#ted peterson

[jackloentertainment]

Hello Neighbor Movie

i can't wait for the live action Hello Neighbor movie to end like saw, and the neighbor just closes the basement door behind nicky saying "goodbye neighbor"

[elderscrollsconceptart]

Engraving of Uriel Septim VII

Art from Pocket Guide to the Empire, 3rd Edition

*Art credit unclear* Ted Peterson and Michael Kirkbride are credited as authors of the guide but this piece doesn't look like Michael's work and Peterson isn't an artist.

If anyone knows the artist, comment below!

[bingbongboyo]

uughh last of hello neighbor old doodles dump-

[mintyaquagreen1675]

Ok, so just hear me out on this. If there were a Japanese DUB of Welcome to Raven Brooks then I think Banjo Ginga should voice Mr. Peterson.

Now, Banjo Ginga has voiced Darby Elder from Jojo's Bizarre adventures, Nightmare from Kirby's Japanese anime dub, Riku Doldo III, Captain Axe-Hand Morgan, MorganMorgan Taisa from One Piece, and Snijder from Spy x Family

[when-hyperfocus-hits]

Afterthought- A Hello Neighbor One-Shot

What if Diane never died? And Ted was nowhere to be found...

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

It’s a breezy, quiet, clear night again. I wish I could see the stars better without the glare of the yellow light above me. I glance down at my hands rubbed raw after washing this one bowl for…

“How long has it been…?” I mutter, not really referring to the dish. How long has it been since we’ve been alone here? It’s been much quieter recently, like the night outside. My eyes wander to the now empty house across the street. It’s been hard for the kids being so alone here, especially without friends close by. And me… without my best friend here with me.

My vision gets cloudy and I find myself reaching for the box in my pocket, but I can’t. I promised them I’d quit. They’re all I have left.

A touch on my shoulder makes me jump– “Sorry, Mom–” A light voice whispers. I turn and see gentle green eyes, looking up at me, wide and timid. “Mouse– It’s late, what are you doing–” “Before you ask and scold me– I couldn’t sleep…”

I let out a little sigh. “Mouse… We agreed you’d try to sleep by yourself–”

“I know– I can– I just…” Her eyes rest on my shoes. 

Mya’s nightmares just get worse, but she won’t tell me about them. I can tell when they’re particularly bothering her on nights like these. 

“I’ll take you back to bed, okay?” I say softly, running my fingers through her hair. Even though she’s almost thirteen now, I learned to never get tired of tucking your kids in, no matter how old they get. 

I walk up the stairs after her, finding the upstairs darker and quieter than the night. Mya quietly shuffles into her room, adjusting a star nightlight in the corner. The moonlight lights up the other corner of the room where the nightlight’s glow doesn’t quite reach. She snuggles up under the covers, almost engulfed in her stuffed animals she kept around her pillow and along the wall next to her.

I sit on the bed beside her, careful not to accidentally squash any stuffed animals. Her bright eyes look up at me as I brush the hair out of her face. 

I hum the song I used to when she and Aaron were young. A gentle, but ominous lullaby-like tune I used to dance to with the vinyl player. 

“Do you remember this song…?” I whisper, briefly interrupting the tune.

“Mhm…” She responds, her eyes getting a bit heavy. 

“You used to always want to dance with me when it played…”

“But I’d always fall trying to do the twirl part…” She chuckles with me, letting her smile linger a bit longer afterwards.

I keep humming, brushing my fingers against her cheeks. The moonlight dances on her face, highlighting her gentle features. 

Her eyelids start to droop over her eyes, and I think she’s finally falling asleep before she whispers, “Mom…”

“Yes?” I coo.

“....I’m scared to sleep…” She tries to blink her eyes open more.

“Why, Mouse? It’ll be okay…”

“I had a dream–” She adds quickly, her eyes getting wide, “That he was here again… and everything was happy for a bit, but then– he got mad and– and–” 

I quickly pull her into a hug when she starts shaking. “Mya– He’s not coming back here– It’s okay…”

She hugs me desperately, and I almost feel guilty for not realizing before how badly she needed comfort. How much she needed me. In the midst of all the bills, and lawsuits, and nosy people, and how stupid this pitiful town could be– she needed me. And I sit there, rubbing her back and telling her “it’s okay”; I don’t feel like it’s okay. 

I don’t notice I’m crying until I hear the soft pitter patter of tears on the pillow. 

“How long has it been…” I whisper, holding Mya’s limp body as she breathes slowly and deeply. She finally fell asleep.  

After a few moments, I try to gently set her back down on the bed, letting the stuffed animals fall into place around her head like before. 

I kiss her forehead and take in how peaceful she is. 

“I’m so sorry, Mouse…” I whisper, feeling tears on the verge of leaking again. “I love you… Good night…” And I slip out of the room into the hallway. Only one side is illuminated because of the kitchen lights downstairs. I glance to my left to the dark, almost abyss-like side of it. 

It’s quiet. But Aaron’s been very quiet recently.

I tread lightly on the carpet, but the sound of my footsteps seem to dissipate as I step further into the darkness. I press an ear against the door of Aaron’s room. Still nothing.

I cautiously open the door a crack, trying to push away unwanted thoughts that he might not even be there, like before.

To my surprise, there’s a light from the other side of the room. I open the door some more, the moonlight making me squint a bit. 

“Aaron…?” I say, not quite a whisper. 

After a second of silence, I hear a hoarse, “Come in..”

I breathe a bit easier. “Aaron– What are you still doing up…? He’s hunched over the small table near the window, drawing, I gather. “Heard you downstairs,” He states nonchalantly. “I didn’t want to go to bed until you did.”

I try to step in further before I notice scattered papers all over the floor. “What’s all this…?”

He shrugs. I take it as permission to look. 

I pick them up, one by one, examining each smudged charcoal picture. Most are incoherent scribbles and shapes, but only a few have a sketched man shrouded in darkness. Each one had a similar theme. 

“Cat…” I breathe, taken aback. 

He finally looks back at me, his eyes puffy and red. 

We look at each other in silence, and I could already tell what the drawings were about. 

“You miss him, don’t you?” He asks me; his gaze is hollow.

I feel hummingbirds in my ears. “Cat… just go to bed…”

He doesn’t stop looking at me. He always seems to know when something’s wrong just by looking at Mya or me. 

I sigh, trying to blink back tears. “I… Yes…” I answer, finally. 

“Do you know how long it’s been?” His voice is hollow now.

I know the answer now, but even so, it surprises me when I say it. “A year.”

We lapse into silence again, and I find more comfort looking at the floor.

“I miss him too.”

I look up again, and I can finally see something behind his eyes. I don’t know what.

My fingers trace against my pocket with my box. “It was for the best,” I say and hope I sound convincing.

He lets out a small sigh, and I can already tell I wasn’t convincing enough. 

“It should’ve been me.” He starts to turn away.

“Cat– No–” I kneel beside him and find his gaze. “It’s not your fault. It was those– those damn people and their vendetta against us– he just– he… he wasn’t the same after all that…” I can’t keep back the tears anymore, and by the way Aaron’s face glistened in the light, I can tell he couldn’t keep them back either.

When he doesn’t respond, I add, “It’s better this way… He’ll get the help that he needs and.. Maybe one day he’ll…” Come home. But I can’t finish the sentence. 

“You don’t really believe that…” He barely whispers. 

I can’t answer him; and despite my efforts to comfort him further, he retreats to his bed and mutters a quick “good night” as a sign for me to leave.

“Good night, Cat…” I pause at the door. “I’m sorry… for not being there for you…I love you…”

No response.

I shut the door behind me and step into a now even bleaker hallway. It all feels so final but so unresolved. My mind hovers around this idea as I, almost mechanically, walk down the stairs and start washing a bowl again, not sure if it’s the same bowl as before or not. Does it matter? 

It’s a bleak, hollow, cold night again.

[mametupa]

[warrenwaskilledbyadeer]

so shut the f*** up

[uesp]

"Someone came up with the idea that the Empire of Tamriel, because it was so violent, had been nicknamed the Arena. That explained, kinda awkwardly I guess, why there was no arena combat in a game named Arena. I think Vijay was the guy who tacked on the surtitle "The Elder Scrolls." I don't think he knew what the hell it meant any more than we did, but the opening voice-over was changed to "It has been foretold in the Elder Scrolls ..."

--Ted Peterson, on how The Elder Scrolls: Arena got its name