack on the Phoenix—the man’s own people….

For a moment, Jim lets himself wonder if there had ever been a time when Jonah might’ve done the same….

Regardless. It had been clear from the very beginning, from the moment Matty had refused to come back and manage the other teams, do her job.

There is a chance…a very high chance….that Angus will leave Jim. Angus will leave him for Ellen….

Ellen.

He doesn’t know what to do with the childish insistence screaming through his head that it’s not fair. This feeling…it’s out of control. He wants to take the precious red Jeep his son loves so much and smash that into scrap as well as this company SUV. After all the years of damages Angus has accrued….

In. Out.

From the very beginning, he was such a destructive kid. Jim had given him the benefit of the doubt when he was seven. Curiosity ran strong in the veins of both sides of the family, and a sealed container of butylithium and nitrogen doesn’t look like much to worry about until it’s too late. That had been on Jim, keeping it in the shed within reach of a precocious little boy who could never keep his hands away from where his mind wanted to go. He still remembers how Ellen had been the exact same way, those inquisitive blue eyes flashing above her mischievous smile, hands always reaching out to touch….

In. Out.

The car had been different. Angus had known exactly what he’d been doing that time.

Still. Jim can’t deny the flash of pride he’d felt, confronting that little perpetrator at the scene of his crime. Nine years old, streaked head-to-toe with dark grease and surrounded by the innards of his victim, Angus had stood tall in their garage, blue eyes remorseful but blond head held high. He hadn’t protested Jim’s charges or his sentence. And watching him tackle it—watching him teach himself how to piece every bit of that engine back together, all on his own….

That had been worth the seven straight weeks of bus fares.

Jim’s pride sours, sticking uncomfortably in his throat. Without further hesitation he circles back around to the drivers’ side of the car, reaches into the footwell and shoves at the granite chunk closest to him—

Ripping his arm out of the way just in time for two hundred horses to charge ahead, roar straight into the solid trunk with an explosion of deafening sound.

There’s no fire. Not that Jim expected one, but with the way things have been going…But that’s one thing that went right, at least. The only light is coming from the tail lights and single headlight that still functions. Passenger’s side.

Jim grabs the designated tree branch—a good size, about half the thickness of his arm and twice as long. Dragging it behind him, he pulls his SAK from his pocket and clicks on its flashlight—pauses.

The place where Angus would’ve sat is a crumpled mess of plastic, aluminum and fiberglass.

In. Out.

Bashing a hole into the windshield has become a non-issue. Jim drops the limb across the jagged edge that remains, halfway into the gaping space and onto what’s left of the driver’s seat. A believable culprit for an impalement….

Without his permission, his brain begins speculating what kind of injuries it’s all covering for. GSW, a stabbing of some kind….

In. Out. There’ll be time to learn about it in all its gory details when he reads the reports stacked on his desk. Another avoidance she knows about, and judges him for.

Which is fine.

As he shines his light over the wreckage once more, Jim lets himself imagine—for the briefest moment—how it would’ve felt to have been behind that wheel. If that had been his foot lifting from the brake, shooting him toward the maple. Would he have been able to leap out, heart pounding with adrenaline, to land in the fallen leaves? Or would he have failed, and turned planted evidence into something all too real….

In. Out.

He bends down and reaches into the little cooler beside him, lifting out the bag of his son’s blood—trying not to notice how heavy it feels, or how it shakes in his hand.

Angus.

Here’s a bonus gif I found in the gif search of Oversight being shitty😒

[redfoxdude07]

Idk why, but Masterpiece glup shittos are genuinely some of my favorite characters because they're all at least a little fucked up

Like we got an Autistic dude hyperfixated on music (against his will), old man Memory Loss Megee, Born to be a strategist forced to be a medic, and the Spy from TF2

[aeonmagnus]

Transformers: Missing Link Sunstreaker & Cordon First Stock Images

We can share for you our first stock images of the upcoming Transformers Missing Link Sunstreaker & Cordon.

These are the next installments in the Missing Link link of modern articulated renditions of the original G1 molds. We have a look at Sunstreaker in robot and alt mode, and to top it all we also have images of his Diaclone-inspired white redeco as Cordon.

[dryococelas01]

Tumblr Power Polls Q5 + extra

So

Some housekeeping before I list today's question.

Eventually we are going to get to the point that I can't just list off a bunch of labels I've thought of.

For example, let's say desire breaker won. I could make up a bunch of stuff it could feed off (attention, strong emotions, parasite etc) but I might not think of everything and you guys definitely have cool ideas.

So from this point onwards I will have a 'next questions' part, where I will say what the next question is and if I want audience suggestions on options to vote on. If you have suggestions, either message me, comment or put them in reblogs. I will attribute them to whoever does so (unless they don't want me to).

Additionally, for some minor questions I will put up 2 at once. Or for major questions I feel should be voted on at the same time. For those I will put a clear indicator at the start of the post, and any additional polls in the reblogs (as I can't have more than one poll per blog)

Q5: What type of stranger is the power?

Current results:

Q1: How many power categories? 2

Q2: What categories? Breaker/Stranger

Q3: How powerful? Mid tier, rating 4-6. As this poll was done under a reblog, it may be neccesary to redo.

Q4: What type of Breaker? Fate Breaker. Benefits after you transform, consequences when you transform back. A focus on action and consequences.

Wildbow explicitly noted that fate breakers have some issues with their civilian identities due to the negative consequences.

A future question will be what the benefits and consequences are. If anyone has suggestions they can start early.

Now I tried to use the weaverdice doc for this, but I ran into some difficulties. While the breaker categories were fairly clear and distinct, the stranger ones were less so. Apparently wildbow has redone stranger a few times, and to be honest? I couldn't really tell what some of them were supposed to mean or how some were classified as stranger. Some I could see as stranger, but not purely stranger.

For example, Ambush strangers are described as

"Ambush strangers are heavy damage dealers or combat capes with very conditional strength.  This may require flanking, timing, careful use of battlefield, or disadvantaged targets."

Which I understand what it's telling me but I don't know how that translates to a stranger power. I could see a brute that's stronger when undetected could fit there, but not a pure stranger.

Similarly a creep stranger is described as

"Creep strangers are strangers who can avoid danger or obtain access by way of agility, movement modes, or physical adaptations"

Which feels like it will always be a mover stranger.

Bedevil strangers also fit here

"Bedevil strangers produce effects that are more offensive sort, primarily focused around debilitating and crushing others without directly harming them. They might bind, tie, mire, and hamper, or set up effects that threaten foes but only if conditions are met. Often utilize effects that involve poisons, parasites, or other vectors that may have a weak initial effect but provide the opportunity for a greater effect later, often with timing involved, (non-emotion) master-like influence or personal benefits."

As such I ain't using all the categories.

Additionally I've added a category, mislabel, as I felt strangers like Nice Guy would fit in multiple sections and like those sortof effects enough that I wanted to cordon them off. I am biased

So here's the categories:

Machination - indirect effects that make combat and infiltration easier, in a way that isn't just increased combat strength.

For example, gasconades power will erase any trace of his presence after a short period, earning him a small stranger rating.

Abandon - strangers that can make themselves dissappear. Stereotypical stranger, makes themselves invisible, produce less sound etc.

Unsense - effects that mask them from others senses. Abandon strangers go invisible, unsense prevent people seeing them.

'Mislabel' - abandon strangers are hard to sense, unsense are masked from senses, Mislabel causes people to incorrectly label you or your actions. For example, Nice guy, who gets labeled as a non threat.

Mask - produce illusions or misdirections.

Nox - powerful always on rules for interactions. I believe August Prince (cannot be conciously attacked) and blindside (cannot be looked or aimed at) are examples of this.

Charm - influences emotions to produce stranger effect. Stranger (rating) by way of master (effect) if you will.

Warp - strangers who can avoid attacks, danger, or slip through defenses by way of bent rules, distortions, otherworldly details or disruptions in the standard rules.  

Next up:

2 concurrent questions:

Does this power physically affect its user?

Does this power mentally affect its user?

[amethystskeleton]

(Summary):

It's been months since the hospital where Liam last saw Theo after they beat the hunters. Scott and the rest of the pack have all gone off to life beyond Beacon Hills leaving Liam in charge of the puppy pack and the town. But when strange bodies begin popping up and orders come in to cordon off Beacon Hills Liam begins to realize that he may be out of his depth. With people sent down from D.C. lurking around the edges of the pack with a haunting omnipresence that he just can't shake; Liam is left to figure things out before it's too late.

And for the love of god, where has Theo been for the last nine months?!

[beardedmrbean]

SEOUL, South Korea — South Korea’s Constitutional Court reinstated Prime Minister Han Duck-soo’s powers on Monday, the latest twist in the country’s recent turbulent politics after his impeachment as acting president nearly three months ago.

Han took over as acting leader from President Yoon Suk Yeol, who was himself impeached over his short-lived declaration of martial law in December. Following the ruling, Han returns to his acting president position immediately.

“I am grateful for the wise decision made by the Constitutional Court,” Han said after the ruling, thanking members of the cabinet for their hard work while he was suspended.

“We will work together to prepare and implement responses to global changes, and to ensure that South Korea continues to develop well in the era of great geopolitical transformation,” Han said in the televised comments.

Yoon’s martial law declaration plunged Asia’s fourth-largest economy and a key U.S. military ally into its greatest political crisis in decades, and created a leadership vacuum amid spiraling impeachments, resignations and criminal indictments for a range of top officials.

Han had initially lasted less than two weeks in the post and was impeached and suspended on Dec. 27 after clashing with the opposition-led parliament by refusing to appoint three more justices to the Constitutional Court.

The justices on the court ruled seven to one to strike down the impeachment on Monday.

Five of the eight justices said the impeachment motion was valid, but there were not enough grounds to impeach Han as he did not violate the constitution or the law, according to a court statement.

Two justices ruled that the impeachment motion against Han, who was acting president at the time, was invalid from the start as two-thirds of lawmakers in parliament did not pass it.

One justice voted to impeach Han.

Han, 75, had served in leadership positions for more than three decades under five presidents, both conservative and liberal.

In a country sharply divided by partisan rhetoric, Han had been seen as a rare example of an official whose varied career transcended party lines.

Still, the opposition-led parliament accused him of not doing enough to thwart Yoon’s decision to declare martial law, an accusation he denied.

Finance Minister Choi Sang-mok assumed the position of acting president while the cases of Yoon and Han were considered by the Constitutional Court.

Parliament impeached Han over his alleged role in the martial law, as well as his refusal to appoint more justices to the Constitutional Court and back special counsel bills targeting Yoon and First Lady Kim Keon Hee.

Han attended the only hearing in the case on Feb. 19, where he denied any role in the martial law episode and called for the court to dismiss the impeachment.

The unexpected imposition of martial law on Dec. 3 by President Yoon and the ensuing political upheaval sent shock waves through Asia’s fourth-largest economy, and raised concern among allies such as the United States under former President Joe Biden, who had seen Yoon as a key partner in efforts to counter China and North Korea.

The martial law in the end lasted only about six hours after lawmakers defied a security cordon around parliament and voted to reject the declaration.

The Constitutional Court’s ruling on Yoon’s impeachment is expected within days. Yoon also faces a separate criminal trial on charges of leading an insurrection by declaring martial law.

If Yoon is removed, a new presidential election will be held within 60 days

[thatndginger]

another set of pages from the Idiot's Guide, waiting final run-through. I'm quite pleased with this little project ^.^

transcript under the cut:

SHAPESHIFTERS

What to Call a Werewolf? There’s one thing you can count on in the world, and that’s for no one to ever agree on what’s the ‘right’ thing to call a shapeshifter. Only scientists and academics use that stupid ‘metamorph’. Most people in Moressau settle for ‘were’ or ‘shifter’. If you know what kind of shifter you’re dealing with, calling them a werelion or whatever regional term you know is probably fine. Just don’t call them a beast unless you want them to act like one.

Debunking the ‘Werewolf Myth’ Because ‘shifter’ is such a broad category of supernatural, there are a lot of rumors and hearsay floating around out there. Hollywood certainly doesn’t help. So let’s get some of the worst rumors out of the way, shall we?

First and foremost, no weres aren’t controlled by the moon. They won’t uncontrollably transform under a full moon, or grow stronger in moonlight, or whatever else Hollywood has fed you. A transformed shifter isn’t a mindless animal or killing machine. There are some shifters who have trouble controlling their animal sides, but in those cases they’ll act like any other animal. Lassie doesn’t attack everyone in sight, does she? Most shifters are fully in control of their animal sides, and you’ll only have to worry about one attacking you if you’ve pissed them off.

Second, not every bite from a were will kill or turn you. Which is hardly comforting, since you won’t know that until after they’ve bitten you and you’ve spent about half an hour shitting yourself with panic. No one knows how it works, but a were has to want to turn you for the magic to take hold. That said, a big enough shifter doesn’t need to Bite you to kill you.

Spotting a Shifter There’s no one-size-fits-all way to pick out a shapeshifter in a crowd. They look like any other mundane human. Act like any other human. Until you get close enough to notice that they have a cat’s eyes, or pointier-than-normal ears, or freckles that look more like spots. Every shifter has a ‘quirk’ courtesy of their animal form, though it’s not always immediately obvious. I know a werewolf who has fangs in human form, and another who acquired a ‘birthmark’ in the shape of their wolf side’s markings after they survived the Bite. Each quirk is unique to the shifter in possession of it.

Behavior is another one of those things that is unique to each were. Some naturally take on certain behaviors of their animal form, while others will only act like an animal when they are an animal. They’re like humans that way. You can’t just shove them all into one box and expect them to act the same.

Finding a Shifter Shapeshifters don’t have a lot of restrictions the way some other supernaturals do. They can go where they please when they please. Except for the fact that most mundanes are still scared of them and keep shifters cordoned off in specific neighborhoods like Amber Wood and The Point on the north edge of the city. So if you’re trying to find some entertainment on the wilder side, start there.

The hangouts in Amber Wood tend to be the friendliest to non-shifters. Belmont’s Basement is a historic dive that’ll let anyone through the doors as long as they don’t start trouble. Then there’s Ovidia. Be warned, the music and atmosphere is quieter than a usual human club, since Ovidia caters to the sensitive senses of shifters first and foremost.

The Point has been undergoing a bit of a gentrification spell. If you think the home turf of the Montrose Syndicate can be gentrified any more. Word to the wise: stay out of Arnaud’s Run. That’s where the top Montrose brass live, and they do not like outsiders. There’s a reason we Moressans say “leave the Run to the wolves.” You’re more likely to get a set of teeth in your throat than you are to get a warm welcome in the Run.

If you want to try your luck, check out The Hunt on Starfall, or Silver Bullet lounge. But don’t blame me if the wolves take offense to strangers in their territory.

Were Deterrent? There Deterrent! Silver will mildly irritate a shifter, but it won’t kill them. That whole silver bullet thing works because, it turns out, guns kill things. It doesn’t really matter what the bullet is made out of. Wolfsbane will do the exact same thing to a shifter as it does a human: kill them. Don’t you know wolfsbane is incredibly poisonous? Just touching the stuff can kill a mundane, let alone a werewolf.

If you want to keep a were from transforming, slapping a collar made of copper and rowan branches will do the trick. It’s how cops ‘subdue’ shifters in Moressau. Why rowan? Who knows. Same reason vampires hate it, probably.

by far the easiest way to keep a were away is to smell. Like, really smell. Most weres have heightened senses and will avoid you like the plague if you stink bad enough.

Shapeshifter tag list: @sunset-a-story @touloserlautrec

[mythicalmagical-monkeyman]

1.

2: you are here

3 4 5 6 7 Wooooo, number 2! Under the cut like always and uh

@fruity-legos lemme know if you dont wanna be tagged guy

Chapter notes:

Zoey helps Mrs. C out only to have to fish Dallas out of trouble later on

Ftr: tw for violence & attempted mugging this chapter (ooops)

With a satisfying click Zoey set the kickstand of her dark blue vespa down on the ground, successfully parking it just beside Mrs. Castillo’s food truck. The engine shut off nicely as Zoey twisted and took her key out of the ignition before setting her foot on the ground. She swung her leg off her vespa and took up standing beside it where she began to untie the box that was sitting snugly in her vespa’s back basket. 

Zoey’s vespa was relatively new, as she’d only gotten a year ago for her sixteenth birthday, and it was still in amazing condition to the point where you could really only tell it had aged from the big scratch mark on the side that was from when Dallas had crashed it. 

She couldn’t help but roll her eyes at the memory. As fond as she had grown of Dallas he was still partially an idiot. 

Grabbing the box from the basket now that it was free, Zoey took it with her over to Mrs. Castillo’s food truck where she could already see the elderly lady sweeping dust off the back steps of her truck. Littered just outside the door on the sidewalk and street were various cleaning objects, a heater, and other nicknacks from inside the truck. 

“Hey Mrs. C,” Zoey greeted as she walked up to a stool and placed the box on top. 

“Ah, buenas tardes mija,” Mrs. C responded back, pausing her sweeping to greet Zoey with a soft smile, “I like the costume!”

“Uh, thanks,” 

Mrs. C herself was dressed in a golden turtle costume that matched with the colors of Señor Tortuga, who sat half curled up in the window sill. 

“How’s the clean up been?” Zoey asked while opening up the box and pulling out a smaller box of garbage bags. 

“Quite the same as always mija,” Mrs. C answered, “Muchos amigos have already stopped by to help.” 

Zoey nodded, made sense, “Glad you’ve already had some help Mrs. C,”  

With that Zoey took a garbage bag out of the box and slid past Mrs. C as the elderly woman carefully came to the bottom of the stairs and proceeded to scurry over to a bucket that had a simple sponge sitting alone inside it. 

Zoey tromped up the stairs and entered into the back of Mrs. C’s truck where she then made a beeline for the fridge. 

The inside of the food truck was laid out quite similarly to that of an RV, with a bed crammed up beside the fridge and bathroom across from it, cordoned off behind a floor to ceiling box made out of the same material as the walls and a closed door. On the other side of the fridge was a number of cupboards and Mrs. Castillo’s food prep counter that had a sink next to it.

Without waiting for any directions, as she already knew what to do, Zoey opened the fridge and began to sort through the items inside. Zoey checked all the due dates on the items that had them and took the items that were soon to go bad out of the fridge where she either placed them on prep counter or in the trash bag. The others, still good and fresh, she left in the fridge for Mrs. C to deal with later. 

Finishing up with the fridge, Zoey closed it and left the garbage bag propped up against the wall as she turned her attention to the food she’d put on the prep counter. Among the food was a bag of shredded cheese, a jar of jalapeños, a jar of salsa that Dallas had said he was going to pick up, and a tomato. 

Zoey pocketed the bag of cheese. 

Next Zoey moved the food items to the other counter that acted as Mrs. C’s serving counter which was from where she dished out her neighborhood famous tacos and burritos from. She glanced briefly out the window and looked side to side keeping an eye out for Dallas but upon not seeing him, she ducked back into the truck and went back to cleaning up. 

For the next hour or so Zoey helped Mrs. Castillo clean the food truck, vibing to the radio that Zoey had eventually turned on, before getting to the point where they were just about ready to put the heater into it along with many of the other things that had been taken out and needed to be put back in such as Mrs. C’s stool. 

Zoey eyed the heater before her, it was a rather hefty contraption that she figured it might take her a few tries to get it up into the truck but she took off her leather jacket and tied it around her waist, preparing herself for the task as Mrs. Castillo watched cautiously. 

With a huff Zoey crouched and then hoisted the heater up where she then proceeded to waddle over to the truck with it. Surprisingly Zoey managed to get the heater up the stairs and into the truck before her arms and knees started to feel wobbly and ready to drop the heater. A loud thud went up as Zoey half dropped and half set the heater down. 

“Phew,” Zoey breathed out in relief as she rubbed at the red marks that had appeared on her arms from carrying the heater. 

A small round of applause went up from behind her as Mrs. Castillo clapped for her efforts. 

“ Muy bien mija!” She congratulated, “Quite the tough load indeed,” 

Zoey grunted and turned around to offer Mrs. C a smile, “De nada Mrs. C, been working out recently, so it isn’t much of a problem,” 

“Are you sure?” Mrs. Castillo worried, “It is quite the grande heater.” 

“Well I’m sure if she managed to carry me single handedly she can lift that thing easy pease,” 

Dallas was suddenly standing beside Mrs. C at the bottom of the stairs grinning like a maniac, his fluffy sheep-wolf costume still on even though it looked like it was killing him to a degree. 

Mrs. C turned and adjusted her glasses, “Oh, hola mijo!” 

Dallas smiled, “Hola Mrs. Castillo,” 

“There you are,” Zoey grumbled while still massaging her arms, “Been wondering where you were,” 

“Ah yeah, got distracted by setting up party decorations,” Dallas answered sheepishly, “But I’m here now, anything else you guys need help with?” 

Zoey looked at Mrs. C who seem to be in deep thought for a moment. 

Mrs. C offered Dallas another smile and then shook her head, “I think we are alright mijo,” 

“‘Kay,” Dallas hummed, “Guess I’ll just grab my salsa and dip,” 

Mrs. C gave Dallas a curious look but it flew over Dallas’s head as he joined Zoey in the food truck as Zoey went over to the front counter to fetch the salsa. 

“Here,” Zoey said as she handed Dallas the salsa jar, “The jalapeños go bad soon as well as the tomato but I don’t know if you want those too.” 

Dallas shrugged and pulled a crumpled plastic grocery bag out of his pocket, because apparently his costume had those. 

He fluffed out the bag and then set it on the counter to gently put the salsa in, “I mean if they gotta be eaten I won’t mind taking them,” Dallas mentioned. He then took the jar of jalapeños along with the tomato and set them into the bag next to the salsa before closing up the bag and taking hold of it. 

“Thanks,” 

Zoey shrugged, “Don’t mention it,” 

“Like actually?” Dallas wondered, an underline joking tone in his voice as he scrunched his face up in curiosity.

“Sure, if you think hand me down salsa is that embarrassing,” 

Dallas bit his lip as if to hold back a laugh but it wiggled its way out anyway, “Haha,” 

“How much more do you still have to do?” Dallas wondered as the pair began to walk back to the truck’s back door. 

“Well we still have the issue of insulating the truck and getting the generator put in too, but my … father will come help with that later,” Zoey explained, “plus there’s also putting everything back in.” 

“Rough, but not too much left to do I suppose,” 

Zoey nodded and followed Dallas as he tramped down the stairs. Once he hit the ground he smiled at Mrs. C. 

“Alright I’ll be off now, you ladies have fun!” 

Zoey rolled her eyes as Mrs. C waved at Dallas while he began to walk off back up the street, once again shooting finger guns at Zoey.  

“Adios mijo!” 

“Weirdo!” Zoey yelled, cupping her hands around her mouth but Dallas only barked a laugh. 

“Mija,” Mrs. C commented in exasperation. 

A small laugh shook Zoey and she moved her attention back to the items scattered around that still needed to go back into the truck. 

She’d start with the stool. 

Zoey began to walk over to the stool but before she had even gotten over to it a sharp scream cut through the air. 

Something quickly kicked in and Zoey whipped her head towards the direction the scream had come from, the same direction Dallas had walked off to yet he was nowhere to be seen. 

What had that idiot gotten himself into this time? 

Zoey reached to the back of her belt and pulled loose her pocket knife and ran off towards where the scream had come from. 

What she found was Dallas being pinned against an alleyway wall by an older man wearing jeans, a skull shirt, and hockey mask. 

“Give me all your money!” The other man growled. 

Dallas shook like a leaf, “I don’t have any! I’m a broke high school student!” 

“Liar! You just bought groceries!” 

“My friend gave them to me I swear!” Dallas continued to protest and that’s when Zoey decided she’d see enough. 

“Hey!” She called and the two others turned their heads towards her, “Leave him alone!” 

The other man slowly let go of Dallas only to shove him violently into the wall as he cackled, “What type of costumed freak are you supposed to be!?”

Zoey flicked her knife open, “The type who’s about to make you question your life decisions really fast if you don’t get lost!” 

The other man clenched his fist and drew a pistol from his belt as he turned towards Zoey fully, revealing the hostler at his belt. 

“No, how about you get lost little missy?” 

Dallas choked out a laugh, “Ha! As if she hasn’t fought people with guns before!” 

The other man simply slammed him into the wall again which caused Dallas to hit the back of his head and to slide down into a seated position. 

Well consider Zoey provoked. 

Zoey made a fist with one hand and clenched her knife in the other as she placed one foot in front of her. The other man in return took the safety off his gun and cock it.

“You aint gonna win,” the other man started, “You brought a knife to a gunfight.” 

Zoey let an easy and prepared smile settle onto her face, “Are you done chatting?” She asked but just as the other man went to respond Zoey fixed her grip on her knife and flung it. 

The other man howled with pain as Zoey’s knife sunk into his thigh and he turned his attention towards it. Zoey took this opening to rush him. 

With a well placed kick to the knee the other man went down onto it allowing Zoey to grab the back of his head and smash his face down onto her own knee. 

The hockey mask on the other man’s face splintered as it collided with Zoey’s knee and as Zoey released the other man’s head allowing him to pull back the two halves of the mask slipped from his head. 

Two beady red tinted eyes looked up at her in surprise as Zoey ripped her knife from the man’s thigh and smashed the handle of it into the side of his neck. 

The man let out a pain choking noise and fell over onto his side. 

Zoey backed away from the man and turned towards Dallas to help him to his feet. 

“I still don’t understand how you can do things like that,” Dallas mentioned in bewilderment, a stare of awe added to it as he gaped at Zoey, “I swear you are like an actual superhero, how do you do it?” 

Zoey shrugged, grimacing at the sight of blood on her knife, “Practice I guess.” 

Her father had explained it to her of course in passing but even he didn’t fully understand it either. Nova and Cooper had their theories and ideas too yet Zoey still felt like if she were to think about it for too long she’d just end up even more confused than how she had started out. 

She supposed that was just the nature of the dream world though. It … did things that people could barely wrap their heads around and there was some insane magic to it that seemed to affect a number of things in weird ways. 

Whatever it was though she’d let more mentally wild people figure it out. 

“Ayyo Zoey!” Dallas yelled, his eyes widening, “Behind you!” 

As he said it Zoey felt the other man behind her and her body seemed to react long before her mind caught up. She spun around, knife in hand, and stabbed the other man in the shoulder causing a spray of blood to shoot up. 

The other man howled, dropping his gun in the process and stumbling backwards as pain seemed to overload his system. 

Shock had come over Zoey and by the time she came back to her senses the other man had stumbled out of the alley with her knife still sunk into his shoulder. 

Dammit, that had been a good knife. 

A hand eased itself down onto Zoey’s shoulder, Dallas. 

“Holy shit,” he drawled out, “you saved me! I owe you,”

Zoey blinked and glanced down at the blood that was now on her hand, “You owe me two now.”