#Imagine he dies like Eleanor from The Good Place-

[betterthanbatman1]

How do you think jason would feel if the joker died in some random accident?

Okay, I had to think about this ngl.

He would definitely have mixed feelings about this.

Firstly, having the Joker dead is a positive, obviously. He could finally allow himself to be happy. Happy the Joker can’t terrorize anyone anymore and happy that he can finally live in peace without the constant dread that the joker is looming over him.

On the other hand, this complicates matters with the family. We know how much Bruce killing Joker would mean to him. Bruce killing Joker is killing his son’s murderer (ofc) but it’s also proving to Jason that Bruce did care about him and did love him. Because right now Jason thinks that his death was not enough and that he himself was not enough for Bruce to kill the Joker. In my mind, Jason lets himself get close because of the hope he has that Bruce still can fix his mistake ie killing Joker. But once Joker dies randomly, that hope is gone and then it truly is clear that Bruce didn’t care or love Jason enough to break his moral code. This kind of reminds me of the cycle of abuse and how abuse victims will stay with their abusers because of the hope they have that things will get better.

Then there’s also the fact that Jason himself deserves to beat the living shit out of Joker and watch as Joker dies under his hands. It would be very gratifying and therapeutic for him (and the readers, in my opinion)

Ultimately though I feel that Jason would be glad because now The monster is gone for good and there are much more positives because of that.

This is excluding the joker war and any possibility of there being different jokers because that’s just ridiculous

[celaenaeiln]

lol hi its me 12 am anon so uh tldr is that i hung out with my friend and we got drunk and we made out or smth but more importantly they made w fuckin list of dick grayson things i started talking abt while drunk

- “bad idea right?” but its dick grayson and his exes

- bruce technically gave dick a family but dick’s the one who like truly made it feel like a family when it comes down to it he’ll fuck up bruce for his siblings

- that one “5 man band” trope and how he can fit as the leader and the heart

- into a specific (blank) to lovers? dick grayson’s got you covered

- the “barney from how i met your mother basketball hoop scene” and “eleanor from the good place mom she never had” but make it dick and bruce (teenage or adult idc i’d love both)

- nightwing could 100% be the figurehead of the dceu (like im talking spiderman level) if dc would do something [this was timed . i talked abt this for like 30 minutes all on its own]

i am . so embarrassed. also i dont know if we made out before or after the rant and i dont know which is more embarrassing .

what. what. "more importan-" NO! NO ARE YOU KIDDING ME THAT IS NOT MORE IMPORTANTLY OH MY GOD!!!

MY MIND IS LITERALLY BREAKING RIGHT NOW!

WHAT HAPPENED AFTER THAT? Do you like her? Did she say anything?! I-

WAIT DOES THAT MEAN DICK GRAYSON LITERALLY GOT YOU TWO TOGETHER?!

NO WAIT!! SHE KISSED BACK. SHE KISSED BACK!

oh my god i'm reeling.

Have you guys talked about it yet?

I HAVE SO MANY QUESTIONS

I LITERALLY CAN'T THINK OF DICK GRAYSON RIGHT NOW AFTER THAT BOMB YOU DROPPED ON ME BUT FINE

"Bad idea right" was literally written for Dick Grayson!

Nightwing (1996) Issue #133

"Bad idea right?"

Actually every single Olivia Rodrigo's songs feels like Dick wrote it.

Like the sour album? Every time I listen to it I imagine that Dick just wrote the album because he was so mad at bruce after being fired from Robin lol.

"bruce technically gave dick a family but dick’s the one who like truly made it feel like a family when it comes down to it he’ll fuck up bruce for his siblings"

That's true too!

Batman (2011) Issue #11

"The truth is, I didn't save you from some dark fate, those years ago. You saved me from one."

Batman (2011) Issue #11

"And you still are saving me, every day."

Bruce gave Dick security but Dick gave Bruce a life. He gave Bruce the ability to become human, to be happy.

Take Gotham War for example,

Batman (2016) Issue #138

Bruce tells Jason he's saving Jason from himself and Jason in turn asks Bruce who's going to save Bruce from himself.

Cut immediately to -

Batman (2016) Issue #138

Dick.

Dick has always been there to pull Bruce out of his darkest days when he tries or is willing but Bruce giving up on Dick's ability to do so is symbolic of him giving up on himself. It's the height of Bruce's irredeemability.

Even after Jason died, Bruce indirectly called Dick to come join him but at this point his back up personality is too far gone for him to recover.

Batman: The Return

Dick literally is the reason Bruce stays connects to the batfamily. In a good way.

He has no reservations about keeping Bruce in check.

"that one “5 man band” trope and how he can fit as the leader and the heart"

5 man band trope: one leads, one contrasts, one thinks, one fights, and one keeps all of the above from killing one another

DAMN RIGHT

He's the leader.

Batman: Gotham Nights (2020) Issue #12

And the one that keeps them all together

Batman: Gotham Nights (2020) Issue #12

Dick is the defacto leader when Bruce is gone or lost it.

Batman (2016) Issue #137

Batman (2016) Issue #704

Batman (2016) Issue #704

"Selina doesn't run Gotham. You do. While I'm away."

And the family's protector.

Batman (2016) Issue #137

"into a specific (blank) to lovers? dick grayson’s got you covered"

Yup!

Canonical:

Childhood partner to lovers - Raya Vestri

Friends to lovers - Barbara Gordon

Enemies to lovers - Shawn Tsang

Psuedo-family to lovers - Helena Wayne (they actually married in Earth 2)

Crime fighting partner to lovers - Helena Bertenelli

Kiss at first sight to lovers - Koriand'r

Pseudo-therapist to lover - Bea Bennet

Landlord to lovers - Bridget Clancy

Teammates to lovers - Zatanna

X to lovers - literally him and everyone

He's just so shippable that way. Not gonna lie, literally all of his relationships Dick and his lover have been great together.

the “barney from how i met your mother basketball hoop scene” and “eleanor from the good place mom she never had” but make it dick and bruce (teenage or adult idc i’d love both)

The New Teen Titans Issue #50

Man this hits hard. I've never seen how I met your mother but the parallels in the basketball hoop scene and Dick's talk with Bruce are uncanny.

The thing I think is weird about Dick and Bruce's relationship is that it's steeped in insecurities for each other. Dick feels hurt and betrayed and lost as to why Bruce would take in a new robin so suddenly and Bruce's tenure as Dick's robin is riddled with insecurities about him not being a good enough partner.

Batman and Robin Eternal Issue #6

However it's because of these insecurities that I believe they are close.

The difference between Barney and his dad, from what I gather from the clip, is that his dad never acted like one to Barney.

But with Dick and Bruce? Bruce was a good dad to Dick. But he was a terrible partner. Bruce treated Dick like an equal while still fielding reservations about his age and dealing with his own insecurities. Bruce knows that what he's doing is not right but at the same time Dick is far too competent. His intelligence, his athletic skills, his compassion, and his fearlessness were light years beyond anyone Bruce had ever met and Bruce acklnowledges this.

Batman and Robin, The Boy Wonder Issue #2

"The GAS was supposed to knock his OUT. His brain out to be sailing past the MOON, right now. What's this brat MADE out of?"

Batman: The Widening Gyre Issue #1

Bruce's biggest problem with Dick is literally that he talks to much.

Dick is equal in every way to Batman and even exceeds him in some ways when he was Robin itself. So Bruce pushes the responsibilities of Batman's partner on to Dick while treating his as his son, mother, therapist, and partner. And Dick steps up to that. Soon they fall into a rhythm where Dick is Bruce's one for all human interaction. So imagine when you have a constant thing with someone that you're comfortable with and they suddenly start holding back from you. They begin talking about how you're too young to handle adult responsibilities. How you shouldn't be facing that burden. Now you're confused. Those responsibilities they are criticizing you for are the very ones that depended on you for. So now you start doubting yourself and trying harder and harder to make them see that you can handle the job. While you're struggling with confusion, they're struggling with guilt.

That is Bruce and Dick's relationship. Bruce grew a conscious after 10 years and Dick can't understand it. So there comes the self-blame and strife.

What Dick doesn't understand his Bruce feels guilty of his over reliance on Dick. Dick's self-blame has come to such a point that now even when Bruce in full honesty rants about how proud he is of Dick, Dick holds reservations because if Bruce was really proud then he would dump all the responsibilities on him right?

It's really messed up.

"nightwing could 100% be the figurehead of the dceu (like im talking spiderman level) if dc would do something [this was timed . i talked abt this for like 30 minutes all on its own]"

LOL

I think the Dawn of DC does have Dick be the figurehead or at least he will be in the future. We're just getting the beginning now.

Nightwing (2016) Issue #100

Nightwing (2016) Issue #100

Nightwing (2016) Issue #100

Nightwing (2016) Issue #100

"We want you to lead."

Justice League (2011) Issue #51

It comes full circle.

[kyouka-supremacy]

TGP BSD AU DETAILS PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE I NEED TO BE FED. WAIT. DOES THAT MAKE ATSUSHI CHIDI??????? IM GOING FERAL PLEASE WHAT HAVE YLU DONE

Omg here we go

Akutagawa as Eleanor. Obvs. That Beast flavor of protagonist vibes. Unapologetical Yokohama scumbag. Used to work for the Yakuza before he died.

Atsushi as Chidi. Used to be a literature university professor. He's perfect fit to fill Chidi's anxious shoes.

This time most of the comic relief is born from having a literal mobster, for whom homicide has always been the first solution to problems, being dropped in paradise, where everyone is already dead so he can't kill. Ft. the very very stressed Atsushi, nothing more than an academic nerd who's trying /so hard/ to stop him from breaking havoc.

“Do all soulmates come with complimentary haircuts or?”

A looooot of initial conflict and Akutagawa and Atsushi fighting, even more than cheleanor, you can guess it. Yet Atsushi does never step back from offering his help to Akutagawa.

Akutagawa who struggles to even ASK for help. Atsushi is 100% done and spends half the time saying “why am I even doing this” and yet he does keep doing this.

Atsushi teaching Akutagawa to be a better person through literature more than philosophy. Them reading books together and learning that there's beauty in the concept of all humans being inherently connected through time and space by feeling the same things (cue to “we're all in this together”).

*Minor inconvenience occurs* “I say we kill them” “No, I– what?? We– you do realize we're in the afterlife, right? You do realize you can't kill people here, right?”

Please imagine Atsushi as a classical literature professor with glasses and turtlenecks and a stack of books always in his hands it's very important to me

“You know what, for someone who barely knew how to read when we first met, you speak with a surprisingly elaborate vocabulary”

Where Eleanor's struggle is constantly being triggered by people being better than her, for Akutagawa it comes more in the form of being constantly reminded that he was never good enough

When it comes to Atsushi... It's a mess. For the most part of the story, you'd see him and think he's nothing but a professor. Yet gradually, slowly, start to appear hints that something is off with him. In reality, he's absolutely tormented, he's just used to not make it transpire. Differently from Chidi, he does, very early on, start questioning if he belongs there in the Good Place– but tries again and again to convince himself that he does belong there, that he's good. That's all he's ever tried to be, that's all he's ever done, why wouldn't he? And yet it constantly feels like he's just lying to himself, but he does want to lie, he wants to believe he's good. He's tried so hard all his life to be good– and now his struggles are paying off! They are, right? So it doesn't matter if he killed that man when he was a child. He's a good person. He's spent his whole life trying to make amends for it. He's good he's good he's good (grows increasingly insane)

Aka, Atsushi killed Shibusawa when he was little. The orphanage director covered it up and nobody came to know, but the truth haunted Atsushi his whole life, and now keeps haunting him in the afterlife too, because deep down he knows he doesn't belong. Aka Atsushi going through the horrors™ once again.

So Atsushi's helping Akutagawa isn't, at least initially, moved by altruism like Chidi's (Atsushi is a pretty selfish character...), but by his desperate need to prove he's good + a sort of auto-inflicted punishment. He's fucked up...

On the hand of Akutagawa's backstory– you know when Eleanor's background is revealed, and you're like “that doesn't justify her being a shitty person, but at least I understand now?”; for Akutagawa it would be revealing he joined the Yakuza in the first place to provide for his little sister. I can see him revealing it to Atsushi after having spent a long long time together and having eventually warmed up to each other (and having fallen in love), on a particularly vulnerable night: Akutagawa tells him that although there's nothing from his life of hell on earth he could ever miss, he worries about how his little sister is doing without him; to Atsushi's genuine astonishment, because in months of knowing each other Akutagawa had never brought up having a sister.

Akutagawa's character core is once again finding the reason to his existence– or better, finding the answer. (That's taking from Chidi's character this time)

“You know the reason yourself, don't you” would be Akutagawa's “There is no answer // but Atsushi is the answer”. This au basically writes itself

Dazai as Michael... You know why

Further sskk tgp au ramblings (1) (2)

[therealvinelle]

What are your thoughts on the Life and Death counterparts of the Cullens?

Oh boy, can of worms.

In short, my canon-friendly blog draws a hard line of NOPE when it comes to Life and Death. The Cullens are very reliant on their genders, swap it up and there wouldn’t be a coven in the first place. Not as we know it, anyhow. To swap things up without anything changing is to erase the experiences of men and women through history.

Disclaimer - I haven’t actually read the book, but I’ve gathered enough from the Twilight wiki. And since you’re not asking me about the plot, I think we’re good.

Alphabetically:

Archie. Both men and women were admitted to mental asylums at the turn of the century, but it was largely women. Mary Alice Brandon was forcibly institutionalized by her abusive father, which in turn was allowed to happen because no one believed her stories and thought she was mad. The story screams “Hysterical woman”. Could the same thing have happened if she were a boy? Sure. But I find it reductive.

Carine. Hoo boy, this one had me so exasperated I have a fic on it. That one gets slightly AU as her father survives the vampire, whereas in canon he was killed, but I say it goes. Anyway, Carine. You can’t take a 17th century man, make him a woman, and expect the same character to come out the other end. You just can’t. Carine and Carlisle are not going to be the same person. I think if Carine was anything like her male counterpart, she would stay in Volterra far longer than he did, if she ever left, as Volterra would be the one place in the world she could pursue knowledge, where she could educate herself and become an academic, the same as any man. It’d be her equality oasis, and she’d be leaving behind more than friendships if she left. If she went into the human world, or even tried to become a doctor, she’d have to crossdress. And I imagine she’d still be crossdressing in 2005, because misogyny and sexism isn’t going away anytime soon and it’s just what she’s used to by now. Carine puts on trousers and a fake beard before she leaves the house, it’s just how she lives her life.

Earnest. This guy is just... lackluster. Esme was turned because her husband was shitty and her son died, so she jumped off a cliff. Alright, let’s give Earnest a shitty wife and a dead kid, now he’ll jump off a cliff too. It’s just so uninspired, and I question the fact that Esme was abused, while Earnest’s wife was an alcoholic. Why can’t the woman be abusive?

Edythe. Edward’s character is strongly informed by his gender, yet I can’t imagine girl Edward being any less creepy. In case any of my readers have read @theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin‘s fic Lily and the Art of Being Sisyphus, I picture Edythe as the character Tequila. Which is to say girl!Edward gives strong vibes of an intense and creepy (it’s Edward) lesbian. Given Edward’s backstory, Edythe would still be turned, though. So, that still happens.

Eleanor. Mauled by a bear. Alright. I have no thoughts on that. I lied, I do. Eleanor’s uninspiredness is one of the reasons why this book is redundant. There’s nothing to do with this character, and so nothing is done. Nothing changes. Which, if we’re changing everyone’s gender, then the meaningful way to do that is to look at how that would change things. How has male and female socialization affected Edward and Bella? Who would Jessamine, Carine, Royal be? These questions are unfortunately rhetorical because Life and Death sure isn’t answering them.

Jessamine. It’s nice that Jasper isn’t a confederate in this AU, but I just find the story of Jessamine contrived. Besides, Jasper wasn’t supposed to be in the army, he lied about his age. If gender changes nothing, wouldn’t Jessamine crossdress her way into the army? Not that I’d want her to, glad she didn’t, but... Like the other Cullens, Jessamine’s backstory becomes a thought exercise of “How can I make the Cullens still happen, and as close to their original backstories as possible?”, one in which the answer is apparently to treat their backstories like check points. Jessamine gets turned by Maria, check, becomes warrior, check. It just feels so lazy to me.

Royal. Easily the worst. Well, Carine is the worst in terms of making no sense, but Royal... don’t genderbend Rosalie, people. And if you insist then don’t take out the rape. It’s just insensitive and uncalled for all around.

Then we have the fact that Aro and Caius were killed off-screen in a ridiculous manner. Let’s say that they were caught killing Didyme. So what? There’s no vampire cops. They were the leaders of their coven. If they’re caught killing Didyme it would mean Aro is sad because Marcus will leave, and he just killed his sister for nothing. What won’t happen is that they’re executed.

Mele’s power is another thing I take issue with. If a power like hers existed in canon... well, Caius would have a gift, for starters. More, the Volturi guard would be a repository of loyalists who were bequeathed gifts as rewards. The vampire world would be combed for new gifts, as it would only be prudent for Aro to have as many as possible and his potential enemies none. It’d be a different world, period.

The Volturi debacee seems to me like a misguided shot at girlpower on Meyer’s end, that this time around Sulpicia and Athenodora come out on top while Aro and Caius get their just desserts. Like everything else in Life and Death, it fell flat.

EDIT: Apparently I mixed up my Royces and my Royals. Yikes. Praise be to @toquesreveladores for the catch

[dwellordream]

“...In one way, the marriage of Eleanor and Louis was unusual, for he was also a teenager (born c.1120–23) and little older than his bride. In numerous aristocratic marriages, the bride was much younger than her spouse; it was not uncommon for teenaged noble maidens to be married to men in their thirties or older. The couple’s similar ages likely gave Eleanor higher expectations that their marriage had more likelihood of turning into a true love match than other aristocratic marriages with great age disparities. No doubt, their similar ages also led Eleanor to assume that their marriage would be a true partnership; and she would feel more free to express her opinions to her young husband and to persuade him to accept her ideas than if he had been a mature, experienced man. 

In several ways, however, the bride and groom were mismatched. Louis the Younger, apparently a good-looking youth with shoulder-length hair, was quiet, serious, and exceedingly devout. The second son of Louis VI and Adelaide of Maurienne, his upbringing had aimed at preparing him for an ecclesiastical career with studies at the school attached to Notre-Dame Cathedral on the Île de la Cité in Paris not far from the royal palace. Louis’s elder brother Philip, heir to the throne, was killed when he was thrown to the ground and crushed by his falling horse after it “stumbled over a diabolical pig” in the road. This unexpectedly elevated Louis to the position of heir to the French throne. 

The boy left Notre-Dame’s cloisters at about age ten to be crowned king in accordance with the custom established by the second Capetian king of installing the current monarch’s heir in his own lifetime to ensure a smooth succession. Twelve days after his brother’s death, Louis’s consecration as king took place at Reims Cathedral in October 1131 in the presence of a great council of prelates presided over by the pope. Louis VII apparently returned to his religious studies after his coronation, and his clerical education would make a powerful impression on him throughout his life, imprinting on him simple tastes in dress and manners and an earnest piety. 

His Capetian predecessors had sought to present themselves as models of Christian kingship, stressing their close relations with the Church as compensation for their modest military power. Louis’s reputation for piety and spirituality surpassed that of earlier French monarchs, however. As one contemporary wrote, “He was so pious, so just, so catholic and benign, that if you were to see his simplicity of behaviour and dress, you would think . . . that he was not a king, but a man of religion.”

Young Louis thought of kingship as a religious vocation, and he felt called to govern according to Christian principles. In his first years as king, his confidence that he was God’s agent as French monarch gave him an unrealistic notion of his power, and he tended to over-reach, pursuing excessively ambitious political goals. In his youthful enthusiasm, he often displayed an inclination toward rash decisions taken in anger and without reflection. Yet he sometimes seemed sluggish and unenthusiastic for his task of governing, partly due to a distaste for political intrigue, and partly due to a lack of perseverance, his ardor rapidly cooling and giving way to periods of indecision and inactivity. 

Although he held a very high view of the monarchical office, he could be timid, and he allowed himself to fall under the influence of members of his entourage. Most prominent among those seeking to influence this impressionable youth was his young wife Eleanor, and he readily allowed her to take part in political decision-making. Such a mild husband as Louis VII was unlikely to find happiness with a wife such as Eleanor of Aquitaine. His young bride had already seen more of life than his sheltered upbringing had allowed him. A girl brought up at a sophisticated and lively court where no more than conventional piety was observed and whose own grandfather had lived openly for years with his paramour would find the Capetian royal court’s piety and repression confining. 

If Eleanor had been too young to remember life at William the Troubadour’s court, she grew up surrounded by people who had tasted its pleasures willing to tell her about it. Looking back on her earliest childhood while in Paris “through the prism of her imagination,” she could only compare the austere Capetian royal court unfavorably with an idealized image of her grandfather’s court. A widely quoted quip ascribed to Eleanor that she felt that she “had married a monk, not a king,” while hardly an authentic quotation, captures the feeling that she surely came to hold for Louis.

Although his clerical education had not prepared him for a fulfilling marital relationship, Eleanor’s beauty and charm captivated him at once and soon he fell deeply in love with her. Indeed, some observers of the couple’s marriage described the king’s love for his wife as “almost childish” and passionate beyond reason. The intensity of Louis’s love for his bride may have made him an anxious husband, easily roused to jealousy. Despite evidence of Louis’s attraction to his bride, the Church’s notoriously misogynist view of women and teachings of the early Fathers had ill-equipped him for the robust sexual relationship that Eleanor expected. Louis, brought up in a clerical environment, was prudish and repressed in a way that the queen could not understand.

…The royal bridegroom and his entourage reached Limoges on 1 July 1137, and after stopping there for prayers at the shrine of Saint Martial, Louis and his party arrived at Bordeaux on 11 July. They raised tents and camped on the banks of the Garonne river across from the city, where they waited for boats to cross the wide waters. The entry into Bordeaux of Louis the Younger, crowned king six years earlier, marked the first French monarch’s visit there in three centuries. The wedding took place on 25 July in the cathedral of Saint André, constructed around the end of the eleventh century. Today only its surprisingly plain façade survives from Eleanor’s time.

In full summer heat, a great throng of nobles of all ranks came from throughout Eleanor’s lands to witness the couple’s exchange of vows. As part of the ceremony, Louis had his bride “crowned with the diadem of the kingdom.” To commemorate the occasion, young Louis had brought along lavish gifts for his bride that a chronicler asserted would have required the mouth of a Cicero or the memory of a Seneca to expose their richness and variety. Usually aristocratic marriages were preceded by lengthy negotiations between the couple’s parents about financial arrangements. 

…In the case of young Eleanor, she was bringing to her husband a great duchy, and no other wedding gift was expected. No doubt she retained revenues from her ancestral estates in Poitou, and it seemed pointless to designate lands from the limited French royal domain as her dowerland. As the young couple set out on their journey to Paris, she offered her new husband another splendid present, however—a vase carved from rock crystal, one of her few possessions that survives today. The vase was a cherished possession, connecting her to her grandfather William IX, who had brought it back to Poitiers after an expedition to Spain.

Louis VI marked the marriage of his son and heir to Eleanor with grants of important privileges to the ecclesiastical province of Bordeaux, acting quickly to secure the support of the bishops in Aquitaine. Before Louis the Younger set out for Aquitaine, the king renounced any claim to rights of lordship over the dioceses of the province of Bordeaux, allowing them free episcopal elections. This concession ended the traditional ducal privilege of playing a part in the selection of bishops in the six dioceses of the province of Bordeaux.

…As soon as the wedding celebrations ended in the evening of 25 July, the newly-weds lost no time in beginning their journey toward Paris. Eleanor and Louis stopped to spend their first night together at Taillebourg, a formidable castle looming over the Charente river, where their host was its lord, Geoffrey de Rancon. The most powerful of lords in the Saintonge, Geoffrey held wide lands stretching from his castle of Taillebourg eastward to La Marche, to Poitou proper in the north, and southward into the Angoumois. He and his heirs would be important players in Poitevin politics throughout Eleanor’s lifetime. Whether the young couple consummated their marriage that first night at Taillebourg cannot be known, but royal retainers surely looked for evidence, since both the Church and popular opinion held no marriage to be an indissoluble union until it was consummated. 

By the beginning of August, the couple arrived at Poitiers, where a week later Suger organized a formal investiture of young Louis in the cathedral of Saint Pierre, a religious ceremony signaling the Church’s sanction for his ducal title. Young Louis, already crowned and anointed king of the French, did not adopt the titles “count of Poitou” or “duke of Gascony” on his marriage; instead, he had only the additional title “duke of Aquitaine” engraved on his seal. The title that he adopted implied that his bride’s duchy, though under Capetian administration, was not to be absorbed into the French Crown lands, but would preserve a separate identity with distinct institutions.

Barely after the ceremony had ended, a messenger arrived from Paris with the sad news that King Louis VI had died on 1 August, aged almost sixty. The intense summer heat demanded his immediate burial at the abbey of Saint Denis without waiting for the arrival of Louis the Younger and his bride from Poitou. Young Louis, already a crowned and anointed king on his father’s death, had to take on royal responsibilities at once, and the newly married Eleanor became a queen. Now King Louis VII, he had to leave his bride in the care of Bishop Geoffrey of Chartres to continue her progress toward Paris, while he led a force to subdue the rebel townspeople of Orléans, who had taken advantage of the old king’s death to proclaim their city a commune, taking rights of self-government for themselves.”

- Ralph V. Turner, “Bride to a King, Queen of the French, 1137–1145.” in Eleanor of Aquitaine: Queen of France, Queen of England

[tibby]

definitive ranking of all of the trr gang’s parents:

godfrey: sucks for a lot of reasons but he committed the worst crime imaginable: being from england. 0/10.

king kyle maclachlan: yeah yeah his name is constantine but looking like kyle maclachlan is his only redeeming quality so. lame, royal, didn’t care about his kids, slutshamed mc, died the cringe and fail death of being crushed by falling rubble. 0.5/10.

regina: is this old bat still alive? genuine question. 1/10.

lorelai lee: fuck you for how you treat(ed) hana. 1.5/10.

mc’s mystery parents: either dead or just don’t care that their daughter moved to a foreign country, got married, had several attempts made on her life, had a kid, became a duchess and possibly a queen, had a movie made about her, and obtained several fancy hats. if it’s the latter then they have the potential to be the funniest characters of all time but if it’s the former that’s just boring. 2/10.

barthelemy beaumont: as a person with morals and a bertrand stannie, i give him a 0/10. however, as a lover of chaos and comedy, i have to give credit where credit is due and award a full 10/10. he committed regicide, pretended to be in a coma for two decades so he could do evil schemes instead of raising his kids, bankrupted his family on said schemes and then claimed it was because he kept trying miracle cures, decided to come back onto the scene by crashing his son’s rehearsal dinner and announcing that he was cured, blackmailed and kidnapped various royals so he could obtain custody of mc’s child, and his weakness is crows. say what you will about the guy but he’s committed to the bit. overall i think that’s like, a 2.5 or something.

emmeline ebrim: was fun until it turned out she was part of the evil cult and therefore everything she did in the past few books made her fake as hell. still a milf though. 3/10.

lionel nevrakis: shitty dad and can’t even do a successful coup, but i respect the feminism of taking his wife’s name. also i really like his scar. 3.5/10.

milf adelaide: objectively too high in this ranking given that she gave madeleine about fifty complexes and betrayed you several times, but she was the first milf in the series and she’ll always have a special place in my heart for that. nothing like an older woman who just wants to party. 3.8/10.

camellia nevrakis: shitty mother but sexy as hell and hated king kyle maclachlan. credit where credit is due. 4/10.

xinghai lee: the whole “unconditionally supporting his wife” thing would be nice if it was for anything other than allowing her to mistreat hana. 4.2/10.

landon ebrim: absolutely useless in every situation and kind of two faced but he doesn’t seem to be actively evil. mostly he’s just dumber than a sack of bricks. a solid 5/10.

annabelle beaumont: dead and hasn’t appeared in any flashback scenes so it’s hard to know, but maxwell used to be a mama’s boy which is good enough for me. 5.5/10.

bianca walker: much like her daughter, she’s really fucking boring, but she seems nice enough and apparently makes good coffee. also i know that she had “”fallen out of favour”” and it was their choice to stay in cordonia but ditching her children in a foreign country not long after their dad died is kind of a low blow. however it’s also pretty funny. 6/10.

hakim theron: loses points for being friends with king kyle maclachlan for years and not supporting ezekiel’s vet dreams, but overall a nice man who cares about his kids. also one of the few parents in this series who hasn’t tried to ruin mc’s life. 7/10.

drake’s dead dad: all the flashback scenes suggest that jackson was a cool guy, even if i don’t support his choice in career. bonus points for his untimely death kicking off the comedy of errors that is drake’s life. nice ass, sorry you died protecting nobility. 8/10.

queen eleanor: we only get her in flashbacks but she has yet to disappoint. cared for her son but also his ragtag group of besties, something her cringefail husband couldn’t do. will be heartbroken if we find out that she was up to evil shenanigans in the royal finale. kind of shitty that it took a bunch of idiots stumbling onto things for someone to solve her murder but cordonia isn’t known for being competent. the secret daughter thing was kind of wild and i sort of hope we never get any context for it. hope she found a better spouse in the afterlife. 9/10.

joelle theron: loves her children equally, loyal to mc and everyone in the cordonian crew, doesn’t appear to be part of any secret groups and didn’t play a role in any fail coups, cares more about art than she does boring royal stuff, total milf. would hang up one of her paintings on my wall. 10/10.

[bagadew]

The Great Ace Attorney Playthrough: The Case of the Unbreakable Speckled Band (Part 2b)

Last Time: It turned out that my man Hosonaga hadn’t been kidding when he said he’d lay his life on the line for us, and was beaten up by the killer captain for letting us have a look around first class. As if that wasn’t enough, he then stood before us looking like the Knights of Ni, and gave us Kazuma’s autopsy report, revealing that Kazuma died of a broken neck. Now I (Ryunosuke) get ready to inveterate, and I (Eleanor) get ready to take the captain out!

OVER MY DEAD BODY YOU WILL!

So it shall be.

Susato’s pointing out that it might be a while before we’re all back in Japan, to which I say: It will happen, I can wait

Now on with the actual investigation.

Out in the corridor Biff Strogenov the 1 ton sailor has finally left his post, meaning that we’re free to look for cute animals investigate my beloved Kazuma’s death in cabin number 2!

Wait, that voice? Could it be? Has he returned to us?

Yeah boy!

Oh... he’s not in our immediate vicinity and we actually do have to go in cabin number 2, so I guess we’ll see him again later!

THE CASE OPEN!!! THE PET!!! GONE!!!

Ok game, I get it! I have to remember why we’re really here and not get immediately sidetracked by the faintest wiff of an animal.

Wait...... does she finally believe in us?

:D

WHOO LETS GO TEAM!!!

Right we’ve got a saucer on the floor, meaning that whatever Nikolina keeps as a pet eats off of it. This seems to make my snake theory less likely, but it does back up the idea that the ‘speckled band’ Kazuma saw could have been the tail of something like a tabby cat.

The books in the bookshelf have toppled over, just like they had in Kazuma’s cabin. I wonder if the ship made an emergency stop to let Nikolina onboard and that’s why they were all thrown to the left?

Again Susato, I’m pretty sure Strogenov realised Nikolina had a pet with her the second he helped her on the ship and saw her suitcase wiggling.

Everybody comes for Ryunosuke...

Hang about... the bolt pulls to the left, the same direction the books fell in!

If someone new Nikolina was coming on board (*cough*The Captain*cough*) they could have killed Kazuma and left the door unbolted, safe in the knowledge that when the ship stopped the bolt would slide into place!

(This is how I felt when Kazuma bought up Curare in the last trial.)

Ok, due to my being a bad influence on Susato, she gave the cabin bell pull a good tug, but fortunately it seems that none of them work (which is very odd).

Finaly both the teapot and bin are empty, which could mean anything or nothing at all, you never can tell with Ace Attorney.

Other than that, I think that’s it for the cabin. I was expecting to be interrupted or something, but I’m pretty sure I’ve looked at everything. Now let’s go into the corridor and see if there are any Himbo Detectives knocking about out there!

Hell yeah!

I agree Ryunosuke, the man’s a glorious Jack in the Box!

:D

Go an tap his back Ryousuke, I want to see if he jumps!

Come on everybody, clap along!

TAP HIM RYUNOSUKE!!!

HE FELL OVER!!!

(Editor’s Note: AND I MISSED  SCREENSHOTTING IT!)

So tell me Susato, hows that image of the Great Detective holding up?

Because mine’s doing great!

Looks like Herlock’s been looking at the Ships log, and he’s picked up on the fact that it’s practically blank from 2am onwards, which interestingly is just after the time Kazuma’s diary says he was killed. I’d also imagine this is when Nikolina arrived onboard.

Also Ryunosuk actually payed Herlock a complement!

Something’s happening? What’s happening???

HE WAS DRUGGED TO!!!

(Though I don’t know why I’m surprised. I already guessed the rest of the ship was drugged so they wouldn’t see Nikolina while she was being smuggled onboard)

Has Susato realised too?

And off he goes! Singing all the way!

What a wonderous man you are Herlock

I think she’s worked it out!

As expected of the daughter of the Professor of Pathology!

You know I don’t know if I’ve ever really taken the time to appreciate the level of detail Ace Attorney has sometimes. Like this is exactly how I’d describe the sort of headache you get after being knocked out by drugs.

Susato’s left it for now, and I can’t work out if she’s already worked it out, or if she’s still puzzling it out. Either way, I think she’s got this.

(Ok, I’ve clearly missed something here...)

Or no, I haven’t!

The alarm’s going off!!!

ANOTHER SHIP!?!

DAMN NIKOLINA THE BALET COMPANY ARE SERIOUS HUH!??!

(Clinging to each other Susato and I (Ryunosuke) managed to not die when the ship crashed to a halt.)

Now’s the time to see if the bolts slide closed though!

YES YES!!! LOOK IT’S SHUT!!!

LOCKED ROOM MYSTERY SOLVED BABY!!!

HERLOCK SHOLMES EAT YOUR HEART OUT!!! THERE’S A NEW GREATEST DETECTIVE IN TOWN!!!

(I’m talking about me, not Batman)

Shit! We’ve been rumbled!

HOSONAGA!!!

Hosonaga cares for us so much

I care for you to Hosonaga!

(Honestly I’m surprised the sound of me lowering a crown onto my own head didn’t somehow reach the game world.)

Yeah Naruhodo-san, let Hosonaga in so I can show him my unbearably smug face!

That’s not a very nice way to talk about Hosonaga Ryousuke!

(Sorry I couldn’t resist that joke)

So we have indeed been rumbled lads, and with at least one more part of this case to go it’s not going to be plain sailing

(I’ll see myself out...)

[maremote]

Thoughts on Silver and the war re: your post: 1) Silver never wanted the war in the first place and had no real personal investment in it beyond it being what Flint and Madi wanted, so I can’t imagine that he would have been happy fighting it long-term, even if nothing bad happened to Flint or Madi specifically, because the overall losses would have still weighed him down. 2) If he had kept going, eventually there would have been at the very least another close call with Flint or Madi, and I believe he would have then reacted the same way in *wanting* to end the war to ‘protect’ them, but he never would have been in a position to again - he would have been “trapped in the nightmare,” as he would phrase it. 3) If Flint or Madi DID die, I think he *would* go on with the war, but he would only be “fighting for the sake of fighting,” for even shallower reasons than Flint ever was because it would 100% be a vengeance thing for the sake of his own grief and guilt and not because he understands the systemic issues underpinning it all, which would probably lead to some poor leadership decisions and general misery. 4) No matter WHAT happened or did not happen, if Silver had allowed the war to go on, he would have blamed every loss on himself for failing to end the war when he could have and for accidentally inspiring Flint to start it in the first place. IMO that’s why ending it is so important to Silver, not just to protect Flint and Madi but because he would blame their deaths on *himself* if they happened, and he cannot take that kind of guilt emotionally. And I can’t see him ever being able to break out of that mindset while the war was moving forward because every loss would have exacerbated it.

yeah i think no matter what happened it would end in tragedy and i think that the flashback sequence effectively cracked the story. i think that's exactly why we got that flashback as late as we did because it essentially is the nail in the coffin, it's the pull-back-and-reveal of the century. again with the eleanor/vane parallels: silver at that point essentially dies the way eleanor dies at the end of s2, and after that he's just chipping away at himself and becoming more and more hollow, and i think that even if the three of them survived the war (unlikely) their relationships would have dissolved because silver would have dissolved, and every loss would have just made it harder for him & madi / him & flint to stay in step because they would draw meaning from every horror and loss and he would not be able to, not in the same way.

again it's so hard to say because what would happen if the story had continued would be highly predicated on silver's experiences pre-black sails and we're not allowed to have that. i think you're right that he would blame himself. i think you're right that his heart wouldn't really be in it. and i think flint & madi would be able to tell and i think inevitably something would crumble because again, once that flashback happens he gains a huge amount of narrative control and pair that with an ongoing war + no sense of identity + in it just because the people you love are...

i am also highly convinced that silver has some sort of experience with being on the receiving end of wars like this in a way flint does not, and i think the idea that good, strong things can be built is very strange and new and scary to him because i think he's far more familiar with destroying & running. of course so is flint- and he realizes this, and realizes how badly madi is needed in season 4, because i think he realizes that for all his ideals he doesn't know how to build new futures, he only knows how to destroy to build anew, whereas madi actually has the experience and strength to build good things from the freedom in the dark.

[introvertguide]

The Sound of Music (1965); AFI #40

The next film that we reviewed from the AFI Top 100 was the most successful movie adaptation of a Hollywood play of all time, The Sound of Music (1965). The story was based on the 1949 memoir of Maria Von Trapp, who became a nanny for a retired naval officer and his children. They lived together in Austria and had to escape from the invading Nazi party right before the start of WW2. That story was turned into a musical by the dynamic duo of Rogers and Hammerstein and eventually translated to a Best Picture Oscar winner directed by the great Robert Wise. The film was nominated for 10 Academy Awards and won 5 of them. This truly is a phenomenal story with great music and I can't wait to get into the breakdown. Of course, I do need to mention...

SPOILER ALERT!!! IT IS NOT LIKELY THAT MANY PEOPLE DON'T HAVE AT LEAST AN IDEA OF THE PLOT OF THIS FILM, BUT I REALLY GO OVER THE DETAILS!!! MAKE SURE THAT YOU REALLY KNOW THE STORY AND HAVE SEEN THE MOVIE BEFORE GOING ANY FURTHER!!!

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

The film opens on that iconic spinning shot of Maria (Julie Andrews) from a helicopter and establishes the beautiful hills of Austria. The whole movie is set on and around the city and hills of Salzburg, Austria. It is 1938, dangerously close to the rise of the the Third Reich and Nazi occupation, but Maria is not involved in such things at the time. She is young, enthusiastic, and completely lacking discipline. Turns out she is training to be a nun at the millennia-old Nonnberg Abbey and the Mother Abbess (Peggy Wood) is considering what to do with her. It is decided that Maria will leave the abbey for a time and work as a governess for one Captain von Trapp (Christopher Plummer) and his seven children.

On the day she arrives, Maria learns that the Captain cares for his children with strict military discipline and also that the kids have caused a lot of trouble for their previous governesses. It seems that their mother has died and their father is distant, so they act out to try and get attention. The kids put a frog in Maria's pocket and place a pine cone in her chair at dinner, but she instead thanks them for their warm welcome and they all cry out of guilt. That night, the eldest daughter Liesl (Charmian Carr) goes out and meets with a young suitor named Rolfe (Daniel Truhitte). They sing together in the rain and then she returns to the house via Maria's room. While there, a thunder storm begins and all the other children join out of fear. Maria sings with them about getting over their fears by imagining good things and the children begin to trust her. The next morning, the Captain leaves to go to Vienna giving Maria a chance to bond with the children even more.

While the Captain is away in Vienna, Maria decides she will teach the children to have fun and allow them to play. She tears down drapes and makes play clothes for the children, then takes them around Salzburg and the surrounding mountains. She teaches them how to sing, allows them to climb in trees, and piles them in a boat to go rowing. The Captain unexpectedly returns to the villa with rival love interest Baroness Elsa Schraeder (Eleanor Parker), a rich Viennese socialite and widow looking for a new husband, and mutual friend "Uncle" Max Detweiler (Richard Haydn). The Captain and his guests are greeted by Maria and the children returning from a boat ride on the lake that concludes when the boat overturns. Displeased by his children's clothes and Maria's impassioned appeal that he get closer to his children, the Captain orders Maria to return to the abbey. Just then, he hears singing coming from inside the house and is astonished to see his children singing for the Baroness. Filled with emotion, the Captain joins his children, singing for the first time in years. Afterwards, he apologizes to Maria and asks her to stay.

Impressed by the children's singing, Max proposes he enter them in the upcoming Salzburg Festival but the suggestion is immediately rejected by the Captain as he does not allow his children to sing in public. He does agree, however, to organize a grand party at the villa. The night of the party, while guests in formal attire waltz in the ballroom, Maria and the children look on from the garden terrace. When the Captain notices Maria teaching Kurt the traditional Ländler folk dance, he cuts in and partners Maria in a graceful performance, culminating in a close embrace. The children get together and sing a goodnight song to the party crowd and the impressed Max insists that Maria join the group for dinner. Confused about her feelings, Maria blushes and breaks away to change clothes. The Baroness, who noticed the Captain's attraction to Maria, hides her jealousy while convincing Maria that she must return to the abbey. Instead of joining the party, Maria leaves a note and runs back to the abbey.

Intermission

Back at the abbey, when Mother Abbess learns that Maria has stayed in seclusion to avoid her feelings for the Captain, she encourages Maria to return to the villa to look for her life. We get the very appropriate, but perhaps the most out-of-nowhere and cringy performance in the film, "Climb Every Mountain" sung by the Mother Abbess. It is convincing and Maria returns to the villa, only to learn about the Captain's engagement to the Baroness and agrees to stay until they find a replacement governess. The Captain's feelings for Maria, however, have not changed and he breaks off his engagement with the Baroness and proposes to Maria. The announcement of the first engagement, the return of Maria, the break-up, and the second engagement all happen in a single day in film and about 20 minutes of run time, so make sure to pay attention.

While they are on their honeymoon, Max enters the children in the Salzburg Festival against their father's wishes. When they learn that Austria has been annexed by the Third Reich in the Anschluss, the couple return to their home, where a telegram awaits informing the Captain that he must report to the German Naval base at Bremerhaven to accept a commission in the German Navy. Strongly opposed to the Nazis and the Anschluss, the Captain tells his family they must leave Austria immediately. That night, as the von Trapp family attempt to leave, they are stopped by a group of brown shirts waiting outside the villa. When questioned by Gauleiter Hans Zeller, the Captain maintains they are headed to the Salzburg Festival to perform. Zeller insists on escorting them to the festival, after which his men will accompany the Captain to Bremerhaven.

Later that night at the festival, during their final number, the von Trapp family slip away and seek shelter at the nearby abbey, where Mother Abbess hides them in the cemetery crypt. They are about to get cleanly away when the are discovered by the boy who was courting Liesl. Rolfe is sill a boy but is shouldering the responsibilities of a man. He lets the family get by because he can't bring himself to harm them, but he does call for backup. More brown shirts soon arrive and attempt to pursue, but they discover their cars will not start as two nuns have removed parts of the engines. The next morning, after driving to the Swiss border, the von Trapp family make their way on foot across the frontier into Switzerland to safety.

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

I think the first thing to mention is the undeniably beautiful music. I absolutely love the music of this film and how each song starts off simple and just builds in complexity. The best songs either set the scene or progress the plot and are magnificently placed. From the opening song that sets the scene, to the discussion of how to deal with a woman that doesn't fit in, to the discussion of what to do when you are afraid, to putting your love and affection towards somebody who can't love you. The themes are incredibly deep when you consider the lyrics of the songs as foreshadowing the rest of the movie. The von Trapp family has to escape into the hills and they do it using their musical skills. When the family is trapped and has to keep quiet despite extreme fear for their lives, they are able to make it through because they have been taught to suppress their fear thinking of their favorite things. "Sixteen Going on Seventeen" has the young German boy talking about being a man because he is slightly older then the eldest von Trapp daughter, yet he is charged with finding the family and turning them over to the German military and he can't do it. The music serves a purpose and the movie would be far less palatable for it, despite the story being a truly fascinating real life drama.

The great actress Julie Andrews does such a good job as Maria. This was most definitely a perfect role for her and might be her greatest performance. It is between this role and the part she played in Mary Poppins the year earlier. In fact, Julie Andrews was much better known for her Broadway performances at the time of this film. Mary Poppins was the first feature film role for Julie Andrews and The Sound of Music was technically her third. She jumped on the Hollywood scene and was exceptionally lucky that musicals were popular and she was a beautiful young triple threat (acting, singing, and dancing). She is the perfect example of success being a mixture of preparation, luck, and opportunity.

One thing I forget about musicals from this time period is how quickly plot points (like falling in love and building relationships) happen. I don't mean in terms of run time, I mean in terms of time passing by in the story. Maria is sent to be with the von Trapp family and the children go from hating her to needing and trusting her in a single day. She goes from being a beloved nanny to running away to rejoin the nunnery in one evening. The captain goes from proposing to the Baroness to Maria returning to breaking off his engagement to asking Maria to marry him in a 48 hour period. The Captain and Maria return to Austria after their honeymoon and enter a singing competition to escape to Switzerland all on the same day. In terms of run time, that first day actually takes up the first hour of the film. That last night takes up the last half an hour. I doubled checked this just to make sure, but it is true: only 4 critical days are shown in the film. Maria leaves the convent and arrives at the von Trapp house. Time passes, The Captain returns to fire Maria but changes his mind and instead throws a party where Maria runs away. Time passes. Maria is convinced to return and arrives to find the Captain is engaged before he changes his mind to leave the Baroness and immediately proposes to Maria. We see them on their wedding day. Time passes. The Captain and Maria return and he is ordered to join the Navy, but he instead using the children's performance that night as cover to escape with his family. End of movie.

Despite the story being about a young family escaping the Nazis, this film has the lightest rating (G) of any best picture winner. Some films were not rated at the time that would now be considered a G rating and Oliver! in 1968 had a rating of GP (general public) that no longer exists. It seems like a movie that doesn't have at least a bit of a serious tone can't win a Best Picture and that comes with a heavier rating. It was funny that the Amazon Prime virtual copy that I saw most recently starts out with a screen that says rated G for violence, language, and adult situations.

There are some funny behind the scenes stories since there were many young children in the film. This means that many of them are still alive and can relive their memories with young fans. We are also lucky enough to have Dame Julie Andrews still working and sharing her experiences like a champ. She really is a treasure. The young girl who played the adorable Gretl von Trapp (Kym Karath) is only in her early 60s since she was only six in the film. it was actually her 4th picture, giving her more experience in film than Julie Andrews at the time. There were plenty of specials commemorating the 50th anniversary of the film back in 2015, so there are actually some really good interviews with the surviving cast that are relatively recent. I would highly suggest the 20/20 review of the film that can be found on YouTube:

NBC|ABC|20/20: The Untold Story of 'The Sound of Music - YouTube

There was some concern from the cast and the producers that a film version of a musical would not be financially viable. Other Rogers and Hammerstein musicals had been adapted to film and had not lived up to the success that was found on Broadway. Luckily, director Robert Wise used the natural lighting and countryside of Austria and Germany to slightly excuse the sudden singing of a musical that seems out of place in film. Also, he had recently directed West Side Story and knew how to best accomplish this. Then again, who wouldn't want to dance around and sing in those mountains? Wise did some things like lowering the tone of the song "Climb Every Mountain" and moving Maria through the countryside while she was singing "Confidence in Me." This helped reduce the cringe factor.

So does this film belong on the AFI top 100? Oh God yes. It is a great story adapted by the greatest American songwriting duo and directed by one of the great American directors who specialized in musicals. The list would be lacking if this film was not on it. Would I recommend it? Oh man, yes. Go watch it right now. Oh, you just saw it? Watch it again. It's that good.

[alarawriting]

52 Project #30 (Writeober #15: Mortality): Everybody’s Happy As The Dead Come Home

Ever since my mother died of breast cancer a few years ago, I’ve been making time to go visit my elderly father about once a month. That may be conjuring up the wrong image in your head, so let me clarify. My father’s over 70, but he still has a lot of the energy he had as a younger man. He works as a consultant for the big corporation he spent his entire adult pre-retirement life working for, for about three or four times as much money, and he enjoys it. He’s got an active social life, spending time with friends he had shared with Mom as a couple, and new friends he’s made from his bereavement group or his consulting work. And my sister, the baby of the family, lives with him, and my two younger brothers come to visit him a lot more often, since they live a lot closer than I do. So if you’re imagining a lonely, stooped old man pining away in a house that smells like stale cat food – that’s not my dad, and I can’t imagine it would ever be.

I arrived late on a Friday night, as usual. My sister met me at the door, and actually looked me directly in the eye. Stephanie’s autistic; she never looks anyone in the eye. “Eleanor,” she said, and that was another strange thing, because she almost never calls anyone by name… unless she’s doing it for emphasis. “When you find out, don’t say anything about it,” she said.

“About what?” Most of the time Stephanie makes sense, but every so often she says something that sounds like her mind has jumped ahead in the conversation without realizing all the missing pieces she never bothered to say.

“You’ll know,” she said. “And you’ll want to ask ‘why’ and ‘how’, and I’m telling you that you can’t do that. Don’t ask any questions. Just come talk to me after you’re done.”

“Done with what?” I asked.

And then a voice called me from the TV room. “Lennie? Lennie, is that you?”

Only my mom and dad are allowed to call me Lennie. And that was a woman’s voice. I froze in place.

“Go see her,” Stephanie said, and headed off to her room.

I turned toward the TV room, slowly. “Lennie! Come out and see me!” my mom’s voice called.

I didn’t know whether to be terrified, or to start crying and fling myself into her arms. I walked very slowly, very cautiously, to the edge of the kitchen, where I could see my parents in the TV room. Both of my parents. My dad was smiling.

“Lennie!” my mom said, standing up. She hadn’t been able to stand up without help for months before she died, but here she was, standing up easily. She didn’t look any younger than she had when she died, but she looked healthier. The extreme thinness she’d suffered from at the end after it had metastasized and she’d barely been able to eat was gone; her flesh was filled out, her skin as taut as you could expect from a woman her age, and healthy-looking. Pale, but her natural paleness, not the weird, sallow, almost yellow color it had been at the very end.

“Mom?” I whispered.

“Come here. I need a hug,” Mom said, sounding exactly like she always had – joking, but there was always that note of truth under it. She didn’t wait for me to make my way to her – she never had, not until she was too ill to get up – but came straight for me and gave me a hug, and she smelled like herself. Not like a rotting corpse, not like ozone or nothing or whatever a ghost is supposed to smell like.

When I was a kid, my brother Jeff and I watched the miniseries version of “The Martian Chronicles”. In particular, he was always impressed (and terrified) by the part where the astronauts meet their long-lost loved ones, who turn out to be Martian shapechangers luring them to their deaths. I always wondered, if the people they saw on Mars were dead, how did they fall for it? How did they not know that dead people could not somehow be on Mars?

As I held my mom, who’d been dead a few years now, I understood. They’d wanted to believe. I wanted to believe. Stephanie had warned me not to ask anything – no “how are you not dead”, “how can you be here”, “why are you alive,” nothing like that. I assumed that was what she’d meant, anyway.

“Mom, I’ve been trying to trace some of my past that I’ve forgotten. Do you remember the name of my third grade teacher?”

“Huh.” My mom seemed to be thinking about it. “I think it was Mrs. Wilder, but I’m not a hundred percent sure. Second grade was Ms. Jenner, right? And fourth was Mrs. White?”

“Yeah,” I said. I didn’t, in fact, remember my third grade teacher’s name, and neither did my dad. The Martians in the story had been telepaths; they’d been able to perfectly impersonate the astronauts’ loved ones because they could read the astronauts’ minds. Now I had a piece of information whose answer I didn’t know, and no way to easily confirm it unless Jeff remembered; he was only two years younger than me and had had some of the same teachers. But some of the people I had friended on Facebook were high school classmates, and a tiny number of my high school classmates had also been with me in elementary school, and might remember my third grade teacher’s name.

“I haven’t seen you in so long,” my mom said. “What’s going on in your life?”

“Oh, you know,” I said. “Things are going okay. Mom, if I’d known you were here I’d have brought the kids.”

“You can bring them up next time,” Mom said.

This was so weird. My mom was definitely dead. I had seen her body in the coffin, lying in state, looking nothing like she had in life. But here she was, impossibly, and I was holding an almost normal conversation with her. “Have Jeff or Aaron come over since you’ve… been here?”

“Jeff was here last weekend,” Dad said. “And Aaron lives next door, so he’s been over nearly every day.”

My grandparents used to live next door. When they died, my mom and my uncle inherited the house. My uncle bought out my mom’s share and rented the house out, and my youngest brother ended up renting it. My other brother lives in an apartment down in the city; I’m the odd one out, living in a completely different state, with a husband and kids.

So all of them had known, and none of them had told me. I expected Stephanie and Aaron to never tell me anything, but I was more than a little irritated with Jeff.

“Let me go drop off my stuff,” I said, since I was still carrying my bag.

I went back to Stephanie’s room, which used to be my room, a long time ago. The boys used to room together, but my room was too small for Stephanie to share with me, and she had needed a lot of space of her own… so they’d converted the loft in the garage into a bedroom. It had never been warm in the winter, though, so as soon as I moved out, Stephanie had moved in.

Stephanie was, as usual, on her computer. I shut the door behind me. “Okay. What the hell is going on?”

“She’s not the only one,” Stephanie said, without looking away from her computer. “I’ve been doing research. They’re all over the place. There’s no explanation yet, and apparently none of them will talk about it. I asked Mom and she said I was really rude, and sulked and was really passive-aggressive.”

“So we’re not worried about Mom turning into a Martian shapechanger or vanishing, we’re just worried that she’ll get mad?” To be fair, making Mom mad had always been a thing worth avoiding at all costs. “When did she come back?”

“I don’t know exactly, but presuming that she came to see me right after she came back, it would have been Monday around 3 pm.”

“And no one told me? You have my email address!”

“…It just didn’t feel right, telling you something like this in email. I felt like I should wait for you to be here.”

“And Jeff didn’t? And Aaron didn’t?”

Stephanie shrugged. She still didn’t look away from her computer. “They probably felt the same way.”

“Does Dad… know? Like, does he even remember that Mom is dead, or does he think this is normal?”

“I didn’t ask him.”

I sat down on her bed. “Steph, I’m asking you to make an informed guess. Has he said anything to you that would either suggest that he’s aware this is abnormal, or that he isn’t?”

“I don’t read minds, but I haven’t heard anything from him one way or the other. He’s very happy, though.”

“I got that impression,” I told her. I went to the guest room, which used to belong to the boys, opened up my laptop, and sent Jeff a question on Facebook about my third grade teacher.

Mom appeared while I was debating whether or not to also ask him why the hell he hadn’t told me about her. “Lennie, don’t hide in your room. Come out and talk to me and your dad. You need to catch me up on your life!”

Part of me wanted to break down crying. Part of me wanted to run to the car. Part of me was annoyed the way I always used to be annoyed when my mom wanted to spend time with me and I had stuff to do. And part of me hated myself for being annoyed by my mom for any reason at all. She was back from the dead and I wanted to hide in my room? But I wanted to hide in my room because I wanted to do research to figure out if this was really my mom or not. And what had Stephanie meant by “all over the place”? People all over the place had returned from the dead? Why wasn’t this all over the news?

What I said was, “Okay, mom,” and I went out to the TV room to talk to her.

***

Here I was, having a completely mundane conversation with a dead woman.

Yes, my husband was doing well at his consulting business. Yes, my oldest daughter was doing well in college. My youngest daughter had a rough spot a few years ago but was doing better. The daughter in the middle was putting a lot of time into her music, and was getting really good. I didn’t mention that my oldest daughter had gotten a diagnosis of autism like her aunt, or that my middle daughter was failing all her subjects because all she cared about was music, or that my youngest daughter was openly bisexual and dating a nonbinary teen in her class, because those would be fraught topics around here. My mother would be openly disapproving of the failing in school – as was I, but I wasn’t here to listen to a lecture about what I should be doing differently to make sure Rhiannon passed her classes – and she’d be what she thought counted as supportive about the other things. Are you sure it’s a good idea for Janie to have an autism diagnosis on her medical record? Lots of people will discriminate against her, just ask Stephanie, it’s not a good thing to admit to the world. And if Lori wanted to date a person who claimed to have no gender, good for her, but was she sure it was a good idea to admit to the world that she was bi when the world is so prejudiced? Blah blah blah. No. I wasn’t going there, not with my mother back from the dead.

All the questions I wanted to ask. How? How was she back? Why? Was there an afterlife after all? What was it like? Are you absolutely sure you’re not a telepathic shapechanger who wants to eat us? Is anyone else coming back or is it just you? But I couldn’t do it. My mouth wouldn’t make the words, and I felt like Mom being alive was a soap bubble that might burst any moment. If I said she was dead, would she disappear? I couldn’t take the risk.

Now I knew why Jeff and Aaron hadn’t told me. The compulsion not to talk about it, the fear that talking about the circumstances of her death and her apparently-no-longer-deadness would cause her to stop being no-longer-dead. I wouldn’t be able to tell my husband about this, or my kids, not unless they came here. Not without feeling like Mom might disappear if I did.

Which was probably how Stephanie had gotten away with it, in the beginning. If this was some kind of emotional pressure, something emanating from the presence of a dead woman... Stephanie was typically immune to emotional pressure. Or pretended she was, anyway. She hid behind her monotone and her face that barely expressed anything until she couldn’t, and then she’d go and have a meltdown in the bathroom. But she wanted to please Mom. We all wanted to please Mom. So if Mom had told her she was rude for mentioning the death thing, Stephanie would be unable to mention it again. Because she wouldn’t want Mom to think she was rude.

This felt very much like I was in an episode of the Twilight Zone. Dead mother back to life, check. Weird inexplicable pressure not to talk about it, check. But Mom clearly remembered things that had happened shortly before her death, and showed no evidence of knowing about anything that had happened since, unless it was public knowledge. She talked about interests the girls had had three years ago, interests they’d all outgrown since. She talked about my plan to remodel my own garage – I had completely forgotten that was even a thing we’d planned at one point, because I’d lost my job shortly after Mom died and then the money wasn’t there for the remodel. She didn’t know I was working with my husband in the consulting business now, which a telepath would obviously know because it dominates my life nowadays. Obviously a Martian telepathic shapechanger would have to pretend not to know things that supposedly happened while they were dead, but if I’d forgotten about the garage, what were the odds a telepath could pull it out of my head? There had to be more accessible thoughts in there, after all.

I didn’t know what to ask Mom. How do you feel? That was always a good one, back in the day, because Mom’s chronic illnesses meant there was always something she could complain about, but she wouldn’t do it until she was asked… she’d just quietly resent the fact that no one had asked her. But did dead people still feel things? Would that intrude on the topic I wasn’t supposed to talk about? What’s going on in your life? Oh, nothing much, Lennie, I’m back from the dead, how about you?

So I talked about myself. I was learning to work leather and I’d made myself a wallet, but I left it at home, I could bring it to show her next time. I was also learning to repair dolls. The girls had all abandoned theirs and I felt bad about it, so I was cleaning them up and repairing them and putting them in dioramas. Mom was very interested in both topics, and asked if I could repair some old dolls she had up in the attic. I was pretty sure I’d already done it – if it was the dolls I was thinking of, Dad had given them to me right after Mom died, and they were the ones I’d learned on. But was it safe to talk about? Dad wasn’t saying anything; had he forgotten he gave me the dolls, which was entirely possible, or did he think it wasn’t safe to talk about either?

I’d wanted for three years to be able to tell my mom that she was wrong about all the weight loss advice she’d given me because now it had come out that scientists had never proven that fat made you fat and the low-carb diets were probably better for you than the low-fat ones, but I didn’t know if she could still eat. Also, my mom was back from the dead and I wanted to start an argument with her about a topic I’d always hated when she talked about? Didn’t I have anything better to do? That really kind of made me a shitty person, didn’t it?

When Mom had been dying, I couldn’t talk to her about the future. I didn’t know how to bring myself to talk about things she’d never see. I’d never known how much my conversations with her consisted of me talking about future plans until I couldn’t any more. Now I couldn’t talk about the future or the past, at least not the past three years, and large parts of the present had to be left out too, because I didn’t know what would remind her that she was dead and make her go back to her grave. Even though, logically, I knew that was unlikely to happen because Stephanie had done it and had just gotten a rebuke that that was rude.

At the same time… I knew I had to say something that Mom could talk about, because if I just talked about myself all night, later on she’d probably make some passive-aggressive remarks about how everything always had to be about me. In desperation, I asked her if she’d seen anything good on television lately.

“Oh, I haven’t been watching anything in a while,” Mom said. “It’s been so long since I felt well enough to go anywhere, so I’ve been going for walks, and your father and I have been taking trips to museums and historic sites. We’re going to be going up to Boston next week.”

“I have a client up there,” Dad said, “and they want me to do a training thing. And I was telling them, no, no, Boston’s too far, but I remembered how much your mom loved Boston, so I asked her if she wanted to go and she said yes, so now we’re going. We’re going to fly, though. The days I was willing to drive that kind of distance are long over.”

“You could take the Amtrak.”

Dad made a dismissive gesture. “It’s gotten so expensive. Flying’s actually cheaper.”

“When are you going?”

“Next Wednesday we’re going to fly up there,” Mom said, which said something about her opinion of the future, at least. “Your dad’s got his presentations to do on Thursday and Friday, and I’ll wander around the city, and then we’ll spend Saturday seeing the sights together.”

“There’s this fantastic restaurant I went to last time I was up there on business,” Dad said, “and I checked their web page, and they’re still open. So we’re going to go there.”

So Mom could eat. Or Dad wasn’t afraid of talking about eating with her, anyway. Maybe ruled out vampire, but Martian shapechanger was still on the table.

I didn’t literally believe my mom – or the entity that appeared to be my mom – was a telepathic shapechanger from Mars like in The Martian Chronicles. But it was obvious that something so far outside the norm that it was only imaginable by making references to fantasy and science fiction was happening.

I tried, very carefully, “How have you been feeling, Mom?”

“I’m great!” She laughed. “I haven’t felt this good in ages. Sugar’s under control, I can see pretty well, none of the usual aches and pains… I’m doing pretty good!”

Did she remember she had died of cancer? Did she even remember that she’d died?

It was 2 am before I got to go to bed.

***

6 am and I was up and out the door before there was any chance of my mother or father being awake, assuming my mom even slept anymore. But at the very least, she was in her bedroom with the door closed and no view of the driveway I’d parked my car in.

Do I sound like a terrible daughter when I tell you I’ve never visited my mom’s grave? I haven’t been back there since the funeral. I always knew my mother wasn’t really there – that if any part of her had still existed in any form, it wasn’t trapped in a coffin under six feet of dirt. It made it somewhat difficult to find the graveyard, though, because I couldn’t remember where it was, or its name, or which church it was associated with, and it wasn’t exactly like I could ask my mom. When I finally found the place– it wasn’t that hard in the end, my parents live in a small town and there aren’t many graveyards – it took me half an hour to find her grave.

It seemed undisturbed. But if Mom had been back from the dead since Monday, that would have been time to fill in a grave. I went looking for the caretaker.

They get to work early in the graveyard caretaking business, I guess; I found him pushing a lawnmower over on the other side of the graveyard.

“Can I help you?” he asked.

“This is going to sound stupid,” I said. “But I got an email from a jerk I used to know in high school claiming he was going to dig up my mother’s grave, and I just wanted to make sure nobody’s touched it.”

“Nobody’s touched any of the graves, ma’am,” he assured me. “Aside from a couple of funerals we’ve had this week, no one’s done anything to disturb the ground here at all.”

“Thanks,” I said, “that’s reassuring. He was talking like he was actually going to do it, but I guess he was all talk.”

“Well, if anyone comes by and disturbs any of the graves, we’ll have them arrested,” he said.

I had my answer. My mother had not climbed out of her grave. Which seemed impossible anyway, now that I knew enough about the funeral industry to know exactly how hard it would be to smash a coffin open, let alone dig through six feet of dirt. I couldn’t rule out her turning immaterial and floating out of her grave, but my mom had seemed very material and biological when she’d hugged me. I’d always thought of ghosts as something that were almost never solid enough to interact with the world, if they even existed.

***

If I was going to get up this early, I was going to get a pancake breakfast at the diner. My parents still think sugarless cold cereal is a reasonable thing to eat for breakfast. They were always night owls; I made myself breakfast and school lunch every morning but the first day of school, every year after about third grade. I was also a night owl, once I didn’t have to get up for school anymore, but I used to make my girls a lunch every night and store it in the fridge for them. Now they’re too old and too cool for Mom lunches. They’re eating something, but it might be cafeteria food, lunch they pack for themselves, or for all I know sandwiches from 7-11 or Starbucks with their allowance.

The point is, I hardly ever get a nice breakfast, because I am hardly ever willing to wake up early enough to cook myself one, and my parents certainly weren’t going to. So I went to the diner.

Normally I don’t talk to anyone at a diner, beyond smiling at them and telling them my order in an upbeat, cheerful voice because waitresses get too much shit from too many people for me to add to it inadvertently. Also because I don’t want them to think I’m eating alone because I’m a sad, lonely bitch no one would love; I want them to know I’m doing this because I really, really enjoy not having to socialize. But today I had something I needed to know.

“I’m a writer,” I told the waitress, “and I’m doing research on ghost stories in the area. Have you heard anything, you know, Halloweeny or spooky? Ghosts appearing, dead people walking around, poltergeists, that kind of thing?”

“Can’t say I have, but I’ll ask around, see if any of the girls know any good stories,” the waitress told me.

And then she took my order back to the kitchen, and I surfed the net on my phone while I waited, and then I got my pancakes, and I ate them. I was chasing the last blueberry around on the plate when another waitress approached me. “Stacy told me you were collecting creepy stories for a book?”

“From the local area, yeah.”

“I don’t know if this is the kind of thing you’re looking for, but… my cousin says that a lady on her street, her husband died a few years ago? But she just saw the guy walking with the lady down the street, having a conversation like the guy never died.”

“Do you think you’d be able to give my email to your cousin and have her reach out to me? That sounds like exactly the kind of story I’m looking for.”

“Uh, sure.”

I gave the waitress my email address. This was probably going to come to nothing; I doubted the waitress would even remember to give it to her cousin. But it’d be really good if I could get the details from someone who knew more about it.

***

Jeff’s more of a morning person than I am. I got a response on Facebook, but I had to wait to get back to my parents’ house, where my laptop was, to read it. On mobile, Facebook will only let you read messages if you have the app, which tells Mark Zuckerberg exactly where you are and what you’re doing with your phone, all the time. I don’t have the app. Sometimes this means I can’t read messages on mobile, but I prefer that to having an evil data empire know everything about my movements.

My parents weren’t awake when I got home. Or they were still in their bedroom. They used to do that a lot. Mom’s desk was in there, and Dad had a laptop… which he usually used on Mom’s desk, since she died. I wondered where her machine was, and if she had made a thing about it once she came back.

“I’m not sure I remember what your third grade teacher’s name was… I can barely remember my own third grade teacher. Were they the same? I can’t remember. I think my own teacher’s name was… Wil-something? Wilber? Wilkins? You’d be better off… well, you’re at the house now, or are you back at your home? Kind of important to know, because I could give you some advice about who to ask, but it’d be a different thing if you were at Dad’s house.”

He meant, “You’d be better off asking Mom, but I don’t know if you know Mom is back from the dead or not.” I was pretty sure, anyway.

I responded. “I’m at Dad’s house. Wondering how I’d be able to tell the difference between someone who’s real and a Martian shapechanger. Could the name have been Wilder?”

Five minutes later I got my answer. “Mom isn’t a Martian shapechanger. It was the first thing I thought of, so I checked.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked.

That answer I didn’t get until half an hour later. “I… just didn’t feel right, talking about it in an impersonal medium like the internet. I know you have a cell phone and I probably even have your number somewhere, but I remember you’re not the biggest fan of actual phone calls, so I didn’t want to disturb you.”

I replied with my phone number and the message “Call me.”

And then I had to sit by my phone, doing nothing important, nothing that would engage my attention in any serious way, waiting for him to call. Which took twenty minutes, despite the fact that I could see that he was online.

Finally the phone rang. “You raaaaang?” I answered in my best parody of The Addams Family.

“I’m pretty sure I must have, or you wouldn’t have known to pick up,” Jeff said. “Of course, I might have buzzed. You could have your phone on vibrate. Or maybe I sang, depending on what you have for a ringtone.”

“’You saaaaang?’ doesn’t have the same je ne sais quoi to it.”

“Wow, how long has it been since I heard someone put je ne sais quoi in a sentence? I think we’re old. I think that’s an old person expression now.”

“What’s going on with Mom?” I asked, quietly, in case anyone might be in the hallway to hear me.

Jeff sighed. “I don’t know what is, but I can tell you what isn’t,” he said. “Stephanie confirmed that she eats, sleeps and goes to the bathroom normally, and I confirmed all of that for myself. The toilet in their bedroom is still broken enough that they don’t flush it unless they have to.”

I winced. That was a level of detail I could have done without. “So, not vampire or undead. How did you solve the Martian thing?”

“On Monday, Dad woke up and she was laying next to him in bed. If the goal was to kill him, it would have made more sense to do it then, before he woke up, than to put on this whole elaborate performance.”

“You’re taking me too literally. I’m not worried about aliens trying to take our family off guard so they can kill us. There’s any number of things they could be up to, and they don’t have to be aliens. Invasion of the Body Snatchers. The Stepford Wives. My Little Pony.”

“…My Little Pony?”

“There’s creatures called Changelings that feed on love. They impersonate ponies and take the love that other ponies feel for the ones they’re impersonating, as food.”

“Kind of psychic vampires mashed up with Martian shapechangers.”

“Yeah, but without the telepathy, so they’re not as good at it as you’d think. It’s a children’s show; they have to telegraph to the kids that these aren’t the real ponies. In real life, anyone who did something like that would be more competent.”

“How much verisimilitude do we need, though? She’s got moles in the same places Mom had moles. She’s missing a toenail just like Mom. Things I didn’t consciously think about, things I might not have remembered if you asked me to describe Mom.”

“That just means that if it’s not Mom, it has the ability to rummage deeper into our memories than we’re consciously aware of. That’s why I asked you my third grade teacher’s name. I genuinely don’t remember. Mom would, I’m pretty sure. Dad wouldn’t and Stephanie and Aaron were both too young.”

“I’m not sure I remember, but when you said Wilder, that sounded like it could be right. Do you know anyone from elementary school? Some of them went to high school with us.”

“I have some Facebook friends from high school, and maybe one or two went to the same elementary we did, but I haven’t been able to locate any actual people that I remember from elementary school. They don’t have a Classmates.com thing that works for elementary—”

“It says it does.”

“It lies, there’s nowhere to enter your elementary in your profile. All it lets you put in is high school, and it’s from a drop-down, not even freeform.”

“Huh. Guess I never tried it. I’m still in touch with anyone I cared about from back then.”

“I literally don’t care about anyone from back then, but that makes it hard when you’re trying to figure out your third grade teacher’s name.”

“If she can probe our memories,” Jeff said, “then nothing you or I know, or ever knew, would be safe. You’d have to come up with something to ask her that Dad wouldn’t know, or me, or Aaron, or Steph, or yourself, but that you know Mom would know and that you know someone else who would know it too.”

“I could ask Mariana for something.” My mom’s close friend and high school classmate was one of my Facebook friends. We don’t generally communicate directly with each other, but I follow her posts.

“That’s a good idea.” I heard the sound of a whistling teapot in the background. “That’d be my hot water for my oatmeal. If you get anything from Mariana, can you tell me about it?”

“Yeah.” I’d wanted to tell him about the story I’d heard in the diner, but no one got between Jeff and his oatmeal. “I’ll talk to you later. Probably online. Voice is making me paranoid.”

“I know what you mean. Do you need me to come up this weekend? I could make a day trip tomorrow.”

“That might be a good idea. I want to talk to Aaron, do you know what schedule he’s on?”

“He works nights now, so you’ll want to get him around 2 pm or so.”

“All right. Enjoy your oatmeal.”

“I will!” he said, putting a ridiculous amount of emphasis into it as a joke.

***

Before I could finish writing a message to Mariana – before I could really start, honestly, because how could I explain why I needed what I needed without admitting Mom was back from the dead? – someone knocked on my door. It was Mom. She was wearing one of her usual kind of shapeless but colorful nightgowns, and her hair was not brushed, so it was kind of a wreck. I noticed for the first time that it was grey. Mom had always dyed her hair since she started going grey, and it had still been auburn when she’d died. I’d never seen it fully grey. “Your dad and I are going to the arboretum,” she said. “Do you want to come?”

“Since when have you been into trees, Mom?” My mother had always been fascinated by history, and to some extent natural history like dinosaurs, but I’d never seen her express an interest in nature per se.

“I never was, much,” she admitted, “but the world is so beautiful. I was always more interested in the way humans shape the world than the way it came out of the box, but things like arboretums, Japanese gardens, zoos and aquariums… they’re made of nature, but they’re made by humans, and they say something about the people who chose to make them the way they are. And you know that your dad has always enjoyed nature.” My dad was interested in science, in general, and considered the natural world part of that. He was not exactly the kind of guy who would go camping.

In the past, I would have said “no, thanks.” I was never all that interested in nature myself, certainly not trees – maybe beautiful rocks or interesting landscapes, but looking at trees wouldn’t have seemed interesting to me. I still didn’t care much about trees… but my mom was back from the dead. I’ve gone much stupider and more boring places than an arboretum with her in the past, and now… if this was really her, if she was really alive again, I was going to spend all the time with her that I reasonably could.

“Sure, I’ll go,” I said. “I’ll take my own car, though. Just give me the address.” I always took my own car if I possibly could, because I’d get carsick if I wasn’t the one driving. “Should I ask Stephanie if she wants to come?”

“Sure, you can ask. I doubt she will, though.”

Stephanie, however, surprised me. “Yeah, I’ll go with you. We’ll meet Mom and Dad there?”

“Yeah.” Dad had texted me the address, so I pulled it up in my GPS. “About half an hour from here.”

In the car, she asked me, “Have you found anything out? I know you were looking into the whole Mom thing.”

“Jeff thinks she’s really Mom. We have a plan to get Mariana to give us a question that we don’t know the answer to, but that Mom and Mariana both would, so we can confirm she really knows things and isn’t just reading our minds. And a waitress at the diner said her cousin has seen what looks like someone else coming back from the dead.”

“It’s all over the place, actually,” Stephanie said. “I’m finding reports from everywhere.”

I glanced at her. “Why wouldn’t this be making the news, then? People coming back from the dead!”

“I feel like maybe no one wants to go on the record.” Stephanie looked out the window. “Nothing on Twitter or Facebook. No pictures of dead people on Instagram. I’m seeing things on Reddit and Tumblr – places where people use a consistent pseudonym, not like 4chan, but where that pseudonym can’t be tied to their actual identity. I’ve posted about it in both places, but I can’t make myself tweet about it.”

“Any idea why not?”

“It—” She shrugged, hands exaggeratedly widespread and head canted forward slightly. “It just feels wrong,” she said. “Like… we’re getting away with something. There’s a natural law we’re breaking here. I can post as toomanymushrooms or u/catonahottinroofsundae and no one knows who I am, but if I post as Stephanie Robbins and I tell everyone that my mom Suky Robbins is back from the dead…”

“What if that brought it to the attention of, what, some kind of authorities?”

“Yeah, pretty much. And even if I was just posting under my own name… I don’t have to say Mom’s name. I don’t have to put a mention to her Facebook in a post. But everyone knows my mother’s name, or they could find out from my name if they wanted to.”

“And you think maybe there are a lot of people with these weird feelings?”

“I don’t think so, I know so. A lot of posts explicitly talk about the fact that they can’t bring themselves to say anything in public, or talk about it with their real names on it.”

“Are they all parents?”

“No. It’s all kinds of people. Best friends, siblings, spouses, children… the only pattern I see is that nobody died a long time ago. It’s all, ‘my brother who died last year’ or ‘my aunt who died two years ago’ or something. Longest I’ve seen anyone talk about was a son who died five years ago.”

A thought occurs to me. “I can add something to your pattern, though.”

“Yeah?”

“You’d expect that, even if everyone with a resurrected relative feels this sense of dread about telling anyone about it with their name attached, because they feel it will, I don’t know, maybe cause the dead person to disappear back into their grave… you’d think somebody would do it anyway because they don’t care. Someone whose alcoholic abusive father came back and they wish he’d go away again, someone’s asshole brother, someone’s former best friend who betrayed them. But so far, no one has. How many people have you seen talking about this?”

“It’s hard to say because no one’s using their real names. Someone might post from their main blog and their side blog, or maybe they have a different name on tumblr vs reddit but they posted to both. But I’ve tracked thirteen separate names, and of those, I can tell for a fact there are at least nine unique ones because they talk about different people.”

“Thirteen isn’t ‘all over the place’.”

“I didn’t mean all over the Internet, I meant people coming from all over. I’ve tracked the UK, California, North Dakota, Ontario, France, India and New Zealand. Nobody’s tagging their posts and no one is willing to contribute to a master list, so it’s hard to find anyone outside of the people I follow or the subreddits I’m in, and I don’t know where everyone comes from. But it’s geographically widespread. I suspect it may also be happening in other places where people don’t generally speak English or maybe don’t have Internet access.”

“And what’s their sentiment? Like, are people frightened? Upset? Excited? Weirded out?”

She took a moment to think about it. “They’re happy. People are happy it happened. Weirded out, yes. But happy.”

“No whacked-out conspiracy theories about how it’s the contrails raining down adenochrome or something?”

“Not from the people it’s happened to. There was one flame war I saw where a religious person was saying that the person whose sister was back from the dead had to repudiate her. She’s not really your sister, she’s a demon from Hell sent to trick you, et cetera. And the person whose sister was back turned out to be just as religious, and they threw a holy fit. Literally. A holy fit.” She giggled. “A whole lot of stuff about how the righteous were coming back and Jesus had granted some people eternal life and this was that, and how dare you call these beings demons when they’re obviously blessed by Jesus himself and you’re the kind of person who would have called for Jesus’s crucifixion if you’d been alive then, and all that kind of thing.”

“Did anyone else who’d had returned people say anything?”

“This was Tumblr. None of the people who have had returns are communicating with each other in any way I can see. I reached out to a few on Tumblr private messaging but no one has answered. The only places I’m seeing conversations about it between people with returns have been on Reddit, because it has a forum structure. Tumblr is more like a whole hanging web of disconnected strings.”

“Still, you’d think that someone would be publishing a news article about it. Even if no one is willing to go on the record with their real name…”

“Maybe it’s not enough people. Nine unique instances, maybe up to thirteen, maybe more in places I haven’t surveyed. It’s not like I have access to literally all of Tumblr, after all. But that’s all I can confirm, and what if there isn’t any more?”

“If anyone came back from the dead I would expect the news to take notice.” I turned onto the final road; the arboretum was at the end of this stretch. “I went to the graveyard today. Mom’s grave hasn’t been disturbed. I checked with the groundskeeper. So either Mom’s body floated ethereally through the grave dirt, and her coffin, or her original body is still in there and whatever she is now, it’s not the same as what she was then.”

“It’s too bad we can’t have her exhumed,” Stephanie said.

“It probably wouldn’t tell us much anyway.”

“She’s younger-looking than she was before. Not by much, and the grey hair hides it, but she’s healthier-looking and less wrinkly. And I don’t see any evidence that she still has diabetes, or that she’s taking any pills at all. I haven’t seen her take any insulin shots, or anything.”

“Huh.” She wasn’t restored to her youth, or her hair wouldn’t be grey and there would be no wrinkles at all. She wasn’t restored to what she was at the moment of death, obviously. She wasn’t restored to what she’d have been at the moment of death without the cancer that killed her, if she didn’t have diabetes anymore. I felt like there had to be a pattern here I wasn’t seeing. I really wanted to talk to some of these other people having this experience.

I pulled in to the arboretum’s parking lot. Mom and Dad weren’t there yet; Dad doesn’t drive like an old man, but he doesn’t drive as fast as he used to, either. “Do they do this kind of thing a lot? Arboretums, parks, et cetera?”

“They don’t usually invite me, and I wouldn’t usually come if they did, so I don’t know. They do leave the house a lot.”

Dad’s car pulled in, and he and Mom got out. For the first time I could remember, Mom was actually moving a bit faster than him. Both Mom and Dad were the kind of people who walked quickly everywhere they went, but for a long time, Mom was slowed down by her various illnesses. Dad was still healthy for his age, but he’d slowed down a good bit since Mom’s death – grief was hard on his health, it seemed – and now Mom seemed healthier than he was.

“Did you know there are people who come here from all over just to see our leaves in the autumn?” Mom said.

I did know that; it was typically a factor in making it hard for me to come visit during the autumn. “I think it’s the mountainsides. There’s leaves turning colors all over the country, but not on mountainsides.”

“In California they don’t even consider these mountains,” Mom said. “They call them hills when they come visit.”

“No respect for the elderly,” Dad said.

“Yeah, these young mountains think they’re all that, but wait 100,000 years and see how tall they are then,” Stephanie said.

We strolled around, looking at the trees, reading what it said on the plaques in front of them. American Elm. Yellow Birch. Eastern White Pine. I’d seen trees just like these my whole life, and a good number of them, I’d never known the names.

“You never think about how beautiful the world is,” Mom said. “We’re all rushing through it, trying to accomplish the next thing. Or entertain ourselves. Read a book, watch TV. So few of us really want to interact with nature.”

“Careful, mom, your hippie roots are showing,” I said, teasing.

“I think if my generation had remembered what we were back when we were the hippies, the world would be better off.”

“We didn’t forget, Suky. The hippies were always big news, but you know as well as I do how many people our age just wanted to go punch a clock, buy a house, vote for Ronald Fucking Reagan… We thought we were the generation that would change the world, but it wasn’t our generation, it was us. People like us, who wanted to see a better world and weren’t content to just live like the sheep our parents were… but there’s people like that in every generation. And they’re always outnumbered by the assholes.”

“Actually, they’ve done a study,” Stephanie said. “The reason generations get more conservative as they get older is that at every point, the poor are more likely to die than the rich, and the rich are more conservative than the poor. So by the time you get to middle age, a lot of the people looking for social justice and diversity are dead. And there’s a lot more dead by the time they’re elderly.”

“I don’t buy it,” my dad said. “There’s entirely too many stupid poor people in this country who are brainwashed into supporting causes that help out the rich people and screw themselves over. They’re not living longer than anyone else in this country. The math doesn’t work.”

“Let’s not talk about politics,” Mom said. “I think we all know there’s something more important we ought to be discussing.”

“Mom?” Stephanie said, and looked at her, which is not a thing Stephanie does very often.

“Suky?” Dad said.

I didn’t say anything. I watched as Mom looked up at a tree and said, “It’s time we dealt with the elephant in the room, don’t you think?”

“Are you going to tell us about—” I couldn’t say anything more. I couldn’t bring myself to make the words.

“About the fact that I was dead, and now I’m not?” She looked at all of us. “I think we should talk about it, yes.”

It felt like there were eyes, watching us. I wanted to yell to my mother, to tell her not to talk about it, that someone might hear… but who? And why would it matter?

“Is that something you’re okay with, Suky?” Dad asked.

“I’m fine, but I’m getting the impression the rest of you aren’t,” she said. “Why haven’t any of you brought it up, except Stephanie, the once?”

“Well, you told me it was rude,” Stephanie said.

Mom sighed. “I guess I did. I’m sorry. This isn’t really easy for me either.”

She sat down on a bench, and Dad sat with her. Stephanie and I sat on a short stone wall around a tree. “I suppose I should start by saying, I don’t really know much more than you do. I don’t have any memories of being dead. I woke up in bed, next to your dad, on Monday morning, and for a while I couldn’t remember how I’d gotten there… I assumed I went to bed the previous night, but I couldn’t remember what had happened the night before. I couldn’t pin down anything I remembered as to exactly when it happened, not in the recent past. And when your father woke up, the shock on his face and the fact that he kept asking me if I was really here made me think, wait, the last thing I remember was that I was in a hospital dying of cancer, so why am I here now?”

“So you don’t remember any kind of afterlife?” I asked.

She shook her head. “I believe I had some sort of existence, but I don’t remember anything about it. When I wake up, I have flashes, feelings that I dreamed something about it, but I can’t hold it in my head long enough to write it down or even talk about it. It just… disappears, leaving behind only the memory that something was there a few minutes ago.”

“You know how unlikely the idea that an afterlife exists is, scientifically, though. Right?” Dad said. “Consciousness is an emergent property of a trillion neurons working together. Imagining that there could be some sort of construct that exists outside the brain and body is like imagining that a video game character could be waltzing around in front of us.”

“And yet I’m here,” Mom said.

“Time travel or a Star Trek transporter with some modifications would make more sense than something supernatural, like an afterlife,” Dad said stubbornly.

“It doesn’t matter,” Stephanie said. “If Mom doesn’t remember…”

“Have you had a medical exam?” I asked.

Mom laughed. “I don’t have health insurance anymore. I’m dead, remember? I can’t even begin to figure out how we’re going to address getting me a legal identity again, and to be honest… I can’t know I’ll be around long enough for it to matter.”

“None of us know that,” I said, “about ourselves or anyone else.”

“True, and it’s going to be hard to travel if I don’t have a legal identity. So I suppose I’ll have to address it eventually, if I last that long.”

“Thank God your state ID hasn’t actually expired yet, or there’d be no way we could fly to Boston. The passport’s expired,” Dad said. Mom had been legally blind when she died, so she’d had a state ID rather than a driver’s license.

“Is there any reason you might not? Aside from the things that could kill anyone?” I asked.

Dad said, “Your mother and I discussed… when she first appeared, I found it nearly impossible to talk about the fact that she’d been dead. When she broached the topic, I could talk about it to her, but I couldn’t tell you kids.” He shrugged. “My working theory is that there’s some kind of alien experiment going on or that time travel is somehow involved, but the fact that none of you kids were able to tell each other about it until you knew the other one knew suggests to me that someone with the ability to directly affect human emotions or thought is, for some reason, making it hard to talk about this. Maybe that means it’s a short-lived experiment.”

“Maybe I escaped from hell and no one wants to talk about it for fear the devil will take me back,” Mom said, but she was laughing. Mom had never believed in hell. Dad was an atheist; Mom definitely had strong spiritual beliefs, but they were kind of a package of woo that included reincarnation and ghosts, even though she’d been raised Catholic.

“There are others like you,” Stephanie said. “None of them have talked about it themselves, but family members or friends have talked about it online, under pseudonyms. I haven’t found any evidence that anyone has mentioned anything under their real names.”

“A lot?” Mom was surprised.

“So far I count between nine and thirteen unique individuals, plus Eleanor heard a rumor that someone who might live in town might have come back. We don’t know any details, though.”

“We need to find them,” Mom said. “I need to find them. I have a second chance at life, and I’m not ashamed of it. I won’t be silenced about the fact that I exist.”

“It might not be the best idea, Suky,” Dad said. “There are a lot more crazies out there than there were when you died—”

“—there were plenty of crazies then, Dee—”

“—right, and even then it wouldn’t have been a good idea. There might be some religious nut job who thinks that if you were dead you should stay that way. Or someone else thinks that you know how you came back, and wants to force you to tell them.”

“Those are valid points,” Mom said, nodding. “And to all of those people who might want to harm me because they think I shouldn’t be alive or they think I know how I came back, I say a hearty ‘fuck you.’ I won’t be silent because there are crazy people in the world. I’m not afraid of death, not anymore.”

“You’re going to risk Eleanor’s kids?” Dad asked sharply.

“I agree with Mom,” I said, standing up. “Nobody should have to keep quiet about the fact that they exist. But I have to tell Will.”

Stephanie made a face. My family doesn’t like my husband. They have justifications, but in the past few years, since Mom died, Will’s gone to therapy and has done a lot of work on himself. Mom was the only one in the family ever willing to forgive anything, though, so I’ve never tried to get them to change their minds.

Mom said, “Well, is he still a total asshole?”

“He’s… been trying not to be. He’s in therapy, and we’re doing couples counseling, and he’s working through a lot of baggage from his upbringing.”

“Why not tell him to bring the kids up and join you here, then. Coming back to life, might as well start a clean slate and see where things go from there. And you’re right, he needs to be involved in the discussion. Your girls, too. They all are old enough to understand what’s going on here, and what could happen.”

“You know I will never stand in the way of anything you want,” Dad said, which is the kind of thing Dad says rather than “I love you”. Things like, “If they ever fail to respect you, I will smite them” – talking about us and our treatment of Mom – or “You have always been my worthy opponent.” Yes. Sometimes my father talks like a comic book character.

“I don’t know if it’s a good idea,” Stephanie said, “but I know you taught me to be who I am to the world and fuck anyone who gives me shit about it, so… same principle. I don’t think you could be you and lie about who you are.”

“And we need to involve Jeff and Aaron,” Mom said. “I’ll call them and get them to come here.”

“We turned off your cell phone ages ago,” Dad objected.

“Dee, we still have a land line. I know we do because I hear it ring, and sometimes you even answer it.”

“Oh. Yeah, that’s right, we do.” Dad shook his head. “This world where everyone carries around their phone in their pocket all the time… it’s strange how you get so used to a technological or societal change that you forget that you did it a different way for 67 years.”

Nothing ever stopped my mother when she wanted something strongly enough, if she believed it was right. I hadn’t even thought of the considerations my father brought up before he talked about them, but I’ve never believed it’s okay to hide in conformity and live in fear. I didn’t think Will had ever believed in doing that, either, and my daughters had grown up going to political protests.

“We need to find out more about these other people,” I said to Stephanie on the way home. “See if we can contact them directly, find out if any of the actual returned people are planning on going public like Mom. We could coordinate if they are. Strength in numbers.”

“The religious right are going to crap their pants,” Stephanie said, laughing. “A Deist who believes in reincarnation, is married to an atheist, and has a gay son, came back to life. Jesus Christ hasn’t got a monopoly anymore.”

“That is probably going to be the most fun part of this going public thing,” I said.

***

So now I don’t know what will happen. My husband’s driving up from home with our girls, my oldest younger brother’s on a train, and Mom’s been looking up contact information for journalist friends she had once, checking which ones are still alive, using Facebook – we never deactivated her account – and my dad’s LinkedIn. Stephanie’s found two other people who have family members who came back from the dead, and one of them’s been willing to talk to her in private messaging on Tumblr.

I still have a hard time telling anyone who doesn’t already know, but it turns out, I can write about it without feeling the pressure, the fear. Don’t know if I can post it, yet. I guess we’ll see. I’m hoping that if I can get more information from more people who’ve been through something similar, maybe we’ll find a pattern, a point of commonality… maybe even an explanation for why we all feel this pressure not to talk about it.

Tomorrow we’re all going to talk about whether we’re going to do this or not, but I know my family. What my mom wants, she gets, if it’s possible and if it’s ethical. My husband and my kids are going to be in favor of her going public, and my brothers won’t stand in her way any more than my dad would. So we’re going to do this. The thing we’re really going to talk about is how to keep ourselves safe when we do.

Everything in the world is going to change. I just don’t know exactly how yet.

***

***

Obligatory notes because I’m so fucking late with this piece: 

I have fucked up royally. I went into this without an outline and about 6,000 words in I realized I had attempted to consume a ball of energy larger than my head. This is going to end up being novel length, most likely. I struggled really hard to find a place I could reasonably end it as a short story, and yeah, it is absolutely not an ending. No followup on the Martian shapechanger thing, new idea is brought in and then treated like it’s the climax, protagonist is almost entirely reactive and passive. As a short story, it’s shit.

Unfortunately I found this out after I was already late. Not going to bore everyone with why this was a week late except that it’s allergy season and I’ve been exhausted lately. So there was no time to try to write something else. I hope you found it entertaining, if somewhat frustrating; it’s shit as a short story because it’s plainly a piece of a novel. Which I’m not going to write real soon because I have like 3 novels ahead of this one in the queue, but if I live long enough it will get done.

It’s kinda cute that story #30 falls on the 30th now because I’m late and story #31 is the last of my Spooky 5 Halloween-appropriate stories. But not cute enough to justify how late this is.

BTW, while this is not as autobiographical as “Radio” from Inktober, it is heavily drawn from real life. I altered some things because this is fiction, but the mother and the father in this story are pretty close to real life. Except that my mother hasn’t come back.

[tinamaetales]

Fine, not fine

When the pandemic broke out in 2020, I was left with nothing to do. Our WFH arrangement during those times is not something I consider as a heavy workload so most of the time I just find myself alone with my own thoughts – which is one of the scariest scenarios for me. To kill time and distract myself from my own self-destructive thoughts, I decided to watch documentaries on Youtube but there really isn’t enough for me so despite not having a huge salary, I decided to subscribe to Netflix and from then on, I was able to watch a lot of movies, series and documentaries. I really wanna write a reflection on each of the stuff I’ve watched but I’m too lazy these days (and yet, here I am writing one).

As I mentioned, I watched a lot of stuff on Netflix but the last three that I’ve watched lately (before I start being invested with American Horror Story series), Angel’s Last Mission: Love, The Good Place, and Mystic Pop-up Bar tend to have a common theme – life, death, afterlife. I didn’t even do it on purpose; I was just really interested in the plot of their stories. What these 3 shows have in common is that they discuss about the morality and consequences and these days, I’m really interested in those topics. Lately, I’ve been questioning myself about what kind of person I am – am I good or bad? I also keep on having an internal debate with myself as to whether or not there is an afterlife and if there is, then where will I end up? Heaven or hell? Those questions are kinda giving me some headache these days but at least it’s a good distraction from my own self-destructive thoughts. Somehow, Philosophy seems interesting to me now (during my College years, I dreaded that subject but still managed to get a 1.25 final grade lol). Anyway, here are my thoughts about the shows:

Angel’s Last Mission: Love

Major lesson: Keep the faith

This kdrama has such a beautiful way of presenting its story that you will fall in love with it in just the first episode! (Also because Kim Myung Soo’s dimples are to die for, omg I’m so in love) Anyway, this drama’s plot is interesting: an angel who disobeyed the law (he’s not allowed to meddle with the lives of humans especially since he’s a guardian angel for animals) on his last day was given the most difficult mission – to make the fallen ballerina know what love is. As I am writing this, I can’t help but feel emotional because the show knows how to attack one’s heart. I will not be telling more of its plot for I might end up spoiling it so I’ll just provide my major take away from this kdrama. (This is one of those kdramas that I can watch again and again coz it’s beautiful)

I was raised in Catholic faith, which is really not a surprise for a Filipino like me since this country is heavily influenced by the Catholic Church, but ever since I’ve become an adult and finally opened my eyes and allow myself to stop living under the notorious gaslighting of people around me, I struggled with my faith in God. It’s really difficult living a traumatized life. In 2018, I seek for professional help and was diagnosed with Dysthymia and Social Anxiety Disorder. And despite therapy and medication, I have not yet healed and sometimes feel like my situation is getting worse. As such, I felt so alone in my struggles which became the reason why I relate to Yeon Seo’s character. People labeled her as a cold bitch and most of them are expecting her to just move on and heal without fully understanding where she is coming from. When Yeon Seo said “Do you know what it feels like to be left behind? It feels like I’m abandoned alone in an endless desert” it hit close to home. I know that one’s pain should not be an excuse for acting up and being mean but people should also understand that healing is different for all of us – we heal at our own pace at our own time. Pain can change a person – I know it fully well for I’ve become a completely different person because of all the pain I’ve been through. But what this show taught me is that God is a merciful God and He will not let us be drown into the abyss of darkness…..somehow, He will make a way to get us back on track and sometimes it’s in ways we never imagined it to be. Like how they sent angel Kim Dan into Yeon Seo’s life, God will also be sending us the answer to our prayers for He loves us and He is the only one who will never give up on us – even though we gave up on ourselves.

The Good Place

Major lesson: There is hope for humanity

I’ve been obsessed with sitcoms since 2019 (if I remember the year correctly) for they’re easy to watch and just fun but I never expected that a sitcom will make me become philosophical and somehow question my own morality: am I a good person?

For a show with only four seasons and fifty-three episodes, The Good Place sets the bar high for a sitcom.  It did not drag its plotline but is able to tell the entire story in a way that leaves the viewers satisfied with it. The Good Place is a story *SPOILER ALERT* that revolves around the afterlife lives of the four main characters: Eleanor, Chidi, Tahani, and Jason who all end up in the “good place” because they earned enough points on Earth but there’s a catch, two of them are not actually meant to be in the good place. Eleanor and Jason both mistakenly went to the good place because they died at almost the same time as someone with the same name as them but the other two actually deserved to be in the good place. The dilemma started when Eleanor admitted the truth to Chidi, a Philosophy professor who specialized in Ethics for he is torn between helping them or snitching on them. But perhaps the biggest plot twist of all, *SERIOUSLY STOP READING IF YOU DON’T WANT ANY MORE SPOILERS* they are not really in the good place. All four of them are in the Bad Place disguised as the good place and they were specifically chosen to torture each other, just like what Jean Paul Sartre said, “Hell is other people” Now this gets interesting because while none of these four people have committed heinous crimes which can then make them deserving of a spot in the bad place, the actions they’ve done during their lifetime on earth has bearing. At first I find it surprising how Chidi and Tahani end up in the bad place considering that Chidi spent his life in the pursuit of goodness and Tahani is a philanthropist who raised millions of dollars for charities. But then, as the show progressed, I understood. Chidi’s vast knowledge of morality made him become an indecisive person which led towards the suffering of others. Chidi made other people suffer because he finds it difficult to make a choice. On Tahani’s part, she raised millions of dollars to help improve the lives of others but such is a self-serving interest – she did not do those things because she wanted to help but because she wants to make herself look good. On Eleanor’s part, while she did not commit serious crimes, she was a big ass jerk towards others during her time on earth. With Jason, although he is kind, his actions often lead to disasters and although unintentional, harm towards others. With these in mind, I guess it’s safe to say that humans are doomed for the things we do are most of the time self-serving. It’s hard to make it to the Good Place because in one way or another, we do some things that affect others in a negative way. But what this show also taught me is that while it’s true that hell is other people……humans have a chance to improve and be better when given the proper environment as well as when they help each other out. Just like what Michael said “The point is, people improve when they get external love and support. How can we hold it against them when they don’t?”

At first, this show kind of made me realized that I’ve been a bad person….that most of the decisions I’ve made in life are self-serving….I only do things that benefit me and I could not care less about other people but my biggest realization here is that, I acted this way because my unhealed pain and trauma is manifesting itself. I have been hurt way too much that it made me become a bad person and end up with the mantra that life is shitty anyway so why try to be good? And because of that, I felt bad. Now, I try my best to do good things, not because I want to feel good for myself but because it’s the right thing to do. I have come to the realization that just because I was hurt does not mean I have the right to inflict pain on others. I know that morality is not something that can easily be answered since it’s such a complex thing and humans are flawed but as what Michael said (he has a lot of great lines from the show, I can’t help but to keep on quoting him) “What matters isn’t if people are good or bad. What matters is, if they’re trying to be better today than they were yesterday. You asked me where my hope comes from? That’s my answer.” Please, please, please watch The Good Place! I guess it’s one of the best, if not the best, sitcoms ever.

Mystic Pop-up Bar

Major lesson: Grudges are the heaviest to carry/ the art of letting go

One word to describe this k-drama? HEARTWARMING. With only 12 episodes, this k-drama was able to provide me comfort and healing. I did not actually expect much from this as I only watched it because of Yook Sungjae but what I failed to realize is that this kdrama’s approach to storytelling will be heartwarming. The plot is pretty simple for a fantasy drama: a woman, Weol-ju, runs a pop-up bar in order to fulfill her mission of settling the grudges of 100,000 people but as the years went by, it became difficult for her to have people to open up. When people fail to open up about the grudges they are holding, then it will be difficult for her to help them in solving their problems. And since it is taking her way too long to finish her mission, she was given an ultimatum of having to finish her mission within a month – good thing is she found two people to help her with the case: the afterlife police agent Gwi and the human with special ability of making people open up to him just by having a slight physical contact with them, Kang Bae. I love the way these three main characters complemented each other and I sometimes wish that I was given the chance to be a customer at the Mystic Pop-up Bar not just to have them help me solve my grudges but because sometimes, all we need is people who will listen to us.

As mentioned, Weol-ju’s mission is to help people settle the grudges they are carrying and she makes it happen by having people go inside her pop-up bar, let them tell their stories to her and then she will eventually offer them a special drink (which she disguises as an alcohol) that will make them fall asleep so she can enter the dream world and do her work in settling the grudge. While watching this drama, I can’t help but wonder: why do people drink when they have problems? For someone who never drinks and is not interested in drinking, I’ve always been curious of it. They said that alcohol tastes bitter, so I don’t understand why it seems to be helping people in dealing with their problems? Some say that by drinking, it helps them escape their reality for a while. I did some research about this topic and according to Origins Recovery, alcohol contains anxiolytic properties which means that it helps in inhibiting stress or anxiety. As for the bitterness, I heard from someone that as time passes by, the bitterness become sweet unlike life itself in which as time passes by, it becomes more overwhelming. I guess drinking really helps people to take a pause from the absurdity of life despite its bitterness as well as the headache that follows after drinking. Moreover, who am I to judge people who rely on drinking when their life becomes a mess when I also have my own ways, sometimes self-destructive, of finding an escape from this horrible world that we live in? After all, when life gets too tough, we all just want an escape – even though it’s temporary.

With every episode, Weol-ju and her squad helped people settle their grudges and each time they do, it makes me feel emotional. This show makes me realized that all of us are carrying grudges we don’t talk about and when we do not have the avenue to vent it out, then it eats us up alive. All of us are no stranger to struggles, but it is important to be strong and courageous. We can choose to struggle alone but asking for help does not mean you are weak.

Let me end this blogpost by putting my favorite line from Weol-ju: “No matter what’s making you suffer right now, things will settle and pass eventually. Hang in there until then, and you’ll find yourself stronger”

x,

TinaMae

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

tapestry 👑 XXVI

Warnings: dark elements, dub/noncon (cummies!)

This is dark!(king)Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: King Steven had a wandering eye but you never thought it would fall upon you.

This Chapter: The wedding day comes to and end.

Note: Wedding night = wedding cummies. I have nothing else to say.

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply! Love ya!

masterlist

You’d never pondered much on the concept of time. It loomed in your mind as it did any person. Foreboding and inevitable. One day it would pass you by and you would succumb to it as all did. But you’d never thought of it so deeply because it had never come to such a defining and startling stop.

You hung from the precipice as you stood before the tall doors. They were closed but the din of voices came clear through the studded wood. Beside you was the man who had strung up your world so definitely. And as you looked at him you saw the toll of time; the fresh bloom of life, the frightful promise of death, the slow and crippling march of mortality. The crushing hand of fate was his; decorated with gold and gems.

He turned his head and you winced at the movement. You looked to him in turn and he smiled down at you. To any other, it was a kind smile; to you, it was vulgar and knowing. He had so easily disassembled you in the carriage and he could do it again. He would. And he anticipated it gleefully, like a child on Yuletide.

He took your hand and held it in his. His fingertip rubbed the sapphire he’d guilded you with. He looked ahead and inhaled deeply. His chest puffed out as he nodded to the servants on either side of the doors. You stood as straight as you could. You were a queen now, or at least married to the king. Once the coronation was past, the title would be true, but you were as good as. 

How did Eleanor ever do it?

The doors opened slowly and the voices within died slowly. Another blast of horns that was becoming all too familiar and distressing. Was this to be your entrance to every occasion? Were you to be met with the eyes of every other person whenever you passed through a doorway?

You didn’t move until you felt him tug you forward. You knew it would be a poor impression to be dragged into your own wedding feast. You let him guide you into the hall as the guests stood at their tables and quieted entirely. They bowed as the king waved to them and squeezed your hand. You mimicked him and did your best to keep your lips curved.

He led you up to the dais above the tables along the front of the hall. Two chairs; one for each of you as you sat above the rest. Your parents, his mother, Lord Barnes, his council and their respective wives, all sat along the nearest tables. Lady Diana and Mabel had returned to their former esteem; tails between their legs as their confessions secured their lives, though they were not without stain. It was a pauper’s court indeed.

Steven made a show of lifting your hand to his lips and kissing it before he turned back to the people. He cleared his throat. “We thank you all for attending our wedding and we do hope that this feast does mark the beginning of an equally fruitful and fulfilling union. We welcome you to share at our table and all that should entail. May you all find your stomachs full and your hearts content when the night is through.”

He raised your hand as he had at the altar before he sat and pulled you down with him. Chairs creaked and scraped as others followed suit and platters were uncovered in unison by servants. His hand lingered on yours as he sat back. His other reached to shift your seat closer as he leaned over your arm.

“Tell me, my queen, how did you enjoy our ride?” He purred. “Hmm?”

You gulped as you looked at him. Your cheeks burned and you blinked. You didn’t know what to say so you parted your lips dumbly.

“It’s alright. You did make your pleasure most clear. Sang it, even, though you’ve never seemed the musical type,” He kept his voice low as the servants filled your cups with wine. He reached to one and offered it to you. “I promise, there is much more to come before we retire this night. More than you could ever know but I shall guide you as you bid me.” You wrapped your fingers around the stem of the cup and he let you take it as his hand brushed yours. “I shall show you what it means to be a wife.”

You nodded and sipped from the wine. He chuckled and grabbed his own.

“It is expected that you may be nervous; afraid, even. But did I give you an cause to be in the carriage? Did you not feel...divine?” He shielded his lips from the room with his cup.

You nodded and drank again. Your hand threatened to shake.

“Say it.” He demanded. “Tell me you liked it.”

“I--I did. I liked it…” You sputtered and set your goblet down before you could drop it. “...very much, my king.”

“I did too.” He hummed. “You tasted marvelous.”

You looked down at your skirts. You imagined them pushed up as they had been in the carriage. His head just below them, your hand in his hair. The way you’d beckoned him to your body. How you had welcomed him. The tingle that returned and called for more. The flames that washed over you though you could not tell if they burned of desire or shame. Did it matter for he would have his way regardless.

👑

The night wore on. You found yourself dancing with the king as clumsily as that first night he’d asked you. Your lack of coordination was the only thing that hadn’t changed. Eleanor was gone and no longer there to surveil you. Rose was married and glowing as she neared her due date, entirely unencumbered by the king. The ladies were yours though you hadn’t any idea how to lead them. You were just as clueless but all else had shifted around you.

You paused from your hideous dancing as you saw your mother approach. The king, your husband, never quite stopped touching you. It was a quickly formed habit and you found it wearing on you as the evening progressed. But more, you found it stoked that same heat as before. Though you told yourself it was natural, and legally consecrated, it still felt so wrong. You had supplanted another, even stolen her life.

“My dear, uh, your highness,” Your mother corrected herself as she neared. “Oh, you do look absolutely wonderful.” She grabbed your father’s arm as he retained his usual grimace. “Husband, isn’t our daughter just stunning?”

“Mmm,” Your father grumbled though his eyes never met yours. “That she is.”

“I couldn’t ask for a more beautiful wife,” Steven affirmed. “Lady Elizabeth, pardon me, Lady Bess, I promise I shall take care of her as she deserves.”

“And my girl deserves the best,” Your mother asserted. “And I shall hold you to such a promise.”

“Yes, yes, she does look a might better than the quiet little bird I first met,” Another voice sounded from behind her mother. “Bess, your daughter is much more comely than I did think. I suppose she should bear some fine heirs.”

“Mother,” Steven greeted and kissed her cheek. “I did think you would retire early, as you usually do.”

“There is much more wine here than even my chambers,” She quipped.

“Thank you,” You piped up. “Your highness, we do appreciate your presence and your efforts in coming to the capital for our wedding.”

Sarah regarded you for a moment before she replied. “Why, Steven, I’d say she learns fast but I daresay it more likely you offer a stark enough contrast that she does seem rather courteous.”

“We are very grateful, mother,” Steve said, though he could not completely hide his irritation. “We always welcome you here.”

“Though I do not always welcome this place,” She remarked. “Or weddings. The first was damned enough for me.”

Steven chuckled and ignored his mother’s complaints. He peered around and waved to another nearby. It took a few sharp gestures before you caught sight of who it was he beckoned to. Lord Barnes appeared among the crowd and nodded to his king and friend. His blue eyes were dull and dilated; as if he too had been imbibing.

“Your highness,” He gave a dramatic bow to the king. “A most splendid occasion. I daresay, hard-fought and long-awaited.”

“I daresay,” The king agreed as he squinted as his friend. “You seem to be enjoying yourself.”

“I would never gripe at free wine,” He smiled. His blue eyes caught yours for a moment and he quickly looked back to Steven. “And dancing! Though I do lack a proper partner.”

“You must have your selection, Lord, there are many ladies who no doubt prefer a duke,” The king mused.

“No doubt, though I do not prefer them,” He rolled his eyes. “I shall dance another night. A cup shall see me well enough.”

“Buck, do not be so dour. Perhaps even some water should lighten you up,” Steven remanded. “And if you insist on a partner, I might lend you mine for a tune, though not for long.”

“With her errant feet I should find my toes flattened,” He chided. “You keep your queen to yourself,” He returned. “You make a pretty pair.” He covered his mouth and withheld a hiccup. “A pretty pair…” He righted himself. “Indeed.”

He winked and disappeared back into the crowd. You watched him and wondered at his demeanour. Surely he was drunk but uncannily bitter as well. Steven barely seemed bothered as he pulled you to him once more and excused you from your parents. He drew you onto the floor and clung to your hand as he set back to following the melody of strings and brass.

“The night wears on…” He said as he turned. “But my eagerness does not, my queen.”

👑

When at last the dancing began to wind down and the band tired, the departure of the royal couple was announced. As you neared the doors, the king’s men guided him to the left and your ladies diverted you to the right. As was the rite of any bride and groom, you would be undressed and readied by your retinue for your wedding night.

As you walked along the corridors with Rose at your side and several other women in your stead, your stomach knotted painfully. For now, you would be apart from the king but only for a moment as you were stripped down for your consummation. The last of your former life would be left behind and you would face what was to be.

You were ushered into a small room just along a corridor not far from the king’s. The giggles of the ladies echoed along the walls before they closed you in and set about their task. Rose rubbed her stomach as she watched Beatrice and Marion unlace your bodice and your sleeves were pulled off by Mary. You felt as if a thousand needles pricked at your flesh.

“It’s not so bad, your highness,” Rose offered. “I promise though, it could be worse.” She reached to her back and groaned. “If you are successful, you’ll be much like me in no time.”

You tried to smile but your lips only quivered. You let them remove your gown and stepped out of it as they removed your coronet and veil. They unbound your hair and your slippers were bundled up with your stockings. You stood in nothing but your shift; trembling from more than the cool castle air.

“Rose,” You turned to her. She was the only of the ladies you could ask. “What do I do?”

She considered you and nodded. She smiled kindly and touched your shoulder. “Let him do as he wants. If you at least try, it will not be so bad… it will hurt at first but it gets better.”

You nodded but you felt even more on edge. You anticipated more than pain; worse, humiliation, regret, immorality. It was all so vague in your head that you felt as if you marched to the block.

“You needn’t worry so much,” Rose comforted. “For as long as the king has waited, he cannot be disappointed. Just breathe.”

“Breathe,” You let out a long breath and nodded as you were wrapped up in a robe. “Alright.”

“Come on,” She held out her hand. “We cannot delay any longer. Better to have it done with anyway.”

You took her hand and she led you back into the corridor. She waddled beside you but her step was even. You approached the king’s chambers and the guards greeted you with knowing looks. The opened the doors and Rose squeezed your hand. She turned you to her and untied the belt of your robe. She grabbed the front of it and paused before pushing it down your shoulders.

“He loves you. You might be scared but it will not change his feelings for you. His want. He is a man who gets all he desires and if you give it to him, that will be your security.” She slowly shoved the robe down your arms. “You can be better than Eleanor. Be you. Be kind.”

“Thank you,” You said quietly.

The robe fell away entirely and she swept it up in her arms. She smiled at you. Envy mixed with pity. You thanked her and stepped through the doors and they closed behind you. The bedchamber was open and a subtle glow escaped the arched doorway. Just breathe, you told yourself.

You walked to the door and peeked inside the chamber. Candles were set in sconces along the wall and gave a low light to the room. The large canopied bed cast shadows like wraiths and the tall fireplace gaped like a hungry mouth. You didn’t see the king as you stepped inside. Your heart beat furiously as you turned back and yelped.

Steven appeared from behind the door to frighten you. He scooped you up as you almost stumbled over your own feet and you struggled against him. You hadn’t been expecting such a sudden encounter. You felt his bare chest against your arm as he carried you towards the bed. He dropped you onto the mattress with a chuckle.

“My queen, I did not mean to scare you so, only a little trick, you see?” He wore a pair of undershorts and nothing else. He climbed up on the bed beside you as you sat up.

“I… It was only a surprise, my king,” You assured him. “I was not expecting it.”

“Oh, but I do love to hear you make such noises,” He slid his arm behind you and pulled you close. “I should like to hear it over and over.”

He pushed you down onto your back and pressed his lips to yours. Your hand grasped at his broad chest as he did. You felt the soft hair along his firm muscle. The strength corded beneath his flesh. It assured you of your helpless and added to the pluck within you. You wanted to shove him away and yet wanted to pull him closer too.

His tongue explored your mouth as his fingers pinched and tugged at your shift. He felt your shape beneath, groped you as he hummed into your mouth, rolled his body against yours. He parted from your lips and you gasped, overwhelmed by his hands on you. His warmth surrounded you; suffocated you.

He pulled his arm from beneath you and sat back. His blue eyes sparkled in the candlelight as he traced your collarbone with his fingers. His hand slid down and gripped the neck of your shift. He grabbed the other side and tore it so sharply your body jolted. Your chest was bared to him and your nipples hardened at the cool air.

“Wow,” He let out a small gasp as his hand covered your breast. 

He purred hungrily and bent over you as he took your nipple in his mouth. He kept his hand on your chest as his other felt around between you. He pushed your shift up until it was past your knees and slipped beneath it. His fingers crawled along your thighs as you shuddered. You were trapped but the more he touched you, the less it felt like you were.

He ran his fingers along your vee and you slapped your hand against his shoulder in shock. He trailed further and pushed between your legs. With two fingers, he teased your bud and slipped between your folds. He rubbed you until the tickle grew unbearable. Until you felt the wetness gather at his touch and he spread it with his fingers.

He moved his mouth to your other breast as he shifted his body over you. He pushed one knee between your legs and then the other. A steady beat formed in your ears and deafened you. You could barely hear your own breathing as he raised his mouth back to yours. He kissed you sloppily as he cupped your sex in his hand.

He sat back and ripped your shift entirely to its hem. You gasped at your nakedness and his eyes roved over you. He reached to his shorts and shoved them down. He was careful not to catch his member as he uncovered it and your eyes rounded at the sight of it. Your chest rose and fell and his gaze followed it.

You pushed yourself up on your elbows and tried to wriggle backwards away from him. He caught your hips and forced you back down to the mattress, your legs splayed around him. He leaned over you, his hand on your throat, as he pressed his forehead to yours.

“My wife, this is your duty,” He growled. “We must consummate our union this night.” He tightened his grip enough for you to squeak in fear. “Though it is up to you whether your duty should be a task.”

You gulped and nodded. He let go and sat back again. He stood to slip free of his shorts and tossed them away. His thick thighs pushed against yours as he knelt between your legs and his muscles tensed as he looked over you. You covered your chest shyly and closed your eyes.

“Look at me,” He commanded. You shook your head. “I said,” He reached to tweak your nipple and you whimpered. “Look at me.”

You opened your eyes and he grinned. His hand fell to his cock. He glided up and down his length and groaned. He did it again as his other hand dipped between your legs. He felt along your folds as he moved closer until your legs were draped over his thighs. He swirled his fingertip around your clit and you spasmed.

“Now is not the time for modesty,” He rasped. “Your little act is over.”

He guided the tip of his member to your bud and dragged it up and down. You dug your nails into the blankets below you and held your breath as you struggled to keep from closing your eyes. He looked sinister in the shadows as he admired his body over yours.

He slickened himself along your folds. He stretched a hand over your thigh as his head met your entrance and he held himself there. He lifted his head and looked you in the eye, his lips curved. He inhaled as deep as he could and let the air whisk out shakily. He lowered his gaze again and you followed it as you felt him pushing against you.

He entered you slowly. Just the tip as you cried out in surprise and pain. Your legs tensed against his and you tried to sit up to shove him away. He caught your wrists and pushed them back down to the mattress. He held them there as he bent over you and forced himself deeper. You whined through gritted teeth.

“Stop! Stop! It hurts!” You begged. “It hur--”

Your voice caught in your throat as he slammed into you entirely. He pulled back and thrust again and you exclaimed. The tears rose and you shook as he repeated the motion once more. You bent your legs as you braced yourself against the mattress and he rocked in a steady motion.

“Lord, you feel so good,” He growled as he released your wrists. 

He framed your face with his hand and kissed you. He didn’t stop as he swallowed your breath and his tongue invaded your mouth. He smothered your whimpers as you shook beneath him.

He planted his elbow beside your head and snaked his hand between your bodies. He reached down and found your bud as he worked in and out of you. He rubbed you as he kept his pace even. The pain intertwined with the peculiar strumming at your core and you brought your hand up to grip his bicep. 

You bit your lip as you tried to resist the pleasure as it nipped away at the pain. He sat up and looked to his hand as he circled his thumb around your clit. A wild smoke filled your chest and clouded your head. You writhed and cupped your chest in your hands. He sped up and smiled as he watched you react.

He thrust harder and harder. It still hurt but his hand distracted you and built a different sort of pressure that threatened to burst. Your mewls turned to moans and you panted frantically. You needed the release. You needed that same relief you’d found earlier. The sudden and simple deluge of bliss that would carry you away.

You arched your back as your climax bloomed along your thighs and spine. As it enshrined you and unravelled all at once. As you let forth a carnal cry and clawed at your skin as the sensation overwhelmed you. He didn’t stop, even as your bud grew overwrought and sore. He kept on until you begged.

He smiled but in the dark it was almost a sneer. He stilled his hips but remained inside you as he bent over your body. He shoved his arm beneath you and lifted you with him as he sat back. He hugged you to him as his other hand gripped your hip and he guided you. You began to rock under his guidance, your arms slung over his shoulders.

“No more hiding,” He snarled. “I see it in your eyes.” He jerked himself up sharply as you tilted into him and you flinched. “You don’t want to but you like it, don’t you?” You shook your head and his dug his nails into your hip. “Don’t you?”

“Yes, yes,” You gasped. “I--I--I like it.”

“You like it?” He urged.

“I do, my king,” You hissed.

You felt the rise again as your clit rubbed against his pelvis. He moved you against him faster as he plunged deeper. He brought you down harder and harder as he groaned louder and louder. Your moans streamed forth without restraint and you chased the pique. Again. You wanted it again.

“My queen,” He purred as he thrust into you over and over. The sound of your flesh mixed with your voices in a lurid melody. You were breathless as you came once more. “My...queen…” He dragged his hands up your back and hooked his fingers over your shoulder. He crashed into you over and over. “My…”

His words crumbled and he only grunted as his body spasmed violently against you. He fell forward and crushed you against the mattress. His hips slowed as he hung his head and his shoulders fell. He rested his weight on you as he remained between your legs. You were helpless beneath him; your chest hammered in time with his.

You closed your eyes as the glow faded. As the candlelight dimmed and the night returned. As you laid beneath the spent king on his messed bed, his seed leaking out around his cock. Your heart slowed and you were suddenly very tired. Your walls ached around him and he wiggled his hips as if to taunt you. He lifted his head and looked down at you with triumphant smirk. 

“Don’t worry, my queen,” He nuzzled your cheek, “We will not have to wait so long ever again.”

[sergeant-angels-trashcan]

Some more Eleanor Shellstrop, Secret Winchester things:

Is besties with a literal high ranking demon and all powerful all knowing non human being. Winchester much??

Wears so much plaid

Also layers!!!

Imagine what MENACES she and dean would be conning people out of their money (like if she was just straight up John and Mary’s daughter. Just. You know she’d be pretty much the same kind of fucked up she already is, but she’d be doing more blatant Crime)

chRIST now I’m thinking about Actual Winchester Eleanor Shellstrop. She doesn’t run away (she knows what John will do to Dean if that happens) but while John and Dean are on a hunt and she and Sam are in school, she and Sammy go to a library and they look up how to get legally emancipated.

John signs (it’s easier to leave her and Sam if she’s emancipated?) 

and she thinks Sam is going to leave with her but he DOESN’T because he still has this hope of them being a normal family which is why Eleanor doesn’t talk to her brothers. She bounces to Arizona and that’s where she stays. And she never leaves Phoenix because she spent her WHOLE LIFE moving around and she just wants to sit still for five minutes

(and her life is some sort of weird in between of what Sam is doing and what Dean is doing at the beginning of the series???)

Dean doesn’t get her when John goes missing because they don’t know where she is

i like to think that she dies and comes back to life before they find her again and she’s VERY unimpressed with them.

but back to secret Winchester AU

She acts like she's not smart but she really is, even before she dies. And super passionate, if you give her good reasons!!! She'd be really good with lore or spellwork and creating potion shortcuts

Her reason for getting into supernatural stuff is seeing Sam and Dean all beat up and bloody and she does NOT want to deal with a dead body, you ashholes, so guess she better get to finding ways to make sure that doesn't happen

And also just to prove that she can

Vicki and Meg are a power duo

Eleanor meets Kevin and decides he’s her and Chidi’s son

“but I have a mom???”

“great now you have two. lucky bench”

Eleanor is still censored from her time in the fake good place. i don’t know why but it IS

[old-party-time]

Well then, tell us ur Fazbear fright headcanons .u.

Ok, so i'm just gonna tell you, my fav headcanons of my fav of the stories bc i think they're the most interesting ones...

>To be beautiful:

-Sarah is now a soul, like the missing kids, she remembers how she died and remembers Eleanor; and she wants revenge.

-She follows Eleanor everywhere because she doesn't know anyone else to follow; excepting her best friend but how she can't see her, Sarah can't do really much.

-Sarah mostly tries to comunicate with her mom or other people, something like in "Coming Home"; the only thing they can hear are vaguely whispers.

-Sarah's mom doens't know what happened to her, so when Sara tries to comunicate with her doens't really work.

-I have an idea for an AU/sub AU where Sarah finds a old Freddy's building and there finds an animatronic; wich obiously she will possess, even when she doesn't wants to.

-Sarah also once meeted Millie, because of Funtime Freddy who scaped once of Millie's grandfather garage.

-Both Millie and Sara are good friends; Sarah feels really pity for Millie beacuse she thinks she was really pretty and she didn't deserv all that suffering, and viceversa, Millie thinks that Sarah had a really good life and she didn't deserve to die in such a horrible way.

-Sarah sometimes thinks that she can hear crying noises and screams for help, coming from the same scrapyard where she found Eleanor...Did she was Eleanor's first victim, or someone else fell in her trap?

>Count the ways:

-Yep, Millie died no big surprise ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

-She now lives inside Funtime Freddy like a ghost/soul

-Sometimes she talks with Funtime Freddy, that's how she knows about the other Funtime Animatronics and why he was that way.

-Her grandfather almost discovered what Funtime Freddy did to her; but he hide her body and cleared the blood

-Sometimes she separates from Funtime Freddy and goes to see her grandfather and Dylan; there is no day where Millie doesn't says sorry to them

-Somehow Millie convinced Funtime Freddy one time to scape from his grandfather garage; that's how she meet Sarah

-After she died, her grandfather told everyone that she went lost (obiously he didn't know that she was dead) and when Dylan heard about that he started to feel fault for it; and Millie started to regret quite a lot, for beign so stupid when that happened

-Millie can hear the whispers of the othee childrens that Funtime Freddy killed inside him...She prefers ignore them, for obious reasons

-Same as Sara, i like to imaginate a AU/sub au were Millie's grandfather finds another animatronic body, drag it with him and Millie posses the animatronic; but that already is just give her something more to regret...

>Lonely Freddy:

(Alectotallydeservesabetterending-)

-Even when Alex got locked in that bin, he find a way to move and speak properly again (this took him almost, two or three years)

-For a problem of the company, Fazbear Entreteinment was forced to stop producing Lonely Freddy's for at least a decade, so they had to reuse the ones that they "discarted" and that's how Alec found a way out of that bin.

-The first time Alec was meaned to work like a normal Lonely Freddy he was really nervious and fearles for what would happend; his "first experiences" with kids when he was a Lonely Freddy didn't worked out so well you know?

-With the time Alec learned that people really don't like to hear a "teddy bear" taking about how he was a child and a robot stole his body; that garantizated him a travel right to the maintenitence room.

-Alec with the time started to enjoy being with lonely kids and be they friend; he also help them to go in the good way, telling them to be good kids and tries to keep them away from the other Lonely Freddy's (who wants to steal their bodys and lifes)

-When Fazbear Entreteinment got shut down, they sold the Lonely Freddy's or gift them to some of the empleoyes, Alec was one of the sold ones and got buy by a family with two childrens; and guess what? They were Hazel's children! Alec couldn't got his body back in the correct time, but at least he could see his new family and her sister once again.

-Talking about Hazel's family, she discovered what really happened to Alec and that's why she buyed him; she also feels really pity and blames her self, for not knowing what happened before it was too late.

-Alec now is the favorite "toy" of Hazel's childrens, and curiously is the one who mostly influences them to be good, with each other.

>Step closer:

-When Pete died and already lost his arm and eye, he became a ghost/soul who don't really remember what happened to him; he remembers that Foxy cursed him and a truck hited him, but don't remember what happened the days after that happened.

-He regrets being such a jerk with Chuck before Foxy's cursed him and that he didn't really were a good big brother with him before he died; or at least he regrets that he didn't sayed goodbye to him that day...

-Chuck on the other hand started to hates Freddy's and Fazbear Entreteinment; apecially Foxy.

-Chuck started to get Nightmares about Foxy and his brother, he even had to go to terapy; wich really didn't helped him, so he had to face his Nightmares with Foxy by his own...or maybe not by his own at all.

-He also tried to coviced their family to stop the organs donation of Pete, and make him a properly funeral; but it was too late.

-Pete NEVER leaved Chuck, even when he didn't wanted to hear him whisper or even think that he was still alive, Pete never leaved him; he maked sure that nothing will happend to his little brother.

-When the time had come, Pete was drag to the red lake; where he meet Michael and Old Man Concecuences.

-Finally Pete learns to leave Chuck alone and spends his time in calm with OMC and Michael hearing their stories; and finally knowing why did Foxy cursed him in the first place.

[sad-sweet-cowboah]

Ghost Hunting with An Outlaw

Summary: Arthur sets out to seek the legendary ghost train. But it wasn’t his idea, this journey is led by Eleanor Ivie.

Warnings: None!

Word Count: 2208

A/N: The third prize for my follower giveaway for miss @writingandsins​! Babe you are so very gracious and as you know I enjoyed writing El for this. Please enjoy <3

Arthur struck a match against the heel of his boot, the bulbous end sparking for a split second before becoming engulfed in flame. Bringing the lit match up to the cigarette he grasped between his lips, the far end caught ablaze as he took a deep inhale. The earthy smoke filled his lungs before curling out from the spaces of his barely opened mouth, leaning his weary shoulders against the brick wall of the Rhodes bank.

He took a second drag, savoring the flavor for a moment. It’d been a long, stressful week filled with failed heists and high tensions amongst the camp, often breaking into arguments. Micah’s sneering and blaming him for the miserable failure of a recent robbery, Arthur visibly bristled and nearly wrung the damn asshole’s neck right then and there in camp if it hadn’t been for Dutch.

That was just an hour ago. Arthur had stomped away to the edge of camp with the intent to drink his frustrations away. That it until he’d been approached by someone, eventually convincing him to provide company for a trip into Rhodes.

There weren’t many people that could calm the raging beast inside him, and fewer people he trusted to be angry around, yet he had a soft spot for Eleanor. Her tender touch on his bare forearm provided an instantaneous shift from a boil to a mere simmer. Her voice like wind chimes to his ears, carrying with the gentle breeze that rustled the leaves. She asked him to accompany her to town for a shopping trip.

It wasn’t his favorite chore, but it took his mind off of things. He agreed almost immediately, the gratefulness plain in his voice. The two saddled up to head to town.

Arthur didn’t need anything, not really. Hell, he was content on just standing outside while she carried on with her business. So he kept to himself, silently observing the flow of traffic before him. Carriages and trotting horses stirring up the russet dust, coating everything with a slightly red tinge. The whistle of the train carried over the roofs to signal its depart. The old Confederate veteran yammering on about the North sounded from across the street.

Lemoyne was one of his least favorite places thus far. The land teeming with racists and inbred families, he always headed into town with gritted teeth. However the tense edge in his jaw was absent, even more so when his eyes flitted to the familiar red hair that appeared from the general store. Her arms laden with goods, he immediately started forward to help, even when he didn’t need to.

Eleanor smiled at him, allowing him to relieve her burdened hands as the two of them walked over to their horses. “Thanks Arthur,” she said.

Arthur glanced sideways at her, shooting her a half-smile of his own while he placed her purchases into her saddle bag. “Got everything you wanted?” he asked.

She nodded in response. Arthur noticed her smile widened, a familiar look on her face that he associated with an adventurous thought. This piqued his interest yet said nothing, knowing it would be her next topic.

“That, and even more,” she began with a spark of excitement in her voice. “While I was in there, I heard the shopkeeper talking to someone else about a supposed ghost train.”

“Ghost train?” Arthur repeated, turning to face her completely. “Ain’t ever heard o’ that.”

Eleanor mounted her horse, which Arthur followed suit with his own. As they trotted down the dusty road, she spoke again, “Apparently, it appears very late at night, not too far from here. Sightings of it are far and few in between.”

Arthur listened. He wasn’t a complete skeptic as he’s witnessed some questionable sightings throughout his travels, but an entire train as an apparition? “So I’m guessin’ you’re gonna try n’ find it,” he stated.

A wide grin crossed Eleanor’s face. “And I’m asking you if you want to go with me,” she replied.

Arthur expected this. Often times Eleanor did ask him to accompany her adventures, her favorite going on “collection runs” to procure seemingly useless items, but she found interest in them for whatever reasons unknown to him. It may not be a bank heist or stagecoach robbery, yet Arthur couldn’t complain. It allowed him to have some sort of relaxation from his normal duties.

This however was a new request. He briefly considered it, wondering if it would be a waste of time or a true story. It may just be all a wild goose chase, but Eleanor rarely showed disappointment even when plans didn’t work in her exact favor.

After today’s frustrations, he supposed it wouldn’t be a bad idea, if it meant keeping himself occupied. He nodded and said, “Sure, what time exactly?”

“3 am,” she said nonchalantly. When his eyes widened and he scoffed in exasperation, she just shrugged and added. “Is it too late for you?”

Arthur sighed. “Guess not.”

The smile reappeared on Eleanor’s face as she said, “Good, then we’ll leave at midnight.”

---

Aside from a few snide comments, Arthur managed to avoid Micah for the next few hours. He kept himself busy with some of the heftier chores. After a helping of Pearson’s stew and a couple of drinks along with some hearty storytelling around the campfire, day shifted to night and everyone slowly began to turn in. He kept an eye on the time, occasionally stealing a glance over at Eleanor. She met his eyes and smiled, her own green hues sparking with excitement each time.

Soon the clock struck midnight, and Arthur quietly made his way to the outskirts of camp, where Eleanor and their horses waited. She was already mounted when he reached his horse.

The two of them set off just moments later, ducking through the woods until the dusty road appeared beneath the bright moonlight. Urging their horses into a lope, they steadily rode side by side, following the path while the calming nocturnal melody of nature surrounded them.

Arthur glanced over at the tracks that sat somewhat further away from them. Too familiar with trains, he tried to imagine the large iron horse with a ghostly glow, except it seemed impossible. He shook his head, reminding himself why he was out here. “So where exactly is this ghost train gonna appear?” he spoke up after a few minutes of silence between the two.

“It’s up by the New Hanover border,” Eleanor replied. “And it only appears on a clear night, we’ve lucked out with the weather.” She glanced up at the sky.

“That seems oddly specific,” Arthur mused with a touch of skepticism. “You sure this ain’t jus’ some made up story?”

Eleanor looked over at him, combatting his pessimism with a smile. “I happen to think it’s real, Arthur. If it’s not, then we’ll just go back to camp.”

Arthur opened his mouth to respond, only to bite back as it resonated on his tongue. If it was just a story, it would have been just hours of wasted time. He would have thought this with most people, yet Eleanor’s almost childish curiosity and sense of adventure was like a breath of fresh air, temporarily distracting him from the pressures of the gang. He decided to continue to humor her.

It took a fair bit of time before Eleanor slowed her horse, and Arthur followed suit. The soft terrain of Lemoyne gave way to the large rolling hills of southern New Hanover, the state sign signifying the border in plain sight. The horses came to a stop beneath the shade of some trees. Eleanor dismounted and checked her watch. “1:30, we have some time.”

Arthur slid off his horse and looked around. The full moon cast a silver wash against the landscape, illuminating everything within miles. Aside from tiny creatures skittering across the grass, they were alone.

The two of them sat and spoke for a while. Mundane topics, new collectables Eleanor had come across or anything interesting Arthur found on his travels. Their conversations died down and a little while later, Arthur’s fatigue became more apparent. He fought the weight of his eyelids, until Eleanor assured him it was okay to sleep for a while.

It only seemed like minutes of sleep when a gentle hand roused him back to the present. He pulled open his bleary eyes to see Eleanor standing over him, her red hair surrounded by a silver halo from the moonlight. His heart skipped a beat.

“Hey, five minutes left,” she murmured to him, her face bright with anticipation.

He blinked, snapping from his brief daze to clear his throat and stretch out, his body stiff from leaning against the thick tree trunk. As he got to his feet, he rumbled with, “Already?”

She chuckled softly, that beautiful smile crossing her lips again. “Yes, Arthur. Join me and we’ll watch out for it.”

Rubbing the last dregs of sleep away, Arthur fell in step with her as she came up closer to the tracks. The two stood side by side, staring out at the pathway. His eyes scanned across the worn iron beams which reflected a dull sheen. He thought about the countless trains he’s robbed in the twenty year span of his run with Dutch. Train tracks were a familiar setting for him, and it almost felt as if he were about to do it again. His heart began to beat wildly beneath his ribs in anticipation. Why?

“What’re you thinking about?” Eleanor’s quiet voice pierced through his thoughts.

He looked over at her, noting those green eyes staring back at him with curiosity. “I’ve robbed a lot o’ trains, Miss Ivie. Ain’t have much business with ‘em other than travelin’. Gotta say it’s strange bein’ here, but I’m curious to what we’ll find.”

“I don’t think trying to rob a ghost train would do you any good,” Eleanor joked with a light giggle. “Either way, I’m hoping we see something interesting.”

That prompted a small smile from Arthur. The prior hesitation he had about this whole journey was slowly melting away. A few more moments passed by of silence, and Arthur found himself straining to listen past the song of crickets and owls.

Eleanor kept her eyes fixated in the distance, hope radiating from her. She checked her pocket watch with a furrowed brow. “3:01. I don’t –”

A whistle pierced the air, the unmistakable breathy pitch of a train. Arthur nearly jumped, automatically turning his attention to the source. At first he saw nothing, until an artificial golden light further illuminated the tracks before them. He blinked and squinted, attempting to see around the glow. It was just too far off to see the locomotive properly.

Eleanor’s elated gasp sounded from next to him. “I think that’s it!”

“May jus’ be a passin’ train,” he quietly suggested, his eyes never moving as the vehicle closed in on them. The light seemed very clear, and the ground vibrated with the telltale sign of power moving across the surface.

The closer it grew and with Arthur’s eyes adjusting to abrupt change in scenery, he naturally searched for the iron body blended in to the cobalt sky above. A dense fog seemed to roll in behind it, churning in with the plume of smoke billowing from the stack.

A slight chill seemed to penetrate him, sparking a shiver traveling up his spine. He breathed out a visible puff of precipitation. Even if they were close to New Hanover, there was no reason for such cold.

To his surprise, the dark iron was replaced with a milky white glow.

He frowned, his brow furrowing in confusion. This didn’t seem normal.

The massive locomotive rolled smoothly along the tracks, the ground ever quaking beneath them. Arthur stepped back as it slowly chugged past them.

He could see the landscape through it.

A hand gripped his upper arm. “Arthur! It’s… it’s –” Eleanor tried to say, her voice quivering in excitement.

“It’s real,” he murmured, his unblinking stare fixated on the transparent cars. “How in the hell…?”

The two of them fell into silence as the train continued to pass them by. The vibrations, the noise, everything seemed tangible except for the damned thing itself. Every reasonable explanation in his head simultaneously flung out the window with the very real arrival of this spectral creation. The fog curled around their feet, a cold wind akin to an Ambarino mountain breezing by the two.

He searched for any signs of passengers, human or otherwise, to no avail. He couldn’t focus on any single area, proven too transparent to take a closer look.

The train soon passed, taking with it the fog and frigid air. Arthur stared after it, his curiosity itching to follow.

“Where do you think it’s going?” Eleanor sounded.

“Who knows,” he responded, folding his arms in thought.

“We could follow it,” she stated thoughtfully, stepping toward the horses. She paused and looked back at him. “That is, if you want to.”

Aw hell, what else has he got to do? He offered her a smile and walked over to her. “Ya got me out here, might as well.”

Eleanor’s smile mirrored his own.

[kaitycole]

Mono a Mono

Summary: Liam arrives in Montana and takes a visit to the Walker Ranch

Word Count: 3484

Pairings: Drake x Riley, Jackson x Eleanor

Warnings: Mentions of violence, Mentions of character death, Mentions loss of a mother, Mentions of alcohol consumption

A/N: Just a reminder, here’s a link to my character profiles if you’re interested. You learn somethings about a few that won’t be written directly in the series: here.

Song Choice: n/a

Part 17 of WP. To catch up, read here.

Tag List: @fromthedeskofpaisleybleakmore​  @kingliam2019​  @texaskitten30​ @glaimtruelovealways​  @bobasheebaby​  @bascmve01​  @burnsoslow​  @the-everlasting-dream​  @ao719​  @sirbeepsalot​  @janezillow​  @i-bloody-love-drake-walker​  @kimmiedoo5​  @choices97​ @marshmallowsaremyfavorite​  @lodberg​ @edgiestwinter​  @marshmallowsandfire​  @hopefulmoonobject​ @iaminlovewithtrr​  @cordonianroyalty​  @rafasgirl23415​  

“It would’ve been less suspicious if we had just picked Liam up!” Riley whines, anxiously bouncing up and down.

“But everyone knows he’s here.”

“Yeah, but…” she flops down on the nursey floor. Drake is trying to once again pick a paint color. They have it narrowed down to Heavy Goose, Moonshine and Gray Owl; all shades of gray that look exactly the same to Drake.

“Seriously? He’ll be here soon, you’re acting like a child.”

“I haven’t seen him in forever!” She huffs, crossing her arms across her chest.

“And if you don’t help pick a color, I’ll lock you in here until you do and it’ll be even longer until you can see him.”

Her jaw drops, “Drake Thomas Walker, you wouldn’t!”

“Two words: Try. Me.”

“Technically that’s four.” She sticks her tongue out at him.

He rolls his eyes, seriously contemplating locking her in the nursery. He just wants to get the room together and really doesn’t’ want to wait until the last minute, unlike Riley.

Riley’s head snaps up when she hears a car heading up their gravel, it’s not until there’s shuffling on the front deck that Drake starts towards the door. She tries to slip out of the door, but Drake takes a larger stride; locking her in the nursery.

Drake opens the door right as Liam has raised his fist to knock. Liam and Bastien are standing on the porch while a few other guards are scattered through the property. The friends stand there before pulling each other into a hug.

“It’s been a while.” Drake moves so Bastien and Liam can come inside.

“Thanks.” Liam looks around, it’s the first time he’s been in their home, “I like the farmhouse décor.” He takes in the nice blend of neutral colors mixed with wooden textures. The only reason he even knows as much as he does is because Riley sent him hundreds of photos and samples while choosing how to decorate.

“She spends more money trying to make half of the décor when she could buy it for less. She says it’s more authentic.”

Liam chuckles, “Speaking of, where is she?

They pick up on faint banging when Liam looks at him through furrowed brows.

“Second door on the right.”

Liam walks down the hall, skeptical. Riley isn’t one to do jump scares, but he’s still hesitant. When he opens the door, he finds a pouting Riley. When she looks up at him, she jumps into his arms; Liam stumbles back into the hallway.

“Drake locked me in here! He’s trying to keep us apart, Li!”

Liam gasps playfully, “Drake! How could you! Trying to keep my Riles from me!”

“He so effortlessly locks his pregnant wife in a room!”

Drake glares at them, “Honestly, you both are two halves of a whole idiot, you know that.”

Riley untangles herself from around Liam as he gently places her feet on the ground. Before they both ask, “But I’m your favorite idiot right!” at the same time.

Drake shares a look with Bastien who holds his hands up, staying out of it before they all walk into the living room.

*                      * Liam looks up at the ceiling as he lays on the guest room’s bed. He wouldn’t say that he’s nervous but there’s definitely a weight in his chest. He felt confident when he made the plans to come to the states, still felt confident when he got here, but now he feels the weight of the world.

He squints as the room slowly feels with the hallway light as the door opens.

“Li?”

“Riley?”

She sits on the edge of the bed, tapping his arm so he scoots over before she crawls in bed next to him. “You nervous?”

He gulps, he should be used to it now, but Riley has an uncanny ability to just know how he feels, know what’s going on with him. “I’m scared, stupid right?”

She leans her head on his shoulder, “I’d be scared too. This is uncharted territory for almost everyone.”

“I just don’t want to lose those good memories of my mom.” The words get stuck in his throat as he blinks away tears.

“You don’t have to.” She toys with her wedding band, “I mean, yeah you’re going to hear somethings you probably don’t want to, but it doesn’t change the memories you have. Those can’t be changed because whatever Jackson says can’t change that she actually loved you.”

“It’s just hard to feel that way knowing that she left.”

Without thinking, Riley does what she does best; saying exactly what pops in her head, “What if she didn’t want to leave?”

“Huh?”

“I’m just saying, all we know is that she left. We don’t know the why yet.”

“I…I guess…well I never thought about it that way.” He runs his hands through his hair, “I just immediately assumed it was because I wasn’t good enough for her to stay.” Riley sits up immediately and faces her best friend, “Liam Rys, King of Cordonia or not, if you ever think you aren’t good enough again I will punch you. How could you think that?”

“Because she left, Riles. One day she was there and then one day she wasn’t. Then I found out she got pregnant she picked that baby over me.”

“Maybe it’s wishful thinking,” she rubs her hand over her stomach, “but I find it hard to believe she didn’t do this to protect you. I know I’d do anything to protect my child.”

“You’re gonna be a great mom, ya know?”

“I can’t even pick out a paint color, what am I going to do when trying to figure out if they’re hungry or tired?” “I can’t help with that, but I can help you with paint colors.” He jumps out of the bed, grabbing her hand and pulling her to the nursery, “Okay. Pick a number one through three.”

“This is silly.” She looks at his pajamas, “Actually those pants are silly.”

He looks down, they were navy blue pants with apples on them, “They were a gift!”

She just gives him a side look, “Not a gag gift?” “Pick a number before I lock you in here.”

She lets out a breath, “Two.”

“Good choice. Baby Walker will be surrounded by,” he scans over the paint squares on the wall, “Gray Owl.”

“But,” she makes a face; unsure of the decision.

“Nope. It’s Gray Owl.”

Drake walks into the room, mid-yawn, “It’s after three in the morning. Do I even want to ask?”

“Riley picked a paint color.”

“She’ll just change it.” Drake shrugs.

“Not this time.” Liam smiles, sleep washing over him.

Riley smirks, if Liam could face his fears and the uncertainty that comes with tomorrow then surely, she could keep a paint color.

*                      * Liam and Drake pull up to Jackson’s ranch. Liam is already out the door before Drake has put the truck into park. He storms up the driveway and his blood began to boil when he sees Jackson walking down the stairs to meet them.

His pace increases and he can feel the anger as he stomps on the ground. Jackson has a hesitant smile on his face. He reaches his hand out to shake Liam’s just as Liam’s fists slams into Jackson’s jaw.

“Liam!”

Jackson stumbles backwards as his body reacts to the impact. Liam gives him zero change to recover before slugging him again and he’d have gone for a third if Drake hadn’t have pulled him back.

“Get off of me!” Liam shouts, his body radiates anger.

“Only if you’ll calm down.” Drake tugs him backwards once more, separating him and Jackson more.

“Fine!” Liam shrugs him off before running his hands through his blonde hair. He hadn’t planned on being physically aggressive towards Jackson. He wanted to be civil, he knew that’s what his mom would’ve wanted, but there was something about seeing his face that brought all his emotions to a head.

To him, Jackson was the man who ruined his family and Drake’s as well. While he was pissed that he lost his mom, Drake lost both of his parents and he would defend Drake his whole life.

“Don’t worry, I’m fine, Drake.” Jackson rubs his jaw, “Though I always thought Leo would be the fighter, not you.”

“Because you know me so well, huh?”

“I get it, I understand.”

“Do you? You had to believe your mother died only to find out she ran off with the help!?”

“Liam, that’s my dad.”

“Drake. Let him get it out.”

“Get it out? What? You think I’m going to yell and then we’ll shake hands and swap stories of my mother?” Liam shouts, “Oh, wait! You have more than me.”

“I know that won’t happen. I didn’t expect it too. I can’t imagine how hard this is on you. I just want you to try to understand.” Jackson takes a step towards Liam.

“Understand what!? You’re talking as if you’re telling me that Santa isn’t real. How do you possibly expect me to understand?”

“Li, I know it seems hard to but I understand things, just hear him out.” Drake tries to mediate but to be honest, he’s not sure Liam is even listening. If he knew that Liam was going to be closed minded and violent, he wouldn’t have brought him here.

“It’s not the same for me as you Drake!”

“How? We both believed our parents were dead. Both found out they aren’t.”

“No, Drake, it’s not. Your dad isn’t really dead, but my mom is. I’m sorry if this seems harder for me to understand.” Liam shakes his head as he walks away from the Walkers. He needs space, air to breathe and he feels like he’s suffocating standing here.

Drake begins to walk after him, but Jackson puts his arm out, stopping him in his tracks.

“Let him go. He needs time.”

“But…”

“No, Drake. He’s right. This isn’t something you two can work through together right away.”

*                    * Liam finds himself sitting outside the barn. His idea to wear khakis wasn’t faring well; could a king even wear jeans? He should’ve stayed in Cordonia; coming here didn’t change anything or make anything better. Part of him thought Olivia would have stopped him, but he knew that he couldn’t depend on her to save him.

“Hey. You must be Liam.”

He looks up and freezes. Drake told him that Luke heavily resembled him, but seeing him in person made it uncanny.

“And you, Luke?”

Liam looks at Luke, they have a lot of shared features of his mother, their mother. But his eyes weren’t hers, they were signature Walker brown eyes. How could this person in front of Liam look so much like him, but make him feel so much anger?

Luke sat next to him, “I know this must be hard.”

“Oh, you do?” Liam spits at him. He didn’t mean to say it so rudely, but no one could understand how he felt.

“I lost her too.”

Liam whips his head to the side, looking at Luke. In all his anger, he never thought of that. Regardless of when, they both shared the loss of Eleanor. The loss of their mother.

Luke wipes a few tears away, “I couldn’t imagine losing her twice like you though.”

It has been years since Luke had spoken about his mother, Jackson always said she wouldn’t want them to dwell on the sadness of her passing, but the joyfulness of her life. Though he wouldn’t really talk about their memories with her either. He only lost her three year ago, but Liam lost her twenty years ago yet here he was crying while Liam remained stoic.

“What was,” Liam’s voice cracks, “was she like?”

“Like sunshine. If that makes sense.”

Liam smirks, he knew exactly what he means. The few memories he could remember clearly, that’s how she was, “It definitely makes sense.”

The two sat in silence, an awkward silence. The person next to them is a complete stranger yet someone they share a bond with. Liam isn’t ready to let his guard down, while they share a mother, he still wears the last name of the man Liam hates the most. But he trusted Drake and he was a Walker.

“Is it rude to say this is awkward?” Luke asks, unsure of what to really do.

Neither of them is sure of what to say. Luke went from being an only child to be the youngest of four while Liam went from being the youngest to the middle child. Or technically an only to the oldest. There was a lot they could talk about; their mother, their childhoods, who they are, but there was still uncharted territory between they that prevented it.

Although they weren’t speaking, there is something comforting about the exchange. Just sitting there next to someone who shares the one person you felt lost without. Luke goes to speak up when he sees someone rushes over to them and begins to panic.

“Your Majesty!” The figure says, standing just a few feet from Liam who seems unfazed.

Majesty? Where exactly is he from? Luke looks at his eldest brother confusingly.

“Yes, Bastien?”

“I turn around for one minute and you run off.” He is breathless, as if he had to run a far distance, “You act more and more like Leo some days.”

Liam smirks, “Oh, Bas. Don’t tempt me.” He looks over at Luke who looks more confused than he’s ever seen anyone look, “I’d like some time with Luke, can we have some privacy?”

Bastien just nods before walking off, but keeping a reasonable distance from the king.

“Why’d he call you ‘your majesty’? That’s a weird greeting.”

“I guess Jackson never told you.” Luke shakes his head and Liam rubs the back of his neck, “Well, uhm…I’m the king of the country that Jackson and Elea…mom, left from.”

Luke feels like he’s going to pass out, he feels dizzy and his face has paled. He had to be joking, right? A king? Seriously? They have those in more than just England? I really should’ve paid attention in history class.

“It’s a lot to take in.” Liam chuckles before Luke jumps up and drops down into a deep bow.

Liam feels a smile twitching on his lips before he starts laughing. Luke looks up confused at his brother’s reaction. Wasn’t this how you addressed kings and queens? Several moments pass before Liam has stopped laughing and if it wasn’t for the fact it was a genuine laugh, he might have felt bad.

“I’m so sorry. That was just so…” he taps his finger to his lip looking for the right word, “Adorable? Innocent?”

Luke stared at his brother, slightly confused that he had just been called adorable. “Did I do it wrong?”

He shakes his head, “Not at all, but you just don’t need to do it. Yes, I’m still a king, but I’m not here on royal or diplomatic business. This trip is a personal one, so please, just treat me like Liam.”

“And who exactly is Liam?”

“Well, I guess he’s your older brother.” Liam lets out a nervous chuckle, “I don’t really know what to say, this is new for me.”

Luke wrings his hands together, there is something that he wants to bring up, but he’s scared. He isn’t sure if it would be pushing too far, if he’d be overstepping a line and even though he’s just met his, he doesn’t want to lose him just yet.

“Something on your mind?” Liam cocks his head to the side, “I might not know you, but I do know people. That look is exactly the kind I see when diplomats wear when they want to address a topic. A topic I might not want to hear.”

“I don’t want to hate my mom, our mom, but it’s hard to still see her like I used to now. Since I know the truth,” he shrugs with a sigh.

Liam understands completely. Though looking back the way he handled the news wasn’t very mature, but he’s done a lot of thinking. He doesn’t have all the pieces to the puzzle, he hasn’t fully come to his own conclusion, but things are becoming more clearly to him.

Luke panics at his silence, “I’m so sorry. I know you must blame me…”

“Blame you?”

“If mom didn’t have me, she would’ve stayed with you.” He clears his throat, trying to mask that his voice is breaking.

“But I don’t.” Liam shrugs when Luke’s head snaps in his direction, “You, personally, didn’t make the decision. Mom and Jackson did.”

“I…wow…that means a lot.” Luke stands up, “I think I need to go process today.”

Liam stands up and nods as Luke walks off, leaving him staring at the ground. This is proving to be a lot harder than he thought, but at least now he knew he wasn’t so alone. Yeah, he had Drake and Riley, but Luke was different. He wasn’t sure why exactly, but with Luke he feels a sense of comfort he hasn’t felt since he mom left.

*                      * Riley peaks around the corner when she hears the door shut. She’s not surprised when she sees just Liam standing there; she had a strong feeling he’d come back alone. He takes off his shoes by the door before walking to the couch; flopping down with a sigh.

“I have a new bottle of scotch with your name on it.” She walks into the living room with the bottle along with a glass for him.

“Thanks, Riles.” He takes the bottle, opens it and takes a quick swig right from the bottle. Riley stares at him, mouth slightly opened.

“What? Not like you can drink any.” He smirks at her as she just rolls her eyes, sitting down next to him.

“Want to talk about it?” She sighs, she hates seeing the two most important people to her so hurt. This is a huge mess that she isn’t sure anyone can come out unharmed from. To make matters worse, Liam seems to be the one who continuously comes out empty-handed at the end of the day: lost his mom, died dad, found out mom wasn’t dead only to learn she is actually dead now.

“After say,” he pretends to look at his watch, “a few more big swigs.” He tries to laugh, but can’t.

She’s looking at her best friend when she notices his right hand is red, “What’s up with that?”

“Can I get in a few more sips?” He tries to dodge the topic as Riley goes into the kitchen, coming back with a cloth filled with ice.

“Talk.”

“I punched him.” He winces a tad as she presses the ice to his knuckles, “Jackson, that is.”

Riley could say that she is surprised, but she’s not. Honestly, that had been her first reaction too. The way Jackson effortless recounted the story of how he met Bianca, how things were with him and Eleanor, he said it all as if somehow, he was the white knight. As if Constantine and Bianca had gotten in their way to prevent them from being together. It didn’t sit right with Riley.

“I’ll apologize tomorrow.” “I wouldn’t.”

“Riley! That is your father in law.”

She snorts, “Don’t remind me.” Liam raises his eyebrows, “Spill it.”

She lets out a deep breath and tell him how she wasn’t immediately supportive of the idea Drake had seen Jackson. And how now she isn’t sure it’s a great idea to just jump into things. How she understands he wants to get to know dad, but wishes he was more skeptical because who knows what all Jackson is going to say and how that will shift what Drake thinks of him.

“I think I’m ready to talk about it now.” Liam holds up the bottle, now only two-thirds full.

“Then let’s talk about it.”

“I thought I could handle seeing him. That I’d be able to come here and get the answers I’ve been wanting. Then I saw his face and this rage built up, all I could think about was how I grew up without my mom and he got her. He got all those memories that I missed out and I snapped.” He takes another sip of the scotch before shaking his head.

Riley gives him a sympathetic smile, gently placing a comforting hand on his arm.

“But then,” he chuckles, “I met Luke and it might’ve been weird at first, but he’s actually not that bad.”

“Well duh, he’s related to you.” She playfully nudges his shoulder, “Maybe since you aren’t ready to talk to Jackson, you can talk more to Luke tomorrow.”

Liam nods, “Yeah, I think that’s a good idea.”