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waklman · 1 year

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Birthday Wish

summary: bradley realizes you’re his source of comfort or bradley celebrates his first birthday with you.

warnings: angst, mentions of death/trauma from childhood. 18+ blog in general.

word count: 1.2k

a/n: wrote this in the spur of the moment because of this song. raahhh

something ‘bout you masterlist.

When Bradley was a little boy, he didn’t have a special blanky to hang onto, not like the other kids in his daycare did.

All he had was a miniature toy plane. It was flimsy–something that would probably snap right in half, if he squeezed his tiny hand around it too hard.

But, that cheap piece of plastic offered little Bradley everything he needed—everything a blanket couldn’t ever give him.

So four year old Bradley loved it with all his heart—well, he loved it with his limited knowledge of the concept. There wasn’t a moment where he didn’t cling onto it, bringing it everywhere his growing feet took him. He even slept with it, ignoring the dulling pain caused by it’s blunt edges—stabbing right into his ribs as he hugged it for solace.

Anyone could imagine the heartbreak he felt the day it broke.

Bradley threw a fit that very day, not wanting to blow out his birthday candles—not wanting to celebrate his birthday without his Goosey. Bradley wasn’t sure himself, why it made him so angry–why he felt so wrong in his own skin when the homemade cake was placed in front of him, with a celebratory song accompanying it.

All little Bradley knew in that confusing stir of emotions—was that he wanted to toss that cheaply made toy in his hands. So he did—he slammed it to the ground with all his strength–all the strength he’s accumulated in five years of life went into tossing the thing.

And it completely came undone onto the kitchen tile in front of him, sending shockwaves of guilt into the air.

Finally registering what came of his outburst—Bradley cried harder in discernment—his screams came out with great force, as his mother scrambled for the toy with shaky hands.

All Bradley knew at that moment was that he just wanted his toy plane back.

Though he couldn’t clearly recall the day of his father’s funeral, Bradley remembered his mother’s quite well.

He sat at the grave for hours—letting the rain wash over him, letting it soak through his rented suit.

After the sun had finally set into the horizon, the soggy fabric clung onto Bradley’s skin coldly—almost as a punishment. There was no longer any sunshine to soothe the goosebumps scattered down his arms.

It didn’t bother him at the time, the way his button up uncomfortably glued itself to his back, the way his shoulder pads sat thickly on his shoulders, gaining weight from the water it absorbed—because Bradley had already decided that nothing could possibly outweigh the numbing pain in his chest.

Where was that toy plane when he needed it? Bradley laughed bitterly to himself at the question.

Whoosh.

The familiar sound of an aircraft could be heard above the graveyard, pulling Bradley’s tired eyes away from the weather-beaten headstone.

His lids stretched at the sight, burning the surface of his eyeballs—now exposed to the saltiness of the air around him.

Bradley couldn’t believe his eyes, because there was his plane.

It was white with a streak of cobalt blue stretched over its wing, just how he remembered it.

But as quickly as Bradley caught sight of it, it was gone again—sweeping through the sky with a new destination in mind.

It was like greeting a long lost friend. The exchange was bittersweet—because you both had the knowledge that you’ll part ways soon, after finally seeing eachother again.

Bradley spent the next few hours staring at the vast amount of stars in the sky, watching them twinkle amongst each other.

But there was one specific star that caught his attention that night. It was the biggest mass there, and the brightest one too—completely contrasting against the black veil of darkness behind it.

Falling into a deep trance, Bradley eventually decided that the star reminded him of Carole Bradshaw. Maybe it was the grief speaking or maybe it was truly her. Its luminosity almost perfectly resembled the ring of bright highlights crowning her head—there was no mistake in that likeness—Bradley knew that for sure.

And for as long as he could, Bradley didn’t tear his eyes off that glow in the sky, not wanting to lose it amongst the other shimmers of light surrounding it, trying to weakly outshine it. He didn’t even blink, worried it would disappear if he did.

He knew he would eventually lose it, he couldn’t stay at his mother’s grave forever, the night security guard would find him and ask him to leave soon enough. But for now, Bradley sat motionless, staring up at his mother who shined back down on him.

He wishes he could stay here with her forever.

Bradley found himself here many times before. Laying in the darkness, only to punishingly stare at the daunting clock hung above his bedroom door frame—reminding him how early he’s woken up again.

But this time, you’re here with him—sleeping over for the first time. Bradley turns his head, pooling his attention onto you. Your cheek is pressed against the mattress under you, exhausted from the long day spent with him, and your arm is thrown over his waist like a weighted pillow.

Gently, Bradley reaches out a hand over to your face, brushing back the hairs that block your passageway of air, moving the drool coated globs of hair that shields your parted lips. He smiles to himself, humming at the way you sweetly press your cheek against his palm, mistaking him for the mattress.

And though the room is pitch black, with the darkness completely wrapping itself around your figure—Bradley swears he sees you glow. It’s brief, it always is.

He catches small glimpses of it here and there—where your skin radiates against his.

It was there when he first spotted you in that parking lot, it was there when your shared pet goldfish died, and it was there when he anxiously couldn’t pick which birthday cake he wanted from the day before.

You glowed like a star, making everything surrounding you into the night sky. Bradley’s heart swells at the conclusion.

It’s only you two in the kitchen. You woke up around five am, two hours after Bradley had stirred awake—pressing his birthday boy kisses all over the expanse of his face as he shyly smiled under you, caught off guard by your burst of energy.

Too excited to go back to sleep, you pulled him out of bed with a grin, and a desire to eat chocolate cake.

Now, Bradley sits with a cake in front of him again, and you in his lap.

“..happy birthday to you!” You sing excitedly, pressing a kiss to his cheek, waiting for him to blow out the candle with an encouraging smile. “Whenever you’re ready, honey,” you whisper the assurance, resting your head onto his shoulder.

Bradley squeezes his arms tighter around your waist, and you glow again—he sees it from the corner of his eye. It’s all Bradley needs to blow out the already melting candles.

“What’d you wish for big guy?” You ask, pulling him into a bruising hug.

Bradley softly smiles. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you, babybear or else it won’t come true,” he mumbles against your neck.

You laugh, shaking him back in fourth in the hug, almost knocking you both out of the chair. “Nooo! You’re right birthday boy—aren’t I silly?”

“Just a little,” he answers, lightly laughing at you.

Bradley couldn’t tell you what he wished for. Not because he was afraid it wouldn’t come true—he didn’t believe in that crap.

It was because he didn’t wish for anything at all. Right as his eyes shut to blow out the wax symbolizing his growth, he couldn’t think of anything he wanted.

Because truly—there was nothing to wish for, not this birthday.

Bradley doesn’t need that toy plane nor did he need to see that resilient star that glowed against his skin that one night, not when he has them both here in his arms.

They’ve just took a new shape.

thank you for reading, and as always-reblogs are greatly appreciated!

join taglist for this series here or follow me on @waklman-library and turn on notifs to be notified when i post!

tags: @wkndwlff @sammyrenae68 @f1-and-shiz @stark3ys @roosterbruiser

#bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley 'rooster' bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley rooster x y/n #bradley rooster x reader #tgm fic #tgm imagine #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw angst #rooster angst #rooster x reader #rooster fanfic #sbu

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the-magiarcheologist · 3 days

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The Mysterious Past (or Future?) of Niamh Fitzgerald

Many have noticed the necklace that Niamh Fitzgerald wears which looks very similar to a time-turner except that the central piece is not a hourglass but a stone shaped like a water drop (feel free to remember this detail because I have other posts planned in the future that will bring this up again 👀). So does that mean that Niamh could time-travel? I’d say it’s very likely!

And if you’re not convinced by the necklace, did you know there is a goddess named Niamh in Irish mythology? She was described as having long blond hair and riding a white horse. She appeared one day to the great warrior Oisín and asked him to come with her to Tír na nÓg, the Land Of Eternal Youth where nobody ever ages. Oisín agreed to go with her but after having spent 3 joyful years together in Tír na nÓg, Oisín grew homesick and asked to visit Ireland again. Niamh reluctantly agreed but on the condition that he take her white horse and never touch Irish soil. When he got back to Ireland, Oisín realized that, in the mortal world, 300 years had passed since he left with Niamh as time passes by more slowly in Tír na nÓg. After accidentally touching the ground, Oisín sundenly turned into an old man, aging the 300 years that he had missed, and died soon after.

Does Oisín’s fate remind you of anyone? Of course, it’s what happened to Prof. Hecat when she traveled in time during her time in the department of mysteries. It’s also what happened to Eloise Mintumble who, in 1899, became trapped for 5 days in the year 1402. When she came back to the present, she suddenly aged 500 years and died soon after.

Of couse, in the tale, Niamh does not actually time-travel, instead she took Oisín to the celtic Otherworld. But time manipulation is still a big part of the tale and the fate of the hero and I believe them naming the character Niamh is not a coincidence. Especially when they also give this character a time-turner necklace!

Another thing that I have noticed recently is during Niamh’s trial. At the very beginning of the trial, Niamh tells the MC:

Pay attention. Things are not always what they seem.

And then, at the end of the trial, after we take the resurrection stone, she repeats:

Nothing is what it seems.

And that’s a bit strange to me because this trial, compared to the first two keeper trials by Rackham and Rockwood, is actually very straightforward. We have a very clear mission to avoid Death and a single path to follow. So what exactly in Niamh’s trial is ‘not as it seems’? Of course, this could be related to the lesson we learn during this trial ("light does not exist without shadow nor shadow without light") but what if this was about something else?

Because, if we pay attention, there is definitely something out of place during Niamh’s trial. During the last scene, when we are taken to the graveyard where mourners are mourning Niamh’s death, we see a lot of ‘modern’ elements that I don’t think belong in the late middle ages when Niamh is supposed to have lived (and died). First of all, the mourners. It’s a bit hard to see, but I don’t think they are dressed like people from the middles ages. In fact, they are dressed like other wizards and witches we encounter in 1890. (Also notice the hairstyles.)

And, even more damning, in my opinion, are the carriages we see in the graveyard.

These look very similar to the carriages we see in 1890. I’m no historian but I’ve tried looking into the type of carriages that existed in the middle ages and none of them looked like that. Miniature drawing of horse-drawn carriages from the middle ages looked more like wagons.

So what does that mean? Could this simply be an oversight by the devs? They just re-used assets they had, not caring that they were not historically accurate? I don’t think so because, in an earlier part of the trial, when we cross a village trying to escape Death, we see a lot of wooden carts that look a lot more like what we would expect wooden carriages in the middle ages to look like.

In that earlier part of the trial, we do not encounter any of the ‘modern’ elements we see in the graveyard scene. Even the few villagers we encounter in the beginning of the trial are not dressed at all like the mourners we later see (although their clothes are hard to see because they are very dark).

So if we assume that the anachronistic elements are intentional and not an oversight this could indicate that Niamh Fitzgerald died much later in time than she should have.

Was Niamh Fitzgerald a time-traveller? Perhaps she also worked for the department of mysteries in the nineteenth century, and, like Dinah Hecat and Eloise Mintumble, she travelled in time and got stuck there for many, many years. She lived an entire life in the past, becoming the Headmistress of Hogwarts and part of the mysterious Keepers. And, perhaps, one day, she found a way back to her present, only to age hundreds of years in the matter of an instant and die soon after, being grieved by her loved ones devastated by her sudden death.

Or perhaps I'm getting a bit carried away here! 😅 But I'm still convinced Niamh Fitzgerald has something to do with time-travel! How would you feel if they introduced some time-travel storyline in HL2?

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy theory #Niamh Fitzgerald #time travel

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romione-trope-fest · 2 months

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Whiskey on Rounds

Fic Title: Whiskey on Rounds

Author Name: Be11atrixthestrange

Selected Trope: OOTP Missing Moment

Brief Summary: Ron and Hermione skive off prefect rounds.

Word Count: 1661

Rating: General

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The sound of Hermione’s footsteps stumbling down the stairs functioned as an alarm for Ron, who was deep into his astronomy textbook. It was a relatively uneventful Wednesday night for the fifth years. Hermione had, of course, finished her schoolwork early, while Harry sat brooding on one of the armchairs pretending to study. As usual, Ron was on his own again, and burying himself into his homework was better than getting his head bitten off by their easily-angered best friend.

Without a second thought, Ron slammed his textbook closed when Hermione appeared at his table.

“Ready for rounds?”

“Yes,” he said, then added under his breath, “Thank Merlin.”

“I heard that,” grumbled Harry from his chair.

“Sorry mate,” said Ron apologetically. “I’ll see you later.”

As predicted, Harry didn’t answer. The pair had just gotten into an argument about nothing in particular, which was extra frustrating because it couldn’t be fixed. Ron was either not angry enough about something, or too optimistic about something else. Honestly, he didn’t actually know. He just needed a break. Ron turned toward Hermione who shrugged, and the pair turned and left through the portrait hole.

“He’s being such an arse right now,” said Ron, as soon as the portrait door closed behind them.

“Ron. Don’t swear.”

“You know I’m not wrong, though.”

Hermione didn’t protest, as Ron had expected. The pair had talked about this before. Ever since Voldemort had returned at the end of their fourth year, and Harry had that dreadful experience in the graveyard, things had just been off with him. They complained about it in private, but Ron knew they were both just worried for him. Honestly, this year it felt like they were his parents, constantly fretting about keeping him safe, happy, and out of trouble. Not that any of their efforts mattered.

The pair trotted through the corridors toward the east wing, where they usually began rounds, but before they reached their destination, Hermione darted down an unfamiliar corridor.

“Hermione, where are you going?”

“Follow me,” she said, reaching for his arm and tugging him alongside her.

“We usually start rounds in the—”

“Shhh.”

Hermione tugged a confused Ron down a winding corridor, past their classrooms and up a few staircases until they came into a more familiar hallway on the seventh floor, one that they had spent a significant amount of time in with Harry and company, but never alone.

“What are we doing with the Room of Requirement?” “Just wait,” said Hermione, her voice jittery with excitement.

She paced the blank wall across from the Barnabas the Barmy tapestry three times. “We need a place to skive off rounds.”

Ron’s jaw dropped. Skive off rounds? Hermione would never. “Hermione, are you serious?”

She didn’t answer his question, and instead, stared intently at the wall until the door to the Room of Requirement appeared. “Let’s go!”

Ron shook his head as if to wake himself up from a dream. When nothing changed, he grinned and followed after her through another corridor, this one just recently built by the Room of Requirement itself. After a short walk through the dark, candle lit hallway, the pair emerged into what looked like a miniature, dimly lit cocktail lounge. There was a fully stocked bar in the corner, a couple of chaise lounges, and what appeared to be a muggle jukebox, which Ron only knew because it was one of his dad’s favorite artifacts.

“This is not what I was expecting, but I’ll take it!” said Hermione.

Ron stared at the bar. Normally, they’d have to head into Hogsmeade to get a drink, and even then they were only allowed butterbeer at their age. Even if Hermione wasn’t expecting it, Ron knew the Room of Requirement always conjured up not what the seeker expected, but what they truly needed. Maybe what Ron and Hermione needed was a drink. “Are we really doing this?”

As if to answer his question indirectly, Hermione trotted over to the bar and began perusing the selection of drinks before reaching for a bottle of firewhiskey.

Firewhiskey, of all things.

“Want some?” she asked.

Ron stared at her, his mouth agape. “Who are you, and what have you done with Hermione?”

Hermione whisked around to look at him, one eyebrow raised. “Is that a yes or a no?”

“Obviously it’s a yes.”

Ron watched as Hermione fiddled with the muggle jukebox with one hand, the other clutching a glass of firewhiskey and tonic water. “I don’t really know any of these songs, but that’s okay.”

Ron wouldn’t have been much help. He also didn’t know of any muggle songs, and the jukebox in his dad’s shed had been broken for as long as Ron could remember. He sat on one of the chaise lounges and sipped away at his own drink, some strange concoction thought up by Hermione. It was tasty, sure, and Ron could tell there was a fair bit of alcohol content. He could already feel his guard coming down with each sip. Some unfamiliar music filled the room as Hermione turned and approached him before plopping down onto the other lounge. At that moment, Ron found himself wishing the Room of Requirement provided what the seekers wanted, not needed, because then there’d be a single sofa instead of two separate chairs. Then Hermione would have to sit next to him. Maybe that was the room’s way of telling him something.

“If we get in trouble for this, I’ll take the blame, okay?” said Hermione.

Funnily enough, the thought of getting in trouble had hardly crossed Ron’s mind. Maybe he should have been more concerned about that. Would a professor even believe this was Hermione’s idea? Probably not, but it wasn’t worth arguing about.

“So really, what brought this on?”

Hermione shrugged. “Aren’t you stressed out?”

She didn’t have to clarify why. Ron knew she wasn’t referring to homework, classes, or prefect duties, but to their mutual best friend.

“Is this how you manage stress now?” asked Ron. “Because I could get used to this.”

Hermione laughed. “No, but I just wanted to have a good time with a friend.”

What a welcome distraction. “Been a bit hard lately.”

“Yeah,” said Hermione before taking another sip of her drink.

Ron swirled his drink around in his glass. “You don’t think McGonagall will notice?”

“Us missing one day of rounds? No.”

Ron raised an eyebrow at her. “You seem so sure. Since when are you a rule-breaker?”

“I’m not a rule-breaker, Ron. That’s how I get away with breaking the rules.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“Sure it does. Think about it. If a tree falls in the Forbidden Forest, and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?”

Ron couldn’t help but laugh at her ridiculous analogy. Was that another one of those dumb muggle sayings? “What the bloody hell does that mean?”

“It’s not that I don’t break rules. It’s that I don’t get caught.”

He stared back at her, his eyes wide. Everything he thought he knew about Hermione swirled in his head like a cloud of contradictions. Hermione, the girl who thought the worst thing one could be was expelled, not killed. The one who would pull all-nighters to finish an assignment, would always be back in the common room before curfew, and would deduct house points from Gryffindor for her very own uniform violations. That was the same girl skipping rounds and drinking firewhiskey in the Room of Requirement?

And yet, she was also the girl who illicitly brewed polyjuice potion in second year. She set Snape’s robes on fire, talked back to teachers, snuck into the forbidden forest, and blackmailed Rita Skeeter. Maybe he gave her too much credit. Or maybe not enough.

“Have you ever had firewhiskey before?” asked Ron. He couldn’t remember ever seeing it with his own eyes.

“Once.”

“And where did you get it?”

Hermione blushed. “I confiscated it from your brothers.”

“Fred and George?”

“Last month,” said Hermione with a nod and a giggle.

Ron burst out laughing. “Do they know you drank it?”

“No and don’t you dare tell them!”

Hermione’s bounding laugh was a welcome and contagious sound, and Ron couldn’t help but follow suit. It had been a while since they’d laughed like this without worrying about being too loud and disturbing their best friend from his homework. Or his recent brooding. In fact, Ron couldn’t remember the last time he and Hermione were alone together guilt-free. Besides prefect rounds, maybe it was this past summer?

There was a marked difference between the two ever since the Yule Ball incident, when Ron’s feelings about their friendship became all too clear. It wasn’t that he liked Hermione like that, but that it wasn’t off the table. And her going to the ball with Krum made it seem like certain things weren’t possible anymore. But, now Krum was no longer in the picture, and Ron was sitting in the Room of Requirement with Hermione, drinking firewhiskey instead of doing rounds. Maybe things weren’t quite as off the table as he thought.

“I like this side of you,” said Ron. A lot, he wanted to add, but he stopped himself before he could come on too strong.

“Well don’t get used to it,” said Hermione. “This is a one time thing.”

“Sure it is,” said Ron. “Wait until Harry hears about this.”

Hermione stifled a giggle with another sip of her firewhiskey. “He wouldn’t believe you, you know.”

Deep down, Ron knew that was true. No one would believe Hermione skived off rounds and whisked him into the Room of Requirement to drink instead. It was completely absurd. Little miss rule follower, or at least that’s what everyone else thought.

“That’s fine, I’ll keep this Hermione to myself.”

Maybe he really was the only one who got to see this side of her. Honestly, that wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

#submission #ootp missing moments #romione

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on-stardust-wings · 1 year

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Findings from watching the season two opening. Here be spoilers if you haven’t seen it, begone all who seek to avoid those.

Crowley climbs up the rock (and does not look like he enjoys climbing much). Does that mean demons can’t fly? Crowley in particular can’t fly?

There is a moth (butterfly) that starts flying with Crowley and Aziraphale when Crowley lights the match. It’s the first creature that accompanies them. Is it important?

The fuck is this thing. I thought it’s an elephant first? With a trunk? But it’s on fire. Could just be a rock? Whatever it is, the angel with the box (Gabriel?) spawns right behind it. I would say portal to Hell, but angels don’t commonly come out of those. Or do they now? Anyway mysterious fiery thing.

There’s also a bunch of animals in the background of this setting. They seem to be mostly sheep and goats. And there’s huge bones/skeletons. Dinosaurs are fictional in the Good Omens verse, though. (Something about the dinosaurs are a joke thing? Please let it be something about dinosaurs being a joke, I love this bit.)

It’s raining fire and the poor goats and sheep get torched. :( Looking pretty apocalyptic for a season that (maybe) isn’t about the end of the world this time!

There’s the pickled herring from the spoiler/bts pics! And this person looks like Hastur IMO. “Everyday” apparently already died; it’s on a tombstone. What is the person in the back (behind the herring barrel) carrying? A miniature airplane? A rocket launcher? A big camera?

And THEN there’s the lamp with a face and feet guy, walking in front of the person with the headscarf. WTF is with lamp with a face guy. Lamp with a face guy even has a smaller lamp attached to his arm. I do not want to meet lamp with a face on a dark graveyard!

There are some more spooky characters joining the procession as it goes underground. What’s up with red head and a lamp on a stick guy for example?

Lovelovelove Hell with the magma and the giant spider and the office chairs on rocks (some of them upside down). Giant pentagram in the background that seems to be spinning! I loved the basement office hell vibe they used for Hell in S1, but this fiery Hell looks so cool. Creature with bat wings perching on top of a rock! Great vibes, very hellish.

London during the airstrike has a cool blimb, a tank, lots of wreckage, is apparantly a 30 zone, so no speeding, and there’s an ad for Stairway to Heaven. Seems like a play or a movie maybe?

Aziraphale and Crowley with their wings out walk in front of a bus with “wings for victory” written on the side. And then an aircraft throws a bomb on them.

It is raining rabbits in the entryway to the magic show theatre, and there’s person sized and shaped rabbit in the audience. Is it Harry the Rabbit?

Lots of interesting head dresses in the people following after Crowley here, and there’s Beelzebub. They’re being led to meet Aziraphale in his magic uniform, now upgraded with a cape! (He should have worn the cape to Adam’s party, capes are cool.)

Space! Spacespacespace! Look at the planets and stars! Also the tank, it’s still here. And there’s... a rabbit astronaut? With glowing eyes?

Little UFO crossing in front of that moon/planet! Looks a bit like the flying saucer from season 1.

Thy kingdom airways lol! And it’s raining hearts! On Aziraphale and Crowley on the bookshop roof.

“Give me coffee or give me death” is a very metal slogan for a coffee shop. And there’s lots of music themed stuff in the street. There’s a jukebox, a pile of records behind it, that decoration between the street lamps looks like vinyl records cut in half strung up? And the Bentley is there, probably blasting Queen. :D

The skycrapers are elevator shafts. The one in the middle has an angel in it, riding down. Down to Hell? Ding!

It’s the Dirty Donkey! And the movie theatre is called “The Arrival”. It’s screening today! That’s very clever, wonder if the opening will change with the different episode titles? :) Also, there’s the image from the box the angel is carrying again, on the film posters for The Arrival. Can’t tell what it is.

Look at them all walking into the light! They’re going to be enlightened! Or something. But it is a very bright light! Lighthouse! It’s also covered in scrap and junk nearly to the top. Whatever that may mean. (Guys don't walk into the light, no!)

My friends, I am really looking forward to stop waiting and see what this is all about!

#good omens #good omens season 2 #s2 opening title #in which I definitely watched this too often #should probably go to bed #but there's so much to see!#what's the mystery light they all walk into #p+a

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mysimsloveaffair · 6 months

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Maia leads me into the museum while giving me an overview of the history of Deadgrass Isle. Once we arrive at the first exhibit, she continues.

Maia: This is a miniature model of the Isle. You can see the museum, which was once the lightkeeper's residence. *Maia points* Right there is the lighthouse and the famous pet cemetery at the Isle's edge.

Wade: Why would a pet cemetery be famous?

Maia: A ship crashed during a storm and sunk near the shores of Deadgrass Isle. The only survivors were a lifeboat full of cats and dogs; the descendants of the crash are the stray cats and dogs you see wandering around today. When a pet dies in Brindleton Bay, it's tradition to bury it near its ancestors in the cemetery. One of the cemetery's most known residents is a dog named Captain Whitaker that once belonged to a man also named Captain Whitaker. Residents say that the ghosts of both Captain Whitakers haunt the graveyard at night.

Wade: Is the man buried there too?

Maia: No, just the dog, but he still wanders the graveyard, searching for his long-lost pet. Others say that if you visit the cemetery at night and find the ghost of Captain Whitaker's dog, you can befriend him, bring him back to life, and adopt him.

Maia seems to get a lot of joy from reciting this history. She sounds like she has lived here in Brindleton Bay for years. Although enjoyable to listen to, her story is obviously fiction.

Wade: What? I call bullsh*t.

Maia: Yeah, well - some long-time residents believe that myth.

Based on Maia's conviction, I'm wondering if she believes it. She pauses and leads me to another exhibit within the museum.

Maia: Remember, I said the museum was once the lighthouse keeper's home? Over several centuries, the lightkeepers of Dreadgrass Isle were responsible for maintaining the lighthouse as a beacon for ships making their way into Brindleton Bay.

Wade: If there was a shipwreck, they must not have been very good at their job.

Maia: Maybe, but this small corner is all that remains of the original residence.

Wade: What happened to the rest?

Maia: They tore it down to build this museum.

#banks day 14.4 #sims #sims 4 #TS4 gameplay #TS4 legacy #black simblr #brindleton bay #banks fam #bankgen4

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