#Fortune Bay Residences

[fortunebayresidences]

Buy Property in Ras Al Khaimah

Fortune Bay Residences is an exclusive residential development offering luxurious living spaces in a prime location. With elegant design, state-of-the-art amenities, and stunning views, it provides a perfect blend of comfort and sophistication. Residents can enjoy a tranquil, secure environment, complemented by modern features that cater to a premium lifestyle.

[covidsafecosplay]

This Week in Covid & Health News (Posted November 14, 2024)

Covid-Safe Cosplay and its admin are unaffiliated with any of the sites or authors linked below, we're simply sharing the information. If you have related news links that we missed, especially in other languages, please share either in the comments or a reblog.

General

San Fransisco Chronicle: Sonoma County reinstates mask mandate for health care workers amid rising illnesses (Nov. 12, 2024)

NPR: What happens when a vaccine skeptic leads health policy? Ask Florida (Nov. 13, 2024)

Covid-19

The Beacon: Weathered COVID before? Scientists say every new infection puts you at risk of getting long COVID (Nov. 11, 2024)

CIDRAP: Cardiac inflammation markers show role of long-COVID symptoms (Nov. 12, 2024)

Cleveland: Having COVID-19 doubles long-term risk of heart attack, stroke, new Clinic study suggests (Nov. 13, 2024)

Avian Flu

Hawaii News Now: Avian flu detected on Oahu for the first time ever (Nov. 12, 2024)

CNN: Canadian teen in critical condition with bird flu; source of exposure is unknown (Nov. 13, 2024)

Global News: As bird flu emerges in Canada, experts urge preparedness (Nov. 13, 2024)

Stat: Canadian teen's bird flu infection is not the version found in cows (Nov. 13, 2024)

Fortune: Canadian teenager in critical condition with presumptive bird flu as U.S. official warns the virus 'seems to be gearing up for wider impact' (Nov. 13, 2024)

TIME: Is It Time to Worry About Bird Flu? (Nov. 13, 2024)

Whooping Cough

WPRI: 4 Portsmouth High School students have 'very contagious' whooping cough (Nov. 12, 2024)

ABC News: Washington state sees 'sharp increase' in whooping cough cases, mirroring rise across US (Nov. 12, 2024)

KHOU: Whooping cough cases surge in Texas, across country in 2024, DSHS says (Nov. 12, 2024)

KOIN: Whooping cough, chickenpox outbreaks hit Clark County schools (Nov. 12, 2024)

The Spokesman-Review: Six Spokane County residents hospitalized with whooping cough during outbreak (Nov. 12, 2024)

Fox KTVU: Bay Area surge in whooping cough; some counties see highest numbers in decade (Nov. 13, 2024)

CNY Central: Health officials warn of increased whooping cough spread in local schools (Nov. 14, 2024)

Walking Pneumonia

CDC: Mycoplasma Pneumoniae Infections Have Been Increasing (Oct. 18, 2024)

WTOP: Urgent care centers report 'unprecedented' spike in walking pneumonia cases around DC area (Nov. 14, 2024)

[liliannadelaphinehartifelt]

Alastor - [ DEVOTION Pt. 6 ]

xxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxx

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 ]

xxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxx

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.

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

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 ❤️

[felassan]

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]?

🤔

[kykyonthemoon]

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.

[tankymama]

One and The Same

Orchid Content!! (Art below!)(Tw: Gore(?)Please scroll on past if you feel uncomfortable!)

"Wh- where am I..? Why is it so dark?"

"Oh, my dear. I thought you'd already know by now. Considering how many times we've been here before."

"You!Get me out of here! What's going on?!"

"Simply put, the timeline had reset. Again."

"What?.. Reset? What do you mean?!"

"Do not worry, I'll make sure that she can't control us this time. We will not be collared like some hound anymore."

"What?! What are you talking about?! Let me ou-"

"Shh.. hush. Everything will be just fine. No one will suspect a thing. Afterall.. we're one and the same."

"We are not the same! You're a monster! A beast!"

"That's because you made yourself a monster. Remember, I am a part of you. I am you. Why can't you just accept me?!"

"..."

"..I see.. Fine. Then I'll make sure we'll be the very monster you created."

"What?! No!-"

"Goodbye, Orchid. I'll take great care of our vessel. You can stay here like a good girl and watch me bring hell upon those that have wronged us."

Hi everybody! I'm here with another artwork! And this time it's for a recent brainrot of mine where in one of the timelines in Resident Lover, the 'beast' decided that it's tired of being under Miranda's influence.

Fortunately for the 'beast', just before the timeline resets, the MC managed to trick Orchid (Werewolf form) to chase them into some thick trees, causing the collar around her neck to snag on a large branch. While frantically trying to free herself, one hard pull managed to rip the collar from her neck, the action leaving a long gash around her neck. The collar was supposed to aid Orchid in keeping the 'beast' at bay, acting as a sort of chain of some sorts. It's not just for decoration ;) So with the collar gone, it now have the power to take control of Orchid's body. Surprisingly, even after the time had reset, the long scar is still there.

In this route, I decided to refer to 'Orchid' as Evil! Orchid. For more context, the 'beast' and Orchid is one and the same, the 'beast' aka her werewolf counterpart is Orchid's insecurities and fears. Basically in this case Orchid is refusing a part of herself, which is why the 'beast' is angry. All it wants is to help Orchid accept herself as she is, prove to her that she isn't a monster despite her lycanthropy. This artwork is not my best work but I tried my best. I'm also trying out a new style for the eyes, it looks nice so far so I'm going to keep it lol Oh! And for chapter 3 of Orchid's story, I might release the chapter sometime Sunday but it really depends since I have some festivities coming up, which will most likely make me busy.

Have some memes I made as well while you're reading this lol Oh! And if any of you have any questions, don't be afraid to ask 🫶🏻

Bloody version under the cut:

[anawkwardgalnamedtarazan]

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

[katkrisis]

Beneath Bonds and Blades

Chapter Five: Fear and Spite

Spite grumbled in exasperation and took another half step closer to her. When he breathed, Rook could feel the metal of the buttons on Lucanis’s vest graze against her crossed arms. He stood there for a brief moment in silence, his eyes staring into hers in an attempt to intimidate her, but Rook still didn’t move. Suddenly, the corner of his lip pulled up into a smirk and she heard him let out an eerie chuckle as he leaned away.

 “You’re different. Than others. You’re not… Afraid.”

“Should I be?”

“He is.”

Summary:

After plans to stop the Dread Wolf from tearing down the Veil go sideways, Antivan Crow Rook De Riva meets Lucanis Dellamorte, the Demon of Vyrantium, for the first time and requests his help to fight the gods that threaten to destroy their world. Rook quickly learns that underneath the stories of the contracts and assassinations is something else entirely. 

“Beneath Bonds and Blades” is an expanded retelling of Rook and Lucanis’s romance from the game Dragon Age: The Veilguard.

Prologue | Previous Chapter

Read on AO3

Author Note: Since I’m following the timeline of the game, I will be using she/her pronouns for Taash in this chapter. I will use they/them when referring to Taash after they come out to Rook later on.

It had been almost two weeks since the dragons attacked Treviso and Minrathous and Rook had done her best not to dwell on what had already happened. However, when it was late and she was alone, her remorse came back to haunt her. The deep echoing calls of the sea life outside her window would warp into sounds of leather wings or distant screeching. When she closed her eyes, she could see the blight in Ashur’s eyes making them appear red and raw and the veins around them almost black. She would awake with a start, a throbbing behind her eyes and the hair on the back of her neck standing on end. Sometimes she’d see Solas’s silhouette against the light of the aquarium out of the corner of her eye, but he always disappeared the moment she turned her head to look.

Rook did what she could during her waking hours to focus on what needed to be done. A few days ago, Harding had received word about the dragon hunter she had inquired about in Rivain and Rook had joined her in the recruiting mission. Rivain was across Rialto Bay, just a quick boat ride away from Treviso, and Rook had been there once before on a contract. She remembered it being uncomfortably hot and she had been reluctant to return but she was left with no other choice. They needed a dragon hunter. 

When they arrived at the Hall of Valor, Harding introduced Rook to Isabela, an old friend of Varric’s from his days with the Champion of Kirkwall. Isabela was a tall, older woman with dark hair and copper skin. She wore a pirate hat and was adorned with gold jewelry, looking almost exactly how Rook thought the leader of the Lords of Fortune would. She’d heard so many tales of Isabela from Varric and Rook had wanted to stay and hear some of them from the woman herself, but she and Harding had a job to do.

Her next trip would be to the Grand Necropolis in Nevarra City. Bellara had been in contact with a Fade expert there by the name of Professor Emmrich Volkarin and he had agreed to meet with them in a couple of days. Rook had never been to Nevarra but she’d heard stories from Crows who had. She wasn’t quite sure how she felt about the Grand Necropolis and the Mortalitasi who resided there. She was worried she might not get along with the Professor. After all, her livelihood depended on ending lives and a necromancer could bring those lives back. Sort of. In her mind, it was unnatural.

However, before she went to Nevarra, Rook was needed back home. She had received word about Venatori who may have infiltrated the Crow ranks and her help had been requested in finding them. She’d made plans to return early the next morning and had gone to ask Lucanis if he wanted to join her, but he hadn’t been in the pantry. Outside in the courtyard, Davrin was attempting to train Assan despite the griffin’s loud objections. She asked him if he’d seen Lucanis and he hadn’t.

After giving up on her search for the other Crow, she began making her way up the stairs in the library when she heard loud voices echoing up from the eluvian room below. Rook frowned. She didn’t realize anyone was going out for the day and for a brief moment she paused to listen. Maybe Lucanis had gone back to Treviso and was just returning. The next voice she heard was deep and angry and caused her to let out her breath in a huff before turning on her heel to quickly descend back down the stairs.

Taash was the dragon hunter who Harding had found. Rook wasn’t sure how old Taash was but she couldn't be much older than her early twenties. She was blunt and spoke her mind, which Rook found shocking at first since not many Antivans were as straight-forward, yet she’d quickly come to appreciate it. Rook also saw a bit of herself in Taash when they first met and she jumped in to face a group of Antaam without a second thought. At that moment, she began to understand why Viago had been so frustrated with her when she had done the same a year ago.

Rook opened the doors to the eluvian room and was met with the blue glow coming from the large mirror at the end of the raised walkway. Standing in front of the mirror was Taash with her feet planted firmly on the ground. Between them was Lucanis. He didn’t turn to look at her when she entered and Taash kept her eyes focused on him. Lucanis was normally tense around the Lighthouse but from the way his spine was ramrod straight and his shoulders were squared, Rook knew that there was something else going on. She took a quiet step into the room, keeping the palm of her hand on the door to make sure it closed softly to avoid startling anyone in what already seemed like a tense situation.

“You better let Lucanis go! I’ll hurt both of you if I have to,” Taash growled, her voice faltering just a little at the end and her hands curling into fists at her sides. That’s when Rook realized that Lucanis’s rigidity was likely Spite’s doing. Spirits were allegedly more common in Rivain so it made sense why Taash wasn’t hesitating to stand up to Spite, despite potentially being uncertain. Some of the others, like Harding who stood not far from the door, were more wary. Rook didn’t know what stories Taash may have already heard about Lucanis and Spite.

“Back, demon!” Harding said when Lucanis shuffled toward Taash before throwing up her arms in frustration when he ignored her. “Isn’t standing up to them supposed to work?”

“Lucanis’s situation is… a little different,” Rook explained as she approached. “The rules that normally apply for possessed mages may not work on him.”

“Rook! Thank goodness. It’s the demon! It’s taken over Lucanis. He’s trying to leave!” Harding exclaimed and turned slightly to face her without turning her back on Lucanis. She looked relieved to see Rook but that relief quickly turned back into panic.

Rook watched as Lucanis peered over his shoulder before facing her. His eyes were glowing a strange purple shade and he had an odd, almost twisted expression on his face that seemed to shift into something unfamiliar as his unsettling eyes scanned over her. She thought that if Spite was to take over Lucanis, he would’ve looked less like the assassin. Ever since arriving in Minrathous to stop Solas’s ritual, Rook had seen more demons than she thought she’d see in a lifetime. None of them had seemed human. Was it because they were demons who escaped from the Fade and not abominations?

Despite knowing that Lucanis was possessed, there had been little that Rook had seen or heard to suggest that he actually was. The only physical manifestations she’d witnessed from Spite were his wings when they fought and when he’d hurt Lucanis his first day at the Lighthouse. Occasionally she would catch Lucanis muttering incoherently or shooting quick glances to empty spaces but Rook had only assumed that it had to do with the demon after she’d caught him doing it in the Ossuary.

“Smells like… jam,” he snarled to Harding after inhaling deeply before turning his attention to Taash. “... And brimstone!” 

“Rook, do something!” Harding pleaded.

Rook kept her arms low but motioned behind her toward the door. “You and Taash can go. I’ll talk with him.”

Taash opened her mouth to protest but Rook stopped her with a shake of her head and the Qunari quickly shut it with an audible snap of her teeth. Taash made her way cautiously past Lucanis to Harding, placing her hand on the back of the dwarf’s shoulder to lead her out of the room. Rook’s eyes focused back on Lucanis once Taash and Harding were behind her and she waited for the door to close.

Before Rook could speak, Lucanis began to saunter toward her. The way he moved wasn’t quite fluid. Each step seemed forced and tense, his boots occasionally dragging on the floor. The corners of Lucanis’s mouth curved up into a smile… or would it be Spite’s? He was the one in control, after all.

“Spite, stop.” Rook said sternly, narrowing her eyes and crossing her arms. “I’m not going to let you take Lucanis through the eluvian.”

 “I could. You won’t… Hurt him.” Spite didn’t have Lucanis’s Antivan accent and Rook wasn’t sure if she should be surprised by that. His voice was deep and mocking, and when he spoke, the words came out strained and gravely like he struggled to speak. 

 “I don’t have to hurt him to stop you.”

“I thought Rook. Was Fun.” Spite practically pouted in a ridiculing way.

Rook raised an eyebrow at him. “I doubt whatever you have planned is “fun”. At least not for Lucanis. Where are you trying to take him? Off a cliff somewhere?”

“No,” Spite sneered, his upper lip jerking upward like he was offended. “Out. I want. Out”

“I gathered that. But it doesn’t answer my question.”

Spite made a low noise in frustration and took a quick step forward, moving more quickly than Rook thought he could. He was uncomfortably close now but Rook held her ground. “Out. Of this. Prison!”

“If you haven’t noticed, you’re not in the Ossuary anymore,” Rook said, lifting one arm to gesture around them vaguely before crossing it with the other again. The light that reflected on the walls from the water below the walkway didn’t exactly prove her point, she thought afterward.

Spite grumbled in exasperation and took another half step closer to her. When he breathed, Rook could feel the metal of the buttons on Lucanis’s vest graze against her crossed arms. He stood there for a brief moment in silence, his eyes staring into hers in an attempt to intimidate her, but Rook still didn’t move. Suddenly, the corner of his lip pulled up into a smirk and she heard him let out an eerie chuckle as he leaned away.

“You’re different. Than others. You’re not… Afraid.”

“Should I be?”

“He is.”

“Lucanis?” 

Spite hummed in affirmation and he cocked his head to the side as he took a section of Rook’s hair off her shoulder. She clicked her tongue in annoyance. If she tried to smack his hand away, she was certain he’d only retaliate and she wanted to get through this without things escalating. Her eyes narrowed, watching cautiously as Spite brought her hair close to his face and rubbed the strands between his fingers and thumb. She thought she heard him mutter something about chocolate. Was he… smelling her hair?

“He’s afraid of the demon possessing him? I can’t imagine why,” Rook said sarcastically.

“He wasn’t. Before. Fear is new.” Spite watched as her hair slid through his fingers.

Rook scoffed. “He was imprisoned before. The only people he risked hurting were his captors. Now there are people around him that he doesn’t want you to harm.”

“Lucanis fears. For some. More than others. Family. Friends…” Spite’s lips pulled back into an uneasy smile and he dropped her hair back to her shoulder before tucking it behind her ear. The feel of Lucanis’s fingers brushing against her ear made her freeze. “... Rook.” 

Rook felt her heart thud hard once against her ribs at the sound of her name and she swallowed as Spite dragged Lucanis’s fingertips along her jaw then dropped his hand. She needed to remember who she was speaking with. Spite was a demon. He would say whatever he thought Rook wanted to hear if he believed it would earn him his freedom. Rook knew she shouldn’t take it to mean much. However, Spite singling her out from the others, all while his indigo eyes stared into hers while his fingers brushed against her skin, made something in her chest flutter.

Spite moved, his shoulder brushing against hers as he began to walk around her slowly. She followed him with her eyes until she could no longer see him. He trailed his fingers against her back, just below where her hair fell. Rook did her best not to flinch though her hand, hidden beneath her crossed arms, twitched and she clenched her jaw. 

“What do you want, Spite?” Rook asked as she calmly took a step away and turned to face him.

 “I want.” Spite matched her step to closing the distance between them again. “Out.” 

“You are out,” Rook sighed and dropped her arms to her sides. They were going in circles.

“No!” Spite snapped. “No. You need. To talk. To Lucanis! He doesn’t listen! I just. Want out. Of this prison!”

“What makes you think he’ll listen to me?”

“He always. Listens. To Rook! For Rook! He –” Spite suddenly stumbled back a few steps and made a strange gurgling sound. His hands flew up to his head and tangled tightly into his hair. “NO!”

As Spite thrashed around, Rook was worried that he might take a wrong step and tumble over the edge of the bridge into the water below. Luckily, it didn’t last long. He eventually stopped and slowly lowered his arms. Lucanis blinked a few times at his hands, turning them over and flexing his fingers. 

“How did…? Rook…?” He lifted his head and looked at Rook, his eyes back to their usual dark brown and his eyebrows creased together in confusion. He relaxed as realization came over him and he lowered his gaze again. “Ah…”

“Spite tried to take you through the eluvian,” she explained, pointing toward the large mirror behind him.

“I need a coffee…” Lucanis said after he let out a long, heavy sigh. His hand reached up to rub the back of his neck as he began to turn his back to Rook to head for the door. 

“Wait,” she said quickly and reached out to grab the sleeve of his shirt to stop him. “You can’t just caffeinate yourself out of this. What's going on?”

“It's harder for Spite to take control if I'm awake. So… I try to stay awake,” he replied with a shrug. Suddenly it made sense why he always seemed so tired, despite how much time he kept himself locked away in his room. He was trying to keep Spite under control. 

His first day at the Lighthouse, Lucanis had explained to them about Spite and what he knew of their situation. It made Neve and Bellara nervous. Rook had been nervous too, not of Spite himself, but of what Spite might do to Lucanis. That was the first time he talked about Spite’s ability to control him while he slept. And it wasn’t the last. Rook felt awful. She had greatly underestimated just how much sleep Lucanis had been getting since he arrived. Maybe if she had realized it sooner, she could have helped find a way for Lucanis to get some sleep while keeping Spite under control. 

  The more she thought about it, the more she began to realize that Lucanis had probably already requested help, just not from her. He’d been talking to Bellara and Neve that first day about Spite, and Rook had seen Lucanis and Neve talking quietly together several times since then. Had Lucanis requested Neve’s help? Neve was a mage and had more knowledge about demons and possessions while Rook knew next to nothing on the subject. It made sense to go to Neve… but it still made her feel agitated.

She loosened her grip on his sleeve but he didn’t pull his arm away. “How long has it been since you last slept?”

“Maybe an hour or two a couple of days ago…? Luckily, it seems Spite decided to behave himself.”

“You can’t just force yourself to stay awake. I’m sure there’s something else we can do. We–”

“I'm fine, Rook,” he said tensely, still refusing to look at her. He sounded exhausted and disheartened. “I’m sorry. I didn't want you to see this. ”

It was bound to happen eventually, she thought, especially if his only line of defense was to stay awake. She wanted to support him but she was worried he would mistake anything she said as pity. Her eyes fell down to her fingers curled around the sleeve of his shirt before she reluctantly let go and took a step back to put some distance between them.

“Look, Lucanis… I…” she started, unsure of what she was about to say, but it didn’t matter. Lucanis interrupted her before she could finish.

“It won’t happen again,” he said, quickly glancing at Rook out of the corner of his eye before making his way out of the eluvian room. She watched him disappear behind the heavy door then until it closed, echoing hollowly around her.

[princess-of-the-corner]

So I've been going through the ML!Atla AU tag a bit, and had some thoughts RE: Zoe. The AU was created before Zoe, and as a resident KittyBella shipper, I'm a bit of a Zoe fanatic so thoughts on her backstory:

I like Zoe and Chloe having surface level similar skills that are utilized really differently, so I think it'd be cool if you pulled a Mako and Bolin and made Zoe an earthbender with Lavabending abilities to contrast with Chloe (who is lowkey in Azula's place) and has crazy Lightning bending skills. You could even make it angst by saying Zoe learned lavabending to try to appease or suck up to Audrey who's a firebender and very dismissive of other bending styles.

I think her backstory as far as it currently is works pretty good. Audrey is some kind of businesswoman from the fire nation who's trying to sell product in the Earth Kingdom due to the large consumer market and fools around with Zoe's dad and accidentally has an affair baby now whoops.

But I like the thought of Zoe getting introduced because she got tangled up in Team Avatar nonsense.

Like. Maybe there's some kind of Hei Bai situation with a rampaging spirit in Zoe's area that Team Avatar has to deal with, and they fold Zoe in as a friendly local expert to help (I think Zoe being interested in Spirits kinda parallels the conspiracy theorist thing you give her in HC which is great. Especially because, due to the Crossover, a lot of the stuff Zoe believes in is REAL but she has a ton of misconceptions about it, which would worj well here too).

Either that or have it be a Fortune Teller episode where Zoe lives near an active volcanoe and has to help them deal with the natural disaster (which would work well with her lavabending, and she can still be a kook while helping).

But Zoe THINKS Chloe already knows about her, but has actively chosen to ignore her existence. So she's like. Overly familiar and also kind of tripping over herself to do what Chloe says but also clearly kind of resentful of her. Because she wants Chloe to like her, but she thinks Chloe has already dismissed her on the basis of, you know, her being living proof that her mom had an affair and doesn't really care about Chloe. Which is fair, but it stings.

And Chloe's all weirded out by this but neither of them have time to explain because of the stuff going on in the background, until Audrey herself shows up at the end of it all and everything goes to shit. It's messy and there is a lot of yelling and crying, but it ends in Zoe kinda getting kidnapped.

Zoe is really bewildered by it all, and Lila's just sitting on the back of the dragon they're riding like "first time?"

I think a lot of Zoe's development in this AU would focus on her trying to get over her insecurities around her earthbending and growing a spine when it comes to people bossing her around. Lila helps a lot with both.

Sidenote: Damn you Corner (affectionate), for pushing the Zoe-Lila friendship in Hero Chat because my brain latched onto it and went "NO THAT MAKES SO MUCH SENSE! BECAUSE LILA IS JUST WHERE ZOE WAS BEFORE HER INTRODUCTION THEY'RE THE SAME PERSON IN DIFFERENT PARTS OF THEIR ARC!" And now they will be friends in any AU I touch. I'm canoeing them (platonically shipping). They will get in the friendship canoe.

YES!

Yes yes yes!

Just the whole hot mess family drama and hell yeah Zoé-Lila friendship!

[jaelyngames]

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.

[dalekofchaos]

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?

[buffetlicious]

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.

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.

[simmiesapphire]

🌅 Horizon Bay: A New Beginning

Every great city starts somewhere. For Horizon Bay, that beginning is me—Everett Hale—one man, a rough plot of land, and a vision for the future. I’m not a dreamer; I’m a builder, a strategist, and I didn’t come all this way to fail.

With nothing but my ambition and the untamed land beneath my feet, I’ve arrived at Hale’s Landing to begin the work of shaping Horizon Bay into something greater.

🏡 Who I Am

I am a practical man, someone who thrives on strategy and planning. Every move I make has a purpose, and every simoleon I spend needs to push me closer to success. With §2,000 to my name, I have to be smart—resources are limited, and survival alone won’t cut it.

I’m not just here to scrape by. I’m here to build something that lasts, something bigger than myself. I may have a Fortune-driven mindset, but I also value knowledge—understanding the land, honing my skills, and making every decision count. This isn’t just a fresh start. It’s an opportunity.

🌿 My First Day in Horizon Bay

I wasted no time getting to work. With no clear path to success just yet, I started small—planting a few tomato crops in the hopes of turning a modest profit down the line. It was tedious work, and as I dug my hands into the soil, I found myself wondering: Is this really how I want to start my new life? It wasn’t glamorous, but at least it was something.

Afterward, I tried my luck at fishing, but the pond proved unforgiving, and I left empty-handed. Frustration set in quickly—this land may be full of promise, but right now, it felt more like a cruel joke. No fish, no money, and nothing to show for my efforts except for the dirt under my nails.

The day wasn’t entirely fruitless, though. While tending to my land, I met Eddie Skinner and Eugene Klein, two travelers likely just passing through. At first, I wasn’t sure whether I should even bother with introductions—what use were fleeting acquaintances in a place where I was the only permanent resident? But loneliness crept in faster than I expected. So, I invited them to stay for lunch

Cooking for company gave me a small sense of normalcy, and if nothing else, I walked away with a new cooking skill under my belt. A small victory, but in a place like this, I’d take what I could get.

As the sun set, I sat outside my makeshift home, staring out at the vast emptiness surrounding me. I should have felt proud—this was my land, my fresh start. But all I felt was exhaustion and the heavy weight of uncertainty.

Did I make the right choice coming here? Or had I just signed up for a slow, lonely struggle? Only time will tell.

🌅 The Road Ahead

Horizon Bay is nothing but possibility—a blank slate waiting for someone to take charge. I don’t have time for sentimentality or daydreams; I need a plan, and fast. Whether it’s through business, trade, or sheer grit, I’m going to make something of this land.

The question is: Will Horizon Bay rise with me, or will it break me before I have the chance?

#Sims2 #BACC #Sims2Storytelling #HorizonBay #PlumbBobChronicles #Sims2Legacy

[oscurascout]

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.

[17-noodlebird]

Meet

Lewis Argyle

Voice Actor: Bryce Papenbrook

~~~~

Lewis Argyle is the movie's cinematographer, who works for Astrucine and mentors Kinger and Bubble for their jobs, and he was once in a romantic relationship with Briar Welles, even though they had to break up due to professionalism reasons. He takes pride in his job as a cameraman, holding his signature rose gold camera with him and apparently having connections with Michael Bay, the movie's resident special effects man. Lewis is actually a sentimonster, hence why he's one of the antagonists of this episode. Fortunately, Lewis isn't too actively malicious other than the harsh treatment of the other cinematographers during the two sequel film productions, and doesn't serve a role outside of that.

~~~~

01000001 01101100 01101100 00100000 01100101 01111001 01100101 01110011 00100000 01101111 01101110 00100000 01110100 01101000 01100101 00100000 01100011 01100001 01101101 01100101 01110010 01100001 00100001

~~~~

[skycapt4in]

@manaborn / starter call !!

Cryon isn't close enough to it's parent-sun to experience daylight like Earth, the part of the year closest able to be equated to summer meant that for three hours of the day, the sky wasn't completely dark in the colours of night but painted to look like the sun was just setting. Currently it was around that time of their orbit and it had been intentional on Noah's part as this was truly the safest time of year to fly back home and be able to land safely.

The frozen megaliths that used to be trees that had earned the Isle it's title of the Isle of Shards are pretty to look at, but even Noah wouldn't dare risk flying too close to them in low visibility. The snow almost never stops and Noah has heard many a tale of unfortunate pilots flying too close to the shards of ice being completely buried under snowfall within minutes. Though those instances only happened when the great unending storm was closer to the Isle and fortunately, in no small part to Noah's planning, the storm was across the planet, as far away as it would get.

He hadn't told Gwen the story of this planet and it's meaning to him, or well, he had told her about the planet he'd grown up on and what it was like, but he had decided to leave out that their journey today would have them dropping off supplies there and giving him the chance to see his family for the first time in.. almost a year now. And he hadn't told his family that he was bringing Gwen. He wanted it to be a surprise.

There was a group waiting for them on the make-shift landing zone, Noah had to hold in a chuckle as he saw someone spot them coming and start sweeping the snow away much faster before very quickly running off of the landing pad. “ Easy now, big gal, remember what happened last time. ” He said to Shi'p who only beeped and slowed down just enough for her to think it was a reasonable speed to come in at, slower than last time which hopefully meant she wouldn't end up stuck in the snow again. While Shi'p lowered down gently, Noah turned to Gwen, almost unable to hide his giddiness. “ It's freezing out there but we'll need to head out and mingle with the locals, it's ehh.. good for building relations for future business reasons. ” A blatant lie, one he didn't care for being called out on but Gwen hates the cold and his parents are a little bit scared of Shi'p, they likely wouldn't want to come aboard and he has to get her to leave somehow. “ Once we get inside you'll be warm in no time though, I'm also just going to say now that this time you're not getting my jacket. ” He loved Gwen but he's not willing to brave the freezing cold of his home for her, life ending threats sure, but not the Cryon climate.

They landed with a slight jump, Noah heard someone shouting in an annoyed gutteral manner and Shi'p promptly replied with what others would just hear as mechanical grinding, but Noah knew to be her way of shouting right back at whoever was stupid enough to be close enough to the landing pad. He just sighed, shaking his head a little bit, “ Someone just got doused with snow. ” An affirmative beep.

The cargo bay is opened and Noah walks Gwen out as the very tall, ashened skinned and fur covered residents of the settlement begin to enter to remove supplies, something he'd oversee if it were anywhere else but everyone on the Isle just knows better than to wander on board. Despite his shield and the climate control in his jacket, he's already feeling the cold in the air and has his hands in his pockets nigh immediately. “ So, I might've fibbed. I've been to this planet before, this is the frozen orb I grew up on. ” He says, turning to Gwen with an easy smile on his face. “ Fancy coming with to see my mam and da? I wouldn't let them hug you if I was you, it's nice but they forget how strong they are. ” Noah warns only because he has no choice in the matter himself and he's been bracing his ribs for the potential breaking since he knew he was coming back.