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liliannadelaphinehartifelt · 8 months ago

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Alastor - [ DEVOTION Pt. 6 ]

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Blame my obsession with K-dramas for how dramatic this last angsty part is. Also, to be clear, I do know some of you head-cannon Alastor as a ‘charismatic psychopath’ because of the way he acts in the show but personally I see him as more of a ‘dynamic sociopath’ while he was alive. I’m telling you this because I know authors tend to depict their faves so out of character just to progress the plot of their stories without any logical reasoning behind it. I am not that type of writer and therefore I don’t think my perception of (Human) Alastor is strange. Anyways, enough from me. Let’s get back to our regularly scheduled broadcast shall we?

WARNINGS: [ MDNI ] + [ MENTIONS & DESCRIPTIONS OF BLOOD / HORROR ] + [ PREGNANCY TROPE…it’ll be over soon I swear…] + [ IMPLICATIONS OF A MISCARRIAGE ] + [ DESCRIPTIONS OF A DEAD BODY ] + [ HEAVY ANGST ]

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On a cozy November evening, the Garden District of New Orleans bloomed with life. Its magnificent houses and mansions stood tall in the late-day sun, and the woeful winter breeze passing through the dazzling neighborhood rustled the greenery lining each home.

Many of the Jazz City’s locals regarded the area as an affluent attraction for outsiders to gawk and marvel at, while those who resided there took pride in its beauty.

You considered yourself fortunate to be a part of such a gleaming community, living a subtle life of luxury due to Alastor's wild success, but not entirely involved with other well-kept wives of similar influential figures.

Socializing had never been your forte; though it was required of you in mannerable situations, the constant exchange of loose friendships with strangers never entirely appealed to you.

Although, being married to a renowned public figure with an image to uphold puts you in compliance with the aversion.

Parties, local events, and even headlining musical performances became your routine social appearance.

Alastor was immensely proud to have you on his arm, charming the masses with your soft approach, swooning the newspapers with your angelic appearance and kind public gestures.

You did your best to make a lovely impression on anyone you encountered, wordlessly adhering to Alastor’s commanding ego and polishing the rough edges of his public image with practiced selflessness.

Few knew you personally, and even fewer saw you as a socialite.

Sure, you'd been polite to anyone who passed on the street, made small talk with neighbors, did charity work for those who thought to ask, and even donated effort towards Rosies spontaneous book club meetings every other weekend -though they were thinly veiled gossip sessions she'd orchestrate with fellow homemakers.

There wasn't a single person you could call a 'friend' who wasn't already close to your husband…

How Rosie had managed to crowd her stunning home with so many familiar yet strange faces, claiming to be precisely that -your friend- baffled you in more ways than one.

Yes, these people were acquaintances and admirers to some degree, but your friends?…

You had none besides Alastor, willing to remain by his side in matrimony just as you had from the moment you met him, reluctant to make any other connections since your shared childhood.

It didn’t help that Alastor developed a habit of scaring away new acquaintances behind your back and even resorted to violent acts of service to keep other suitors at bay before your shared vows.

As a result, the happy faces you saw now felt fabricated; every congratulatory remark didn't resonate with your heart, and the more people that arrived to celebrate you and Alastor, the more lost you felt.

They didn't know you.

No one knew you, but they adored your husband and, in turn, fawned over you.

Liars.

Everyone spouted half-truths, mirroring the ones Alastor had been telling you for months, and your heart grew heavier with each one told.

You could manage seeing him falsify his real identity to the public, to unsuspecting strangers, and to posh parasites.

You could handle being put on a pedestal, seen as the perfect wife, and expected to echo his ideal perception.

Lying to others was child's play, a game you two had grown to love, but Alastor developing the need to lie to you wasn't a tolerable offense.

The party began smoothly; guests swooped in with delightful gifts, either handmade or recently bought from the showcases of New Orleans's finest shops; gentle swing music wafted through the air of Rosie’s lavish two-story home that sat only a block away from your own.

She'd gone to the extreme for the whole ordeal: live music, tantalizing food laid out on tables in the parlor, decorations befitting a small ball neatly adorning the house exterior, and the creme de le creme of Louisiana's socialites filling the guest list.

Alastor uttered nothing but praise for his dearest friend's efforts, thanking her for the collaborative success with a broad smile and chaste kiss.

You followed his gratitude with a gracious nod, content with sitting at your designated table now lined with small gifts from an array of affluent attendees.

"My, Rosie, you've outdone yourself again! You even got Anthony and that grump Husk to show face," Alastor chuckled, eyeing the chattering crowd carefully until his gaze landed on the two opposing men.

Rosie hummed triumphantly, champagne flutes in one hand as the other flicked off an imaginary offense, "Oh, come now, Alastor, you know I'd do my best for the occasion! Everyone in town begged to be here. Not every day they get to meet radio's biggest star and his wife!"

She flashed a genuine grin at you, noting the slight glare on your face as you returned it, but said nothing.

Her attention reverted to the man beside her, who continued observing the crowd, sharing passing remarks with Rosie when a person of interest appeared.

You oversaw their exchange, deliberately soft-spoken the whole evening, often having to avert your focus to converse with a couple who'd come to give their gift and admiration.

Still, the minute the guests left to join the party again, you'd zero in on them.

Alastor felt your eyes on him, burning holes into the back of his head despite you sitting down to rest as the party moved along.

He refused to acknowledge your staring, patiently waiting for you to call for his attention rather than assume you needed it.

After ten minutes of idle chit-chat, he was obliged to give it to you, as Rosie excused herself for the time being.

You said nothing as he peered down at you over his shoulder, amber eyes glinting gold under the lowering sunlight pouring in from the opened bay windows behind you, lips curled into a familiar smile that you considered returning for a moment.

It was hard for you to deny how magnificent Alastor looked in the thrall of pride, dressed in a Burgundy suit with cream accents, hair neatly styled to hide his natural brown curls from the eye of others, and his skin glimmering under natural light.

He was beautiful, deceptively desirable even in your eyes filled with one-sided hurt, and you wished to let go and stand by his side with the utmost confidence in him just as you'd done so many times before.

It would be so easy to forget his transgressions then, to fully enjoy the celebration of your children's oncoming arrival together, but as he elegantly turned on his heel to approach you, splinters of suspicion pricked through your forgiving nature.

You wouldn't t let him charm his way out of this.

Enough was enough.

Alastor watched as your expression grew hard, hidden from the festive crowd by his lean frame as he knelt at eye level with you.

To those around you, the gesture came off as romantic, an endearing sight of a husband tending to his pregnant wife, and not the unspoken detachment of trust between a loyal lover and her predatory protector.

Alastor reached for one of your hands, subtly tugging it from resting on your stomach to resting in his palm.

A sickeningly sweet smile plastered his face as he placed a ginger kiss on your gloved knuckles.

His eyes never left yours as he enacted the loving gesture, swirling with unabashed mischief as you dug your nails into his skin, and the slight pain beckoned him to hum with delight.

You were angry and even enraged with him, but you showed it subtly and practiced, and if he were an ordinary man, Alastor would've considered feeling guilty for it.

But your husband was far from average, far from the definition of guilt, and you wouldn't have him any other way because, despite all his faults and evils, you loved him.

You loved him, felt loyal to him, would do anything for him, yet he lied.

He carried on belittling your trust to mere innocence.

Resentment radiated off you in waves, barely drowned out by the party's happenings but settling on Alastor's shoulders with force.

"Is there something troubling you, my dear?" he asks lowly, eyes steady on you as your smile tightens.

"You." is the only word that leaves your lips, laced with lethal rage in the softest tone, and the contrast elicits a rare frown from him.

He lets your response linger, tangling with laughter and music but remaining in his consciousness as he rises to his feet.

A specific anger curls in Alastor's chest, one he seldomly felt for himself, but the look on your face as he rose to his full height above you made it potent.

Something was different; that sweet girl he'd grown to cherish now looked tainted, and now he knew it was his fault.

"Darling…" he began to formulate an inquiry, faltering in his well-tailored demeanor to conjure a suitable remedy for your anger, but his excuses weren't quick enough.

You carefully stood to your feet, forcing a smile before raising on your tip toes to kiss his cheek, smoothing a hand over his suit until it rested where his heart was.

Your lips neared his ear, whispering spiteful words that didn't match the loving aura you showcased to the onlooking guests.

"You, my love, are a heartless lying bastard. Keeping secrets from me, your wife, of all people? Is that what your devotion to me means? Not trusting the woman who loves you? The mother of your children? If it is, then you can burn in hell with satan himself..'

The strain of smiling through your pain began to take its toll.

Tears welled in your eyes as each hurtful word fell on his ears, but you refused to cause a scene at such a lovely event and resorted to walking away from him as swiftly as you could manage.

Alastor was left to stand alone, his jaw clenched and his control wavering as he heard your heels click further away.

A few guests tried to gain your attention, but you quickly and respectfully declined their engagements, barely making it out of their view as tears streamed down your face, but by fate's grace, you found solace in Rosie's kitchen.

All of the cooks, maids, and waiters were absent.

Everyone was upstairs enjoying the festivities, celebrating you and Alastor's happiest time, but here you were.

Alone.

Beside yourself and utterly alone.

You tried to sob quietly, choking back frustrated screams while pacing, but the look on Alastor's face after you'd confronted him about lying brought more tears.

You'd never seen him hurt, taken aback, guilty like that.

He'd always been so perfect in your eyes, composed and deliberate about his presence.

Now, you'd ruined that image, and at what cost?

Would he come clean now or shut you out even more?

Was your anger worth any of it? Was his lying worth it?

Your heart was a mess, desperate to connect with his, but reluctant to it all at once.

“….”

Maybe father was right…

The sound of quick footsteps approaching the kitchen didn't register to you, drowned about by your excessive crying, but another presence was made evident as two gentle arms wrapped you in a hug.

"Oh, honey, come here…" Rosie cooed into your hair, frowning as your cries became hysterical, muffled by the frilly fabric of her dress.

"H-he's been lying to me, Rosie! Alastor…..a-and everyone else in this decrepit city has been playing me like a fool!"

You shuddered violently, trying to breathe correctly despite a filled stomach and a rush of anger taking its toll.

Rosie hushed you gently, letting you cry in her arms until your breaths came steadily.

She ushered you to sit somewhere comfortable as she gathered a few items to help your nerves settle.

"He lied to me," you repeat tiredly, watching as she throws together a pot of tea, using herbs you know all too well.

A sprig of Lavender, sprinkle of cinnamon, bits of rosemary, and a few drops of honey. Finally, a dash of lemon for taste.

This a simple but potent recipe for a calming and effective cup of tea.

Rosie sighs, debating what to say as she lets the mixture steep in a porcelain cup of hot water.

You weren't wrong; Alastor was hiding things from you, and though she hated to see you so distraught because of his hidden deeds, the possibility of hurting you with the truth weighed on her.

Betray, her closest friend's trust, tell his wife the haunting truth and pray she still loves him after hearing it.

Or, keep up the charade he'd so carefully created to protect you, risk driving you mad with resentment, and contribute to the cycle of pain you felt?

Rosie had difficulty choosing which path to follow but soon made her decision as you spoke again.

"Rosie…tell me the truth. Is he…is he seeing another woman? Planning to leave me? To leave us?.." you glance at your stomach, fearful of her answer and terrified your assumptions might be right.

Oddly silent, she doesn't answer your questions immediately and finishes preparing your fresh cup of hot tea, "Rosie, please! Whatever Alastor is hiding from me, I need to know. I…I'm his wife, and I have the right to at least know what's being kept from me. What is he doing out so late all the time? Why can’t I leave the house without him anymore? And for goodness sake, why does he insist I don’t read the paper?!”

The blonde freezes where she stands, whipping her whole body around to stare at you intently, and you stop yourself from rambling seeing her serious so suddenly.

"Al isn't being unfaithful, dear. That I can tell you for certain.."

"Then what in god's name is he-"

Rosie drew closer to you, dawning an all-too-sweet smile you'd learned to dread.

That happy expression was practiced, used only to console your fears or quell any questions you had.

She'd gotten so well at fronting the mask that you nearly began to believe anything she said when it was on, but now you knew better.

You knew that smile meant more lying, and in that moment, you lost the will to trust anyone in Alastors' close circle.

Even Rosie.

"I think it's time you go home and rest, dear. All this stress and crying isn't good for the babies," the blonde moved you gently, helping you stand and walk the expanse of her kitchen, up the stairs, and down corridors until the ongoing party reached your ears again.

That entire trek back upstairs felt meaningless, a distant woeful memory you existed in just to be flung back into reality by Rosie's voice, "I'll go get Al and have him take you-"

Your head snapped up at the mention of the one man who'd caused so much sorrow, tongue poised to speak harshly about him, but your penchant for politeness tempered it.

"That won't be necessary, Rosie. I'll get home just fine on my own."

She balled, clutching the string of pearls around her neck, "Oh goodness no, dear! This may be uptown, but it is still no safe place to walk about all alone. And dare I say, Alastor’s just wouldn't have it-"

"Rosie. I don't wish to see or be near him!.." you hissed as quietly as possible, lips pursed and eyes glaring daggers into her crowded parlor room.

Despite her better judgment, Rosie let the matter go, frowning as she made a heady suggestion.

"Why don't I have a close friend walk you home then? Just in case. There is a murder running 'round, and we can't have you getting hurt or caught up."

There it was again…

We…

You knew she was referring to anyone but you. Alastor, Angelique, her.

Everyone but you seemed to have a significant stake or curious investment in your unborn children's well-being.

The eerie overprotectiveness always made you weary, but at this point, you found it alarming, to say the least.

However, Rosie was right to a point.

There'd been a murder -or several- running a muck in Louisiana’s deep south.

Specifically, New Orleans.

Although the gruesome crimes were frequent, morbidly committed, and consistently reported on by papers and radio shows alike…

No one, not even the expert authorities, seemed to pinpoint a suspect or apparent killer among the public.

All that they knew was the killer's intangible motives, their style, their choice of victims -but nothing substantial enough to apprehend them.

You couldn't care less about a possibility of the Bayou Butcher coming for your head.

Your anger towards Alastor proceeded your worries for personal safety.

Rosie didn't wait for you to come to reason with her observation, already scurrying into the parlor to find your husband and tell him of your wishes to leave.

It irritates you how fragile she, Alastor, and everyone else he knows treated you.

It was as if you couldn't fend for yourself, as if he was the only one capable of cognitive thought in your marriage, and to some degree, the realizations stung your pride.

Traces of anger grew in your heart towards him minute by minute, something you never dreamt of feeling for him, but dreams can quickly turn into nightmares as your father would say…

This moment was that turning point. You could feel the shift as you turned away from the packed parlor, ignoring those who gave greetings as you stalked toward the front door.

Some asked if you needed assistance, and others watched in confusion as you slipped out the door and let it slam shut behind you.

Not many people were on the front porch and lawn, and those who were let you pass through without saying a word.

You presumed they were just waiting for the moment to gossip again, whether it be about you or someone else.

The need to care wasn't one you had, taking brisk steps down the sidewalk under a setting sun as rare chilled breezes sweep the southern heat from your face.

It was convenient that Rosie only lived a block and a half away from you, and Alastor’s shared estate.

The semi-long walk gave you time to think, time to enjoy the scenery around you and get away from the suffocating expectations put on you simply by being the Radio Star's perfect wife.

You scoffed at the thought, trying not to get angry again as your steps took you around a familiar corner, but the negative feeling quickly lessened when you felt a gentle rap of kicks in your stomach.

The twins gave a subtle tussle, sensing their mother's distress, and to some degree, you believed they were trying to cheer you up.

Their tiny gestures worked, putting a smile on your solemn expression and keeping it there to your destination.

You shuffled up the steps to your home, tired, feet sore, and ready to cry again as the large structure reminded you of the man you'd left to endure the company of his admirers.

His.

Not yours.

That had always been the difference.

With a sigh, you unlocked the front double doors, shutting them swiftly as street lamps began to light up and locking the ornate wood panels right after.

It was a habit Alastor insisted on and one you didn't intend to break tonight.

He'd have to come through the back door, and as small as the hassle would be, you still found it a suitable enough sign of discontent from you to him.

With nothing but sleep on your mind, you trudged up the staircase, pulling your gloves off and preemptively pulling pins from your styled hair.

By the time you reached the bedroom, your hair flowed loosely down your back, and your dress zipper was pulled down (by some miracle, you managed to do it on your own).

You tossed the pins on your vanity, jewelry, gloves, and clutch purse, following suit.

Your shoes regained their spot in the closet, your clothes were thrown into the bathroom hamper, and your nightrobe was thrown over your arm as a replacement.

You were ready for bed after one hot shower, a face care routine, and a hair brushing session.

Alastor still isn't home yet…

The clock had struck midnight thirty minutes ago, and he'd yet to show his face.

You half expected him to, but after years of seeing him angry on very few occasions, you highly doubted he'd return without cooling himself down first.

He tended to go hunting as an alternative…which left you alone for hours on end.

Sadness and guilt crept into you as the argument replayed in your mind.

The emptiness of your shared bed did not help your aching heart, and the heavy silence of the house made it worse.

You may have gone too far.

Maybe he wasn't hiding anything, and I overreacted?

Maybe I was wrong to doubt him, to worry and fret over something trivial.

Your thoughts spiraled again, tears filling your eyes as regret got the best of you.

"What have I done…?" you mumbled in earnest, glancing around the room, wishing to apologize to Alastor or at least explain yourself in a better tone.

Sleeping without him felt foreign, unreal, and even like a self-inflicted punishment.

You saw no benefit to it, and you were consumed with worry.

I can’t do this…

With your mind racing but your body ready to rest, you decided that taking one of Angelique's tonics would soothe you enough to relax.

You left the room on a mission, carefully treading downstairs and into the kitchen, and with haste, you found the cabinet holding the container of vials she’d gifted to you every month.

You opened it swiftly, hoping to find what you needed, but the box was empty.

"Oh, for the love of!-" you hissed angrily, shoving the box away with a grimace, but the sour expression didn't last long as you remembered where to find extra tonics.

Angelique was an insightful woman, cautious enough to give you extra in case something like this happened.

Fortunately, Alastor insisted on putting the additional vials somewhere else so as not to mistake them for regular tonics.

You'd agreed to his idea, allowing him to keep them safely locked in the basement, but now you needed them.

Leaving the moonlit kitchen, you drifted into the second hallway, walking straight ahead to the basement door.

Its key hung on a hook to the left, a small silver trinket Alastor kept a tight watch on, and you tended not to mess with it.

That went for the basement as well.

It was his area of the house you stayed away from not only out of personal reluctance but also out of explicit instructions from him.

His reasons for your avoidance ranged from "Trust me, It's too dangerous for you, darling.." to "Just as you have the library as a safe haven, I have the basement as mine…"

You hadn’t thought to question him, having no reason to, but for once, you disregarded his wishes to grant your own.

He'd never know you went down there only to retrieve medicine. What harm could one peek do?

You plucked the key from its hook, unlocking the creaky black walnut door before reaching into the dark abyss for the lamp switch.

Your fingers found it on the left wall, flicking the switch to bring a warm golden light into the damp room.

The steps croaked under your slow footsteps, holding firm under your nearly doubled weight until you stepped onto the cold wooden flooring.

Alastor kept the space oddly clean; a chair sat in one corner, his hunting gear was neatly arranged on one of two long oak tables, and the walls held other hunting equipment.

You noticed most of the hanging instruments were carving aids, something your own father used to cut and properly clean his own game after he went hunting during your childhood.

Seeing the array of butcher knives and other tools did not frighten you; they were familiar and expected from your husband's choice of hobbies.

Nothing caught your attention at first, usual kickbacks and things tucked away in corners and a hefty radio set on the second table, but little stood out.

You treaded carefully though, peering curiously at different items as you searched for the spare box of tonics, but they were nowhere to be found at first glance.

You figured to look deeper, rummaging through cabinets and under the table, mindful of your swollen belly as you bent down or reached above.

The longer you searched, the more anxious you felt.

Somewhat afraid of being in the basement alone, and a little scared Alastor would find you down there, though he explicitly asked you not to be.

"I have to hurry.." you mumbled, eyes frantically searching the space again as the last cabinet you searched held nothing important to you.

A particular corner of the room caught your gaze. Right behind the armchair was a stack of boxes of different sizes.

You drew closer to them, spotting the extra medicine box on top, gently grabbing it from the pile, but you couldn't look away from the most enormous box sitting right at your feet.

It was huge and made of sturdy metal, unlike the rest, and you were sure a whole person could fit in it if they tried.

How odd…

You'd never seen it before but the box felt sorely out of place, among other things.

You couldn't peel your attention away from it, some invisible force urging you to look inside, and despite your better judgment, you gave into the desire.

Setting the medicine box down on the chair, you moved the other cases off the larger one, clearing it off before cautiously kneeling to open it.

There was no lock, only four bolt latches, which you found easy enough to undo, but the real task was lifting the heavy lid up high enough to see inside.

You managed it with a few determined huffs escaping your lips, letting the heavy lid hit the stone wall before taking a look inside.

You immediately wish you hadn't..…

"Oh God…" you whispered in utter shock and horror at the sight in front of you, feeling undeniably sick from it, mind racing to make up a rational reason for the vulgar sight.

But what rational reason on Earth could justify your beloved husband hiding a literal mutilated body in the basement.

Your heart sank seeing the poor souls' faces sunken in with dread, drowning in their blood, maned at various points as if an animal had mauled them.

Body parts were missing, skin had been flayed, and you almost couldn't tell if the person had any recognizable features left.

It was horrible…a brain-altering nightmare come to life before your very eyes, and it made you sick.

You began to cry, unconsciously sobbing hysterically as the dead body lifelessly peered back at you, terrified of it… slightly afraid of the man you presumed caused the damming scene.

With a sense of urgency, you reached to shut the lid, flinching as loose blood splattered onto you from the impact of the box closing, and the chill of red liquid dripping down your skin was enough to make you scream in pure disgust.

It was a guttural, frantic cry you'd only expressed in recent nightmares, but a deserved one.

Your body began to shake in peril, the gruesome image engraved into your mind as you scrambled to get to stand, but you weren't as composed as before and stumbled backwards haphazardly as a result.

Everything moved faster than you thought; your body had abandoned control, leaving you to fall without warning.

The room spun as your head collided with a table's edge, a dull pain erupting in your skull on impact, and your consciousness wholly disrupted.

The blinding pain of falling to the hard floor didn't register to you as panicked tears seeped down your face, screams you couldn't hear left your lips, and blood began to pool from your head and between your legs.

Shock, terror, helplessness, fear, and panic were all you could feel.

Intense pain in your stomach and head amplified the emotions but became distant sensations as your vision blurred and faded.

The very last words you remember speaking was a cry for help, a desperate plea for everything you'd seen to be a mistaken dream, a cry for anyone -no- your husband to save you from the terrible ordeal.

A plea for him to appear and tell you it's not true, that the body in the bolted box wasn't his doing, but your hope of him hearing you -anyone hearing you- dwindled rapidly as your concussion took hold.

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Rosie found Alastor quickly enough, merely having to spot his neatly styled curls drifting in the wind as he stood out on a balcony alone.

A drink in one hand and a cigarette in the other.

He blew smoke into the murky winter air, eyes dark and narrowed as he stared at the evening sky.

It was rare to see him frowning.

Alastor Hartifelt, of all people, not smiling?

Rosie nearly couldn't believe it the closer she drew to him.

He was…upset.

Irritated.

His smile was thoroughly washed away by your harsh words and prods for the truth.

You'd managed to take his cheer in one fail swoop, leaving him alone to think, and he couldn't blame you.

You, his ever-so-loving wife, his confidant, and his soon-to-be motherly doting doe, were rightfully at odds with him.

He'd hurt you, the very reason he'd began lying in the first place was to avoid doing so, but it'd happened anyway.

A genuinely ironic turn of events, in his opinion.

Alastor glared at the rising moon, cursing whatever higher power meddled dared to meddle in his life of all people, but his inner ranting was cut short as the sound of Rosie clearing her throat hit his ears.

The radio host spun on his heel to face her, fronting a slight smile to hide the agitation he felt at the moment, "Done socializing already, dear Rosie?"

He strived to sound polite and unbothered, but the edge in his tone showed through despite his best efforts.

Rosie paid no mind to his touchy attitude, knowing where it stemmed from.

She came to stand by his side, nodding in response to his question, "I didn't have much time to. I was with your lovely wife…trying to calm her nerves."

Alastor's frown returned at the mention of you, a thin line on his lips and a glint of guilt in his gaze.

"How is she?" he asks quietly, and Rosie's cheery expression falters hearing it.

"She insisted on returning home… by herself. Incredibly distraught on her way out.." She admits.

His chest tightened, heart sinking instantly picturing you at home alone, "Why didn't she-"

Rosie clicked her tongue dismissively, interrupting his line of questioning, "Al, she was severely distraught. Please let her be. I only know a fraction of what went on between you two, but it's obvious to her that you're hiding something. Not to intrude on your marriage, darling, but you must make a choice before something irreversible happens to it…to Y/n."

The blonde couldn't hide her somberness, staring at her long-time friend with a sense of earnest sincerity as she continued, "I shouldn't be the one to tell you this….but if you really do care for the girl, love her like you say you do, then you'll tell her the truth. You'll tell her, and she'll still be by your side…."

Alastor lowered his head, and for the first time in his adult life, he felt perplexed, stuck at impasss of foreign emotions.

He cared for you; some might call it love, and he'd been aware of it since childhood.

You'd told him all your secrets, good or bad, and trusted him.

You trusted him enough to reveal the mental abuse your father had put you through during childhood.

Trusted him enough to tell him how badly you wished you'd died instead of your mother to make your father somewhat happy again.

Alastor even knew of the times you'd been left completely alone as a child for weeks on end, how your father's neglect made you feel less than, and the permanent effect it had on you.

Your desire to fill a void, be loved without being shoved off, and be seen as more than a convenient soft-hearted person for someone to trifle with.

He knew every little thing about you, and it was because you had faith in his loyalty.

He found it easy to divulge his thoughts to you in the same manner, but allowing his secrets out into the open made him uneasy, even if you'd proven trustworthy from the beginning.

Then there was the matter of killing for you.

Alastor had done it so many times without your knowledge…

Stalking down men who stared at you too long for his liking, carving up anyone who spoke ill of you, happily taking the life of those who spoke down on your relationship.

Most of his murderous tendencies were purely driven by his obsession with you, a twisted kind of possessiveness he couldn't let go of, and one that made it easy for him to spill blood for you in the blink of an eye.

He did it to keep you safe…and that’d only be possible with him and no one else.

What stopped him from telling you how far he’d gone to do so, showing you that unnatural side of him only his victims saw, could only be described as fear.

Fear of losing you.

Fear of stripping the warmth from your heart.

Fear of losing the one thing, the one person who'd loved him despite all his flaws.

Fear of never truly smiling, never feeling a genuine emotion again because you -your presence in his life- allowed him to do just that.

Alastor hated to call it what it was, but as he was evading your attempts to understand, lying straight to your face and hoping you'd dilute your intuition was a way cowards way out of telling you the whole truth.

His pride dimmed, a frustrated grunt rumbling his chest as he glared at the drink in his hand.

Rosie sighed, flashing him a soft smile of pure reassurance, "Go to her, Al. Put a stop to her worries and relieve yourself of the burden. If not for your marriage, then for her sanity. She is too lovely of a girl to be treated so faithlessly."

He tongues his cheek at her words, a bitter burn of smoke and whiskey on it as he swallows thickly before nodding in agreement, "Seems I have no choice."

"You best head off. It's getting rather late, and I'm sure she misses you dearly, Al."

Alastor took one last drag of his cigarette, dropping it in his half-full bourbon glass before letting Rosie take it from him as he straightened his suit.

"I'll bid you good night then. You have my gratitude, Rosie, and the party was a splendid success, if I may add." His tone was back to normal, engaging, and mildly charismatic. Rosie smiled wide at his improving mood, accepting his thanks before shooting him off with a quick peck on his cheek.

“Au revoir monsieur!…”

“Au revoir mademoiselle..”

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

Alastor made it home without trouble, humming a snappy tune to distract himself from the evening's progressing events.

However, as he reached the back door of your shared home, his shadows twinged with alertness.

His hand froze over the gold doorknob, a certain heaviness settling in his chest as the specters frantically twisted against the back porch walls.

Something is wrong. Can't hear Y/n. Can't hear their heartbeats. Can't feel them-

Alastor stiffened as his shadows enlarged, fueled by the panic he was resisting, "Find her!" he bellowed the order out on instinct, and the leering spirits dove into action as he barreled into the darkened home.

"Y/n!?" he yelled for you, head whipping in every direction as he searched the first floor, stomping up the stairs next to search the second floor but coming up empty.

He stood in your shared bedroom, remaining calm as he tried to figure out where you could be.

All your belongings were here, and you had readied for bed from the looks of your tampered vanity, but nothing else gave him a clue about your whereabouts.

That was until his shadows called to him; a certain bellow of wailing sounded from the lower part of the house, and one Alastor didn't like the sound of.

A warning.

A frenzied one at that.

Found her…hurry.

Without a second thought, Alastor bounded back downstairs, following the whips of his shadow self as it traveled through the halls, only to stop in front of a doorway he dreaded.

The basement. Its door was wide open, the lamp light eerily aglow as his shadows whirled past the steps to engulf the room.

“Y/n?!…” Alastor called for you again as he crept down the creaky wood steps, voice stiffer than he intended it to be, but its edge paled compared to the large lump forming in his throat when his eyes spotted you.

Splayed out on the floor, on your side, lying limp and motionless.

A small puddle of blood was forming near your head, another was quickly growing in between your legs, and splatters of it covered your face, hands, and nightgown.

For the second time in his life, Alastor felt true terror, bewildered by the sight of his darling wife in distress and paralyzed by the powerful possibility it was his fault.

He’d only felt this fearful once before, afraid his father would end his mother’s life right in front of him after a hefty night of drinking, but even then, he found the courage to act.

Merely killing his father out of pure rage-filled instinct, but now…how he would remedy your suffering alluded him completely.

She's barely breathing… Their heartbeats-

"That's quite enough from you!" Alastor roared in utter frustration, moving without thinking, willing himself to do anything but panic.

He worked as quickly as his mind would allow, trying not to break down as he knelt beside your still body, "Y/n…darling…wake up… please…" he begged quietly.

Being as cautious as ever, he cradled you close, praying to whatever cruel god there was that you'd respond or at least open your eyes while he carried you out of the haunting basement.

Your body twitched at the sound of a familiar voice, feeling lighter as solid arms lifted you from the cold floor and whisked you from the damp room.

The sound of a rapid heartbeat thundered in your ear as waves of coherence fought to establish itself in you, but the severity of your wounds made it a struggle to function.

You settled for listening to the heartbeat, the voice accompanying it a vague background noise but a comforting one.

Your vision wasn't any better, only allowing you to see a murky image of a man, one you knew well but couldn't determine was real or not in the moment.

“Al..astor?..”you whispered in awe, smiling sadly as he looked down at you, clearly worried.

“Stay with me, darling… Keep breathing, please…”

Alastor felt you shiver violently in his arms hearing him speak, racing up the stairs as cautiously as possible to avoid hurting you more, barging into your shared bedroom seconds later.

He laid you down on the bed, disregarding the blood and dirt staining the sheets as he tried to assess your injuries. "Fuck…fuck…fuck!" he rambled angrily, breaths coming quick, and his mind in a rare frenzy as a result.

Your eyes refused to stay open, an apparent wound was on the side of your head, and the impact of your fall had indeed done something to warrant your lower half bleeding.

He needed to stop the bleeding from both areas, keep you awake, and determine the twin's state all at once.

Alastor knew this but struggled to pull himself together, only able to grasp at one of your hands with both of his to ground himself as a frustrated smile adorned his face.

Pull it together, or she and your children die.

It's all my fault… it's all my fault…

She'll die if you don't act…

It's all my fucking fault…I-

She needs help! Wallowing in your depraved guilt won't change that!

His shadows chittered, reasoning with their host despite the panic they felt seeping off of him.

Alastor screwed his eyes shut, an anguished growl leaving his chest as he tried to think of a solution and push away his panicked state.

You remained still, on the verge of passing out again, trying to hold onto reality a little longer, squeezing your savior's hand back as a weak tether to it.

Alastor froze, feeling your gesture, head lifting swiftly as you attempted to speak, "It h-hurts.." you muttered painfully, acknowledging a new ache you'd only felt a few weeks prior.

Intense shocks of strain spread in your abdomen, noticeable contractions that felt different than previous ones, but as much as you wanted to articulate the agony they caused, you couldn't find the strength to.

You screamed instead, gripping Alastor’s hand hard as the constant pains grew more robust, making your cries grow louder.

The terror in your screeches struck him hard, an almost unnatural sound he'd never imagined coming from you, but your following words gave the sounds plausible clarity.

"Th-they're c-coming!" you choked between labored breaths, feeling dizzy as your blood loss took its toll, but the growing urge to push trumped your need to pass out.

Alastor came to his senses upon hearing your warning.

Fully aware that he couldn't handle this situation alone, he did the only thing that made sense to him.

Ask for help. Something he hated to do but saw no alternative for.

"Go get Rosie. Make it quick. Find my mother next and get her here as well…" he commanded his shadows quietly, heart still racing as he took solace in comforting you.

The bed dipped as he sat down, free hand cradling your head as the other raised yours to his lips.

He planted a kiss on your knuckles; brows furrowed as the feeling of your fingers gripping his slightly lessened, an indication of culminated exhaustion and blood loss.

"Stay with me, ma chere. Just a while longer, alright? Everything…everything’s going to be fine…" Alastor muttered soothing words into your ear, a ploy to keep you and himself calm, and to some extent, it worked.

You hung onto his every word, confused and alarmed by him but clinging to the safety his presence brought.

You couldn't forget what you saw in the basement, the horrid image still stuck in the back of your mind as you cried in agony and writhed in desperation for help.

You couldn't believe that Alastor, your perfect husband, the man watching over you now so fervently, had done something so horrible to another person.

You had many questions, fears, and even more confusion than before.

Nevertheless, your dire position now completely overshadowed the underlying nightmare that was your marriage.

Your children.

That's the only thing you could clearly envision, enduring the heartache, suffering through the genuine threat to your life, all for their sake.

Confronting Alastor could wait.

Surviving the night and bringing healthy twins into this world couldn't.

xxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxx

I'm putting the reader through a lot...but you all will survive... Maybe. Also, the song choices for this one kind of hit just right. ;)

TAGS ❤️: @rapturenyx @michi-keinz @shealizxx @nissrinina @destinyisastar @bubblegumheartsy @sailorsmouth @aestheticgals-blog @rameisa @ellesette

[ BONUS CONTENT + ]

This edit is so fitting, I fear... Credits to creator ❤️

#hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor human #human alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor hartfelt #alastor headcanons #hazbin hotel headcanon #alastor smut #alastor fluff #alastor x reader #alastor x you #alastor x oc #hazbin hotel fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #fanfic writing #fanfic #angst

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felassan · 1 month ago

Note

Super random but by any chance do you know or know of a resource that lists what crow houses control/reside in which antivan city? I realized I had no idea who's supposed to be in "control" of Treviso and managed to just confuse myself more on crow lore....

hello! ◕‿◕ (rest of post under cut due to DA:TV spoilers)

we know that the Crows sometimes have "territory disputes" (quote from Caterina). the disputes part implies that the Crow 'territory map', if you like, isn't static. I also do wonder if some of the larger settlements at least are in practise 'split up', with different portions being controlled by different houses?

World of Thedas has it that House Valisti operates (or operated?) out of Treviso.

in DA:TV, we see that House Dellamorte has the Dellamorte Estates/Villa Dellamorte/Dellamorte Opera House in Treviso, and that once they owned a vineyard that lay south of Treviso; that House Cantori has the Cantori Diamond casino in Treviso; and that the Talons of de Riva, Cantori and Dellamorte are in Treviso. Teia writes to a colleague in Antiva City that Crows from Cantori, Arainai, Balazar, de Riva, Dellamorte, and minor houses like Magneretti and Candide are cooperating in Treviso under the occupation. ofc, someone being somewhere doesn't automatically mean it's their territory that they're in, Crows/Houses could own buildings and property in multiple places, and (re: below) people can own more than one home.

Tevinter Nights mentions that Viago de Riva has a home in Salle:

Teia, to Viago: "Are you going straight home to Salle?"

so perhaps Salle is where House de Riva usually operates out of?

Tevinter Nights mentions that Teia Cantori has a home in Rialto:

Teia had a garden full of the bell-shaped flowers in Rialto.

Teia: "Andoral so rarely gets a chance to let loose in Rialto."

so perhaps Rialto is where House Cantori usually operates out of?

given those ideas, and with Villa Dellamorte/Dellamorte Estates (Caterina/Lucanis/Illario's home) being in Treviso (and also the way Lucanis talks about Treviso), maybe Treviso was usually where the Dellamorte operated out of?

Tevinter Nights also might imply that Teia has another home in Antiva City[?], the city where she was a thief on the streets of before she joined the Crows. When Viago replies to the question about Salle, he says no, he's going to Antiva City, and asks her why she's asking. She says "To see if you had a place to stay", in invitation.

This TN passage could imply that House Nero originates somewhere coastal, somewhere along the Rialto Bay:

Bolivar had all the trappings of a Talon, but none of the substance. His family had made their fortune as pearl divers and were once the wealthiest elves in Antiva. House Nero no longer held that title, but Bolivar spent coin as if Rialto Bay had an infinite supply of pearls to support his lavish lifestyle.

(It's also said that pearls are synonymous with House Nero).

Zevran was purchased in Rialto and speaks of Antiva City - maybe House Arainai has/had a presence in that/those place[s]?

🤔

#dragon age: the veilguard #dragon age the veilguard spoilers #dragon age: dreadwolf #dragon age 4 #the dread wolf rises #da4 #dragon age #bioware #video games #themumblingmouse #mjs mailbag #dragon age: tevinter nights #i feel like this post didnt end up being very helpful in the end.. ( ꩜ ᯅ ꩜)

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kykyonthemoon · 3 months ago

Text

Where Time Whispers

At the Time Post Office, where letters always reach their recipients, Xavier had written letters to you and let them fade with time. However, your response led him to a future together.

── .✦ Xavier x Female Reader|MC

♡︎. Tags: birthday fic, fluff, soft, warm, handwritten letters

♡︎. Word count: ~2k

♡︎. Inspired by Xavier's birthday event - Timeless Days. Happy Birthday to our little star, Xavier!

── .✦ Masterlist ♡ Request a fic - currently closed.

You arrived at Moonfall Bay one morning. The sunshine bathed each roof and every window in a beautiful, golden glow. You strolled alone through the little streets that had formed over time. You pondered why you had missed out on such a beautiful location close to Linkon before.

After receiving a letter at your residence a few days ago, you arrived here. Curious, you looked up the address of the sender and took advantage of a rare day off to explore this place. You wanted to see the scenery that Xavier had once seen, to find the place where he had sent you a letter in the past. There were innumerable queries for which you believed a certain post office would have the answers you were looking for.

Thanks to the help of the people in town, you found the Time Post Office. It was an old building with a wooden sign placed outside. This place had closed many years ago and only recently reopened. For that, you felt fortunate.

“Welcome!” An employee emerged to greet you. He appeared to be roughly your age, if not younger. He was different from your imagination about an old postman working here, as old as this place.

“Ah… Hello.”

“Do you want to send a letter?”

You gave a modest nod, "In fact, there are a few more questions I would like to ask."

The staff shifted behind the counter. You took out from your bag the letter you had just received a few days before.

“I… want to know about this letter…”

The staff picked it up, examined it carefully and said:

"Yes. It was sent from our post. Regarding the date on the letter, it is true that it was shortly before the post closed in the past."

You looked at the letter. The date above was on the sixteenth of October, fourteen years ago. Xavier had sent you a letter fourteen years ago? Did he even know your address in advance? This was unbelievable!

“Are you sure this letter was sent fourteen years ago?” You asked again.

The staff confirmed with a nod. “According to the seal and date, it is. This letter also made an impression on me, since it's the first letter we've sent after fourteen years.”

For a little while, you were unsure how to respond. When you regained your composure, you asked: "So... do you remember anything about the person who came here to send this letter?"

The staff frowned. “This has been so long. I only vaguely remember that one beautiful sunny day fourteen years ago, our very last customer arrived at the post office.”

And the staff began to tell his story.

On a warm autumn afternoon, that customer came to the post office.

His hair was the color of starlight, and he greeted the then postmaster as much courtesy as if he had known him for a long time. The postmaster informed his young nephew, who was assisting him, that this was a frequent customer who visited to send a letter every year. While the boy was making tea, he heard his grandpa talking to the customer:

“This place is about to close. Do you still want to send the letter?”

That person nodded.

“How many years has it been?” The old postman continued. “Even in a place that preserves memories like this, things are constantly changing. It's a pity that I can no longer keep my family's old profession."

They were silent for a while. Then, the customer slowly turned his head towards the boy preparing tea in the corner of the room and said:

“Maybe there is still hope.”

“That kid? Haha! I have high hopes for him. In the future, perhaps he will know what to do with this post office. As for now… Maybe I won't be able to hold on much longer…”

The child paid close attention to what they were saying. Though it was the first time he saw him, his grandfather had told him stories of a specific client who would occasionally show up at the Time Post Office. How odd! Grandpa said the client had been visiting the post from the very first year it was opened, which was two centuries ago! Was the old man mistaken?

“Have you found the person you were looking for?” The old postman asked once the customer had completed penning his letter.

“I've found her,” the customer responded.

“So there will be an address on your letter this time, right?”

“No need. This letter, like the others I've sent here, is meant for something that's fading away.”

“Who knows, maybe in the future, your letter may find its recipient? At that time, I hope you two can be together.”

After the customer had departed, the postmaster handed the boy the key number 214 and instructed him to put it away.

“Mailbox 214 always belongs to that customer. Keep that in mind, kid!”

“But, grandpa… We are about to close this place. How can we send this letter then?"

The postman patted his head and replied:

“Have I not told you that every letter submitted to the Time Post Office finds its way to its intended recipient? This letter and all letters from that customer will eventually find their way to the right person. Think of it as the magic of this post!"

The boy fiddled with the key in his hand and kept thinking about what his grandpa had said that day.

“After the post office closed and my grandfather passed away, I assumed that what he stated about letters always reaching their intended recipients must no longer be true. I saved up for many years and finally was able to reopen this post office. After all, this is all my grandfather left for me. What a coincidence that the last letter of that year has now reached you. It's interesting; I recall the customer that year didn't write the address on the letter. But when the post office reopened and I reorganized things here, I accidently discovered it in the mailbox with your address clearly visible on the envelope."

When the staff finished his story, you remained silent. Previously, you were dubious of Xavier's identity, believing that he came from a different timeline than the one you were familiar with. This was merely another piece of evidence to back up your speculations. Of course, he would not tell you everything so casually. Despite this, you wished to learn much more about him during your brief time on Earth.

You began composing a letter to Xavier. You wanted to respond to him in the past.

After a while, you stopped writing. Most of the content of his old letter had faded, yet you could still envision Xavier from fourteen years ago, sitting here in the afternoon sun, crafting every word for you. You grinned and folded the letter before placing it in the envelope. You notified the staff, now the postmaster, that you intended to pick it up on the sixteenth of October, which was also Xavier's birthday.

The staff gave you the number 214 key as you had asked to put the letter in the same box as Xavier's from fourteen years ago. You walked along the empty hallway, where wooden mailboxes were stacked from the ground to the ceiling. Your feet stopped in front of the box you were looking for. To your surprise, the box was not as empty as you thought.

Many old, fading letters poured out from the box bearing number 214. They circled like birds soaring towards the ceiling, their paper wings fluttering in the wind, then they dropped down next to you. Floating around.

“Don't come close! It could be dangerous!” You informed the staff.

He scratched his head. “What's going on? The other day I opened it, there was only one letter inside..."

You checked your Hunter watch. There were signs of a protocore fragment, but not alarmingly so. You told the staff that you would handle this. He nodded and walked out.

When you were alone, you reached for the letter floating nearest to you. There was no name or address on the envelope. You opened it. The paper was yellow and the ink was smudged. Nonetheless, you could distinguish the handwriting from the few brief lines that remained readable. These were Xavier's words.

To my dearest,

This is my very first spring on this planet.

This world is completely different from where we used to live. But perhaps you would like it as much as I do.

…

I have found the Time Post Office, where letters will always reach their recipients. I do not completely believe that, especially when the person I want to send the letter to probably does not exist in this world yet...

However, when you appear, I hope that I will have the opportunity to be with you again, in this timeline...

The letter gradually faded and vanished in your hands shortly afterwards. You quickly grabbed the next one, then another. As soon as you read all the content that had faded over the years, the letters would all be gone.

You could, however, thread them together to form a tale. The person who had written these letters visited this post office every year. That person was always looking for the girl he once loved and lost for more than two hundred years.

Isolation was apparent through each line, through the time-worn envelope. It was Xavier, but a completely different Xavier that had existed before you appeared. Soon, nearly two hundred letters disappeared before your eyes. Only the last one left—the one you had just received a few days ago.

You held the letter tightly, placing it close to your heart. And your tears began to fall.

On the sixteenth of October, the young postmaster of the Time Post Office met that certain customer again.

In the midday sunlight, his starlight hair gleamed. Deep blue eyes met him. Just like that day fourteen years ago. The only difference was that, while the postmaster had grown up, the customer stayed the same as in his memory.

Could the person he met that year be the same as the one standing in front of him? There were quite a few strange things that had happened at this post office. The letter from fourteen years ago, the "little accident" involving mailbox number 214 the other day, and the recent appearance of the customer he once met a long time ago... It seemed like there really was magic in this place. It was something his grandpa had told him about countless times back then.

The man used his key to pick up the mail from box 214. He smiled at the postmaster before walking out, to where a woman was waiting. The sun glistened on her hair, and the wind puffed up her white dress. That was the woman who had visited this post a few days ago. They exchanged a few pleasantries before she stood on tiptoe to kiss him. On the yellow-leaved porch, time appeared to stand still. The man lifted her up and spun her around. Their crisp laughter blended into the sunbeam.

The young postman watched as their silhouettes fade away. On the long road, the man clasped hands with the woman. In his other hand, he was holding the letter she had written to him.

To my dearest Xavier,

Much has changed since your letter was written. The Time Post Office closed but has since reopened. You also found a new home, a new life in Linkon.

However, even after many years, your letter still reached me.

Like a miracle, Xavier always finds me no matter how many years have passed.

So I think, no matter how the world changes with time, from now on, I will always be by Xavier's side to witness those changes.

Thank you, Xavier. You found me.

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anawkwardgalnamedtarazan · 1 month ago

Text

King Dice's folks...

Pearlie🔮 and Bick🖋

Around the late 1890s, Pearlie, a self-proclaimed fortune teller, traveled with a carnival from far seedy Linseed Bay to the vast Inkwell Isles, where dreams (and nightmares) came true, to make a quick buck. There, she met Bick Ballpoint, a shifty lucky charm salesman, returning from another failed sales pitch. They shared stories of their love for money and how they wanted to live the high life. So, they went into business together, she'd read people's fortunes and he'd sell 'em "charms" to make life easier, got married, and had a son.

But as the years grew, so did their lust for riches. The couple only saw their son as free labor, initially keeping him inside doing chores and spending all their money on themselves while he struggled. When their boy began to develop more as both a scammer and a dancer, they felt they had a star on their hands, one that could have them living the high-life for sure...but not if their boy (and his new um... friend) have anything to say about it....!

Now for some Headcanons!!!

Pearlie🔮💋

Had Dice (then named Cubert) when she was 20. She wanted a girl with a pearl head like her. She took every opportunity to hold it over the poor kid ever since.

Dreamed of being an opera singer, but her family pushed her to join their tailoring business. So, she left home at age 16 to make it big. But sadly, for her, genetics caused her voice to change, forcing her to rely on scamming people with her "readings".

Was SUPER extra with her appearance. We're talking about polishing her pearl head until it gleamed, lavish-looking outfits, and only the finest jewelry and makeup she could afford. Cuz she always believed looking important is the same as being important.

Favorite colors are blue and violet.

Was incredibly sly, playing on the Inkwellians' fears and desires for fame and easy living (ironic huh?). She often gave phony fortunes to carnival goers, faked seances for grieving and wealthy families, and had her son perform a little prestidigitation to really sell it (ex. pretending to be a ghost or demon, card tricks, charming people, you name it). Despite how hard he worked, Pearlie never really paid him back that much, being more concerned with buying stuff for herself. This did not bode well when Dice began dreaming of becoming a big star.

Headcanon voice: Alana Bridgewater (y'know the original voice of King Dice)

Bick🖋💼

A traveling salesman known for handing out useless junk. During his trip to Inkwell, he noticed its residents were very superstitious about demons and temptation. So, he decided to disguise his products as means to ward them off, from "potions" made from water and cheap cologne to 3-and-a-half leaf clovers to piano wire to trip "unholy ghosts".

His father left him at an early age. This left him depressed and his mother on edge. More often than not, his mother tried to "make a man out of him" by making him do all the chores in their house; if he refused, he would get a major spanking. This left a damper on Bick's confidence, and he ran away when he was 10.

Your typical carney disposition, always barking out to any potential suckers, using every shady scam he can think of to make a quick buck.

Was picked up by a traveling circus as an assistant once, explaining his carney tendencies.

Often had his son perform little dances or parlor tricks for customers. He always said it was "father-son bonding", but he just wanted a talented boy to make money off of.

Often use his money for gourmet meals, clean-pressed suits, and precious gems for his Pearlie.

Dice certainly inherited some showmanship from this guy but became MUCH more convincing with the Devil's help. He also inherited his skittishness. -_-

Like Dice, Bick also helped his wife in her scams, either handing out his nick-nacks or disguising himself as a demon or spirit. Though he and Pearlie were mostly interested in getting rich, Bick truly did see himself hitting the big time together with her, feeling he's found his soulmate.

Headcanon voice: John Delancey

#pearlie #bick #cuphead ocs #king dice #the cuphead show #renew the cuphead show

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romanoffsbish · 2 years ago

Text

A Safe Haven

WandaNat x Fem!R

Request | Prompt | 3,060 Words

Warnings: Injured R, Descriptions of Burns/Stabbings

Natasha and Wanda had gone out for the day, they shared a short brunch before setting off to go shop. They wanted to be prepared for your return tonight with all of your favorite things. It was your first official mission as an Avenger after Fury gave you the final go ahead, you were so excited when you left this afternoon, and they wanted to make the return just as special for you because it was only fair, as you were the only light in their lives most days.

—

Then they got a call, and suddenly a concerned Wanda was falling from the skies, landing back at the compound, and running in a frantic way to get to the med bay. Apparently you were waiting there, and Natasha agreed to purchase your things then meet her back there in about ten minutes, but she promised it'd be less.

"Bruce, I swear to god I will shove that needle into your jugular if you don't get the hell away from me! I can do it by my fucking self!"

Wanda wasn't really surprised to hear you screaming, you were never a fan of the clinical side of things, nor were you one for allowing others to see you in such a vulnerable state. Except for if it was with Nat or Wanda, that trust took a long time to build, so she rushed through the doors, and made a beeline for you.

Red wisps wrapped around your hand right as you managed to steal the syringe full of numbing drugs from the nervous scientist, you scowled deeply, but your body also visibly relaxed when your lovers presence became clear to you. You instantly felt safer...

"Moya lyubov, we don't stab our friends."

You growled, "He was going to do it first."

Wanda smirked at you, eyes of an intricate green never leaving yours as she nodded sideways at the sheepish man, he took her hint with a running start. The doors swinging as he left in a rush signaled to you he was gone, "What a pussy," you grumbled and Wanda snorted, "Play nice, he was trying to help."

Honestly, if you didn't see him shift into a giant green monster with your own eyes you'd never believe that Bruce Banner was the Hulk.

"He knows better Wands." She nodded with a hum to follow. "Yeah, but he also knows if he didn't try he'd have me and Nat to deal with, and I hate to break it to you, but we're scarier."

You gasped and pointed the syringe at her now, "Take it back little witch." She rolled her eyes, and literally took it back from you. "Done." She winked, you rolled your eyes, and shrieked, "Not what I meant Wands, I am way scarier!"

"Detka," she chuckled with a soft shake of her head, because as scary as you thought you looked, you truthfully didn't. With furrowed brows, a crinkled nose and an exaggerated pout, what she knew was meant to be an intimidating scowl, it only softened her heart. So, as was an inevitability she cursed at you, "You look adorable."

You gasped again, this time more loudly, and the heatless words died on your tongue as you felt a surge of pain. The adrenaline had faded.

Your body fell back against the bed, wrapped hands pawed at the sheets and tears began to stream down your face. Wanda's teasing smile fell, and for the first time since she had arrived she witnessed just how hurt you truly were.

There was ash all over your maroon suit, the flecks of charcoal white covered not only it but your face and hair. Fortunately your hands were already wrapped by someone, but the burns you had sustained were everywhere.

Where the white ash didn't reside, jagged holes in the suit took its place, showing the brunette your third degree burns. Then her eyes trailed further down your body, noticing the scrapes and bruises, and stopping in post haste on the saturated red gauze wrapped over your thigh. Her stomach flipped, seeing you in pain like this always hurt the empath just the same.

"It's okay," you whispered through gritted teeth, forcing yourself to sit back up so you could try to comfort the witch who's lip was now wobbling, but her hand softly pushed you back into the bed. "No, it really isn't."

You should honestly be fine; this was a simple recon mission, medical aid made no sense.

Wanda reached for a white rag from the cleaning station, she softly wiped your face clean, then she thoroughly wiped an unmarred portion of your shoulder clean. She smiled down at you, her thumb traced over your cheek and you instantly nodded. Giving her the silent permission to give you the magical shot to numb the pain, her lips touched yours just as you winced. A momentum picked up as you felt the ice rolling through your veins. Your body feeling as if you could party all night when it really belongs in the junkyard in this state.

Being the responsible party the witch pulled away, smiles pressed lightly together as she hesitates to truly part, but with immense strength she manages. "We need to fix you up now my love, let me do what needs to be done."

Wanda knew she'd have to soften your resolve some to allow her to use her powers like this.

After every mission she'd rush to either your or Natasha's side, use her powers to heal you just a bit, then she'd spend an entire day sleeping.

Then one really bad time put an end to this for a long while. When Nat was struck by a bullet, Wanda suddenly collapsed as Natasha's lungs partook in a miracle as they did the opposite.

"Y/N, don't worry," she quickly shushed you. "I'm going to make these third degree ones, and then I'll stop. I promise I'll be okay, I had Tony make these bracelets for me that help me better pull my energy. No more collapsing."

"C-careful Wan," you stuttered, the heat rolling through your body was still intense, even with the Novocain coursing through you, so you're desperate for her offered relief, but you would never allow it if you thought it would hurt her.

"I always am," she winked at you, then began to remove the rest of your suit. Her body stuttered as she really took the sight of you in.

"Why are you in this state Y/N," she wasn't accusatory, just concerned. "Where was Steve and Tony?" Your eyes widened, because the truth would only lead to the other's demise.

You'd considered lying to her, but even in your delirious state you knew better than to try. Nat probably already got the ear full from Hill, so you knew Wanda would have found out.

"They forgot I was there," you whispered the embarrassing truth so quietly, but you knew she heard it when her jaw clenched. "They triggered the bombs on the floors above me, but then after I shrieked into the coms they stopped and Tony flew up to save me."

"This isn't exactly saving," Wanda sneered. "Those idiots are in for a world of hurt."

"Wanda, it's okay." It wasn't, but you wanted to pretend like it was and she could sense that. "You're right, it's gonna be fine, just relax."

Wanda placed a chaste kiss to your lips as her forehead leaned into yours. A shaky breath fanned across your face as she began to heal you, you could smell traces of mint on your lips, and feel the love she left behind in its place. "Just focus on me sweet girl, you're ok."

"Wan, you said just the burns," you whined, and the witch kissed your protests away as her warm, glowing hands hovered over your thigh.

"Look, I'm fine moya lyubov'," she hummed, her thumb tenderly traced over the new mark on your thigh, and you sighed contentedly.

Wanda saw you shiver, she didn't want to hurt you further with the tight fitting emergency clothes you all had in the medbay for moments like these, so she slipped her own hoodie off and with her magic she made sure it fit you in an oversized manner like you preferred. All to protect your body from being seen by the team.

"Can you stand now?" You nodded, and the brunette guided you onto your feet. Natasha burst into the room just as Wanda pulled you into her, eight minutes in total. The witch was hoping for more time, but you needed to eat, and the redhead will want her time with you.

Wanda pressed a tender kiss to your forehead, "I'm so happy you're okay detka," then she left an even softer one to your lips before she was gently exchanging you for the grocery bags. She gave Natasha a quick kiss, they shared a fond smile as they watched you burrow into your other lover with a swiftness. Then Wanda was gone to the kitchen before you could blink.

Natasha didn't mind the grime transferring to her shirt, she only smiled and buried her nose in your hair, she could smell hints of your apple scented conditioner beneath the layers of smoke and ash that settled onto the strands.

Natasha's blood boiled when she looked just beyond you and saw the tattered remains of your suit behind you. Most of your burns were on your upper body so she couldn't see the improved state, but she did notice the few on your legs, and knowing they were once worse was enough to make her rather homicidal.

Tony and Steve would be smart to find a safe house, because after you fall asleep tonight there's no one left to protect the assholes.

They were careless with your life, and to your girlfriends that's an unforgivable slight.

"Thank you for coming home to us detka," the woman held back a sob as she repeated her usual mantra for when you'd return from a shield mission, but the way her arms tightened around your waist gave way to her clear fear.

"I'll always come home to you guys Natty."

"I appreciate that." Natasha gently pulled away from your embrace so that she could cup your cheek and pull you in for a kiss that she poured all of her love for you into. "We love you a lot."

"I love you guys too Natty, even more than Taylor Swift." Natasha chuckled in disbelief, "Wow, you're clearly in a state of delusion."

"Let's go get you cleaned up detka." Natasha scooped you up against your weak protests. You'd lost a decent amount of blood with the wound on your thigh, plus, no amount of magic heals the need for rest after what you've been through. So this is really the least your lover felt she could do to play her part in your care.

After taking the elevator up to your shared room the redhead set you down on the counter in your en suite, then she filled the tub with scentless bubbles and lukewarm water as to not aggravate your already overheated skin.

You watched with your lip caught between your teeth as your lover stripped down to nothing. She was always something to admire, and you'd never stop. "My eyes are up here."

"I know, I'd rather look at your boobs," you admitted without any shame causing the woman to loudly snort, "Y/N, you're injured..."

"Yes, and horny for my girlfriends always."

Natasha shook her head at your truly heatless words, "You're insatiable darling." You only smiled in response, allowing her to gently guide you into the readied tub where she just as quickly settled her body behind yours for the optimum support. "Dirty, dirty girl indeed."

You huffed, a protest of sorts, but you were too fatigued to back it up with words. The silence slowly encompassed the bathroom, sounds of water splashing into the marble all to be heard as you rearranged your body to lay face down. Natasha frowned when you shivered, she tried to offer her own body heat, but she couldn't budge on the water or else you'd be worse off.

She hummed a soft tune as she ran her fingers up and down your spine with delicate strokes. Her hand began to kneed at the unmarred skin, hopefully helping to relieve the tension that still resided in your muscles from the long day.

Her hand eventually made its way to your thigh where it methodically paused. She softly ran her thumb over your new scar, face falling further as she racked her brain for an answer that only evaded her with logical thought.

"How did you get stabbed?" You tensed as she finally verbalized it, now remembering that the empty floor you were sent to had a straggler who graciously left his blade behind in your leg. He'd totally blindsided you, swinging it at you before he escaped down the fire escape.

"The information was faulty," your scratchy voice came out sounding pitiful. "The place wasn't empty like Fury had first relayed."

Natasha hummed in understanding, she lifted your face and kissed away the tears as they fell. No more words needed to be said, she could tell it was just a fluke in intel, and it infuriated her that they'd not be more thorough for your first time up against Avenger level threats.

"Natty, I'm really cold." You shivered more noticeably this time and she took that as a sign to lift your bodies so she could run the shower. You were likely having a reaction to the loss of blood now, body struggling to regulate after all its been through in only a matter of hours.

Natasha did everything, and to her surprise you let her, you were just so tired and pliant.

She gently sat you down on the bench in your massive shower, then she moved to rid your locks of all the debris. You leaned back when she requested, her strong arm held you up with ease as the warm, once clear water turned to black as it slid down the drain. The various debris getting caught on top of the silver drain gratings, and she soon grimaced as an entire chunk of plaster thunked against the marble.

Natasha waited until the water ran clear to sit you back up. You pouted when you saw her expression, it was pained, and you felt guilty. Thoughts of how you could've prevented this plagued you, truthfully you knew it wasn't on you. Tony and Steve made a massive mistake. Fortunately for you the redhead didn't give you long to overthink before she lifted you again.

You purred when her lips pressed into your neck as she tugged you into her embrace. Fresh hot tears cascaded down your skin along with the streaming water and you held her even tighter, trying to somehow reassure her that you're still here. Natasha held you close like that for an entire minute as she sobbed.

"I'm okay Nat," you whispered reassuringly, "I'm here, I'm alive, and I'm safe with you two."

You reached down, pulling her hand back up with yours to prove your words right. You kissed her knuckles with a tenderness only reserved for your lovers. Then you flattened her hand against your chest, overlaying it with yours for optimal comfort. Nat sighed as soon as she felt the strong thrum beneath her palm.

"Thank you detka..." You kissed her cheek and she turned her head fast enough to steal a proper kiss as well. To her delight you didn't try to pull away, but instead you leaned in and allowed her to deepen it without her asking.

"I love you," you whispered as you playfully smiled against her lips, "But I'm becoming a prune, can we get this show on the road?"

Natasha chuckled, "You're lucky you're cute," shaking her head as she reached for the first of many hair products you had. She set the bottle beside you, and greedily leaned in for another kiss. "Your wish is my command detka."

After Natasha finished you up she guided you to the door with a hand on your hip, and the other on your lower back for assistance. The redhead spun you, softly pressing you into the wall so she could have her last moment of alone time with you. She raised a single hand to cup your left cheek, she ran her thumb over a scar beneath your left eye. Memories of your first ever encounter, a hectic mission, flashes through the both of your minds. You share a reminiscent smile as you kissed her palm.

"I love you too," Natasha finally verbally reciprocates your earlier sentiment. It wasn't needed, her actions alone said it, but you never failed to melt when your lovers reminded you. You whined, your usual cry for attention, and Natasha pecked your lips just before opening the door so you could get in bed and rest.

When the two of you exited the bathroom you both smiled at the sight of your lover on the bed. The scene was overwhelmingly domestic. Wanda wore an oversized shirt of yours, with a smart remote in her hand, apparently keying in your favorite movie on Hulu, and you melted.

You leaned your tired body back into the redheads who leaned against the doorframe, eyes falling to the rest of the targeted display.

On a tray to the left of the bed was three plates full of your favorite home cooked dinner of Wanda's, and three cans of varying sodas. On the bedside table sat a burn cream, a couple extra strength Tylenol, and a glass of water.

All of that alone was enough to make you want to cry. So, when Wanda jumped up and ran to embrace the both of you the tears actually fell. Your lovers rubbed your shoulders and sides lovingly, depositing kisses wherever they could as they let you have a moment to feel it all.

In there arms was where you felt the safest, you never knew what the feeling of home was like until you met them; they were your physical embodiment of a safety net, and now, you knew you'd always have something to fall into.

——

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x nat #wanda maximoff x natasha romanoff #wandanat imagine #wandanat fanfiction #wandanat fic #wandanat fluff #wandanat hurt / comfort #wandanat x reader #wandanat x female reader #wandanat x y/n #wandanat x you #gxg

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jaelyngames · 8 months ago

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The Official Main Family Tree

This current family tree consists of all of the Sims in my main family, the Haynes-Jones family, as well as their extended family, the Chaney family. (Family bios below)

About The Haynes-Jones Family:

Brandon Haynes and Samantha Jones met each other as young adults. They originally resided in Willow Creek, where a relationship formed and led to the birth of their first-born daughter, Nadia, before the little family of three moved to Newcrest. The couple's intimate bond led to marriage, followed by the birth of three more children: Quentin, Kendall, and Jacob. The family currently lives in Brindleton Bay, and as both Brandon and Samantha are in the retirement stage of their lives, they hope to see their children thrive in their respective career paths while carrying on the family legacy. However, all four children will come to understand why they should be grateful for the things that came to them with ease.

About The Chaney Family:

Bria and Paris Chaney did not come from the most fortunate household. They are the byproduct of a very toxic mother, Sylvia, who has indulged herself in two separate relationships. Carson Jenkins, now a businessman in San Myshuno, has faced various forms of verbal and emotional abuse at the hands of his then-girlfriend, prompting him to leave and focus on his education and career path. However, the combination of this and the discovery of him leaving behind his only daughter, Bria, has left him at a crossroads. Since the separation, Sylvia had an affair with Vincent Coulter, which led to the birth of Sylvia's second-born daughter, Paris. With the two half-sisters estranged from their parents, thinking they've finally achieved freedom, teen motherhood adds another obstacle for them to overcome.

#ts4 #the sims 4 #ts4 simblr #black simblr #black simmer #ts4 screenshots #ts4 gameplay #ts4 edit #the sims community #haynes-jones*#chaney*

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dalekofchaos · 8 months ago

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How is Blackwell even a school?

Blackwell is insanely weird.

It has dorms but also lockers.

A barely functioning staff. We have two teachers, a principal, a custodian and a head of security. There is Mrs Hoida, but we never see her in LIS or BTS. Mr Keaton exists in BTS, but we never hear about him in LIS. There’s a nurse, but we never see her. There’s a coach for the Otters and Bigfoots, but neither Max nor Chloe are athletic, so we never see them. According to Chloe’s report card. There is an Art teacher, Phy Ed teacher, Practical Math and Life Skills Teacher, Social Sciences teacher and Personal Health Teacher. But we never see any of them.

Only two whole classrooms in the whole game.

It’s apparently the only school the town has and also is a super expensive exclusive private school.

It’s a high school that recruits world renowned artists and scientists to teach basic high school level classes.

It’s graduates supposedly go on to become famous successful people yet the school itself resides in a tiny rundown coastal Oregon town.

It costs a fortune to attend and yet it looks like it hasn’t been seriously repaired or renovated since the 1970’s.

Hell it doesn’t even have security cameras on campus.

According to google

"According to a student survey from the National Center for Education Statistics, 86 percent of middle school and high school students have security cameras installed in their schools."

Despite David being an asshole, it's standard procedure to have cameras up in the first place. David is wrong to put cameras in his home to spy on Chloe, but not wrong to have cameras in the school. If there were cameras already placed in Blackwell.

Frank Bowers would never be able to sell on school grounds

Frank never would've been close to Rachel

Nathan never would've gotten away with bringing so many illegal drugs to the Vortex Club

Kate never would've been dosed

Speaking of David. Why is he just a security officer? Why isn't he a cop? Wouldn't it make sense for David to work two jobs since the Prices are in debt? As a cop and as a security officer? The most unrealistic thing about LIS. David was too unstable to be a Arcadia Bay cop. The police have no standards and I'm shocked that David wasn't an instant recruit considering how the police in America wants people with low IQs and doesn’t care for obvious red flags.

Also, School Resource Officers exist.

Then there is the fact that Max…BARELY uses the school of her dreams. We get one or two classes at best. Going to Ms Grant’s class does not count cause Max only went there to help Warren.

Chloe not using Blackwell makes sense. She hates the damn place and would rather learn about Rachel’s anatomy break the rules and chill in the junkyard.

But with Max, shouldn’t she actually be attending classes? I mean if I were attending a big private school at Blackwell, but didn’t attend classes. I think my ass would’ve been suspended within weeks and my tuition set on fire.

What kind of school, a HIGH school lets their students freely roam the halls, leave school grounds or chill in the dorms instead of doing class work?

For that matter. Why the fuck is Blackwell Academy a fucking High School? Why not a college? Art Colleges exists. I'd rather Blackwell be a college and for everyone to be of age, it'd explain a lot of stuff such as the drugs, parties, guns, and just a lot of stuff. Not to mention going through college you are still figuring out stuff, what you want to do with your life, and still figuring out who you are. Would've imo a lot better and explained why half the shit that was happening was.

I get this is an episodic game and there are more pressing concerns, but honestly Blackwell should’ve been like say Bully. We do the day’s worth of classes and then progress to the story. Hell, you could even implement a sort of friendship system. Maybe you pick who you sit next to and that raises Max’s friendship with them. Anything would’ve been better than Max skipping school altogether and just focusing on Chloe. Like we have an entire school, we should not have our focus be on Chloe. There could’ve been ways to work classes into the main story, but no. Blackwell is just background noise and it shows.

But the lack of a full faculty staff or an actual care that anyone actually attends class? What kind of fucking school is this?

#Life Is Strange #Blackwell Academy #Max Caulfield #Chloe Price #Rachel Amber #Kate Marsh #Warren Graham #Victoria Chase #David Madsen #Raymond Wells #Michelle Grant

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buffetlicious · 11 months ago

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Celebrated by Hokkiens on the 9th day of the first lunar month, aka Chinese New Year, Tian Gong Dan (天公诞) or Bai Tian Gong (拜天公) as it is otherwise called, is a highly important prayer ceremony. Bai (拜) means to pray, and Tian Gong (天公) refers to the Jade Emperor, the monarch of all deities in heaven. As such, praying to Tian Gong, or ‘pai ti kong’ as Hokkiens like to call it, is a celebration of the Jade Emperor’s benevolence, which can be traced back to an old traditional folk legend.

youtube

To better understand the story behind Bai Tian Gong, we first have to go back hundreds of years back in time to the Ming Dynasty. At the time, within the province where modern-day Hokkiens can trace their ancestral origins to, was a place rife with outlaws and bandits. It was during one fateful Chinese New Year that these bandits went on a murderous spree, going around pillaging villages and killing its residents indiscriminately. Fearful for their life, some of the villagers ran away in the dead of night and hid themselves within the sugarcane fields. They prayed hard to the Jade Emperor for their survival.

Fortunately for them, the bandits found no success in their hunt despite searching for days. Ultimately, on the 9th day of the Chinese New Year, the bandits gave up on trying to find the villagers and returned to their hideouts. Realizing their assailants had left, the villagers emerged from their hiding spots, happy that they’ve managed to survive the ordeal. They praised the divine for answering their prayers and were grateful to the sugarcane fields for providing them shelter. This is why the Sugarcane (甘蔗) is held in prominence in all Hokkien celebrations. Mum poached chicken & pork, dyed the Red Eggs (红鸡蛋), boiled the longevity noodles, prepared Fa Gao (发糕) and oranges with joss papers, joss sticks and candles to offer them to the gods.

Info from here. Selected images from the internet.

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oscurascout · 5 months ago

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Y/N As A Doublegänger

From "That's Not My Neighbor" game

Note - Finally done! I feel like this chapter was a little fast (and it is) but oh well hope you guys enjoyed this series, I have something pretty cool prepare for September.

Part 11 End (Par 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10)

After that day, everything changed for the better. The doorman was captured and imprisoned. Not only had he been charged with allowing a doppelgänger in, but he was also held accountable for provoking and endangering the residents.

Now, a D.D.D. agent was the new doorman. Since my friends had to come out of hiding to stop me, they were also captured. Fortunately, thanks to the residents' petitions, they weren't killed and were instead released. As for me, I was placed under observation in a hospital, along with Angus and Franciss, since both had gotten hurt.

Fortunately, Angus and I were in the same room, mostly because he wouldn’t stop being a menace until he was placed with me. Steven visited often, trying to keep us updated, and to my surprise, even some of the other residents came by. Franciss, once he was able to move, would also come and stay in our room. I discovered that he was the first person I had attacked.

As the days went by, I made friends with the neighbors I had never interacted with before. Rafttellyn and Alf were kind enough to bring me some “get well soon” flowers and even did a mini tie party, while the Peachman brothers entertained us with stories about their shoe business, always filled with amusing anecdotes about their mini fights and arguments. Steven's dad, Mclooy, visited us as well; he is a very talkative man, always sharing tales of his youth and amazing adventures.

Time passed quickly, and soon I was fully healed, just like Angus and Franciss. Once the doctor gave me the release date, a D.D.D. agent entered the room, prompting the doctor to make a quick exit, leaving only the agent behind.

Agent - “Good to see that both of you are completely healed. Now, I will explain what is going to happen, and none of you can object or argue, alright?”

I nodded, but Angus nor Franciss did.

Angus - *smiling* “I’d like to hear what you have to say before I make a decision.”

Agent - *whispering* “A true businessman. *speaking normally* Alright, regarding the doppelgänger, not only did you hurt two residents and five D.D.D. agents, but you also caused some damage to the building. Because of that, you will be put in a program and continue pretending to be Y/N.”

“W-what!?” I exclaimed in surprise. I had expected them to lock me up, but the idea of going back was shocking.

Franciss - “What’s the catch?”

Agent - “Well, a D.D.D. member will have to stay in the building to ensure it's truly safe. But besides that, there are no real consequences; after all, it wasn’t entirely the doppelgänger's fault.”

“B-but why? I thought the D.D.D. agency would kill me or capture me,” I said, fidgeting with my fingers.

Agent - “Well normally we would, but there were a lot of petitions requesting your release, and thanks to the news, the story spread all around the world. It's the topic everyone is talking about, which worked in your favor. Additionally, you lasted two months without hurting anyone, which strengthens your case. The D.D.D. actually wants to experiment with you to see how a doppelgänger works and all that scientific stuff.”

Angus - “Experiment?”

Agent - “Well, sort of. It’s more like they want to conduct a few tests. You see, two months ago, the doppelgängers became much more aggressive, so they want Y/N's help to repel them or keep them at bay.”

“Well, either way, I don’t have a choice, so I might as well enjoy this outcome,” I said, a small smile forming on my face.

Angus - *worried* “Are you sure? I don't think those D.D.D. agents will hold back in their experiments.”

“Don't worry; I'm stronger than I seem,” I replied, showing my claws.

Franciss - “That's true. I experienced it firsthand.”

“I'm sorry!” I exclaimed, quickly covering my claws and feeling awful for what I had done to Franciss.

Agent - “Well, my job here is done. It was nice to see all of you looking better.”

Soon, the day came when we were finally released. We arrived at the apartment, and it didn’t look any different. I took a deep breath and entered.

As I stepped into my apartment, it was just as I had left it, but someone was there, a doublegänger. I quickly unsheathed my claws and was about to attack whoever it was when I was grabbed, even before I could do any real damage.

Hoon - *smiling* “Yup, this is how it was supposed to have been last time.”

“Hoon!” I exclaimed, quickly hugging him. I looked behind him and saw that everyone else was there too. “How are all of you here? Wait, how did you guys even get here?” I asked, surprised to see them.

Sticky - “The agent told us that we now live here. Well, not in this room, but like you, we were put under the same rules. Some others are in different buildings.”

Peach - *hugging me* “Peach!”

“It's nice to see you too! But wait, how did they find you? And what do you mean by living here?” I asked, still hugging Peach.

Hoon - “It's a bit of a long story, but in short, we were being followed, and we got discovered. Thanks to the news spreading everywhere, a lot of doppelgängers also gave up, hoping for the same outcome you had. So now the D.D.D. agency is creating a program to ‘rehabilitate’ doppelgängers. Though the other half of the doublegängers continue to fight and be against this change”

I was about to say something when Stitch covered my mouth, probably not wanting me to overthink things or ask any more questions. I smiled and looked behind Hoon, noticing half-eaten frozen dinners. “Time to show what I learned,” I thought smugly.

*Moving Stitch’s hand away* “Guys, that's not how you eat those dinners!” I said with a smile

Sticky - “What do you mean? You just need to open them, right?”

I smiled and began explaining how they should have eaten them. “You guys have a lot to learn, but don't worry; I'll help,” I said with a grin. They nodded, finally, we were truly safe.

#that's not my neighbor #thats not my neighbor #hoon man #d.d.d agent #angus ciprianni #francis mosses #sticky note steven #nacha stitchface #peach man #y/n as a doublegänger

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cairoamaya · 4 days ago

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“SOMEONE LIKE ME CAN BE A REAL NIGHTMARE - COMPLETELY AWARE”

INTRODUCING…

NAME: Cairo Adrianne Amaya

GENDER & PREFERRED PRONOUNS: Cis woman {She/Her}

AGE: 22

BIRTHDAY: October 13, 2002

ZODIAC: Libra Sun, Scorpio Moon, Virgo Rising

SEXUALITY: Bisexual

FACE CLAIM: Jenna Ortega

LABEL: The Hurricane

OCCUPATION: Educator @ Interactive Museology / Vinyl Specialist @ Main Street Records / Grad Student (Archaeology and Occult Science)

CURRENT RESIDENCE: Downtown Windsor Bay

LENGTH IN TOWN: 5 years

CHARACTER PLAYLIST: HERE.

UP NEXT: “NIGHTMARE” BY HALSEY

BIOGRAPHY:

Born in Cairo, Egypt, the girl was named after her parents' greatest adventure together and life long work. She was fortunate to be the daughter of two archaeologists. Not only due to her curiosity gene and brains to match, but because she never settled in one place for too long. Traveling the world was one thing she loved about her parents' job.She could be a lot of things, but never not well-traveled.

It was through traveling that she took an interest in history even at a young age. Well, that and her parents' jobs. But also due to the traveling, she never went to a conventional public school. She was homeschooled her whole life, up until she begged her parents to allow her to go for high school. Which, only lasted her Freshman year due to her parents getting an opportunity in Machu Picchu.

Cairo was always fascinated by magic and the occult. She's actually assisted her parents with artifact identification because of her self-research. Cairo and her family found their way to Windsor Bay due to the town being the hometown of her father. They wanted to settle down so that Cairo can attend college. What Cairo wasn't expecting was her mother retiring and her father becoming a professor. Finally the Amayas are planting roots. Cairo is both excited about it, yet now wrestles with a inner restlessness to leave.

Currently, Cairo is working on her graduate degree in Archaeology with a specification in Occult Science through an Anthropology lens. She is super excited to have her own adventures one day, even if she's stuck in her apartment in Windsor Bay for a couple more years before that could happen.

EXTRA-EXTRA, READ ALL ABOUT HER!

Wise beyond her years, Cairo was sort of a grown up ever since she was a little kid. It was due to the fact that she was just mature for her age and experienced life so differently than the normal child. To this day, there is a wise otherness about Cairo that makes her seem somewhat intangible in a mysterious vein. Quiet and to-herself is only one side of the coin. On the other, she can be pretty fierce and somewhat of a spitfire. Never knowing what side of her one's gonna get, people tend to walk on egg shells around her from time to time. Cairo has a nasty habit of smoking. It's something she picked up her freshman year and never got over. She fully believes it helps numb her, so she continues to do it every so often. Having a love for the strange and unusual, Cairo has her own podcast where she discusses the occult, dissects film, and critics music. It's her niche little thing that not many know about, and she'd like to keep it that way. Prone to sarcasm, Cairo struggles with biting her tongue. It's honestly her intellect's fault and it's a reason she keeps people at an arm's distance away at all costs. She knows she can be brutal, but also she's just used to leaving so abruptly that she doesn't see the point in getting close to people. Having been in Windsor Bay for 5 years now, this is changing slowly but surely as she continues to work on connections. Cairo is pretty morbid with her humor and loves dark fantasies and other tales you can find her reading or watching in film. She loves deep talks and also the fun 3AM conspiracy talks. Definitely someone you'd want to be in your blunt rotation.

PERSONALITY:

+ Adroit, Dauntless, and Creative

- Morbid, Sarcastic, and Flighty

#windsorbayintro

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jiroli · 27 days ago

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"Young Master! Wake up!"

A guard shouted outside Yichen's quarters— jolting Yichen awake while clearly still being drowsy

"Huh? Why?" He replied to the guard lazily while yawning— he really wondered why are the guards making such a fuss early in the morning? They're literally ruining his beauty sleep.

"You have a guest!"

"A guest? At this hour?" What's a random guest doing at their residence early in the morning? Do they not know that Zhuo Yichen’s beauty sleep is a must? They're breaking his morning routine.

Although he heard the guard's reply that he had a guest— he really was too lazy to get up. The guest can actually wait, if he's not gonna lie. Rest is a must for people who loves slacking off— him of course.

So he decided to let his eyes rest again and drop back to his bed,

'Mmm too sleepy'

"YOUNG MASTER!"

Another shout coming from the guard, Again! This guard just keeps frightening him and it immediately made him sit-up from the bed he was currently sleeping in,

"WHAT? WHAT?"

He shouted back— quite annoyed that someone keeps disturbing him in his beauty sleep.

'Damn it, disturbing my sleep'

And who was his guest at this time of the hour? Who comes unannounced too early in the morning? Do they not know that they're disturbing someone's sleep?

'Is it Bai Jiu or what?'

He swears to God— if that kid came unannounced outside their residence— he will surely make that child's life a living hell and threaten him that he will change his publishing company because what's he doing at his home in the early damned morning?

"YOUR GUEST IS A DEMON!" The guard replied in such haste— his voice seeping through Yichen's ears— waking him up fully.

‘A demon? Entering the Demon Hunting Bureau? Hah! The confidence' He thought lazily and did not bother to give it attention. He just scoffed at that answer and dropped his body back on his bed while closing his eyes once again,

Then realization hit him— he immediately stood up from his bed and had his eyes wide opened— fully in disbelief for the response he had just gotten

"Wait— A FUCKING DEMON?"

His guest was a demon— too early in the morning and his guest was a damned demon. He doesn't know who is it but he knows— he really knows it is between the protagonist or the main villain whom he just threw potato chips at yesterday,

‘ZHU YAN OR LI LUN— I DON'T CARE WHO BUT I NEED TO ESCAPE’

#fangs of fortune #ao3 #fangs of fortune fic #ao3 fanfic #fangs of fortune fanfiction #fof #tian jiarui #hou minghao #zhao yuanzhou #li lun #zhuo yichen

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quokkahans · 2 years ago

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here to request my bestie 😈😈 pool boy softie changbin starts working for seungmin’s family and every time he comes over, seungmin offers him ice cream and other sweet treats to keep him cool! i think seungmin would be a little cold and guarded at first, not being a big fan of having some random guy come over all the time to clean, but would start having fun providing the muscle man with treats and seeing him return bigger and bigger. bonus points if he usually wears the same shorts and muscle shirt and he starts outgrowing it ! imagine binnie showing up to clean one day once hes a heavy boy but absolutely DYING in the heat, so seungmin asks him to just sit down and eat ice cream with him instead (but really, seungmin’s just enabling bin and making him eat it all 🤭🤭)

Such an AMAZING idea, bestie! I took my time writing this so I hope you like it! 🫣🤭

Warming Up with Ice Cream and a Pool Boy

Tags: Feederism fic, unintentional weight gain that turns intentional, pool boy!Changbin x past outcast!Seungmin, mentions of bullying

Warning: DON'T LIKE, DON'T READ.

Ship: SeungBin (Seungmin x Changbin)

AO3 VERSION

It was a sweltering day in the Kim residence, another time of those heat waves coming around in the middle of summer. No big deal, right?

Well, not exactly.

The pool was used a lot more than usual due to Seungmin not handling the extreme heat that in normal cases could be kept at bay with just one button in his air-conditioned room. But.. as the news said, this series of heat waves were just going to be cruel.

This made his parents have an idea. Having their own pool cleaning supplies would cost a fortune, so why not hire a pool boy that would do the same exact job but for an affordable price? That was something that everyone in the family would agree on, right?

Well, Seungmin wasn't keen on it. He didn't want to see a stranger cleaning his pool, maybe from his upbringing not to trust strangers or something. But the pool boy wasn't exactly a stranger, you see, his parents know the guy, he's the son of long-time friends.

But he and Seungmin didn't even go to the same high school and only shared some classes in college so that was going to be a hard time to see him after a while.

"What.. So Changbin hyung's our pool boy?", the young boy said in a perplexed expression before his mom nodded with a bright smile on his face. "Yeah! I wondered you two should get to know each other more, you hardly talk to him in college! ", she said before Seungmin's dad rubbed his shoulder. "Don't worry, you don't have to force yourself to talk. Just give him some snacks to make him feel at home and the money's on the table, just give it to him."

After that, his parents said their goodbyes as they were heading for work.

Sigh. Seungmin didn't think it would come to this but it wouldn't hurt. Maybe a new friendship can come out of this..

Ding. The doorbell rings and it can't be anyone else but Changbin, a sigh falls out of Seungmin's lips before he sees the older boy in a white muscle shirt and shorts and an awkward expression.

"Hey.. Seungmin, right?"

"Yeah.. It's been a while, hyung.", the puppy-like boy said a bit bluntly than expected, before walking to the pool.

Once Changbin checked out the pool, it wasn't that much of a nuisance and it was just some general cleaning to maintain the pool's condition. After all, it has been used too many times.

The silence was too much at this point so the older among the two tried to break the ice. "So.. how's life?"

"Really, hyung?", Seungmin sighed before leaning back at one of the seats. "Well, since you asked, everything's going fine, I guess.", he mumbled, not really in the mood to talk.

Changbin nodded softly and just went to clean the pool, after all, he knew Seungmin from afar. He was bullied for a while so it was a part of the younger boy to be closed off and cold, so it was best not to bother the puppy-like boy for now but a part of Bin ached to warm his heart up.

"Well, I hope you're doing okay though.. If you want someone to talk to, you already have me in my contacts.", Bin sweetly offered before cleaning the outside of the pool.

"Yeah, I know, hyung. But, thank you.. No one's been that concerned of me before.", Seungmin said shyly before breaking a small smile, much to the older's happiness. After a while, the pool was clean outside and inside after Changbin mixed the chlorine for the bacteria inside to get neutralized.

The heat made Changbin break a sweat and then some, making his muscle shirt slightly constricted and subsequently showing his toned form—not to mention the shorts which got wet but because of the pool. Let's just say that the sight made the brunette choke on the water he has been drinking, but for different reasons than one could think of.

After the pool boy dried up, that happened to be Seungmin's cue to head towards the kitchen. "Ohh, hyung. You must need some snacks after cleaning the pool for a while, my parents left these for you.", he chuckled shyly once he returned to the pool area and sat beside the dark-haired man, offering the snacks.

"Aww, you didn't have to, Seung! But sure, I've been starving..", Bin happily accepted the snacks and picked one before offering a piece back to the other boy, to which he refused under the guise that he was "full from lunch".

After that, Seungmin's heart warmed up little by little, maybe being Changbin's company wasn't so bad after all.. But he still had to be a bit courteous at least, it wasn't like he was a friend or something—yet.

Before Bin could leave, Seungmin gave him the money his parents chipped in for the cleaning fee. It was good for the session a while ago, and it would be the same every time he needs to come back. "Oh, before I forget. Here's your pay, hyung."

Bin just hummed softly with a smile before patting Seungmin's shoulder, "Thanks, I'll get going now then! See you around," he winked before Seungmin waved back, seeing the older leave.

"See you too, hyung."

【 ♡ (˘▽˘>ԅ( ˘⌣˘) 】

To be honest, the brown-haired boy didn't even feel bothered for the first time in his life.. it was pleasant. It wasn't the hot summer that warmed his cold heart, it was the pool boy and his long-lost acquaintance.

Then, Seungmin realized that this wasn't the first time he'll see his hyung. This would last until the summer would come by, and that clicked in his mind. Making up for lost time, if you know what I mean.

So whenever Changbin would come back for weekly, even bi-weekly cleanings because of how much the pool was used, you would see the younger boy already giving snacks once Bin finishes his cleaning and most of the time, Seungmin's parents were at work so it was just the two of them in the house.

Sometimes, Bin would refuse but Seungmin would just insist, even going to convince the older with some of his tactics.

"Come on, Binnie hyung! You should try it, it will go stale later.", he pouted cutely before Changbin caved it and the puppy-like boy just enabled his hyung to finish the whole pack of cookies.

Mission accomplished.

【 ♡ (˘▽˘>ԅ( ˘⌣˘) 】

Sometimes, Seungmin would just go to Changbin's place just for some "bonding" while the pool wasn't cleaned anymore. And by bonding, he meant spoiling his hyung with more food and talking about their present jobs and life—even crying for each other while watching a sad movie, yes, that's how close they are.

But Seungmin's heart isn't the only thing that has changed ever since these two strangers became closer than ever like they went to the same college together, it was also Changbin in general.

You see, all of those snacks that his new friend fed him had to go somewhere, and it all went to the older's tummy and turned into soft, creamy fat that piled up in Bin's body. The once fitting muscle shirt that he would wear in every day of cleaning was constricting his soft belly and chest that, and the shorts aren't even helping to fit his butt and thighs that thickened.

One time, when the pool was cleaned, Seungmin acted coy while checking Changbin out, who was clearly sweating a lot more in the heat and slightly out of breath while doing his job.

After that, it was time to spoil his hyung.

"Aww, you look so tired, hyung.. Come here, I got a tub of ice cream for you.. to make up for the calories you burned.", Seungmin mumbled the last part and winked softly, and the older had no choice but to let himself relax.

As he feeded Changbin, Seungmin's free hand pawed over his softened tummy which used to be toned abs but now was a sizeable dome of fat, not to mention his pecs that got squishier and if he gained any more, it would turn into breasts. Then, Bin would just eat each and every spoonful, his laziness taking over and just getting more prominent as soon as he started being a pool boy.

"Mmm.. Minnie, you know what you've been doing to me, right?"

"Well.. not really."

"This is all your fault."

"Oh, is it?"

After this, they would have a long talk, discussing some.. things that are meant to be private and ended up dating. Changbin would just get bigger after that, being Seungmin's resident taste tester and resigning from being the pool boy.

Well, summer is the season for growing big, they said.

#j fics #seungbin #weight gain #chubby skz

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catohphm · 2 years ago

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Letters of Blossoming Bonds

Welcome to another entry in the Cardverse AU, created by @ariparri. This story follows a discussion I had with my friend @dat-silvers-girl. It explains the beginnings of Cato and Sarahi’s friendship in the Cardverse as pen pals and how it evolved through their letters to each other. This story also has a brief mention of the Jack of Clubs who belongs to @helenadurazzo. Sarahi belong to @dat-silvers-girl. It was so much fun to brainstorm and write this. I hope you all enjoy!

Also tagging @akikocho, @nerdyliv and @carewyncromwell

As Cato accustomed to his duties as the Ace of Clubs, he accepted that paper was a central part of the job. Filling out orders, communicating with his lower officers and organizing troops, supplies and munitions were conducted in documentation by written word. Information flowed up and down the chain of command. Everyone in the military was part of it. From the Ace at the top, the officers in between and the many soldiers out and about, each member played a small, yet integral role in keeping the country safe from all threats, foreign and domestic.

Besides the military, Cato also had authority over legal and judicial matters in his position. He worked in close coordination with his childhood friend and partner, the Jack of Clubs Helena Durazzo @helenadurazzo to draft laws and address national matters, benefitting the best interests of their people, their nation and Cinderhaven as a whole. Warrants, affidavits, case files and other records were handled, with the Ace overseeing many law enforcement investigations over his career. While he had officers below him that helped in carrying out his duties, the Ace had the final approval over many matters that hit his desk. From there, they would be passed up to the Jack and finally His Majesty, King Orion Amari of Clubs.

Fortunately, Cato’s desk was in front of a big bay window that afforded him a panoramic view of the landscape. It sat in his study accessible from his bedroom on the second floor, at the top long end of the Ace’s residence. It had a smaller view than the balcony but it beat having no view at all. Sometimes the Ace would look up from his work to smile and admire the nature outside. That was on sunny days. When it rained, the sound of a billion drops hitting the woodwork kept him at ease as he went through each paper.

Sometimes among the official correspondence he’d receive each day, there would be small envelopes containing letters from friends and family. The work-related materials came in folders, scrolled parchments and sealed pouches. Cato could tell from which country personal letters were from by the wax symbols that kept the envelopes closed. Those from home bore the mark of the Clubs. But he would also see sleeves with hearts, diamonds and spades, too.

He kept contact with his friends in other kingdoms by writing. Early on into his career, he started receiving letters from someone in the Kingdom of Hearts he never wrote to before - Sarahi Silvers. Cato had knew of the Silvers name from his parents who often went to the Passion Ball up in Hearts. They were friends with a few members of the Hearts’ royal household. Last time he heard, one of the children of the Silvers family had dropped out of college at the bemusement of her mother but found work as part of the help at the royal household.

In the first few letters Cato and Sarahi exchanged, she explained that she enjoyed tending after the greenery and flowers around the palace over her usual chores as a maid. In his mind, he questioned how she got ahold of him in writing. She kept busy around the Castle of Hearts throughout her day and catching up with the news wasn’t a priority. Cato recognized from the letters that Sarahi was unaware that he was the Ace of Clubs. He debated whether he should volunteer that to her but decided against it. The young leader knew that in such a high place on the latter some common people would find him intimidating, and he resonated with Sarahi’s situation.

She became the royal house’s gardener and befriended the animals around the castle proper. Sarahi often worked alone, but seldom felt lonely because the rabbits and other adorable ones were always there to keep her company as people came and went. Cato also lived on his own in his house in Clubs, surrounded by nature. He enjoyed looking outside from the balcony, watching the birds fly by and the wildlife mill around. Deer with their young, ducklings following the mama duck, and squirrels playing in the trees. These little signs of life made him smile too. The Ace was in touch with nature just as Sarahi was. Since they were kids, nature was among their greatest passions, and they found pleasure in it by their own means. Cato was a curious lad and loved to travel, see more of nature and learn about the cultures of other kingdoms. While work now limited how much he could go out, he still longed to see his friends and reminisce with them.

Cato and Sarahi were penpals - they shared the aforementioned thoughts with each other through the mail coming to and fro between the Land of Clubs and the Kingdom of Hearts. Sometimes she would ask him about the animals in his country. Growing up in Clubs, Cato was quite knowledgeable on that subject. He explained to his penpal what the local fauna were, how they moved, how they ate, and how they got along with other animals. The Ace was also curious about the animals in hearts, and he would ask Sarahi about them, sharing her curiosity. In fact the Ace and the gardener were also united by the sentiment of leaving their comfort zone to see the world once in a while.

Alongside animals, Sarahi of course was interested in the other aspects of Clubs as a land too - the towns, the people, the scenery and the history. Until she was comfortable, Cato made a point when he entertained these topics to leave out anything to do with his work. He was still happy to mention King Orion in his letters, but he didn’t dare refer to him as His Majesty to play it safe. A running joke that the two penpals enjoyed was finding out what the King of Clubs thought of a particular animal. After all, it was common knowledge that he was the most level-headed, chillest lad out there.

With the drama that led to Sarahi becoming the castle gardener for the Hearts’ royal house, she found comfort in writing to Cato. He was someone connected through her family’s social network that she could trust and wouldn’t judge her. Their conversations started out with them discussing their respective kingdoms and her appointment. Cato wanted to tell Sarahi about his life as the Ace of Clubs but he’d have to wait. He was fine with this though, because they wouldn’t be exchanging letters if he shared that first thing. Sarahi didn’t know Cato well when they started writing to each other. She was also quite the anxious sort, and would’ve been scared off if she learned that her new penpal was the Ace of Clubs of all folks.

When considering that, Cato felt it was best to leave his job out of his letters with Sarahi for the moment and be himself. He knew that the impressions of a leading figure like an Ace did not agree with his personality and how he interacted with people. He thought that she was friendly, curious and compassionate like himself, and he had a lot of respect for her as the Hearts palace gardener. Tending to the natural scenery of the palace was a very important job because the royal grounds represented the best of the Kingdom of Hearts and left a strong impression on visitors from all around. The army that Cato led was representative of Clubs and its inhabitants' stewardship and loyalty to their nation and what it stood for. Of course, it was very different in size and scope to tending after the gardens around the Castle of Hearts. But the spirit was universal - Cato cared a lot for his troops and made sure they were well-trained, fed and in good morale. Sarahi made sure the flowers and animals around the Hearts royal proper were happy, healthy and beaming full of life. Their motivations came from love and loyalty. It was these values that helped get their nations through the hardship of the civil war in Spades and beyond.

However, while letters can do so much, nothing can conquer the magic or emotion of face-to-face contact with fellow human beings. Cato hopes that one day, he and Sarahi can meet in person and catch up with one another. For all his life he grew up in the natural beauty of the Land of Clubs. He has been out of the kingdom a couple times before but a new chapter of life is in store for him - new beginnings. Things have changed. Cato can only imagine how different the gardens at the Castle of Hearts look since the last time he has been there with Sarahi working on them. Finding peace in nature also helps Cato cope with the stresses of the political climate with Spades under Rakepick’s dictatorship and the risk she poses to Clubs and other kingdoms. Seeing is believing, and he looks forward to the moment when he can catch the train up to Hearts to meet his pen pal and take in the sights, smells and sounds of the gardens that Sarahi has put much of her energy into nurturing.

#cardverse au #hphm cardverse #cardverse #hphm cardverse au #sarahi silvers #cato reese #helena durazzo #orion amari

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ghostbustershq · 1 year ago

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Ghostbusters: Frozen Empire - Teaser Trailer Full Breakdown

In the grand tradition of GBHQ trailer breakdowns, here we go with everything that’s fit to digitally print on the recently released teaser trailer for Ghostbusters: Frozen Empire!

The trailer pulls a great switcheroo in the style that has become common-place for large blockbusters like this, which really bums me out that the first experience many (if not all) of us have had with this teaser is seeing it on our phones, tablets, computers, what have you knowing that you’re watching a trailer for a new Ghostbusters movie. Can you imagine being in the theater, the lights darken, all the ads finish, the green band MPAA rating pops up, and then you see this not knowing it’s coming? The first 20 to 30 seconds of this trailer are wonderful and tense moments where you’re waiting for the turn. I have to imagine that circa-1988 Troy would have lost his mind with that unexpected firehouse reveal.

Ghostbusters: Frozen Empire (more on the title a bit later) looks to be a great departure for the series, opening up the world both in terms of visuals and story, and seems to speak to literally all of my preferences and loves in life: Ghostbusters and the cold and snow. In other franchises like Star Wars, the ice planet Hoth continues to be among my favorites. Possibly the Colorado kid in me that I just love the aesthetic of a wintery snowscape. And it’s no secret that I hate warm weather and prefer the cold, give me those fall and winter clothes and coats and wardrobe any day.

But I’m getting ahead of myself, let’s do it, eh?

IT’S A CRUEL SUMMER

The studio logos thud with the opening percussion of Cruel Summer and Lady Liberty is seen with some very orange-hue sunshine. It’s hot. It’s summer. Is this a Michael Bay summer blockbuster? Are we about to see a teen summer film trailer? What’s happening? I do love the fact that Bananarama’s Cruel Summer is used here both because it’s such a staple of the 80’s and immediately transports you into that mindset, but also because writer/director Gil Kenan is such a proud “formerly from Reseda” resident that there’s a little but of his Daniel LaRusso Karate Kid attitude present in the trailer here either consciously or unconsciously. You have to think it’s a little conscious given how close attention a scene of teens playing with a soccer ball on the beach gets.

A radio voice tells us that it’s a scorcher out there with heat alerts and record breaking temps on the horizon for New York and New Jersey. Kids are playing with an open hydrant. The Wonder Wheel is spinning with denizens at Coney Island splashing in the water. Eric Steelberg’s cinematography is on full display here as a slice of life has never looked better and more appealing. This idealized scene certainly won’t last, will it?

Sure enough. The song grinds to a halt, as does the Wonder Wheel. Something is amiss.

From the water, a storm cloud closes in and all the swimmers flee as if they’re leaving Amity in a hurry. Heavy Jaws vibes here, and that you know is intentional.

Spikes emerge from the ground and the Wonder Wheel flash freezes. Then comes this frame which: tell me I’m watching a Ghostbusters movie without telling me that I’m watching a Ghostbusters movie:

Chaos as the flash freeze hits Manhattan and the ice spikes emerge from the ground, we’re fully in disaster movie territory as we see a taxi cab impaled from street level. Fortunately for anyone in that cab, it looks to pierce right through the middle. Whew. The rumbling subsides as we follow the street toward a familiar looking building and Elmer Bernstein’s familiar Ghostbusters twinkle plays in the score.

I love this shot for a variety of reasons. Firstly, the camera move is evocative of that teaser trailer for Afterlife that followed the ground of a farm into the open barn to reveal the Ecto-1. Secondly, what an image, right? The Ghostbusters are surrounded. Claustrophobically closed in by the ice and spikes. The threat is visual. It’s overwhelming.

Hit It

The screen dips to black and we hear an engine rev. Could it be? You’re damn right it could be.

The Ecto-1 peels out, pulling off a full U-Turn at top speed and knocking over some trademark NYC garbage in the process. I’ve seen some criticism mainly on forums that the Ecto-1 in the original two films was slow and lumbering and it’s jarring to them to see the car pulling these high speed maneuvers. And, while I completely agree that the coughing and chunky Ecto of the 80’s was the car’s personality at that point in time, the car has obviously been souped up since the 90’s. Even if it was left to rot in a barn, a gearhead like Ray and someone who loves the car like Winston would have been futzing with that thing every day for decades. People change, so can cars. And the energy and excitement that a full-speed Ecto can provide for a film gives it a dynamic that harkens back to The Real Ghostbusters which we’ve learned from Kumail Nanjiani was a touchstone for this film and the filmmakers.

The Death Chill

The trailer kicks into high gear as we hear Patton Oswalt’s new character explain that for the first time, someone froze to death in New York City in July. Phoebe, in full (snow covered) Ghostbusting gear, stands next to the firepole in a darkened and ominous firehouse. Trevor, Lucky, and James Acaster’s new character stand side-by-side looking at something unseen. A very dapper looking gentlemen is suspended in frozen animation. Callie head turns with concern, also standing in what looks like the garage bay of the firehouse.

An apartment door bursts open having been frozen as Phoebe - standing next to Podcast who is seen for the first time asks, “What is it?” And, after a quick hero shot of Kumail’s new character, the answer comes from the one and only Ray Stantz. It’s the death chill.

As Ray gives us the exposition that you are literally scared to death and the last thing you see is your eyes freezing, the trailer rapid fires amazing and tantalizing imagery including a backdraft puff of smoke sucking back through the crack of a door, a hero shot of Paul Rudd’s returning Gary Grooberson, Winston Zeddemore and Peter Venkman, suited up and standing in front of the Ecto looking at an unseen threat, and one of the New York Public Library’s iconic lions snarling and roaring at what looks to be Ray based on the denim shirt he’s been wearing since 1984. Ha!

I Think We’re Going to Have to Put a Little Overtime Into This One

If ever Ray Parker Jr.’s theme song was going to kick in and we see flashes of the team saving the day, now would be about the time you expect it to happen. But this is, after all, just a teaser trailer and both of those particulars are saved for another occasion. Instead, a quick and violent shot of the firehouse doors being ripped away as we look over the shoulder of a couple of busters (and is someone holding some sort of new handheld piece of gear on the left? Dude. Can’t wait to see what that is.)

The street buckles and tears and threatens both our heroes and the Ecto-1. Trevor, Callie, and Gary are pinned against a wall in the firehouse with the ice spikes closing dangerously close to them. The wall around the containment unit cracks and shakes, threatening to collapse (and does that mean another containment breach could be possible?).

Bathed in ominous red light in a shot that looks straight out of a tense moment from James Cameron’s Aliens, Lucky appears to be in a bit of a pickle. From behind, we see a gnarly looking creature of some sort, perhaps the new big-bad, locking a broken horn into the socket on the side of its head. Oh man, is that creature design cool and we’re not even seeing the full breadth of it, I’m sure.

More flashes. James Acaster’s new character, surrounded by darkness and using a flashlight to illuminate something (and wearing one of the much touted by fans’ parkas, more on that in a second). Gary, Callie and Phoebe all suited up and trying to keep warm (love the turtleneck and gloves look with the flightsuit that Callie is sporting). Patton Oswalt slams an elevator gate as he escorts Ray, Phoebe and Podcast somewhere unknown. And perhaps one of my favorite and very mysterious shots in the trailer, Kumail’s character opening what looks to be a false wall in a pantry closet to reveal a secret room. I love a good secret passageway. One of these days, when I win the lottery, I’m going to have a basement with all sorts of cool secret doors and compartments.

Ray’s explanation of the death chill concludes and we see Lucky, fully suited up, seemingly on the verge of freezing to death and her eyes glaze to a frozen state. Certainly looks perilous for Lucky, could this be the character’s end? Or does someone hopefully come to save the day. Stay tuned until March of next year.

Gary states the obvious, that it sounds like Ray is explaining being literally scared to death. There’s a bit of a call and response here that I think is fully editorial as Gary and Callie are standing in what looks to be the firehouse during the daytime and Patton Oswalt’s character telling us how cool it is looks to be in a darkened room elsewhere. It’s a fun moment that shows both characters’ enthusiasm but a strong possibility these two moments are from two totally different parts of the final film that we’ll see.

Just before the title reveal, Trevor struggles to wield a proton thrower that seems to be amped up to eleven, while sporting one of his notable t-shirt choices - this time an old school YMCA shirt. And then, we see the title for the first time.

I’ll just flat out say it, subtitles to films are difficult. You’re sort of damned if you do, and damned if you don’t. For the same reason parents don’t reveal baby names to the general public before the kid is born, everyone has an opinion on names. A gut reaction. A feeling and opinion that they need to express. Movie titles have come under the same microscope. We’ve heard EVERY tired soap joke about Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny, but the title was appropriate to the movie. Clear and to the point.

There’s something to be said for the good ol’ days of sequels where you just flat out said what it was: Back to the Future Part II, Beverly Hills Cop II, Star Trek VI. Also clear and to the point. But as the years progressed, a stigma around numerical titles developed where the higher the number of the film the perception of the quality decreasing became the punchline. Even if it wasn’t the case, adding a numerical value to a film title fell out of fashion and the subtitle became king. It’s also possible that increasingly complex titles started weighing on marketing and advertising and even just public perception of having to know a full title like Star Wars: Episode I - The Phantom Menace. You’ve noticed that even the studios have bailed on the episode titles for Star Wars, opting just to ID them by their subtitle: Star Wars: The Phantom Menace, etc.

All of that to say, Ghostbusters: Frozen Empire has the serial qualities of an old school sci-fi film while also immediately selling and stating what the film is. It’s the Ghostbusters sequel where everything freezes. Clear and to the point. And you can tell they were thinking about a play on words with the Empire State somehow but again — didn’t want to over complicate things. Forum and social banter have suggested, “Why not Ghostbusters: Death Chill?” Which yes, is a pretty evocative title but markets the film a little differently. You could see some parents resistant to taking their kids to a movie about the chill of death.

I love the title and think that it absolutely works. It also really frees up future story telling for the Ghostbusters films where they don’t necessarily have to be so wide in scope. They can be hyper focused on a scenario or threat. It takes the franchise in a great direction, in my opinion.

Okay, okay — what about the last two shots of the teaser. Which are outstanding. After the title reveal there are two more glimpses: one of presumably the big bad of the film and the other of our heroes standing atop the firehouse poised to tackle the threat.

Everyone loves the jackets. I do too. I want one of those things for this winter, that’s for sure. But I also love everything happening in the composition and blocking and pose of the characters here. It screams Shandor Rooftop. I love that Callie is wearing the Ecto-Goggles (tough to tell if they’re the Afterlife variant with the Polaroid camera capabilities) and that Phoebe has filled her grandfather’s shoes vigilantly manning the PKE Meter. You can see slight variations on the barrel of the Particle Thrower that Trevor is holding and — THE JACKETS, I MEAN COME ON. TAKE MY MONEY NOW. PLEASE.

If this composition isn’t part of at least one of the theatrical one-sheet posters, I would frankly be surprised. What a shot.

Final Thoughts

What a teaser. It gives us just enough without giving us too much. There are real stakes here. I’m worried about the futures of several of the characters and several of the inanimate objects like the Ecto and the Firehouse. And visually, I love how this film already looks in-step with the original film and Afterlife, but is opening the color palate and scope up a little bit. But also, how crazy is it that after decades of wondering when a third Ghostbusters film would be released, pouring over the glacial pace at the development of the film and every mention and update, to be sitting here dissecting a teaser trailer for a fifth Ghostbusters movie?

#teaser trailer #trailer breakdown #ghostbusters frozen empire

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