#jr did not in-fact fall out of that tree

[cimmerian1275]

Some turtle doodles, and the obligatory "doodle one of my mutuals turtles aswell!" bc i think its A Thing now, and i cant help myself dfhjdfhgdfhds.

@chil-aglia WOOOOOO i get to brag about how i made the first Caden fanart, right? Right??!? >:) took artistic liberties with the stripes, i love drawing the stripes on these guys <3

Also jr in a tree, and pants, im working on drawing fabric stuff...

[unconventional-lawnchair]

Cat and Mouse

Dark!Dad!Barty Crouch Jr. x Mom!Reader

Wc: ~4k

Summary: The reader can never truly get away Barty, no matter how hard she tries. He'll always find his family.

CW: Dark!Possessive!Barty, AFAB!Reader, reader has a young daughter, themes of control and manipulation, being stalked, break in, a brief moment where the reader thinks her daughter is in danger, Invasion of personal space and autonomy

AN: Heavily inspired by this fic, 1000% recommend

Your daughter's giggles were always your favorite sound, especially so early in the morning. You could swear by it, it was better than any alarm clock.

Today was no exception. As you crawled out of your bed and got to your feet. You couldn't help but smile, wrapping yourself up in your silk robe and slipping on your slippers, following after the lovely sound to your daughters room. You put your hand on the doorknob and leaned down to bring your ear closer, smiling brighter as you heard her giggles persist.

“Is that funny?” You heard a deep voice coo. Your heart dropped into your stomach.

Suddenly, the bright sun of the morning chasing away all the dangers of the night felt like a fool’s tale. The shining walls and work you'd done to get here meant nothing. The summer heat that chased away the night chill did nothing to warm you as the feelings of dread overtook you.

You opened the door, trying to school your expression. Your eyes locked on your daughter who turned and smiled wide at you. “Momma! Momma, Daddy's home!”

She always looked so happy. Whenever he would come back, whenever he would find you, your daughter would look at you with those big delighted eyes. The same ones she shared with the man in front of her. You couldn't help but notice a bit of a breeze crawl up your back, not from the stare of the monster before you, but as you turned to discover, your hall window was open..

You don't know what was more terrifying, the fact he was able to get past your wards or the fact he was able to do it without waking you.

“Yeah, princess. Daddy's home.” Barty gushed to his little girl, finally getting you to turn and face him. His eyes were already locked on yours. His eyes said it all, he was challenging you, to say anything, to deny him, to push him over the edge. You had grown familiar with Barty’s looks.

In Hogwarts, he would use them to keep your quiet, remind you not to let people see you get too close to him, to keep you obedient and complacent in the web he meticulously crafted just for you. The web he still had you trapped in all these years later- you struggled, that's all you could do.

Because what could a muggleborn witch like you do to protect yourself from falling in love with a Crouch? To fall victim to his endless worship of you, just to turn around and scorn your blood in front of the people he craved to impress. It was for your protection, he guaranteed, that Voldemort would make an exception of you. That he knew your soul was destined for him and he would make it clear to everyone else that it was true.

“Darling, I'm just going to speak to mommy for a moment, alright?”

Your daughter pouted, holding up her tea cup and he laughed, waving his wand to show her the same thing you assumed he must have been showing her to make her giggle. His bloody magic. The magic you begged him not to expose her to. It wasn't safe, not for you. Certainly not for your daughter, a stain on his family tree.

When he finished he gave her a kiss to her temple, and ruffled her hair. Standing up and walking across the room to you. Quickly, you turned and grabbed your wand from your pocket. Muttering a quick spell on the window as you passed, on your way to the kitchen.

It was the same routine, everytime he found you. Fix whatever damages had been caused, close the blinds, he would dismiss your daughter so you two could talk. You knew Barty could never bring himself to hurt you, in no world would he let any harm come to you or his little girl, but that didn't mean you didn't fear his anger.

You learned what testing his limits could mean. When the war began and you found out you were pregnant, Barty was ecstatic. He bought a home in the Hogwarts highlands, he used you as his get away. He would fight in a war against who you were and come home to dote on you like you were some god. It worked, at first, you were so blinded by love you didn't stop to think about what he was doing.

It was the friends you had closed out that brought you back to reality. Sirius showed up when he knew Barty would be gone, begging you to see reason. He promised you he and Remus would be there when you came to your senses. It took a few days but eventually you packed a bag. When Barty came home you begged him to leave with you, to either join your friend's side of the war or leave it completely with you.

But Barty, he had a way about him. A way that made you foggy minded and willing to forget yourself for hours. When you woke up in his bed, alone again the next morning, you knew it was time.

You'd spent months on end trying to keep away from him. But no matter where you went, he always found you.

Your daughter's giggles echoed in your mind as you moved through the motions, trying to calm down. The warmth of the morning now felt suffocating, as if the very air had turned against you. Barty’s presence had that effect- stealing the light, replacing it with a cold dread that settled deep in your bones.

In the kitchen, you set your wand down on the counter, your hand shaking slightly. You didn’t bother with tea or the pretense of normalcy. There was no use in trying to act like this was just another visit. He always saw through that.

The sound of his footsteps was deliberate, slow and measured as he entered the kitchen behind you. You didn’t need to turn to know he was watching you, that smug sense of control radiating from him like a dark cloud.

“You’re getting better at hiding,” Barty said casually, leaning against the doorframe as if he belonged there, as if he hadn’t just broken into your home and stolen another morning of peace. “I almost didn’t find you this time.”

You tightened your grip on the counter but didn’t respond. Any words you said now would only fan the flames.

“Still,” He continued, his voice calm but with an edge that made your skin crawl, “you should know better by now. There’s no point in running. Not from me.”

“What do you want, Crouch?” You snapped, your voice sharp but low, desperate to keep your daughter blissfully unaware in her room. Your jaw tightened as your heart raced, every muscle in your body screaming at you to act, to escape, but you knew better.

“Ouch,” Barty murmured, the word drawn out like a mockery of your tone. He gave a low, familiar chuckle that made your skin crawl. “No ‘hello’? No ‘it’s good to see you’? Have I fallen so far in your affections, my love?”

Before you could respond, he closed the distance between you in a smooth stride. Your body stiffened as his hand slid over your arm, slow and deliberate, the other curling around your waist. Even as you resisted, he pulled you firmly back into his chest.

You felt his breath against your neck, warm and slow, the press of his nose grazing your skin as he inhaled deeply. “Still wearing that perfume I like,” he murmured, his voice low and intimate, as though you were lovers reunited instead of prey cornered by a predator.

“Let go of me,” You hissed, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to keep it steady.

He didn’t. Instead, he hummed softly, almost contentedly, as if he had all the time in the world. “You know,” He began, his voice silkier now, “I always miss this when you’re gone. The way you fit so perfectly here-” his hand pressed against your waist, possessive, “-like you were made for me.”

You turned your head slightly, just enough to catch his cold, calculating eyes. “Is that what you tell yourself to sleep at night?” You shot back, forcing as much venom into your words as you could muster. “That this is love? That what you’ve done to me- to us- is anything but a twisted game now?”

Barty’s grip tightened, his fingers digging into your waist just enough to remind you of his strength. The smile on his lips faded, replaced by something darker, something far more dangerous.

“Careful,” He warned, his voice dropping to a whisper, a quiet menace laced in his tone. “You’re upset. I’ll forgive it this time, but don’t mistake my patience for weakness. I’ve come too far, sacrificed too much, to lose you now.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, forcing yourself to stay still. Reacting would only make things worse. He thrived on control, on watching you squirm under the weight of his presence. You couldn’t give him that satisfaction- not now.

“What do you want?” You asked again, your voice calmer this time, though the ice in your tone was unmistakable.

He tilted his head, a flash of amusement returning to his features. “You. Her. Us. Isn’t that obvious by now?”

“There is no us, Barty,” You said through clenched teeth, daring to step out of his grasp. This time, he let you, though his gaze never left you, sharp and predatory.

“You keep saying that,” He mused, leaning casually against the counter as if he belonged there. Watching as you stayed a foot or so away. As if he was unsatisfied with the distance, he reached forward and pulled you back to him.. “And yet, here we are. You, me, and our perfect little girl.” His smile returned, sinister and self-assured. “I hate fighting with you. You know what?” He mumbled, pressing lazy kisses up from your neck to your cheek. With all your fight you couldn't bring yourself to attempt to push him away again.

Because despite everything, he was still the man you loved more then life sometimes. The only person you'd ever care more for now- was the very person tying you to him.

It was the same game every time. Barty would find you, tearing through the fragile walls of peace you’d built, leaving only fragments of the life you’d tried to carve out without him. He’d remind you of who he was- not just with his suffocating eyes or possessive touches, but with the way he’d command your space, your air, your very existence. He loved you the way a bonfire devours kindling, bright and all-consuming, but he swore you were the creatures he warmed by his flames.

In truth, Barty was a forest fire. Unrelenting, destructive, impossible to escape. He touched every tree but left none standing. He created a cage of danger, an inescapable labyrinth of fear and passion that kept you tethered to him. And you- trapped between wanting to run and wanting to stay- played right into his hands every time.

The moment you found a new place to call home, he would be there, clawing his way back into your life as if he had every right to. He’d paw at you like a man starved, eyes ravenous, hands desperate to feel every inch of you again. He’d spoil your daughter rotten, making her laugh and smile in ways that made you both grateful and bitter all at once. And then, when he’d gotten what he wanted, he’d leave.

Every time. He’d leave.

To fight a war against the very thing he swore to love.

And yet, it wasn’t the war that broke you. It was the time in between- the stolen mornings, the whispered promises, the moments where you allowed yourself to believe he could change.

Because between the fights, between the harsh hands and the soft touches, you would melt. You would dissolve into the girl you once were, blinded by the love you still harbored for the boy he used to be. The boy who worshipped you with a ferocity that made you feel invincible. The boy who told you he would destroy anyone who dared to harm you, even as he slowly became the very thing you feared.

And somehow, in the fleeting moments of quiet, you still loved him.

The realization burned like a curse, hotter and sharper than any spell. Because even now, as you stood in the kitchen with his shadow still lingering in on the counter you clung to- as he continued to trial his lazy kisses across your skin, your heart betrayed you. It clung to the memory of his laugh, his touch, the way he’d hold you like you were his whole world.

Your heart ached with a contradiction you couldn’t reconcile, the tangled knot of love and fear twisting tighter with every lazy kiss Barty trailed along your neck. His lips were soft, familiar, stirring a warmth you hated yourself for feeling. Even as your mind screamed at you to pull away, to fight, to remind him that he had no place here, your body betrayed you, frozen under the weight of his presence.

He whispered something, too low for you to hear, his breath brushing against your ear. It didn’t matter what he said; the words were always the same. Sweet nothings designed to make you forget the darkness he carried, the danger he brought into your life.

Your hands gripped the counter tighter, your knuckles white as you tried to ground yourself. But his voice, his touch, the intoxicating familiarity of him- it was suffocating.

“I miss this,” Barty murmured, his tone deceptively gentle as his hand slid from your waist to rest against your hip. “I miss you.”

You closed your eyes, willing the tears threatening to spill to stay where they were. He didn’t deserve them. Not anymore.

“You don’t get to say that,” You whispered, your voice trembling despite your efforts to keep it steady. “You don’t get to miss me, Barty. Not after everything you’ve done.”

He paused for a moment, his lips hovering just above your skin. “Everything I’ve done,” he repeated slowly, as if the words themselves amused him. “Everything I’ve done has been for you. For us. For that perfect little girl you gave me- thank you.” He breathed, low and condescending, even as you felt his lips curl into that familiar sweet smile. “Thank you for her.”

“Fuck you.” You hissed, tears finally slipping past your eyes. “You don't get to thank me. How dare you-”

"Momma? Daddy?"

The small voice cut through the tension like a spell, making both of you freeze. Your daughter stood in the doorway, clutching her stuffed owl, her eyes wide with curiosity and a touch of worry.

Barty turned first, his entire demeanor softening in an instant. The dangerous glint in his eyes disappeared, replaced by warmth and affection so convincing it made your stomach churn.

"Hey, princess," he cooed, crouching to her level. "What are you doing out here? Didn't I tell you to keep practicing your tea party skills?"

Ophelia tilted her head, looking between the two of you. "You were shouting," she said simply, her tiny voice laced with innocence. "Are you and Mommy mad?"

Your throat tightened, and you struggled to find the words, but Barty was faster.

"Of course not, darling," he said, his tone dripping with sweetness as he reached out to her. She took his hand without hesitation, allowing him to pull her closer. "Mommy and I were just talking about grown-up things. Boring, silly stuff, nothing to worry about."

You wanted to scream. To contradict him.

You hated it. How well he treated her, how much of a father he could be. You knew it had to be some form of healing for him, wanting to give his daughter the father he never had. But it didn’t make it any easier for you to watch. It didn’t make it easier to stomach how easily he could shift from the storm that haunted your nights to the warm, doting father who seemed so perfect in her eyes.

"Mommy?" Ophelia’s voice pulled you back to the present, her wide, curious eyes locked on yours. She had Barty’s eyes, that same piercing gaze that could see straight through you. It was both beautiful and heart breaking, knowing what those eyes had seen before they became hers.

You forced yourself to smile, though it felt as fragile as glass- quickly brushing away your tears in hopes she didn't see them. "No, sweetheart," You cooed, your voice soft but tight. "Mommy and Daddy aren’t mad. Daddy’s just being�� silly, as usual."

She giggled, the sound like bells in the tense air. Barty gave her a conspiratorial wink, as if the two of them shared some secret that didn’t include you. It made your skin crawl but your heart throb all the same. This wasn't fair.

"See, angel? Everythings alright.” Barty scooped her up effortlessly, holding her as if she were the most precious thing in the world. His expression softened further, the love in his eyes so genuine it made your heart ache. “Mommy just worries too much sometimes,” He teased with a gentle laugh, brushing a stray curl out of Ophelia’s face. “But you don’t need to worry, do you? Daddy’s here to take care of everything.”

Ophelia rested her head against his shoulder, her small fingers clutching his collar. “Promise?” She asked softly, her innocent trust making your chest tighten.

“I promise,” He replied, his voice warm and soothing. His eyes flicked back to you, the unspoken challenge still lingering beneath his tenderness. “Daddy always keeps his promises, doesn’t he?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. Instead, you swallowed the lump in your throat and turned away, busying yourself with the kettle on the counter. Anything to avoid the sight of them together, to ignore the knot of guilt and helplessness that twisted tighter in your chest with every word.

“Daddy,” Ophelia murmured, her voice muffled as she nuzzled into his neck. “Will you stay this time?”

Your breath hitched, your fingers trembling as you gripped the edge of the counter. You dared to glance over your shoulder, catching the way Barty’s expression softened further. For a fleeting moment, there was no malice in his eyes- only love, raw and unfiltered.

“For as long as I can, my little star,” He said softly, pressing a kiss to her hair.

She beamed at him, her giggles filling the room again as he twirled her around, the tension momentarily forgotten. But as you watched, the weight of reality settled heavily on your shoulders. This was the game he always played- pulling you in, wrapping you in the warmth of a family you desperately wanted to protect, only to remind you of how fragile it all was.

“Ophelia,” You called, your voice gentle and thick. “Are you hungry, baby?”

Ophelia perked up at the sound of your voice, turning her head just enough to look at you over Barty’s shoulder. “Yes, Mommy!” She chirped, her stuffed owl clutched tightly in one hand. “Can we have pancakes? The ones with the happy faces?”

You forced a smile, nodding as you stepped toward the pantry. “Of course, sweetheart. Go wash your hands first, okay? And don’t forget to set up your tea party things for later.”

She wriggled out of Barty’s arms with the unbridled energy only a child could have, her little feet padding across the floor as she darted out of the kitchen. Her laughter echoed down the hall, leaving a momentary warmth in its wake that quickly dissipated as you felt Barty’s gaze settle on you again.

You didn’t look at him. Instead, you busied yourself with gathering the ingredients for pancakes, focusing on the mundane task like it was the only thing tethering you to reality.

“She’s growing up so fast,” Barty murmured, his tone soft but pointed. “Every time I see her, she’s more like you. Stubborn, sharp, and so full of life.”

You bristled at his words but didn’t respond, your hands steady as you set a mixing bowl on the counter.

“But she has my eyes,” He continued, stepping closer, his voice lowering to that dangerous, familiar drawl. “Doesn’t she?”

You slammed the whisk down a little harder than intended, finally turning to face him. “What do you want, Barty?” you demanded a final time, your voice low and sharp. “You’ve played the loving father card. You’ve made your presence known. What’s next? What do you think this is going to accomplish?”

He tilted his head, studying you with that infuriating smirk that never quite reached his eyes. “Accomplish?” he echoed, as though the very word amused him. “Oh, love, this isn’t about accomplishing anything. This is about being where I belong. With my family.”

“This isn’t your family,” You shot back, the venom in your voice unmistakable. “You don’t get to waltz in and pretend you belong here, not after everything you’ve done.”

His expression darkened, the playful edge to his smirk hardening into something colder. Then, slowly, he smiled. That same boyish charming smile you always thought to be true. He stepped behind you, running his palms down your arms with a low sigh. “I really do hate fighting you, star.”

His hands slid down your arms, his touch deceptively gentle, but his grip firm enough to remind you of the power he held. You froze as Barty leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear.

"I hate it," he murmured, his voice soft, yet laced with something darker. "I hate how stubborn you are, how you make me work so hard to remind you of what we have."

You gritted your teeth, refusing to look at him, to meet those piercing eyes that could always see straight through you. “What we had,” you corrected coldly, though your voice trembled.

He chuckled, a low sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “You can say that as much as you want,” he said, his fingers trailing down your sides to your waist, holding you in place. “But we both know it’s not true. We still have it. You feel it every time I’m near, don’t you? Just like I do.”

“Let go of me,” you whispered, your voice breaking under the weight of his presence. You hated how weak you sounded, how easily he unraveled you.

But Barty didn’t let go. Instead, he turned you to face him, his hands settling on your hips as his stormy eyes bore into yours. "You’ve given me the best gift, love,” he said, his tone softening as his gaze flicked toward the hallway where Ophelia had disappeared. “Her. You. You’re my everything. Both of you. And you know that.”

Your throat tightened, tears threatening to spill as his words pierced through your defenses. “You don’t get to say that,” you choked out. “You don’t get to act like you’re some devoted father when you’re-” Your voice cracked, and you bit down hard on your lip, desperate to hold yourself together. “You’re the reason I had to run. The reason she’s in danger.”

“In danger?” Barty repeated, his voice sharp now, his hands tightening on your hips. “You think I’d ever let anything happen to either of you? Do you really believe I’d let anyone touch my family?”

“You’ve already put us in danger,” you shot back, your anger flaring despite the tears threatening to fall. “Your choices, your loyalty to him- you’ve made us targets, Barty. Don’t pretend you haven’t.”

His jaw clenched, his eyes darkening as he leaned in closer. “Everything I’ve done has been for you,” he said, his voice low and fierce. “For us. I took that mark to protect you. I fought for a place in his world so he wouldn’t touch you or her. Do you know what I’ve sacrificed to keep you safe?”

“You don’t get to use that as an excuse,” you hissed, tears streaming freely now. “You don’t get to justify everything you’ve done by pretending it was for me. You made your choices, Barty. You chose him over me. Over us.”

His hands moved to cradle your face, his thumbs brushing away your tears even as his grip felt possessive, inescapable. “I chose you,” he insisted, his voice trembling with a rare vulnerability. “Every single time, I chose you. And I’d do it again, star. I’d do anything for you.”

“Then let me go,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “Let me live my life. Let me protect her.”

“I can’t do that,” He said, shaking his head as his forehead pressed against yours. “You’re mine. Both of you. And I won’t let you take her- or yourself- away from me again.”

The weight of his words settled heavily in the space between you, suffocating and undeniable. You hated how your heart ached at the raw desperation in his voice, how a part of you wanted to believe him, to give in like you always did.

“You always do this,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “You make me forget how much I hate you.”

He smiled faintly, his lips brushing against your temple in a touch so tender it made your chest ache. “That’s because you don’t hate me, love. You never have. And you never will.”

You wanted to scream, to push him away, but your body betrayed you, leaning into his touch as your tears soaked into his shirt. “This isn’t fair,” you choked out, your voice muffled against him.

“No,” he agreed, his arms wrapping around you as if to shield you from the very chaos he’d brought into your life. “But I’ll make it right, star. I’ll prove to you that this is where you’re meant to be. Where we’re meant to be.”

And as much as you wanted to fight, as much as you wanted to push him away and reclaim the life you’d fought so hard to build, a part of you- the part that had always belonged to him- knew he was right.

Because no matter how far you ran, no matter how hard you fought, Barty Crouch Jr. would always find his way back to you.

And you would always let him in.

[aggywytchking]

Coffee theory, Lie theory, Body-swap theory, Az has trauma theory—-

I propose my good people: ALL OF THEM

S2 Good Omens Spoilers ahead as well as s3 predictions

Let’s start with the first and most common: the coffee theory.

Coffee theory is simply that Metatron did something to Az’s coffee to make him agree to leave Crowley and go up to heaven.

Now there is no denying that coffee has played a suspiciously conspicuous role throughout this season. From the coffee shop (oh we will come back to the coffee shop at the end my friends, don’t you worry), to Crowley’s espresso order, to Metatron’s suspicious offering, and the coffee cup making an appearance in the opening sequence.

I am never one to cast aside what writers are so obviously trying to shove in an audience’s face.

Do I think that Metatron drugged Az’s coffee in some way? Not really no- I believe coffee might be a symbol for sun here, almost Az’s own Apple as it were.

Throughout the show we have never seen Az drink coffee, only Crowley and humans, both of who are capable of sin. (Also Crowley chugging down 6 shots?). Az drinks tea (unspecified) and offers hot chocolate, but never coffee.

Coffee has no biblical ties- BUT in LSD/Mormonism has a rule against it.

This stance dates back to 1833, when Joseph Smith Jr., the founder of the Church, received what he called “a revelation from God” that said: “hot drinks are not for the body or belly.” -source

Shortly after this “rule” it was updated to allow herbal teas, and in modern times hot chocolate.

Now why would a Mormon rule apply here possibly? Because I believe it may apply to s3. The initial planned sequel to the book has been said to pertain to the second coming of Jesus in America.

After Jesus' resurrection, according to the Book of Mormon, he visited America. In fact, America plays a special role in Mormonism. Mormons believe that when Jesus returns to Earth, he will first go to Jerusalem and then to Missouri. -source

The Book of Mormon references Jesus visiting America- and I don’t think the writers would make one silly tie in and just leave it at that. If we’re saying they’re right on one prophecy, why not add this to it?

I find it silly and impossible to believe that our little human food lover has had it all but was unfamiliar with how espresso would effect him. I also find it highly suspicious how much of the marketing revolves around the beverages our characters drink.

I do believe there is also stock in the almond syrup as everyone else has pointed out.

In context, God had just given Israel a warning. “I have this day set you over the nations and over the kingdoms, to root out and to pull down, to destroy and to throw down, to build and to plant.” (Jeremiah 1:9-10) Then after Jeremiah sees the almond tree, God shows him a boiling pot over Jerusalem which portends “calamity”. (Jeremiah 1:13-14) While the almond is a sign of hope that God will eventually fulfill His wonderful promises to Israel (or to us), the context is more ominous. Later, God repeated the warning through Jeremiah: “Behold, I will watch (shaked) over them for evil, and not for good…” (Jeremiah 44:27). God’s message to Israel was that sin has consequences and there will come a time of reckoning – namely the destruction of Jerusalem and the captivity of Israel. Years later, Daniel would pray: “Therefore has the Lord watched (shaked) upon the evil, and brought it upon us: for the Lord our God is righteous in all His works which He does: for we obeyed not His voice.” (Daniel 9:14) -source

That last bit really gets me because Metatron is the voice of god as we know. So the coffee is a combo threat as well as a type of temptation, like the apple. (“Are you going to take it?”) We know that in the s2 opening we see Adam’s (of the garden variety) grave and we are supposed to learn about his death in s3. I think Az falling to temptation will tie into all that.

Back to the moment in question- a lot of people pointed out a miracle sound occurring faintly when the Metatron handed over the coffee. It’s been floating around that this was him doing something to the coffee .

I disagree- I think that was Crowley protecting Az. We don’t see him immediately in that shot- and him being on the other side of the room would be why it was so faint. Metatron’s glare wasn’t one of pure dislike- he sensed something then and was suspicious.

Crowley is overprotective on a good day- but he knows Metatron and does not appear to hold and fondness to him. I think he knew no good was to come from the conversation and wanted to protect Az of anything that could occur. So the coffee didn’t actually end up effecting him at all.

All that summed up to say: coffee theory doesn’t tell us why Az does what he does- but it does tell us why Metatron thinks everything is working out in his favor.

Next up! Az is just traumatized theory

It has been pointed out that Az’s decision in this moment is actually pretty on brand for all that he’s been through. And I would agree!

Of course he wants to be in heaven’s good graces, of course he wants to fix the world-save the humans- overhaul the system, of course he is still seeking validation.

That’s why when offered the position he jumps at it! No mind inducing coffee needed like the Metatron had thought. It’s just that what Metatron doesn’t know is that Az is agreeing with his own motives in mind. He wants to make a world safe for humans, he wants to make a reality safe for him and Crowley, and he wants to come back to his bookshop at the end of it all.

All that summed up to say: Az trauma theory tells us why he decided to take this path- but doesn’t explain the offer itself (coffee theory did that), or why he presents it the way he does

Next: The Lie Theory

This theory comes based around the idea that Az is lying to both Metatron and Crowley.

This season taught us something very crucial about angels in general and our favorite, Az. It showed us that angels are not supposed to be able to lie- and that Az willingly does on multiple occasions.

Lying is definitely a big deal in the Bible. It is one of the Ten Commandments in fact.

One of the Ten Commandments is "thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbour"; for this reason, lying is generally considered a sin in Christianity. -source

It is no small thing that Az commits this sin- although I’m sure he puts himself through all sorts of mental gymnastics to do so. From what we can tell, he only does so to protect. In this case, we can assume he is trying to protect Crowley.

The lie in theory is that during the secret conversation with Metatron, some sort of threat against Crowley may have been made or that Az simply needed to figure out a way to drive Crowley away from him (or possibly goad him).

So when Az is telling Crow that he can be an angel again, this is a lie knowing that he would never go for it. Then when he reports back to Metatron he lies (by omission) what he actually relayed over to Crowley.

Why such a harsh lie though? Why hurt Crowley so deeply- surely there are other ways to push him away from danger.

Because he was trying to goad him- he was trying to rile him up.

So to summarize: The Lie theory tells us why Az delivers his news how he does- but not to what end

Now: The Bodyswap Theory

Bodyswap theory is essentially that Az and Crow switched bodies again during the kiss to go about and solve the issues at hand.

Now we know from s1 this is possible- but I don’t exactly think that’s what happened. We learned this season that angels also appear to have the ability to store memories or consciousness ~elsewhere~ and that both of these seem to require physical contact to occur.

What I believe happened here was that Az transferred some sort of information to Crow (a memory- what happened in the conversation-etc). That’s why kiss was, uh, not quite so quick and chaste and why Az was goading Crow in the first place. Also possible Crow transferred some knowledge (or abilities) back.

We have seen that Crowley is actually rather easy to rule up- and that Az has succeeded in doing so multiple times.

I don’t think Az was expecting a kiss (poor soul)- but he was expecting to be grabbed or something.

To summarize: Bodyswap theory explains why Crowley didn’t immediately burn the world to the ground

Now looking ahead to s3 and my own silly theories off of all of this. Aka: gentleman start your engines theory

This theory will hopefully explain those last few painful moments.

“I forgive you”

“Don’t bother”

For what? The kiss? The not going to heaven? All of it?

No- for what Crowley is about to do. Aka raise hell on heaven.

Whatever information Az passed along- Crow’s response was some sort of inkling of a plan towards destroying heaven and the system as we know it. A revolution of sorts.

The revolution has been hinted at since the end of s1- ever since our precious coffee shop sprang into existence (told you I’d get back to it).

The quote that the title of the shop is referring to is “Give me liberty or give me death,” from founding father Patrick Henry’s famous speech credited with swinging public favor to join the American revolution (America, the convenient location of our second coming) during the First Virginia Convention at St. John’s Church.

I know of no way of judging of the future but by the past. And judging by the past, I wish to know what there has been in the conduct of the British ministry for the last ten years to justify those hopes with which gentlemen have been pleased to comfort themselves and the House. Is it that insidious smile with which our petition has been lately received? Trust it not, sir. Suffer not yourselves to be betrayed with a kiss. Ask yourselves, are fleets and armies necessary to a work of love and reconciliation? Let us not deceive ourselves, sir. These are the implements of war and subjugation; the last arguments to which kings resort. I ask gentlemen, sir, Has Great Britain any enemy, in this quarter of the world, to call for all this accumulation of navies and armies? No, sir, she has none. They are meant for us: they can be meant for no other. And what have we to oppose to them? Shall we try argument? Sir, we have been trying that for the last ten years. Sir, we have done everything that could be done to avert the storm which is now coming on. We have petitioned; we have remonstrated; we have supplicated; we have prostrated ourselves before the throne, and have implored its interposition to arrest the tyrannical hands of Parliament. Our petitions have been slighted; our remonstrance’s have produced additional violence and insult; our supplications have been disregarded; and we have been spurned, with contempt, from the foot of the throne! In vain, after these things, may we indulge the fond hope of peace and reconciliation? There is no longer any room for hope. If we wish to be free, we must fight! I repeat it, sir, we must fight! An appeal to arms and to the God of hosts is all that is left us! It is in vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. The war is actually begun! Our brethren are already in the field! Why stand we here idle? Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? Forbid it, Almighty God! I know not what course others may take; but as for me, give me liberty or give me death! -source

Another fun historical fact- this church also helped pave the way for religious freedom in America. (But also had a very messy history).

It is notable that the Second Virginia Convention authorized Baptist chaplains to minister to soldiers, an important early step toward freedom of religion in what became the Commonwealth of Virginia. Baptists and Methodists had been influential in Virginia during and following the Great Awakening, and many of the common people had already become affiliated with Baptist and Methodist congregations. -source

We also what seems to be a militia of sorts marching to heaven in the s2 opener with all sorts of walks of life. This isn’t going to be the heaven vs hell war- it’s going to be a revolution.

We see repeatedly when Az forgives Crow it’s almost reactionary. He wants Crow to know he doesn’t condemn his actions (and therefore also agrees with them to some extent).

Crow says “don’t bother” not because he’s dismissing Az, but because the very system that the forgiveness is based on he seeks to overturn.

This planned revolution is also why we get the “no nightingales” line.

Now the: No Nightingales Theory

Now, we are meant to think it’s just a heartbreaking reference to the song “a nightingale sang in Berkeley Square” but it’s so much more.

Nightingales are mentioned one time in the Bible- well the Old Testament has them at least, in the Song of Songs.

"Behold the autumn has passed, the rain has gone, blossoms are seen in the Land, the time of the nightingale has come, the voice of the turtledove is heard; the fig has formed its first fruit; the vines in blossom give forth fragrance", Song of Songs 2:11-13. These verses describe springtime in the Land of Israel. The rains have ended, the trees are in blossom and the nightingale has come. Israel is located on the migratory route between Europe and Africa, of so many birds, including the nightingale and the sweet sound of the birds can be heard from within the shrubbery. -source

The Song of Songs is described as, “a literary, poetic exploration of human love that strongly affirms loyalty, beauty, and sexuality. Yet in God's story, these things are not ends in themselves.”- Tom Gledhill.

Both this and the song “a nightingale sang in Berkeley Square” reference a nightingale symbolizing the coming of spring after winter.

Nightingales have a long history in British literature having a general theme of representing nature's purity, and, in Western spiritual tradition, virtue and goodness.

In Romeo and Juliet, they help represent the opposing sides of light and dark in love

In the same way that light and dark are mutually exclusive, Romeo and Juliet are like nightingales and larks, never able to be together. The lark, a bird of the morning (light), represents harsh reality, while the nightingale represents the safety of night (darkness). -source

In John Keats “Ode to a Nightingale” he references the battle between logic and passion- “The nightingale described experiences a type of death but does not actually die. Instead, the songbird is capable of living through its song, which is a fate that humans cannot expect. The poem ends with an acceptance that pleasure cannot last and that death is an inevitable part of life.” -source.

We also have this lovely tidbit from Izaak Walton’s (famous British author) essay.

But the nightingale, another of my airy creatures, breathes such sweet loud music out of her little instrumental throat, that it might make mankind to think miracles are not ceased. He that at midnight, when the very labourer sleeps securely, should hear, as I have very often, the clear airs, the sweet descants, the natural rising and falling, the doubling and redoubling of her voice, might well be lifted above earth, and say, “Lord, what music hast Thou provided for the saints in heaven, when Thou affordest bad men such music on earth?”-source

This references the shortcoming of heaven and the beauty of what sinners may find on earth again via the nightingale.

All this to say- Crowley’s “no nightingales” may be a way of saying “spring is not here, we are still in the trenches, I love you-but cannot protect you where you are going now.”

Still sad! But like- less break up sad, more the reality of the situation they’re entering sad.

Also- back to Walton’s piece- the questioning of god again—

Speaking of god… where is she

And finally: God is Dead- a not fully formed theory

Did anyone else notice god did not narrate this season? Not to go all “his dark materials” on y’all, but did someone kill god?

Odd artistic choice to just remove her so suddenly.

I just keep circling back to Metatron’s question in the coffee shop, “does anyone ask for death?”

At first I thought he was referring to Job- who’s story we got to tackle this season, as in the Bible he actually mentions asking for death several times.

But then it got me wondering- did god ask for death? If so was it because the ineffable plan failed?

Also the inclusion of Iain Banks, ‘The Crow Road’ that Metatron gives Muriel can’t be for nothing. (Spoiler of for book-but it’s loosely a murder mystery with a solid grappling with faith).

Part of me also wonders if Crow is suspicious of all this- just based off the faces he was making around Metatron. Also because of Gabriel just throwing everything away suddenly- and him referencing the second coming.

I don’t have a fully formed analysis of this theory- it’s just growing in my head.

ANYWAYS- in summary: Metatron tried to trick Az with the coffee, but crow protected him, and it wasn’t necessary anyways because Az has trauma, but still wants to protect Crow so he lied and riled him up to transfer knowledge, and Crow has decided to raid a revolution but is being a romantic drama queen about it, and god might be dead. :)

[verdemoun]

What happens to Uncle? The icon, the man who found his way into Beecher's Hope before Abigail or Jack did, the one who found Charles, the Uncle ever, the absolute icon. What happens to him? I can imagine he was quite confused by waking up again after he was killed. But then again, he always seemed smart, he adapted to the situation in his own way

Uncle was an absolute afterthought. Like getting ready to get John, frantically double checking locations and desperately trying to keep Abigail Marston Jr in the car when Uncle just stands up and yawns like he was taking a nap against a tree instead of having just bled out from gunshot wounds. Proceeded to look around, give an excited 'hello boys' to the gang and climb into the back of Arthur's truck to immediately fall asleep again. More confused when he wakes up the second time like wait a minute if this is heaven why can I still feel the lumbago.

He stays with John and despite it being a four bedroom house the gang managed to have set up for them in advance and the fact Abigail and Jack won't get there for a few years he still claims the couch as his sleeping quarters.

Turns out lumbago is Real (gang is horrified) but also what is known in modern era lingo as lower back pain. man gets cortisol injections and starts skipping down the street heel-clicking. also gets that weed card.

In every other way he is unchanged and it's frankly really nice?? like so many people the gang has to get to reknow after so many years apart meanwhile Uncle is still just Uncle. even with the miraculous treatment of his lumbago he declares himself retired from work, doesn't argue when they ask what work exactly, and sets his mind to permanently imprinting his figure onto the couch.

potato chip fiend. leaves crumbs like pixie dust with every step he takes. family sized bag of sweet southern bbq chips in his pants at all times

he just. turns up when he's bored. like a much less menacing figure of Trelawney. he's got an e scooter and just shows up smelling like chips and whisky and parks himself on the porch/couch/garden and enjoys the vibes. irritating all with stories of his fantastical fictional escapades between 1899-1911.

uncle and hamish become old man besties. uncle will sit on the dock with some cold beer and play little ditties on his banjo while hamish fishes and they both just tell stories and drink or sometimes sit in almost quiet enjoying the serenity of the lake.

[hellishgayliath]

Pico Facts

⦁ He/him ⦁ Likes to garden ⦁ Doesn't know how to read ⦁ Not tech savvy ⦁ Knows they have Donnie's robots to help run the place and do a lot of the heavy lifting, but Pico would rather do the manual labor himself instead of relying on tech to do everything for him ⦁ They and Todd start a support dog service at the sanctuary to help yokai and mutants after the events of the movie ⦁ Just like Todd, he's stingy when it comes to sharing food, touch his food and you might lose a finger ⦁ Todd's too nice to harbor any ill will towards anybody so Pico's the one who does it for him instead ⦁ Dislikes Mikey the most becuz he ditched Todd to hang with meat sweats, Mikey is shocked and tries to get on their good side but it's not that easy ⦁ Mikey had also almost started a forest fire once with his kusari fundo when he was trying to show off his mad skills and that definitely didn't sit well with Pico ⦁ Tolerates Donnie cuz he's the one that regularly comes by to do maintenance checks on the park: emphasis on tolerate

• Doesn't know how he fully feels about Leo yet, but he knows he just has an annoying sense of air to him ⦁ Out of all of the turtles, he likes Raphael the most ⦁ He and Raph consider themselves both protectors of their family and being the bigger brother ⦁ You can only pet him if you have their permission ⦁ Can communicate with other animals (is it a curse or blessing tho) ⦁ Helps Casey Jr get an emotional support dog ⦁ Still has his regular opossum family of his mother and little siblings (8) ⦁ Donnie points out to him that because Pico's a mutant, will probably have a longer lifespan and will most likely outlive his opossum family since opossums have a life expectancy of 2-3 years. Pico is mortified ⦁ Misses the feeling of being able to hang on his mother's back before he was mutated ⦁ Immune to venom ⦁ Good climber ⦁ If you scare him he'll freeze up and fall over just like how a opossum plays dead, just imagine those goats that do that too

Him and Todd try to be peace keepers whenever his uncles Warren n Hypno and the turtles are around together because they did help jumpstart the invasion even if they didn't understand the full implications of their actions at the time

Gets kraangified early on in the invasion; its a sore topic for future Todd to bring up, f!leo is the one that had to put him down

When he gets infected, he keeps it to himself and leaves whatever base they're taking refuge in when everyone's sleeping, while also leaving behind his golden ring necklace by Todd's bedside

Becomes a laid back but responsible scout leader and takes over the sanctuary in the good future timeline

Loves the smell of cinnamon and raspberries

Likes peanut butter

Likes chin scratches

Only Todd is allowed to pet his head

Hates poachers

Got his right ear caught in a beartrap pre mutation, Todd took him in and tended to his wound (which is why it's nicked like that)

Falls out of a tree immediately after he eats a oozesquito and mutates (the branch couldn't support his weight) and gains a head injury, so he goes to the only other being in the woods that he knows can help him, which is Todd

Relied on making pictures with paint until he was able to speak

Is clingy by his opossum nature

His ring necklace has his named engraved on it (twas a gift from Todd since he is technically a blacksmith)

His voice would be Dipper Pines from Gravity Falls

Deals with body dysmorphia/dysphoria

Birthday is March 10th

Mutation Day is October 17th

Friends with Sunita since Todd brings him with him to Hueso's regularly(since he's his favourite customer), their friendship also works because there's a lot about the human world that they don't know enough about and can experience and explore together (plus it just sounds super cute)

Also finds her super cool cuz she and April got to kick meatsweats' behind

Has beef with a raccoon stealing food from him in the past premutation and after mutation, raccoons and opossums supposedly have a sibling kind of relationship/rivalry

[megamattzx]

It was a quiet day in Conton City. Xeno Goku had been doing some shopping, despite it being his special day. Xeno Chi-Chi also was trying to get him to find some enjoyment in today, but the truth was he couldn't anymore. He just couldn't. The worst part was that he SHOULD be happy today. The problem is that he wasn't. Hadn't been for a long time. It was his birthday and he was miserable about it. Every year on his birthday ever since that fateful birthday, he only spent his birthday buying certain things. Flowers, burning incense, candles, and a photo frame. After that he started heading home.

Upon arriving, he took time to go to his room. His sleeping wife is peacefully dreaming on their bed at the moment. Smiling, the Xeno version of the Earth Saiyan walked over and softly kissed her forehead. After that he was seen opening one of his drawers, before taking a photo out of it. After that, he then walked back to his kitchen. Ignoring all the photos hung up in his house in the process. Normally he could be able to look at his photos but not today. Never today. It would only cause him to hate today more than he already did.

Xeno Goku used to love his birthday. Everyone wishing him a happy birthday. Now he hated it. Hated this day in particular. Because now, it only brought him pain. It reminded him of his boy. His version of Goku Jr. Even after all these years, he still hadn't gotten over it. His birthday was now just a reminder that his boy was gone. Every year, he was reminded of this reality. Every year on his own birthday, he was visiting his son's grave.

Today was Goku's birthday but it was also the anniversary of the worst day of his life. The day his son died. The day that illness had finally finished its work on him. While his counterparts were enjoying their birthday with their families, Xeno Goku was preparing to visit the son that he lost. The guilt and anger. Anger at the fact that he was so damn powerless. Guilt at the fact that he didn't spend the first 7 years of that boy's life with him more so than he already did. Every year on his birthday he hated himself more for that.

Taking the photo and carefully putting it in the frame, the Saiyan then the moment to breathe before slowly walking to the door before opening it and gently closing it behind him as he walked out. He did this every year ever since that day. The walk was never too long but it always felt that way ever since he lost his son. Each step was heavier than any weight that anyone, including King Kai and Whis could have possibly given him. The ache in his heart that he had for so many years really took a number on him.

Upon reaching the old cabin that he grew up in, the weary Saiyan took a deep breath as he slowly approached one of the two graves standing there. The second one standing in front of a tree. Upon reaching it, Xeno Goku carefully placed the photo, now in its frame, right in front of it. Setting up the incense before lighting them up as well as some candles. He then put the flowers down onto the safest place that he could see near the grave. Staring at the photo of his version of Goku Jr. Tears falling from his eyes as he did so.

"I wish you were still here kiddo," he finally said after being quiet for so long. A hint of pain and regret in his voice as he did so. "If only you were there to see your counterpart as well as the different versions of your brothers." A sniffle to be heard from Xeno Goku as he tried so desperately, not to break down. "I'm sorry that I wasn't able to spend as much time with you, as you would have hoped... I'm sorry I was dead for the first 7 years of your short life.... I wish I could have done something more about you getting sick..... I wish you were still here to see your mom smile. I wish you were able to see your little niece grow up. I wish you were still with us, bud.... I miss you everyday....."

That part was what caused the mask to fall apart as Xeno Goku clenched his arms into a hug as he then started to cry his heart out. Letting all the pain out. He had so much pain and guilt. So much anger at himself for not being there enough for the boy. All those regrets when it came to all the time he lost. It was all eating him up on the inside. And finally for the first time ever since that day, one hundred and fourteen years ago, Son Goku the Xeno timeline, broke.

The broken father's cries could be heard as Xeno Chi-Chi slowly and carefully approached him. She knew was wrong. Slowly sitting down next to her husband, she gently placed her hand on his back, letting him know she was there. As Xeno Goku looked at her, she saw all the pain, guilt, regret and sorrow in his eyes. Slowly wrapping her arms around her husband, she felt him wrap his arms around her, burying his face in her shoulder, as he just let it all out. She rarely see her husband like this. He rarely cried. She knew just how much this loss had taken a toll on him. She saw it in his eyes. When their son died, part of him died as well.

"It should have been me......" Xeno Goku said in his cries. "Not Kaka..... Not our boy....."

"I know how you feel..." Xeno Chi-Chi said to her husband softly. Tears also falling from her eyes as it happened. Neither of them wanted to bury their children. It's hard to imagine any parent would ever want to. Who in the right mind would as a parent?

Losing her father from illness was one thing. But it was nothing compared to losing her son. She never got over his death either. She was just better at handling the pain. Seeing her young son, dying in a hospital bed. 100% on oxygen. Slowly losing his life. All the family was there, knowing the painful reality that he wasn't going to make it. This little boy she raised. Sung him to sleep. Loved him as if he were her own flesh and blood. She could never get over that. Just like with her husband, when their son died, part of her died as well.

The two held each other in a comforting embrace as they sat there together. Unaware of their counterparts' version of Goku Jr walking there to wish his father a happy birthday. He stopped himself dead in his tracks as he saw all this.

Goku Jr felt his heart sink. Seeing the alternate version of his mother and father like this was painful to watch. His counterpart's death really caused this much grief to them. It was then that the younger Goku decided. He was going to find a way to bring his counterpart back. Back to the world of the living.....

[oisinwrites]

No. 5 of my own top eight fan theories. Warning: this is to do with a series which portrays emotional abuse! Shippo the fox is not actually a child.

Don’t get addicted to Inuyasha. Its because of being already addicted to this manga/anime series that I have avoided Twilight. Its actually both really good and really bad, but lets look at the japanese folklore its based on. Shippo is a KITSUNE(fox-demon) and like the TANOOKI(raccoon dog), they are also shape-shifters, but the kitsune are more manipulative. When Shippo joins the adventuring party, he appears as a poor orphaned child, but as it goes on, he reveals a more sophisticated and cynical side. His wise-cracking remarks show a bizarrely keen understanding of social situations, but he will also get out of sticky situations by being cute and pretending not to understand, while knowing full well that he’s betraying Miroku by doing this. He knows what “crocodile tears” are, probably because its what he does himself. (in case you don’t know, it’s to do with manipulating through fake tears, because it’s really the nasty crocodile who’se behind it.)

He even once tried to enroll in a shape-shifting college. You have to be either a Kitsune or a Tanooki to enroll, but college? Already? It could also be that Shippo is an even bigger pervert than Miroku. The persona of a cute little kid suits him because Kagome will hold him close to her breasts and he’s allowed join the women in hot-spring skinny dipping! The only reason he hasn’t gone around all the women asking “will you bear my children?” like Miroku could be because that might give it away that he’s not a child. If Shippo really is a child, then they shouldn’t be involving him in the business which is also the plot of the series, but he also seems to be oddly capable of consenting!

He is also capable of getting Inuyasha accused of hitting a child. I am aware that portrayals of children being disciplined with blows to the head are not too uncommon in manga and anime, (I just don't know whether this is real in Japan.) but in this example, it could still be friendly nudgying and there is absolutely nothing else Inuyasha has done to him.(well, except in one episode where a lust-demon actually turned Inuyasha gay and made him begin to molest Shippo, but once the spell was broken, it never happened again and Shippo's reaction was more like that of a "horny" adult who just wanted something else rather than this. He never really acts the way a genuinely traumatised child would.) In fact Inuyasha has often rescued children, while his demonic powers, martial arts prowess, clawed hands and magical sword make him capable of doing much greater harm, but he saves those for the real battles against much mightier foes who don’t apppear to be children. Wasn’t it Inuyasha who once said “How dare you involve Kagome and Shippo in this?” to an enemy in battle? I still think how Super Mario has beaten up Bowser Jr. is much more cruel. The big red lump and eyes becoming spirals could also be Shippo’s shape-shifting. Even if Inuyasha is hitting him for real, it could be because he knows that’s not a child. If he is fooled by the disguise, then friendly nudgying could be what he usually does to children, but he has also protected Kagome while Kagome is carrying shippo.

This still doesn’t stop Kagome from saying the magic word “sit” which makes the “beads of subjugation”(yes, that is actually what the irremovable collar of beads is called) light up and Inuyasha will fall flat on his face, wherever he is, up a tree or on a delicate bridge. Neither did it stop Shippo from slapping Inuyasha in the face and sneering at him. This could be like the episode of Mortal kombat: Defenders of the realm, where they thought they were helping a child, but it was really the sorceror Quan Chi in disguise and the “token of gratitude” was really an evil item bearing a terrible curse. Or the time when Bugs Bunny was stupidly mistaken for the baby Mr. And Mrs ape ordered from stork deliveries but had fun being able to walk all over Mr. Ape, because he can always go crying to Mommy.

What makes Inuyasha like twilight is that there are so many things going on that seem like “red flags and gaslighting”, but are also so open to interpretation that it leaves its fans to have heated debates about it. While I admit there are still some blanks I cant quite fill in, my opinion is that Shippo is having lots of fun pretending to be a child and crying like one so he can watch Inuyasha being punished, Inuyasha is a hero who is not only unappreciated but outrageously disrespected and Kagome is incredibly ungrateful for all the times Inuyasha rescued her. He’s already an outcast because of being half-human, half-demon! Don’t get hooked on this “chick flick”, but it does have some of the most amazing rescue scenes and musical scores!

[kitsumidori]

Salem's Guide to Everything!!!

Hey, so I was bored one day and started to write some fanfic's for Siren Song

As of now, I want to have a few vignettes ready before I upload them to AO3 (which is honestly going to be awhile as I'm not much of a writer) but I had fun with this vignette and wanted to share what I have

(and yes, this is from that Gravity Falls short)

Today's Salem's Guide to: Dating!!!

Salem's Guide to was filmed in front of a adorable studio audience

*scene shows Dunkino, Hermes and Pippie piled up, sleeping*

Salem: As you all know, I'm a dating expert. In fact, I can't get the girls to leave me alone

*Static*

Camera cuts to a random cardboard standee of some random girl

Salem, who is talking through said cardboard standee: Sal, I love you so much! Why won't you let me in your life?!

*Static*

Camera cuts back to Salem

Salem: You know what you did Rachel!!! Today we test the datability of three of Sanctuary III’ swingingest bachelor's.

Camera cuts to said bachelor's

Salem: Mr. Torgue!!

Mr. Torgue, who's looking away from the camera: GET READY TO FALL IN LOVE UNIVERSE!!!! AM I LOOKING AT THE RIGHT CAMERA?!?!

Salem: Katagawa jr.!!

Hansuke: Who are you ever making this for?

Salem: Marcus!!!!

Marcus: I'm only here because you promise bacon.

Salem: egh *tosses bacon at Marcus*

Marcus: *Catches it and eats it* I'm pacified now.

Salem: And now for a simple 9000 question dating quiz.

*Static*

Marcus: “Should men always pay for dinner?” What is this, Russia?

Mr. Torgue: “HOW MANY KIDS WOULD YOU LIKE TO HAVE?” 7 PREFERABLY, THAT'S ONE TO LOVE EVERYDAY OF THE WEEK!

Hansuke: “How would you treat a partner?” Hmf, by hovering nearby and laughing at everything they say obviously. Nailing this~

Salem: While their busy with that, we give you-

ANIMAL DATING!!!!

Scene shows two toad-like creatures on camera, one tries to hop away but Salem turned in around and shoves them both closer

“TOAD-ALLY DATING!!!!!”

Scene shows Salem climbing a tree where a Yellow Crested Wing is and a decoy bird was placed beside it, the Wing tried to fly away with Salem trying to stop it

“HOOT DO YOU LOVE?!”

Scene shows Salem wearing earrings with bananas tied to the which attracted attention to two Jabbers, only for both Jabbers to scatter around Salem's face causing her to freak out

“TOGETHER FUR-EVER!!!”

Results

Salem: Marcus on a scale of 1 to 5, you scored a 3

Marcus: YES!! YES!!!!

[DATABLE]

Salem: This will limit you dating pool to windows, lady plumber's and convict's

Marcus: I still considered this a victory

Salem: Katagawa, you're score is *look at the results*

Salem: Yeesh!! You know score's don't really matter, you should just focus on being you

[QUESTIONABLE]

Salem: Torgie on a scale of 1 to 5 you scored *looks at the results* a 12?!

Mr. Torgue, in a more soft spoken but clearly excited voice: My Grandma was right all along, I'm the world's most perfect man!!

*Torgue then spreads his arms out while a bright light shines on him, Northern Common Wings fly down on him and a chorus of angels sing to him*

[TOTAL HUNK!!!]

Final Thoughts!

Salem: Love is all around you, and to the guys at home: If a girl says no, SHE MEANS NO! And for the girls: If a guy doesn't take no for an answer, then kill him. Oh no, the Jabbers, their back!!! Ahhh!!!!

Salem, defending herself with a skag plushie: SAVE ME MR. SKAG!! SAVE ME!!!!

[elysiannnnxd]

Warnings: mention of minor animal death, possible wrong use of commas and periods, possible bad grammer, semi-proof read

PT 1/??

Synopsis: In the heart of small-town Colarado, where green fields stretched endlessly and mountains painted the background. There lived a young girl, about 20 years old named JR. she lived a rather simple life on her own with a Bio medical dagree in collage. as not much happened within the grounds, exept for the fact the woods where basically haunted, ghost stories arise and when one fateful night falls apon her ambition to find her lost dog, things might just go downhill from there.

Love by proxy

The night was dark and lonely, not a sound to be heard but my own footsteps against the gravel. Kicking the rocks long as my feet dragged, leading my body down to the forest. It was the middle of July and it wasn’t the coolest night, as I sweated just from the walk down the road. Only the stars lighting my path down the narrow and rocky roads. What was I doing? I was looking for my dog who had unfortunately run off a few days ago. I had missing posters up but no one would call or, when I asked, no one knew. So I took it upon myself to look for the brown basethound, though I had this gut feeling he wasn’t alive anymore—

    “no. don’t think like that!” I mumbled to myself in a stern tone, as if I was scolding a child who had just done something it shouldn’t of. Hours passed, and I had made it into the woods. I had a switchblade handy in case of emergency, though I was unfamiliar with the roots because I didn’t go hiking or camping. Here, for that matter, no one did. Why? Ghost stories mostly, the tales of teens going missing and never returning, fibs of bodies showing up hanging in trees I never believed the ghost stories anyway, but I’d be lying if I said they didn’t concern or even frighten me just a little at least. Despite my efforts to memorize my surroundings, I couldn't deny that I was lost. This is just great… I walked along the darkened woods as the trees hovered over me, making the night even darker.. if I wasn’t careful, I could trip and fall and hurt myself. The stars were no longer of use, as I had to use my other senses to guide my path. I guess this is how blind people felt?

    Unable to see, I could still hear, smell, and touch.. taste isn’t that big of a concern right now. The sound of wind blowing against my ears, along with the crunch of leafs and twigs snapping under my feet as I carefully overstepped the things I could see in my way. I had my hands out, feeling my surrounding such as trees I passed by, using the switch blade to slash the bark the of tree to mark where I had already been. I could smell the aroma of something dead. I guess that’s being expected.. it’s a forest full of animals and predators seeking prey, which only made me more feared for my dog.

    I walked for a good few hours once again, my legs giving out, basically begging me to stop walking. It was now pitch black, and everything I could barely see before I couldn’t see at all now. My senses (besides sight) was heightened, until I saw a shine in the distance which lit my path, I took a few good minutes to look around myself, taking in the ability to see where I was walking I started again towards the light, it wasn’t too bright to blind me but that was probably due to distance, I got closer only to find it hanging to a tree.

    My blood turned cold... I witnessed it hanging next to the body of my dog, the poor animal that seemed to have been brutally attacked. I could feel the tears prickle in my eyes as they formed, although I was reluctant to let them stream down my face. It took a good few seconds until I could feel one start to trickle, followed by another. And another. Distraught, I let out soft sobs as tears formed in my eyes. I sat by the tree to rest my knees, feeling sick to my stomach to the point of almost passing out. My eyes started to flicker shut in the moment of sickness, but not before I heard the sound of leaves crunching as if someone was walking on them, and i saw a pair of worn out sneakers approach.

    Once I woke back up, I was in my room, placed in the middle of my bed with a soft blanket draped over my lower body. Was it just a dream? No, it couldn’t be. It felt so… so real and—why do I feel like I’m being watched? No matter… what mattered was my dog. If that was real, then he was dead, but if it wasn’t, then he could be out there still! I don’t want to give up on him, he’s been there since I was young, but I guess he was getting old… poor dog was suffering and I had meant to get him help but college and work had me busy all the time, he didn’t deserve a painful death…

RING! RING! RING!

        “hm?” I hummed, turning to grab my phone off the bedside table to check who it was disrupting my train of thought, Caller unknown displayed across my screen. Maybe it was about my dog. I pressed the green answer button on the bottom right corner of my screen.

    “Hello? who is this?” I started, then waited for an answer, but it went to nothing but silence… “helloo??” I echoed before a rugged voice answered. It sounded like a male, roughly in his 20s. He sounded like he had a stutter problem or speech impediment as he stuttered and struggled with saying certain syllables. Which I also did. Sometimes I struggle to speak like he did, because of my ADHD and anxiety. My brain worked faster than my mouth could and when I’m nervous, I struggle to form sentences so I wasn’t putting his stutter against him. He sounded nervous to be on call, as if he’s never called a soul before. I could understand. I hated starting the conversation. I was much more of a sit back and listen person, probably because of the social anxiety.

    “huh-hey, is th-his, 1-000-000-0000?” The male asked. He knew my number, so I assumed, yeah, it’s for my dog.

    “Yeah—yes. yes it is. Who- who is this?” I asked, only noticing I was a little nervous, too. I mean, there was no reason to be. I just felt weird talking to a stranger that had my number even though I put it up for the whole town to see. It was stupid to be nervous and ask who it was, but I needed the reassurance. I lived in a small town’d neighborhood, and it’s pretty easy to know every face and name there. But I didn’t recognize the voice all that well.

    “uh.. yeah I’m cuh-alling for your d-duh-dog. I found him on the road. Looks like he’d been ran o-oh-over, but I don’t know where the body went.” the man answered, so, he isn’t gonna say his name? That’s fine, that didn’t matter. I guess it was just a starter question.

    “Ran over? oh.. and you can’t find the body either?” I said with despair. If that was the case, I guess me going through the forest was a dream… oddly enough, it felt way too real, though. That’s what bugged me, and I wanted to know who that person was walking towards me. What did they want? Why were they in the woods? At least I had a reason to be there. Maybe they were a hiker? Possibly someone who didn’t live in the area because no sane person would go there unless they didn’t hear about the ghost stories. I hadn’t realized I was mumbling to myself until the caller intercepted.

    “hey, you go-od?” the male asked. It snapped me out of my trance as I stammered over my words a little.

    “oh! I was just- um.. I was just thinking?” I said, feeling embarrassed. Though he didn’t seem to mind it, nor care. Then I heard another male over the phone. I couldn’t hear all of it, but I heard; “—, get off the phone.” He let a small huff escape his lips, then a quick “bye.” and before I could respond, the man hung up.

    “whatever..” I groaned to myself, then I shut my phone off to go downstairs. Once I reached the bottom I turned to my kitchen without a second thought, almost like its routine, and I made myself some cereal until it hit me, how strange I have a dream of my dog, and see a random person, then later get a call from a random guy? I’m overthinking this. I have to be. Whatever, it’s not my problem I have college. I can’t be late. As much as I don’t want to accept my dog’s gone, I don’t have a choice.

    After grabbing my things and getting changed, I hopped in my car, plugging the key into the slot to start up the car, but as I drove, my mind could only be filled with thoughts of that night. As my mind raced and over-thought, my ears ringed and I felt sick, I should turn back home. I thought through the mess and images flashing through my mind. It was getting worse, causing my attention to slip away from the road as I put a hand to my forehead in pain. “Ugh… what the—“ I groaned as I hadn’t realized I had my foot aggressively on the pedal, the only thing I heard was a near scream before I shot my head up to the road, only to see me heading straight for the sidewalk and a girl trying to run out of the way, my hands immediately turned the wheel causing me to swerve into a ditch… the tires screeched and I think the car flipped on its side but I wasn’t sure because I knocked out because of the overwhelming headache and the crash.

    Once I woke up, I was in the hospital, in a hospital gown. My forehead and left eye were wrapped in a nearly blood-soaked bandage. My body ached in pain as I felt unable to sit up properly. That’s until I heard the door open as a very worried-looking doctor had walked into the room.

    “Oh, morning dear.. how are you feeling?” The very sweet sounding nurse said in a sing-song sounding voice, she put a hand to my head to feel my temperature, but that only caused me to wince in pain. She quickly retracted it. “Oh, sorry dear!”

    “I- no, it’s fine.” I expressed that I didn’t need help, but she insisted. She sighed and sat next to me, carefully undoing my bandages starting from my legs up to see the wounds, which I didn’t even realize were there before she made contact. “How can you be fine? That crash was pretty bad. You fell into a ditch and had an oil leak, if police didn’t show up any quicker, you’d be burn to a crisp, good thing it was only a few burns.. we can’t even understand how you slept through all that.”

    The situation shocked me, and I could have ended up getting burned. I didn’t know what to think of it. Why was this happening to me? July has to be the worst month, and I don’t even know what I did to deserve it. “You will have scars and burn marks but you’ll live, nothing to vital was damaged except for your hippocampus in the temporal lobe in the brain, which holds memory, so you have temporary memory loss. Along with that you damaged your leg pretty harshly, you’ll need to use cruches for the time being until it heals.”

    She sighed, smiling slightly, “your friend is in the waiting room. Would you like to see him?”

    My friend? I thought to myself, “yes please.” I replied in a more-so confused tone than intended. The women nodded. She soon turned to the door, walking out of the room to whoever awaited on the other side for me. A tall man entered, curly dark brown hair messily puffed out of the sides of the ashy blue hood he had draped over his head, despite the hood itself being blue the rest of the hoodie was in a more light brown colour, the sleeves were a slightly darker shade, with perpendicular lines in a lighter greyish-brown colour going down the sleeves, and the man wore a black pair of gloves. His ashy blue denim jeans seemed washed out and old, and so did his black worn-out converse that looked like they were falling apart at the seams.

“Who are you?” I asked, unable to recognize his face, as I never met this person in my life. The unknown man stepped forward, a small ingenuine smile plastered on his scarred cheeks.

“The name’s Toby, Your roommate.”

[tourist-destinations]

Top 10 Things to Do in Georgia

Georgia, a land of sports, culture, art, monasteries, green hills, and deep caves, is a state located in the United States of America. It is a place where visitors often feel that they have been transported to the past with all those medieval fortresses and lovely villages. packed with diversity and delicious food, there are numerous things to do and see with an exclusive Georgia tour package that people often get spoilt with so many choices. 

No matter whether you are a history buff or a nature lover, Georgia has something for everyone, and here are the top things to do in Georgia that offer the ultimate experience of your entire trip.

Explore the old town of Tbilisi.

The capital of Georgia, Tbilisi, often becomes the first stop for most travellers, and why not? There are so many fascinating things to do in Georgia, Tbilisi, which often overwhelms most visitors. One of the major attractions of Tbilisi is exploring the old town. You can either take an adventure by climbing the top or zip up in a modern car and if you feel tired from all that walking, soak in the thermal springs located right in the middle of the old town.

Taste the delicious Georgian wine.

Georgian wine has recently gained popularity due to its high quality and the fact that it is prepared at home. The temperature and the conditions of the environment in Kakheti, combined with centuries of experience, make it all perfect, high-quality, and delicious wine. Visiting this vineyard is a must-do activity in Georgia.

Hike in the Caucasian Mountains

The soaring mountains, lush forest, and beautiful farmland broken up by tiny villages make it a perfect spot for hiking and trekking in Georgia. It is probably one of the most underrated hiking places in the world. Mestia to Ushguli, a popular multi-day trek route, is excellent for any trekker wanting to explore the natural side of Georgia.

Wow at the Caves of Gareji

The David Gareji monastery complex is located in the southeast of Georgia, near the border with Azerbaijan. It is set against a stunning rocky hill backdrop, including hundreds of homes, churches, chapels, and more. Gareji is one of the most significant landmarks in Georgia and offers a unique combination of historic architecture, palaeopathological fields, and prehistoric archaeological sites, all spread across the River Lori plateau. While here, you can also hike up a hill to soak in the incredible views and enjoy the breezy weather.

Get close to nature at Chattahoochee National Forest.

Located close to Gainesville, visiting Chattahoochee National Forest is one of the top things to do in Georgia. It is a perfect place for all nature and sports lovers, where you can indulge in various activities like hiking, swimming, canoeing, camping, trekking, and picking with your loved ones. You will absolutely fall in love with all those lakes, trees, rivers, and waterfalls that offer a complete retreat to your eyes.

Travel back in time to Forsyth Park.

Georgia is a place known to be packed with several parks, forests, and gardens, but Forsyth is among such places that stand out from the rest. Enjoy your travel back in time as you explore this absolutely gorgeous park built in the 19th century that still stands true to its era. You will find some beautiful fountains, lush green spaces, trees, and stunning walking trails.

Try different flavours of cola at the World of Coca-Cola.

While the world knows Coca-Cola as a popular beverage brand, did you know that it was invented for medicinal benefits? No, then visit this World of Coca-Cola, where you get to learn many interesting facts about cola, including the process of making Coca-Cola from start to finish. You also get to witness how they are filled, packed, and changed throughout the years in different places.

Visit the National Historic Site of Martin Luther King Jr.

This historic site in Georgia offers visitors an opportunity to witness the birth and grave of America’s most iconic personality, Martin Luther King Jr. You can choose from several tours that give you a detailed insight into the life and struggles of Martin Luther King Jr., who fought for the freedom of the African American community. It is one of the top things to do in Georgia.

Go on a picnic at Piedmont Park.

For those wondering about the best thing to do in Georgia for couples that is also within the city, Piedmont Park is the right place for you. It is the oldest and largest part of the area, located in downtown Atlanta. There are several fishing spots and nature trails that offer the perfect vibe to enjoy a picnic with your loved one.

Visit the Western Art Museum.

If you love exhibits and the arts, do visit this Western Art Museum, which is truly a hidden gem in Georgia. It is located in Cartersville and features several incredible exhibits. The most popular art in the museum focuses on Western culture and the cowboy way of life. It is an excellent place for any art enthusiast wondering what to do in Georgia.

Georgia is a wonderful place known for peaches, kind hospitality, and being the birthplace of some popular personalities, including Martin Luther King. So, if you are wondering what to do in Georgia, these top places and activities will fill your trip with amazing adventures and new experiences. Don’t forget to include them all!

[yasmeensh]

More Bears pt 2

More Bears! This was a VERY eventful week for brooks falls bears! The little bears sustained injuries, but they were very resilient and were in good shape again within 3 days time! So proud of them! I also sketched some more. Here are sketches of 910jr

910jr injured her right front leg, and her cousin 909jr showed up the next day with a nose full of porcupine quills! It must have been painful. She learnt an important lesson: don’t mess with porcupines. More about them under the cut

On the third day she had one quill left on (unicorn bear🐻🦄). Despite the quills 909jr still went on with her usual activates. In fact, the first time she was seen with them (and they were a LOT) she was was rather roughly playing with her mom. Looked pretty much unbothered by the quills. Strong cub!

Here is 910jr with her sudden limp. No one knows how she got injured. But she quickly recovered afterwards. Here she is climbing a tree!

And I thought she got too big for climbing trees! Earlier that week we also found out that 910jr is female (can be identified from the direction of the pee. Yes after months she was finally seen peeing). On Friday, the cousins met up and played and had a fun time together :) Here are the kids chilling

910jr tried to sneak into her aunt’s private dinner. 909 growled at her, but she tolerated her and 910jr ended up eating plenty of salmon with her aunt and cousin

903 Gully (longneck) and 164 Bucky (showerbear) Always fish facing each other and are not very much bothered by it (When watching the bearcam, you might notice other bears get annoyed with showerbear being right there. Some say that these two might start being friends.

I’m not entirely sure though, because one time Gully caught a fish and Bucky looked very envious and wanted to steal it. He stood up and stared at him eating.

Back to 910 jr - here she is being a cutie

bread cat but it’s bread bear now

and this weird pose

her cousin 909jr also did it

910jr is always playing with her feet

Look how fat and fluffy she’s getting! She’s looking like a brown blob.

napping with mom

And finally, the amazing Divot, the prettiest bear I have ever seen in my life. Look at those dreamy eyes! She could be a model in the bear world! When the camera zoomed in on her I was in awe! This is a summer of relaxation for her away from mom life. She was seen being courted by a male, so we might see her with cubs again next year!

[echonvoid]

Ninja go art dump of shit I didn’t post back in 2022

Most of these are just character sketches from when I was first trying clip studio out.

Pics in order from top left over:

1) glowy lava arms cole with newly found baby wu. Because I adore children and dad cole and lava cole are both great. So of course I did both

2) slightly pissed lightning Jay, that or he��s happy, I don’t really remember. And fun fact, in this headcanon/au/rewrite, Jay is bigender and/or genderqueer. They’re still figuring this shit out.

3) full body emo genderless lloyd. Has both oni and dragon traits, but they’re apart of their natural physical form. So all the traits you see here are non-optional. Pronouns: they/them

4) lloyd heads! Sweet baby boi! They desperately need therapy. And they unlocked their oni form back in March of the Oni. The purple eye is just something they were born with too. Purple eyes are relatively common among the oni

5) the Lilly Griefstriker family tree. God I love how they handled coles mom and her sickness and badassery. Lilly was goddamn fantastic. Anyway here she was a mixed race kid from between the Geckles and Munce from a small tribe from further down the mines near where the Upply lived. The tribe was killed by a cave in so she fled towards the surface and was met with hostility. So she ran off and was eventually adopted by the dude who’s canonically her dad. She trains and becomes the earth master and goes and frees her people from the dragon. She also helped the only woman there who was kind to her in the beginning while she was giving birth to Gleck (his vibe gave off much younger sibling or cousin vibes). After she killed the dragon she left again because she couldn’t take the hatred between the clans. She would come visit ever couple of months and eventually gave Gleck that locket. And then she has a kid and dies of a horrible chronic sickness that she suffered from for about 10yrs. Oh yeah cole and CJ are there too! Cole definitely takes after his dad but still has a lot of Lilly in him. And CJ is baby Wu. Except he is a full reincarnation/rebirth and so he ages like a normal kid. And totally is, he’s lil Cole Jr. Cole and Jay are his main parents, but everyone else is still around to help out and help guard and protect him. He’s like 7-9ish here.

6) fun sketch dump of all the gender

7) and last but not least, Cole Golems. Cole sustained severe injuries after the fall, to the point the earth completely cocooned him to help the healing process along (which was definitely Lilly’s doing). During which, his consciousness transferred to these handsome rock bois. He had to mime to wear his body was at which nobody got till after MOTO was finished and done. And during clean up someone found his slowly healing/slowly fading body. Fun fact: he has to use mobility aides for the rest of his life! He got real good beating the shit out of people with his crutches. CJ loves wheelchair rides

Well, that was more of an infodump than I thought it was gonna be, but holy fuck my poor thumbs. Carpal tunnel be damned I must share the hyperfixation

[cursestothemoon]

A Cruel Favor

Regulus Black x Fem!Slytherin!Reader

Request: Could I get and angsty and sad blurb with Regulus? Nothing specific in mind, Regulus’ entire life is pretty tragic already- just throwing some strained and kind of heartbreaking romance into that mix sorry i like pain this is how i cope

Summary: Your relationship with the youngest Black brother in the form of memories seen in a pensieve by Sirius Black.

Warnings: Death, sadness, crying, the dark mark, ghosts

Word Count: 3265

Author's Note: babe you asked for a blurb and i just did not listen i am so sorry, if you'd still like a blurb let me know and i'll whip up a little short piece but regardless i hope you enjoy this 😌

“You didn’t know him! You didn’t want to know him!” Your voice bellowed, trembling with the burning anger you held in your heart for the eldest Black brother.

It was true, back when the war was just ‘politics’ and the ‘Dark Lord’ a name whispered behind closed doors, Sirius Black had already made up his mind about his family- Regulus included.

“He was my brother.” Sirius spoke the statement as if just the mere fact of relation was supposed to trump that he hadn't even spoken to his brother in the months prior to his death.

You let out a bitter laugh, “Don’t lie for the sake of saving face, you never saw him as a brother; not then and certainly not now.”

Sirius seemed taken aback by your accusation, his words getting lost on his tongue for a moment before he quickly regained his fiery passion for argument.

“He betrayed me.”

“You were the one who betrayed him!” Your accusatory finger pointed at Sirius.

The eldest Black brother’s features went stoney, “The moment he decided to get that mark, was the moment he lost his name as my brother.”

Everything in the mangey old house seemed to still, a silence falling so powerful you could hear a pin drop. Your slow footsteps were exaggerated in the quiet, each creak ringing in both yours and Sirius’ ears. With a tired hand, you pushed a small pouch onto the surface of the dining room table, the vials inside clinking together softly.

“They’re numbered.” You breathed out. “There is so much you don’t know, Sirius.”

You walked through the door and onto the street hastily, not wasting any time to apparate back home.

Sirius sat down in the nearest chair with a huff, his knees spread as his shoulders slid down the back of the chair. He hadn’t remembered just how far up his brother’s ass you were.

Roughly, he rubbed his face with his palms before lazily reaching for the dark velvet pouch on the table. The emerald green reminded him not only of his brother, but of his entire family, the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. Sirius couldn’t help the groan that left his mouth at the memories of his family that seemed to plague his mind.

Fittingly, Sirius opened the pouch to reveal just that. The silvery, viscous tendrils that floated through each vial were immediately recognized by the pureblood. You had given him your memories...and a letter.

You deserve to know him.

Y/N L/N

Sirius’ curiosity regarding what secrets of his brother’s seemed to be swimming in the vials bubbled over, he was sure 12 Grimmauld Place was harbouring a pensieve somewhere within its walls, he’d just have to get up and find it.

17 October 1974

Barty Crouch Jr. was an insolent child, the type to collect bones and listen to them rattle. He had a nervous tick, his tongue slithering past his lips every so often in a manner that was so serpentine it made your skin prick.

“Come on then, L/N, be a good little girl and do as I say.”

You threw down your quill in frustration, “Bugger off, Crouch. I’ve said no.”

“Don't be like that,” Barty smirked, coming closer to where you were sitting. “It’s only some homework. You were going to do yours anyway, why not get some extra practice in by doing mine too?”

“I’d rather have unforgivables practiced on me than do anything you ask.”

His sickly sweet smile wasn’t one you were expecting, his voice low and threatening, “That can be arranged.”

Your blood ran cold as you watched his nimble fingers move toward his wand pocket in his robes. Truthfully, you should’ve known better. Being in the same house as Barty allowed you the luxury of hearing all the gossip surrounding him and his hobbies, dark magic and curses being at the top of that list.

“Barty.”

The cold baritone made the sandy-haired menace stop in his tracks, his face contorting into an expression of mild annoyance and frustration.

“There’s no need for you to be acting like a child. Quite humiliating asking someone else to do your work, isn’t it, Crouch? Are you too thick to get it done yourself?”

Barty turned to look at his friend, words jumbling as he tried to figure out how to get himself out of the hole he had dug.

“Reg-” The stone-like stare had Barty cowering and mouth snapping shut, the boy seemingly trying to fold in on himself.

With a simple nod of his head, Regulus directed the him to make himself useful elsewhere, but you were far too taken by the handsome boy in front of you to notice the stomping footsteps of Barty’s as he left. Of course you had known of Regulus Black, seen him from afar and even once had Transfiguration with him, but seeing him up close was an experience in and of itself. His skin was ghostly pale, hair dark and wavy as it fell just below his ears, and his cheekbones were high accentuating the slant of his nose. Regulus Black was beautiful, everything about him seemed to be placed just right and sculpted with the utmost care and attention.

He turned to you, your eyes meeting before he gave you an appraising look.

“Regulus.” His hand struck out, a rather rugged introduction.

Slowly, you took his hand in yours and proceeded to shake it. You couldn’t seem to rid yourself of the feeling that your hand was far too dirty, far too boring to be touching his, to even be near his.

“Y/n L/n, thank you- for that.” You were proud of yourself for not allowing your voice to shake.

“I’m sorry he was a bother.”

Regulus seemed to lack the ability of holding a conversation, he nodded- you assumed a goodbye- and got ready to make his way to the dorms.

“Wait,” Your voice came out before you could stop it. “You could stay, I’m almost done anyway. We could...talk.”

The suggestion had the boy's ears turning pink, his words coming out stuttered and jumbled, a stark contrast from the boy who had told off Barty so eloquently.

“If you- alright.”

You thought for a moment before speaking again, “You’re not very good at talking to people are you?”

“Excuse my blatant honesty, but you make me quite nervous.”

It was your turn to have your ears turn a soft hue of red, “I could say the same about you.”

5 April 1975

“Haven’t you got your own side of the blanket? Must you be so close to me?” You giggled, trying to roll away from Regulus while still avoiding the grass.

Regulus smiled, his eyes closing and nose scrunching in thought before he spoke, “I prefer to be close to you; making sure you won’t run out on me.”

Both of you began giggling, his head falling to nudge your shoulder. Ultimately, Regulus shuffled away from your side, allowing just about a foot of space in between your bodies. The wind rustled your hair as you turned your neck to look at the youngest Black as he sat up, his legs stretched and crossed at the ankles, arms propping himself up as his palms pressed flat against the floor.

It was no secret that Regulus was beautiful. His dark hair- now gently flowing in the cool breeze- stood out against his pale skin, freckles were dusted delicately over his aristocratic nose and sharp cheekbones. You could tell he’d never worked a day in his life with how handsome and soft his hands were. His fingers were long and slender, never dry or rough, and his nails perfectly trimmed and always clean.

Regulus Black was absolutely perfect and you were regretting ever complaining about his proximity.

You were quick to right your wrong, bashfully you raised yourself onto all fours and crawled over to your boyfriend. Regulus tried to hold in his smirk, avoiding turning to look at you directly but you could tell his resolve was breaking.

“Regulus…” You spoke his name with an innocent lilt, sitting back on your shins once you were close enough to have your knees touching his thigh.

He hummed, not giving you the satisfaction of having his full attention.

A huff of frustration fell past your lips at his stubbornness as you threw your leg over his thighs, straddling his legs just above his knees. His composure was thinning, a wide smile threatening to spread across his thin lips.

“You’re far too close,” he teased, his hand coming up as if trying to stop you from getting any closer. “I believe you are on my side of the blanket, L/n.”

“Don’t be so fickle, Black.”

Regulus’ pale blue eyes found yours, his delicate hand coming up to run across the delicate collar of your dress.

“It’s in my nature isn’t it?” His eyes held a certain sadness that you could not place, one you wouldn’t see again until a few years later.

Your lips parted to respond to him, only to be interrupted by a Hogwarts ghost floating nearby. It was a ghost neither you nor Regulus were familiar with and as she passed she mumbled something- rather spitefully- about young love. The event had your train of thought derailed, a quiet giggle erupting from your throat as the transparent, deceased woman floated on.

Regulus seemed to find the woman just as amusing as you did, his eyes crinkling with laughter as you two now looked at each other in fits of hysterics.

“Oh her poor soul!” You exclaimed, eyes looking off in the direction she had gone. “If you were a ghost, Reg, where would you haunt with your undead presence.”

His expression contorted into one of reminiscence, “Uncle Alphard’s cherry orchard just a few kilometers from Monts de Venasque. When we were little, Sirius and I would play in the trees. I could sit in those cherry trees for hours, everything just seemed to disappear. Alphard’s been burned off the tapestry since, but he’s left the property in my possession along with the small house on the land. I think if I were to choose one place to spend eternity, it would be there.”

You smiled softly at his answer.

“And you?” He asked, bringing you out of your lovesick haze.

“Me?” You chuckled. “I’d suppose my eternity would be well spent as long as I was somewhere with you.”

28 June 1976

It seemed the entirety of 12 Grimmauld Place shook with how hard Sirius had slammed the front door.

He was gone.

Completely and entirely gone.

And Regulus was completely and entirely alone now.

Regulus swiftly made his way up the stairs and to his room, just barely avoiding a collision with the poor house elf.

“Y/n’s room.” The words were spoken clearly and concisely as the floo powder fell from his shaky hands.

The time of night- 2:27 am- was of little importance to Regulus, he needed to see you.

You woke up with a jolt, the sound of someone stumbling into your room and panicked mumbling doing nothing to ease your nerves though the mop of dark curls had your heart calming down.

“Reg?”

He turned to look at you with heartbroken eyes, watery and bloodshot.

“He’s gone.” He choked out.

You kicked the blankets off yourself and stood up from your bed, bare feet hitting the cold floor.

Keeping a calm tone you slowly got closer to him, “Who’s gone, love?”

His pain was so evident, rolling off him in waves, “Sirius- he’s not coming back.”

“Oh,” You sighed, treading lightly. “I’m sur-”

“No!” He cried, “Burned off the tapestry, probably with the Potters- he’s gone an-and he left me with them.”

Regulus’ anguish, tear stained cheeks, had your own eyes welling with unshed tears. It was clear words would do nothing to calm him, instead you opted for pushing yourself into him and taking his crying form into your arms. His body seemed to give out as you held him, his tears soaking your shirt as he wailed into your neck.

Neither of you could tell how long you stood in the middle of your room seemingly holding him together, but his cries subsided into gentle whimpers and the occasional sniffle as his nose nudged the side of your neck.

His voice came out rough and strained, just barely above a whisper, “Please don’t- don’t leave me like Si- like he did.”

You could feel your heart shatter, “Wouldn’t dream of it, darling.”

“I don’t know how I would’ve survived in this mess if I had never known you.”

Your breath came out ragged as you spoke the truest words you've ever dared to speak, “My heart beats for you, Regulus.”

30 December 1979

His forearm itched.

It seemed to always have an odd itch ever since he was sixteen.

Regulus watched your form get closer, bundled in a thick overcoat and a dark blue scarf- Christmas present from himself- wrapped neatly around your neck. You were the picture of beauty, like a living doll with your soft smile and adoring eyes.

“My love.” You greeted him, leaning in to place a soft kiss against his cold cheek.

His eyes seemed distant, your only greeting a tight lipped smile.

Your eyebrows knit together, “Everything alright?”

Regulus nodded, his eyes swimming with a sadness so familiar, “Just taking you in.”

He pulled off his leather gloves, stuffing them deep in his coat pocket before reaching his hand out to hold your jaw, his thumb running across your skin. The action was comforting and you couldn’t help but close your eyes to savour the feeling of his thumb caressing your cheekbone.

You let out a small gasp when you felt him take your lips in a slow kiss. It was passionate, loving, yet there was a certain finality to it that had a shiver run up your spine in the most unpleasant way.

“I have the cruelest favor to ask of you, and I can only hope you’ll forgive me once I do.”

Your stomach dropped, “What do you mean, Regulus? What- what favor?”

“Please, try to understand-”

“What favor?”

“I couldn’t-”

“Tell me what the favor is, Regulus.”

Your voice had an edge to it that made him compose himself almost instantly.

He took a breath before speaking, his eyes looking off somewhere behind you as he spoke, “He’s getting stronger.”

You didn’t need to ask who this ‘he’ was, the tone made it very clear.

“He has these… horcruxes. Incredibly dark magic, I don't know how many but I know of one. It’s hidden and I’ve found out the location, I can destroy it I know I can but-”

His tone was hushed and your heart rate had started to pick up speed.

“But you don’t know if you’ll live to tell the tale?” You asked with a humorless laugh.

The look in Regulus’ eyes had told you, you were right.

“I can’t let him continue. If this could stop him, weaken him even, it’s worth whatever the consequence to myself may be.” He argued.

You pushed yourself further from him, “I can’t- I won’t lose you. No, there’s no way.”

His expression shifted into one of sorrow and pleading, “I have to.”

And you knew there was no changing his mind.

You bit the side of your lip anxiously, looking at the ground before asking, “And this favor?”

The heartbreak was almost palpable, his voice going raw.

“I cannot be fully prepared to do anything that is necessary to destroy this horcrux if-”

He cut himself off with an intake of breath.

“If I know you’ll be waiting for my return, if I know what I have to leave behind I may be tempted to not go through with my plan.”

You couldn’t help but feel and look horrified, “What are you asking of me, Regulus?”

He seemed to flinch at the tone of your voice, a tone you’d never used before and one he couldn’t name.

“I need you to obliviate yourself from my memory.”

It felt as though your chest had collapsed in on itself, “I-I couldn-”

“You have to!” Regulus cried, his arms gripping the sides of your face as you couldn’t help but let a choked sob escape from your lips. “It’s the only way I’ll be able to go through with it, I can't know that there’s a possibility of leaving you.”

“Please, Regulus, you can’t ask this of me.” You choked out, searching his eyes for some sort of humor, something that told you it was all a cruel joke.

He pressed his lips against your forehead, both of your eyes closing as you two took in short, ragged breaths.

Everything seemed darker. The flowers in the Black garden were cold and dead, the snow wasn’t snow at all, instead dangerous sheets of ice. It was then you realized the war, the death eaters, everything had become so real.

“There is a letter on your bed at home, I’ve settled everything for you. I’m going to stand against the pillar, my back to you, and you are going to do it from behind the hedges so we won’t see each other after. You need to leave once it’s done alright?”

You nodded solemnly, knowing there was no use in fighting it. The cause was bigger than you, bigger than Regulus. Everyone made sacrifices, this just had to be yours.

“My heart beats for you, Y/n, whether I know it or not.”

“And mine for you, Regulus.” You smiled sadly, pulling his wrist up to your face and pulling back his sleeve to reveal his dark mark, pressing a kiss to the skin you spoke, “You aren’t them, you never were and you never will be.”

Regulus smiled but said nothing as he lowered his arms and put his gloves back on. With slow steps he walked to the pillar and looked back at you one last time.

“I’m just taking you in.” He whispered, before slowly turning.

You took your wand from your coat as you took even slower steps to stand just far enough for him not to notice you after it had been done. Regulus felt his resolve crumble with each crunch of your boots against the frozen ground, his eyes screwed shut- tears rolling down his face freely- as he prepared for what was coming.

With a shaky hand you raised your wand.

“Obliviate.”

Present

Sirius seemed to be thrown back from the pensieve, as if the memory had rejected him from viewing any longer, still sensitive. He felt an odd tickling sensation run down his cheek, his hand raising to brush away a stray tear as he fell into a nearby chair.

He never knew…

***

You pushed open the backdoor of your small home, the warm scent of cherry trees welcoming you. The sun was just barely starting to set as you looked off into the horizon of the vast field of trees, if you looked long enough you could make out the handsome silhouette of a boy you once knew sitting up in a cherry tree.

Only a few short months later, the lone figure would be joined by another… a brother.

tags:

@amourtentiaa

@vsawyer1989​

@lifeofkaze

@siriusement

@erinruby003

@maybesandohnos

@onlyfreds

@tayyx

[beardedmrbean]

Listen to this article

0:00 / 3:46BeyondWords

Alabama is set to execute a man Thursday evening who was convicted of killing his ex-girlfriend nearly three decades ago, despite a request from the victim’s family to spare his life.

Joe Nathan James Jr. is scheduled to receive a lethal injection at 6 p.m. CDT at a south Alabama prison. James was convicted and sentenced to death in the 1994 shooting death of Faith Hall, 26, in Birmingham. Hall's daughters have said they would rather James serve life in prison. But Alabama Gov. Kay Ivey said Wednesday she planned to let the execution proceed.

Prosecutors said James briefly dated Hall and that he became obsessed after she rejected him, stalking and harassing her for months before killing her. On Aug. 15, 1994, after Hall had been out shopping with a friend, James forced his way inside the friend's apartment, pulled a gun from his waistband and shot Hall three times, according to court documents.

2 ALABAMA BABIES, CHILD FROM MAINE KILLED FALLING TREES

A Jefferson County jury first convicted James of capital murder in 1996 and voted to recommend the death penalty, which a judge imposed. The conviction was overturned when a state appeals court ruled a judge had wrongly admitted some police reports into evidence. James was retried and again sentenced to death in 1999, when jurors rejected defense claims that he was under emotional duress at the time of the shooting.

Hall’s two daughters, who were 3 and 6 when their mother was killed, had said recently they would rather James serve life in prison.

"I just feel like we can’t play God. We can’t take a life. And it’s not going to bring my mom back," one of the daughters, Terryln Hall, told The Associated Press in a recent telephone interview.

IN ALABAMA, RARE 400-POUND SPOTTED EAGLE RAY JUMPS INTO BOAT, GIVES BIRTH

"We thought about it and prayed about it, and we found it in ourselves to forgive him for what he did. We really wish there was something that we could do to stop it," Hall had said, adding the road to forgiveness was long.

"I did hate him. I did. And I know hate is such a strong feeling word, but I really did have hate in my heart. As I got older and realized, you can’t walk around with hate in your heart. You still got to live. And once I had kids of my own, you know, I can’t pass it down to my kids and have them walk around with hate in their hearts," she said.

Alabama Attorney General Steve Marshall had urged Ivey to let the execution go forward, writing that "it is our obligation to ensure that justice is done for the people of Alabama."

"The jury in James’s case unanimously decided that his brutal murder of Faith Hall warranted a sentence of death," Marshall said.

In response to a reporter's question, Ivey said Wednesday she would not intervene.

"My staff and I have researched all the records and all the facts and there’s no reason to change the procedure or modify the outcome. The execution will go forward," she said.

BIRMINGHAM ZOO FEMALE LION KILLED BY NEW MALE COMPANION

James has acted as his own attorney in his bid to stop his execution, mailing handwritten lawsuits and appeal notices to the courts from death row. A lawyer on Wednesday filed the latest appeal with the U.S. Supreme Court on his behalf.

James asked justices for a stay, noting the opposition of Hall's family and arguing that Alabama did not give inmates adequate notice of their right to select an alternate execution method.

He argued that Alabama officials, after lawmakers approved nitrogen hypoxia as a new execution method, gave inmates only a brief window of time to select the new method and inmates did not know what was at stake when they were handed a selection form without any explanation. Alabama is not scheduling executions for inmates who selected nitrogen. The state has not developed a system for using nitrogen to carry out death sentences.

[gatheringfiki]

The following ficlet was written by @flow-it-show-it based on this photoset.

Fili/Kili, Teen. Circus!AU (Like a Damn Fool-verse)

You might also be able to read this story on AO3.

If you’ve enjoyed this story, please leave a comment either in replies or on AO3. :)

Going Home, Going Home

---

It begins with a letter delivered in a snowstorm.

How the fuck did he find me? Fee wonders aloud—needlessly, for he already knows.  HE is Mr. Beaufort of Owen, Glann & Beaufort Attorneys-At-Law, and HE maintains a web of private eyes to keep tabs on Fee’s wide-flung whereabouts.  

At present, those happen to be a motor lodge just outside of Falls City, Nebraska. 

It’s a myth that circus folk favor warm environs for wintering over.  After five months spent baking in treeless fields and parking lots, what lunatic (besides Ringling, Barnum or Bailey) would drop anchor in Florida?  Pipe Creek, Indiana— positively.  Argentine, Michigan— absolutely.  York, South Carolina— yes, yes, a thousand times yes.   And for the Greenleaf & Arkenstein Circus, only Nebraska in November will do. 

Backed by a creek and a stand of cottonwood trees, Elroy’s Bide-A-While Motor Court has hosted the G&A every year since 1958, when Elroy Sr. cut the opening-day ribbon with a pair of hedge clippers.   Fifteen log cabins, each sleeping two (or six, if you pay Elroy Jr. to look the other way) and equipped with all the perks: hotplate, electric kettle, woodstove in January, A/C in July, WiFi… whenever.  Luxury matters little to circus folk.  After a long season on the move, it’s enough simply to stop moving. 

But that’s how they find you.  Fee knows that.  And even as he stares at the envelope – first the front, then the back – he’s being watched. 

Kee’s the one who answered the door, you see.  The man shivering in the snow outside wouldn’t let him sign for the letter—wouldn’t even let him see it, as a matter of fact, which made Kee even more sure that something was up.  What do they call it in spy novels?  Eyes only?  Once this mysterious missive was in the proper hands, Fee opened it as far across the room as he could get … and before he’d even read its contents, he stuffed the envelope into the fire. 

Kee loves all of the blind spots in his partner’s history:  the unanswerable questions, unsolvable puzzles, hints of lives past and plot twists awaiting their big reveal.  No matter how long or far they’ve traveled side by side, there are still so many things he doesn’t know.  

Including Fee’s real name. 

Fee himself almost didn’t recognize it.  Names die from disuse, or so he’d hoped; it comes as a nasty shock to see this one alive and well on the face of an envelope.  Thank god for wood-burning stoves; all he had to do is fling his name into the fire to kill it again— 

So what is it? Kee asks. 

Fee’s voice, normally so chipper, is somber now.  Trouble, most likely, he mutters. 

_____________ 

  Dear F&$%#@$—

(It doesn’t really say that, but that’s how Fee mentally pronounces it; he knew his dead self best.) 

I trust this letter finds you well… or at all.  You continue to be a slippery character, and whether this reaches is you is entirely dependent upon the resourcefulness of my nimble couriers.  I don’t pay people to mess around, as you remember. 

The purpose of this letter is twofold.  First, to request a face-to-face meeting, as you and I have Business with a capital B to discuss.  I’m sure you know what I mean. 

Second, I suggest we get some fun out of it.  The Friends of the Viceroy Holiday Gala is nigh.  Your parents will not be attending this year, as they have taken to holing up at the Mustique property for the winter.  Therefore, it is safe for you to come out of hiding. 

Enclosed please find two (2) boarding passes for a Kansas City-LaGuardia flight departing on the morning of December 23rd.  (Yes, your spouse is invited; even the Board of Trustees lacks the heavenly authority to put asunder what the Great State of Illinois hath joined.)  The Langham flat will be made ready to receive you.  The Gala begins at 7:30pm.  Tickets are, of course, Mum and Pop’s. What they don’t know won’t hurt them.  

Should your employer need a firm excuse for your fleeing the hinterlands of Kansas for the wilds of Manhattan, tell him that it’s of vital importance that you go back East to knock back a few Shirley Temples with an old family friend. 

Kindest regards, 

J. N. Beaufort, Esq.

Attorney-at-Law

What intel Fee extracts from all this could be scribbled on the back of the envelope he has just burnt. 

Baby.  Kee lays down the paperback spy novel he’s been using as cover and fixes his lover with sympathetic, questioning eyes.  Baby, come on.  You’re killing me.  Tell me what’s going on. 

Fee sighs and considers the facts.  Snow’s already filling the footprints of Beaufort’s courier, erasing their beeline from Elroy’s lodge to the cabin and back.  So long as the storm doesn’t take down the power lines, the plug-in kettle on the counter will serve nicely for two cups of cocoa.  The woodfire’s crackling; there’s two layers of quilt on the bed.  And there’s Kee.  Kee, sitting up against the headboard with his wool sock-clad feet crossed at the ankle, hair in a tangle and dark eyes pouring forth sunlight... 

God, you’re cute, Fee hears himself say aloud. 

Don’t change the subject, Kee counters.  What’s the story? 

It’s going to be an interesting, difficult, possibly even painful discussion.  To paraphrase Beaufort, they might as well get some fun out of it. 

Fee takes a deep breath, unzips his jeans, and with a classic fool’s flourish, lets them drop to his ankles.  

Baby, he says, your old man is loaded. 

_____________ 

  Dear Beaufort,

Nice hearing from you.  Not so nice hearing that I’m a wanted man.  But yours is not to question why, etc. etc. 

I’m glad to hear Senior and Seniora are well, but I confess, I’m even gladder to hear they’re in Mustique.  I trust your mission is not to fling me off the roof of the Viceroy at their request.  Just to be on the safe side, I want you to know that I refuse to go higher than the mezzanine. 

I also want to make clear that I will turn my ass right back around and fly back to K.C. if our business has anything to do with Senior’s will.  I don’t expect – and in fact, do not want – anything from my parents that requires me to do The Old Song And Dance.  I have my own song and dance now, as Arkenstein will tell you.  (No doubt you’ve already been in touch, you old menace.)

RE: the Shirley Temples.  Your spies ARE good, aren’t they?  Sober a year and a half now.  The reason why?  He’s who you sent the second boarding pass for.  Instead of dispatching the driver, pick us up at the airport yourself, and I’ll spring for lunch at Bohemian Hall.  We’ll have the bratwurst, you have the beer.  You are definitely going to need it. 

Cheers,

FEE (if I’ve told you once I’ve told you a million times— THAT IS MY NAME NOW. I beg you to wear it out.)

_____________

  I’m nervous.

It’s okay.  A first flight is always nerve-wracking.  You need your hand held, you just ask.

Fee doesn’t mention that he might need his own hand held.  It’s been a while since he’s taken a plane; even longer since he sat in first class, and truly another lifetime ago since he’s set foot on the island of Manhattan.  He’s split between defiance and feeling like a class-A fraud.

Is it normal to also be ravenous?  Kee’s asking.  Do they give you food?

Yes.  Eating is an excellent way to deal with anxiety.  I ordered us meals ahead of time; they’ll be good, but not nearly as good as what we’ll get when we—

Aaah!  The plane shudders, prompting Kee to seize his husband’s arm.  What the fuck?

We’re going to start moving soon.   Everyone’s on board now, so they’re going to get us lined up for takeoff.  Seatbelt on, baby.  Fee shows him how; the buckles are a big more complicated than those in a VW Bus.  Then: Keep talking to me— what else are you nervous about?

This guy Beaufort.  The city.  The party.  Everything.  What did Big Man have to say?

Not a whole heck of a lot, Fee drawls, adjusting his own seatbelt.  He knows I grew up back East, and I suppose he could tell it wasn’t heaven by the number of empty bottles in my truck.  Didn’t take much effort to deduce that I’d only go back there if shit’s hit a fan.   He lets his head loll to the side so that he can look at Kee.  You’ve taken it pretty calmly.

Only because I hardly understand it.  Kee warily surveys the other passengers in their deceptively-relaxed-yet-devilishly-expensive travel clothes.  It’s clear he feels as much out-of-place as Fee, if not more.  But I am curious, he resumes.  It’s like a spy novel.  You’re you, but you’re also someone else.  Like, working undercover.

No, I’m OUT from under the covers.  The place we’re headed to— THAT’S where I had to pretend to be someone I’m not.

You gonna have to do it again when we get there?

Not with you there to keep me honest—ah!  Now we’re really moving.  Fee’s hand, warm and work-roughened, comes down to rest atop Kee’s.  Look, Beaufort’s a pussycat.  The city’s a circus, just bigger and dirtier.  The party’s going to be a joke, but you and I will laugh together.  As for ‘everything’…  He weaves their fingers together and leans in close.  Everything is going to be fine, baby, he whispers.  And even if it isn’t, it’ll hurt me more than it hurts you.

_____________

  Fuck.  FUCK.  Luggage slides through numb fingers and lands with a thump! on the vestibule floor.  Kee whirls to stare at Fee.  This is yours? 

Fee ducks into the parlor.  No.  It’s my family’s.

He speaks these words offhandedly, but the apartment in the Langham is nothing to shrug at.  Four bedrooms, two and a half baths, parlor, living room, dining room, eat-in kitchen, view of Central Park.  Three thousand square feet of mahogany, chintz, and – according to Fee – bad blood.

Jesus, Beaufort, this place is practically a museum to the not-so-good old days.  Fee emerges from the parlor with a look halfway between hilarity and repulsion.  Same curtains, same throw pillows… same stale air.  I would have thought someone would redecorate… open a window… change the candy in the dishes…

The only thing that’s been changed is the locks.  Beaufort reverently eases the apartment door shut and wings the keys to Fee like an old-time ballplayer.  Your cousin Philip asked to stay here last year after his latest deal fell through.  He asked for a month to “get his bearings”, then sort of… stretched it. You’d think six months would be enough for a person’s bearings to be GOT.  Your father certainly believed so.

Well, when Pop puts his foot down…  Fee trails off.

Kee simply can’t keep his eyeballs in their sockets.  His only frame of reference for the word “apartment” is the cabbage-scented one bedroom/one bath he and his mother shared in Chicago.  But this… 

It’s bigger than the place I grew up in, he whispers to Fee.

I hate to tell you, Fee whispers back, but this is only the foyer.

There are four bedrooms for you to choose from. Beaufort's whispering, too, just for the fun of joining the game.  May I suggest the second-largest?  The master bedroom has not yet recovered from Cousin Philip.

After a quick tour (which renders Kee speechless all over again) and a fridge raid for beverages (non-alcoholic on Fee’s behalf), the three end up in the library.  Beaufort sinks into the depths of a leather easy chair and mock-solemnly pulls at his cufflinks, first left, then right.  Well now, he says.

Well now, replies Fee, sitting forward on the adjacent couch.  Let’s get down to it.

Beaufort’s bristling grey eyebrows draw together.  I’m retiring.  Not until next spring, mind you, but there is no time like the present to start divesting myself of responsibilities— one of them being you.

Ah.

And your money.

AH.  Fee rolls his eyes.  Money.  Hasn’t crossed my mind in years.

It shows.

Come on, old man.  I do occasionally polish my shoes.

With spit and shirt sleeve, no doubt.

Kee’s not fooled by this adversarial rat-a-tat, for Fee has explained that he and Beaufort are old pals.  Watching them spar is actually kind of fun.  He laces his hands behind his head and settles in for the show.

Here’s the lay of the land, Beaufort intoned.  As we know, both your parents and grandparents established trusts for you in infancy.  Your grandparents’ trust was earmarked for your college education.  They wanted you to choose your own course of study, free of influence; hence, they created a fund that your parents could not touch.  It passed to you when you turned twenty-one, and you used it to earn a diploma whose leather presentation case you now use to pick the seeds and stems out of your marijuana.  Am I wrong?

Fee and Kee are careful not to look at one another. 

In my day, we used a Pink Floyd album cover for that purpose, Beaufort informs the air.  But ‘you do you’, as the kids say.  Now: your parents.  They didn’t trust your judgment half as much as your grandparents did – and perhaps rightly – so they stipulated that the money not be disbursed to you until you turned thirty.  Initially, they wanted to dole it out as an annuity, but I convinced them that by then you’d be married to some nice Barnard girl with some idea of how a mutual fund works.  Now, what was her name?  Naomi or Noemie or—

Noelle!  God, I’d almost forgot.  Pink with embarrassment, Fee haphazardly rakes his fingers through his hair.  Good old Noelley…I wonder how she made out in life.

You’ll most likely see her tonight.  She’ll tell you all about the three-page admission essay it took to get her youngest into nursery school.   Beaufort smirks.  That is, if she talks to you at all.  How many people can say their boyfriend dumped them to run off and join the circus?

I was suffocating, Beau. You know this. I would have choked to death if I didn’t get out.  I’ve never looked back.  Fee glances at Kee, who nods gravely.

Your mother and father hoped you would, at first.  I did make an honest effort to bring about a reconciliation.  Your response took the form of two very pointed and precise words.  Do you recall them?

Yes. Get stuffed, replies Fee.  Not you, of course.  Your clients.

Believe me, the feeling was mutual.  But despite how much they’d have liked to wring your neck, the trust was irrevocable.  You turned thirty bang on time, and the lump sum became yours even if you weren’t here to put hands on it.  Beaufort smiles gently at Fee.  It’s still yours, even after all this time.  And now I’m begging you to take it off my hands.

PLEASE tell me you’re going to write the total on a slip of paper and push it across the table at me.

If you want.

A scramble for pen and paper ensues.  They can’t find notepaper, so they settle for the back of an envelope; the only ballpoint pen in the desk has long run out of ink, but there’s half a child’s crayon, improbably labeled “Jazzbery Jam”.  Kee stays out of the way; the two players in this drama seem to have everything well enough under control.  There’s a gleefulness to their exchange now that belies the dead-serious subject at its center.  They can ignore it right up until the envelope slides across the smooth marble coffee table to be taken up and turned over.

And then – as the kids say – shit gets real. 

We’ll worry about the paperwork tomorrow.  Don’t even think about skipping town.  Beaufort melts back into his chair and smiles at Kee.  Ever managed a checkbook, kid?

_____________

  The Viceroy Holiday Fundraising Gala – held at the historic Broadway theatre which bears its name – is very much a black-tie affair, as any society gathering is duty-bound to be.  Everyone who is anyone within a relatively small and limited tribe puts in an impressive and extremely expensive appearance. 

Fee carries a mental snapshot of the Gala from years past.  Smug old silverhairs and their Ivy League sons in bespoke tuxedos; patrician wives in Valentino, their younger clones in Zac Posen and Grandmummy’s pearls.  All of them hobnobbing with flutes of champagne in hand, staring down their rivals and surveilling the hired help for signs of weakness...

It’s thanks to this indelible mental image that when Kee asks, Do we have to dress up? Fee sharply replies, Let’s not and say we did 

Are you sure we won’t get in trouble?

No.  But Beaufort will post our bail, if it comes to that.  God knows we’ve got enough to pay him back.

So it is that Dr. Phileas “Fee” Lonesome, Ph.D., Professor of Harlequinade and Pantomime Arts, and his husband Céilí “Kee” Archer, acclaimed flamenco bailaor of the Greenleaf & Arkenstein Circus, walk into the Viceroy Theatre wearing off-the-rack Nordstrom suits and find themselves instantly accosted by a tall, willowy woman carrying a silver iPad Pro.

You’re late, she hisses, stabbing the tablet screen furiously with her stylus.

Fee chuckles.  Fifteen minutes is considered fashionable, isn’t it?

Your pay for the evening will be docked accordingly. Did no one tell you to use the backstage entrance?  You cannot simply waltz in through the front—  Her voice dies as Fee extracts the tickets from his inside breast pocket. 

If it helps, he smiles, we could go out and come in again through the back door.

The woman takes the tickets, peers at them, blanches.  You’re—

Don’t say it.  Don’t say it.  I don’t use that name anymore.

But your parents—

Aren’t here.  Their representative has authorized us to attend in their place.  Fee squints up at her.  A sudden impulse to be an asshole overtakes him.  Wait, I know you.  I do!  Libby, isn’t it?  You played lacrosse at Peddie with my cousin Chloe and, ah… roomed with Noelle at Barnard, right?

Libby’s gaze could kick-start a new Ice Age.

Look, we’re not staying long, and we’re not looking to mingle, Fee presses on.  Is the nosebleed section open?  We’ll sit for a little while and then bounce.  I promise we won’t spitball anyone below.

I’m not so sure you won’t.  Libby presses her tablet against her bosom with folded arms and jerks her head toward a side staircase.

_____________

  In the darkness of the rear mezzanine, Fee and Kee sit in the center back row against the wall and watch an antfarm of florists, musicians, clipboard-jockeys and black-clad stagehands rushing to put the final touches on before the Gala-goers troop in to preview their seats.  Following dinner, there’s to be a star-studded concert, a screening of a brief documentary on the history of the Viceroy and its illustrious Friends, and ceremony with awards and citations scattered like Mardi Gras favors.

But all of this is last on Kee’s worried mind.  With the exception of his sparring match with Libby, Fee’s been silent ever since they left the apartment.  His hand, usually so quick to squeeze when Kee takes it, remains limp, and he only half turns his head when Kee asks, What do you want to do?

Go home.  Fee looks up at the gold-leafed ceiling.  Back to the Bide-A-While.  Wait out winter, as we usually do, then get back on the road in spring.

Quite frankly, Kee’s relieved to hear it.  Not having ever had money or three thousand square feet of anything except state fairground, there’s nothing for him to imagine or miss.  Still, he has to ask:  What about the money?

Sock it in a bank account and let it mold.  I don’t know.  Now Fee’s hand finally come to life in Kee’s; he turns it palm up so that he can tickle the underside of his partner’s wrist.  Unless you can think of any better use for it.

A long pause ensues, broken finally by a whisper:  The circus.

What, now?

The circus.  Kee’s eyes glisten in the stage-glow, even from this height.  You ran away from home to join the circus.  The circus is home now.  Run it.

RUN it?

Well… maybe not exactly.  Greenleaf and Arkenstein are the kings— they have all the know-how, all the history.  But you love the fucking G&A just as much as they do.  Kee nudges Fee’s foot with his own.  And the G&A could use some new… some new…  He trails off and waits, eyebrows cocked.

Canvas, says Fee.  The tents are starting to look like shit.

Yes…?

Equipment.  We’re held together with paperclips.

Yes.

Wheels.  Fee’s picking up speed.  Proper transport.  RVs for life on the road.

Yes… Kee is less crazy about this; he likes the VW.  It’s his baby.  Their baby.

Talent.  Fee kicks the seat in front of him.  Goddammit, I suppose we’d better talk to Greenleaf about Junior.  He’s a dumbass in most respects, but his work’s really come along…

Smiling in the dark, Kee makes himself comfortable and lets his man take the wheel.

Down in the orchestra pit, a lone French horn player is doing a run up and down the scale; the sound’s akin to celestial trumpets spreading across heaven—if heaven was a mural painted on plaster.  Fee would tell you differently, as would Kee, as would Greenleaf and Arkenstein, as would every single rope-wrangler and trapeze-hanger in the G&A.  Heaven is canvas and flags, and the pure blue sky that hangs over them.  Heaven is the blare of carnival barkers and the tweedling of the grand calliope.  Heaven is hope. 

And if one were to put a price on hope, that figure would be written on the back of an old envelope with a crayon called Jazzberry Jam.

[megamattzx]

It was a quiet day in Conton City. Xeno Goku had been doing some shopping, despite it being his special day. Xeno Chi-Chi also was trying to get him to find some enjoyment in today, but the truth was he couldn't anymore. He just couldn't. The worst part was that he SHOULD be happy today. The problem is that he wasn't. Hadn't been for a long time. It was his birthday and he was miserable about it. Every year on his birthday ever since that fateful birthday, he only spent his birthday buying certain things. Flowers, burning incense, candles, and a photo frame. After that he started heading home.

Upon arriving, he took time to go to his room. His sleeping wife is peacefully dreaming on their bed at the moment. Smiling, the Xeno version of the Earth Saiyan walked over and softly kissed her forehead. After that he was seen opening one of his drawers, before taking a photo out of it. After that, he then walked back to his kitchen. Ignoring all the photos hung up in his house in the process. Normally he could be able to look at his photos but not today. Never today. It would only cause him to hate today more than he already did.

Xeno Goku used to love his birthday. Everyone wishing him a happy birthday. Now he hated it. Hated this day in particular. Because now, it only brought him pain. It reminded him of his boy. His version of Goku Jr. Even after all these years, he still hadn't gotten over it. His birthday was now just a reminder that his boy was gone. Every year, he was reminded of this reality. Every year on his own birthday, he was visiting his son's grave.

Today was Goku's birthday but it was also the anniversary of the worst day of his life. The day his son died. The day that illness had finally finished its work on him. While his counterparts were enjoying their birthday with their families, Xeno Goku was preparing to visit the son that he lost. The guilt and anger. Anger at the fact that he was so damn powerless. Guilt at the fact that he didn't spend the first 7 years of that boy's life with him more so than he already did. Every year on his birthday he hated himself more for that.

Taking the photo and carefully putting it in the frame, the Saiyan then the moment to breathe before slowly walking to the door before opening it and gently closing it behind him as he walked out. He did this every year ever since that day. The walk was never too long but it always felt that way ever since he lost his son. Each step was heavier than any weight that anyone, including King Kai and Whis could have possibly given him. The ache in his heart that he had for so many years really took a number on him.

Upon reaching the old cabin that he grew up in, the weary Saiyan took a deep breath as he slowly approached one of the two graves standing there. The second one standing in front of a tree. Upon reaching it, Xeno Goku carefully placed the photo, now in its frame, right in front of it. Setting up the incense before lighting them up as well as some candles. He then put the flowers down onto the safest place that he could see near the grave. Staring at the photo of his version of Goku Jr. Tears falling from his eyes as he did so.

"I wish you were still here kiddo," he finally said after being quiet for so long. A hint of pain and regret in his voice as he did so. "If only you were there to see your counterpart as well as the different versions of your brothers." A sniffle to be heard from Xeno Goku as he tried so desperately, not to break down. "I'm sorry that I wasn't able to spend as much time with you, as you would have hoped... I'm sorry I was dead for the first 7 years of your short life.... I wish I could have done something more about you getting sick..... I wish you were still here to see your mom smile. I wish you were able to see your little niece grow up. I wish you were still with us, bud.... I miss you everyday....."

That part was what caused the mask to fall apart as Xeno Goku clenched his arms into a hug as he then started to cry his heart out. Letting all the pain out. He had so much pain and guilt. So much anger at himself for not being there enough for the boy. All those regrets when it came to all the time he lost. It was all eating him up on the inside. And finally for the first time ever since that day, one hundred and fourteen years ago, Son Goku of the Xeno timeline, broke.

The broken father's cries could be heard as Xeno Chi-Chi slowly and carefully approached him. She knew what was wrong. Slowly sitting down next to her husband, she gently placed her hand on his back, letting him know she was there. As Xeno Goku looked at her, she saw all the pain, guilt, regret and sorrow in his eyes. Slowly wrapping her arms around her husband, she felt him wrap his arms around her, burying his face in her shoulder, as he just let it all out. She rarely sees her husband like this. He rarely cried. She knew just how much this loss had taken a toll on him. She saw it in his eyes. When their son died, part of him died as well.

"It should have been me......" Xeno Goku said in his cries. "Not Kaka..... Not our boy....."

"I know how you feel..." Xeno Chi-Chi said to her husband softly. Tears also fell from her eyes as it happened. Neither of them wanted to bury their children. It's hard to imagine any parent would ever want to. Who in the right mind would as a parent?

Losing her father from illness was one thing. But it was nothing compared to losing her son. She never got over his death either. She was just better at handling the pain. Seeing her young son, dying in a hospital bed. 100% on oxygen. Slowly losing his life. All the family there, knowing that painful reality that he wasn't going to make it. This little boy she raised. Sung him to sleep. Loved as if he was own flesh and blood. She could never get over that. Just like with her husband, when their son died, part of her died as well.

The two held each other in a comforting embrace as they sat there together. Unaware of their counterparts' version of Goku Jr walking there to wish his father a happy birthday. He stopped himself dead in his tracks as he saw all this.

Goku Jr felt his heart sink. Seeing the alternate version of his mother and father like this was painful to watch. His counterpart's death really caused this much grief to them. It was then that the younger Goku decided. He was going to find a way to bring his counterpart back. Back to the world of the living.....