#Objectively he might be wrong but Subjectively? For once he's telling the absolute truth

[tswwwit]

If Stan notices all the people who like Dipper, did Mabel or Pacifica notice when they were growing up?

I feel like Mabel missed in this area! I can see a lot of misdirected attention and wrong guesses, with her wanting to be a matchmaker for her brother, while simultaneously having the wrong instincts. Mabel's got rose-colored glasses on, and she's very firm about her opinions.

Meanwhile, Pacifica was in the right circles to hear people say they'd date Dipper Pines - then look around at their peers, and instantly play it off as a joke. Like, what? That weak nerd? No chance, haha, just kidding. That obviously raised a perfectly threaded eyebrow.

While Pacifica might be really out of touch with different social classes - she's not dumb.

#Headcanon that Dipper had a really awkward puberty phase #We're talking full on pizza face #Not quite fitting into his limbs and greasy - don't even get started on the voice cracking all the time #That cleared up after a year or two #Suddenly he had a decent complexion and he'd grown into his gangliness and all that exploring had finally built some muscle on his frame #And he started turning heads #Except the awkward phase was in recent memory so it was social suicide to admit you'd date that nerd #Combine that with social awkwardness and weak magically and wow like definitely still a huge nerd #And it wasn't the greatest combination #Also headcanon that Pacifica may have made a few comments about him being decently cute now #If only to salvage the ego of some of her friends that were interested #She is again not dumb and Dipper was shaping up well #But that didn't fly great so she shrugged it off #High school was gonna be over soon in any case #Everyone had already graduated prior to the start of Faking It #answers #Dipper in this AU is a pretty cute guy - but if you asked Bill? #He's Absolutely The Cutest Human. No Contest #Objectively he might be wrong but Subjectively? For once he's telling the absolute truth #He'd pick this weird unshowered nerd with a cheetos stain on his shirt and five-o-clock shadow going before he picked a sexy model #He's very biased and an unreliable narrator #Bill is Deeply In Love and it's Incurable

[ahsoka-in-a-hood]

Just taking the clone wars into account I honestly was surprised to learn of Filoni’s jedi-critical views. In large part I guess it was just that I watched tcw after reading lots of Obi Wan and Anakin centric fanfic, and in comparison the show barely even registered as critical, since it’s so much milder than like 80% of fanfic was. For one it does something fanfic rarely did, which is treat the council and the larger jedi body as a group of diverse people with differing opinions and constant challenges, and not an almost faceless cold single entity whose narrative function is primarily to cause problems for the protagonist, not to be people in their own right.

And then there was simply the fact that I never took Anakin to be a reliable narrator, especially since he’s covering up naughty war crimes left and right on the show, and I never really took Ahsoka as a speaker of objective truth either, since she’s young and still parsing out her teachings and philosophy by show’s end without ever reaching a conclusion, since her story doesn’t really have a conclusion, just a series of traumatic breaks. If they were meant to be the mouthpieces, it never even occurred to me.

The other big thing was the war and the clones. See, my feelings about the war in the movies were very mixed up with the political commentary it was making about what was happening in real life, and the result was pretty messy. The condensed narration didn’t help- yes, there was the through line with the trade federation’s behavior in Naboo and then their involvement with the Separatists, and the plans they were making that Obi Wan listened in on- but even so, the whole war was off screen, and it was still mixed up in this clunky Iraq war commentary. The movies do also point out more than once that the breakdown of diplomacy was something bad Palpatine did and through him the republic (though I wouldn’t say it holds the jedi to account for that so much as the Senate). Meanwhile the cartoon just uncategorically depicts the separatists as aggressors who are doing cartoonishly evil things, and the need to defend is inescapable. Even more than that, the clones- the chips really do change everything.

The fact that the jedi led these men for three years and earned absolutely no goodwill or loyalty enough for any of them to even hesitate to shoot them in the back just wasn’t a great look for either of them. But of course, that’s not the story anymore. It’s such a different story. The jedi-clone relationship is now one of my absolute favorite things. It’s complex and it’s compelling. Most importantly, it’s not characterized by indifference.

So, yeah, I hadn’t clocked that Filoni was actually much closer to the popular fanon on all this. It’s funny, I got into a conversation with someone recently, one of those people who had earnestly thought the prequels were meant to depict the jedi as arrogant and cold and out of touch, and I mentioned the things Lucas had said on the subject, and they were like- are you telling me Lucas fucked up and accidentally told a different story than the one he intended? But what’s funny is that I’m now sitting here thinking the same about the clone wars. Did Filoni accidentally write a much more nuanced and jedi-friendly story than the one he thought he was writing, or was that just me reading him wrong?

Well at any rate, I’m going to watch the tales of the jedi soooon and I guess I’ll see how that tracks. (though round one at least I might disengage my critical brain and just enjoy)

#the clone wars #jedi order #filoni

[discordapples]

PT. 11 The Mimic

Word count: 2.8k (9 mins read)

Characters: Ominis Gaunt, Sebastian Sallow, Livia Novik.

Summary

Livia, Ominis and Sebastian find themselves once again in the company of the Collector. They learn more about the enigmatic entity that inhabits the Room of Requirement and its motives...

Read the eleventh chapter below.

Livia | Hogwarts, Early September, 1893.

For the rest of the afternoon, Livia spends her time cutting herself on serrated memories she wishes she had kept fastened in her trunk. Digging for the Mimic implied rummaging through the sundries she brought all the way from Ukraine.

Laurence's pocket watch, her mother's hairbrush, her father's glasses, all are scattered through silken scarves and poplin skirts for safe keep.

The last mementoes of a culled family.

The ballast of solitude ties itself to her waist, keeping her rooted to the floor of her bedroom for an hour and dewing her eyes with tears as her fingers skitter along the objects that are a testimony to a life that is no longer hers to hold.

After her momentary lapse, Livia leaves her dormitory, the handheld mirror in tow, to join Ominis and Sebastian before the Room of Requirement, where, if the Collector is truthful, the door will appear.

And in the corridor of the Astronomy wing, she finds Sebastian slanting against the wall, hands pocketed, and Ominis pacing his tormented thoughts into submission.

Livia extends a curled roll of paper to Sebastian.

"What's that?" He asks.

"Your question."

"Good to know we spent three hours in the Undercroft for absolutely no reason at all," he jests.

"Having people to brainstorm with is much better than speaking to my reflection in the mirror," she retorts. "Was an afternoon with me such a torture, Sebastian Sallow?"

"I endured worse. I've been bunking with Ominis for seven years." His chin jerks in the Mimic's direction. "And were we so bad at brainstorming that you changed your mind and brought your mirror?"

"This isn't a simple mirror. You inspired me when you mentioned Malisect and how it allows you to relive memories." Ominis drifts closer, his fingers grazing the metallic frame of the mirror. "We had our own Garreth Weasley at the Winter College—Viktor Kozmenko. Except he didn't dabble in potions. His thing was imbuing objects with magic. This is called a Mimic. An enchanted mirror that, if aimed at a subject, will replicate their personality and their reactions. For our Magical Law class, we'd be tested on our ability to defend a case. We'd each be appointed an Inquisitor, so we used the Mimic to capture our Inquisitor's personality and practice with questions they would be likely to ask. If we point the Mimic at the Collector, we'll be able to ask its Mimic as many questions as we like."

Perplexity etches a line between Ominis' brows. "What's to say the Mimic's replies will accurately reflect the Collector's thoughts?"

"Nothing, unfortunately. What the Mimic answers is only hypothetical, and it can be wrong, but it might also give us some insight. See it as a way to learn more about the Collector without asking him directly. A way to circle around his three questions rule."

Sebastian lets out a chuckle. "That's clever. I stand by my belief the Sorting Hat chose right, even though it's a sin to have you locked up in that tower. We have better dorms in the dungeons."

Livia graces him with a sarcastic smile. "I'm sure you're a bliss to wake up to. If one likes to be bullied before their first coffee..."

There it is again, the game sprawling with ease between the two of them. Livia wonders if it feeds Sebastian's fire as much as it does hers, and the oily eyes he gives her tell her he might.

"Who's the bully now?" He asks her playfully before Ominis clears his throat.

"The door..."

Livia and Sebastian whirl around in time to see the portal flicker into existence. The air gorges itself with a strange scent, something between rust and sulfur, and when they step inside, they are faced with the same antiquated looking-glass.

"This is such a bad idea," Ominis mutters.

"You can wait for us here," Livia suggests.

"And leave two morally flexible individuals alone with an evil entity?"

"What a hero you are, Ominis," Sebastian teases him back.

"We don't know if the entity is evil," Livia points out.

Ominis sheds a cynical scoff. "Maybe you two have been sensitively impaired... Couldn't you feel something sinister in that room?"

"The most potent fear is fear of the unknown," Livia voices, and the aphorism whisks an irked sigh from Ominis.

"Can we just proceed before I change my mind?"

As she inches closer to the mirror, it appears to Livia as if the finger stains on its surface have multiplied. Despite her desire to focus on the task at hand, her mind swarms with questions. Questions, she promises herself, she will ask the Mimic about.

She presses the pad of her fingers to the glass and another storm of sounds and light breaks upon them.

When the fury dies out, Livia opens her eyes. They no longer stand in the chaste white room, but rather sit around a long table.

Before them, an unblemished ivory tablecloth is topped with nine candelabras, all fluttering with versicolored flames. It takes Livia but an instant to commit them to memory: Geranium pink, blood red, orphic purple, malachite green, golden yellow, celestial blue, rust orange, vestal white and ink-black.

Why nine?

The dining room is paneled in mahogany wainscot, the upper half of the walls dressed in crimson flourished wallpaper. Hung on the walls, empty frames, florid with intricate tinsel work, their canvas a stygian black swallowing all the light. Glancing around, Livia notes four latched doors—one on each wall—no windows, and a ceiling so high it disappears into a boundless patch of swirly murk, as if a night sky choking with clouds.

Are they still in the castle?

Sebastian and Ominis are respectively seated to her right and left, while the Collector sits at the other end of the table, the tatters of his black cloak churning on each side like tendrils of mist.

There is no smell in the room, no sound beside their own staggering breaths, and Livia wonders how much this kind of sensory deprivation weighs on Ominis.

"First question?"

The Collector's voice is like the cry of young thunder in the stillness of the room. For a fault of perceiving any other sound, Livia's mind is splintered with it and hairs rise on her arm. Perceiving her dismay, Sebastian sets on uncurling his roll of paper.

This provides enough of a distraction for Livia to aim the Mimic's under the table without alerting the Collector.

Sebastian clears his throat as he fumbles needlessly to smooth the curled edges of the paper.

Has he caught on Livia's intentions?

At the opposite end of the table, the Collector is placid; his featureless mask polished as a coin and unmoving.

"What is your true nature?" Sebastian asks when he has wasted enough time.

Again, the sepulchral voice jumps from particles through particles, trawling through the air and conquering it entirely. "I am not alive nor dead. I am sentient, but I cannot feel. I can make, but I am not made. I have desires, but no way to satiate them."

The gears in Livia's mind turn full-steam, but so do her other two companions'. When Sebastian opens his mouth to voice another question, her hand shoots to his arm, and he clenches his jaw shut.

There will be enough time to ponder over the Collector's words. Even more to interrogate its Mimic in the rustic comfort of the Undercroft.

For now, Livia focuses her attention back on the Collector. "You gave us three questions and time to ponder over them," she remarks, "undoubtedly to establish a form of trust with us. What do you have to gain in such a transaction?"

"The potential to feed on your emotions through you."

"You have desires, but no way to satiate them..." Livia parrots for herself. Slowly—collectedly—the entity nods.

She wants to ask which desires he hungers for, how he will feed, if he requires of his proxies to merely act the desires or feel them truly, but she is out of questions.

The third is reserved for Ominis.

Livia has designed it to be a show of trust. A necessary sacrifice of an insightful inquiry, if Livia hopes to convince the cautious wizard to help her and Sebastian in their cause, for it is now apparent to her that he has nothing to gain from finding the Promissum Mortis; that he doesn't share the same longing or the desperation to knife through rules.

What he did so far, he did for Sebastian.

But she is no one to him. As he said it himself, she is not Slytherin. She is not one of them.

Ominis understands her forgetfulness as an intended gesture and turns a perplexed expression on her. "You didn't slip me a paper."

The wager is a dangerous one, and Livia knows she might allow a lick of fire to run over the trust bridging her and Sebastian together. Maybe he will assume she thinks little of his abilities, but she is persuaded she can mend the torn seams later.

He seems to her like the kind of man that can weather a little scorch.

"I trust you," she tells Ominis, and just as surely as she postulated, Sebastian's knuckles tighten around his piece of paper, his gaze knifing seethingly on the tablecloth.

Ominis stiffens, more furrows creasing his forehead, but he relents, his sightless eyes going in the general direction of the voice he perceived. "Exhaustively, what does that feeding entail?"

There is no change in the Collector's gait, and when he speaks, it is akin to a puppet mouthing the words of an invisible ventriloquist. "In order for me to feed, the nourisher needs to experience an emotion genuinely. During this happening, I will attach my twine to the skin of the nourisher. This process is painless, albeit uncomfortable. Once the twine is attached, I will leech on the emotion for a few minutes. The more powerful the emotion, the faster the process. Once I have absorbed the emotion, the nourisher will experience a short period of euphoria, followed by a mild fatigue. The leeching process has no other serious consequence on the human body besides those aforementioned. The leeching can only happen in this room and with a consenting nourisher. Nine times, I need to feed to sustain me for a decade."

The word parasite is the first that chisels itself into Livia's mind. An icky concept to most, but she knows not all parasites entertain a vampiric relationship with their host.

Sometimes, the relationship can be mutually beneficial.

"I believe you had a question for us," Livia remarks.

The Collector lifts a bony hand, his fingers outstretching in their direction, and for a heartbeat, Livia thinks him about to cast a hex on them, but instead he twists his wrist so his palm face up and from the vast expanse of the table burgeons a banquet. First, intricate silverware, then crystal chalices and baroque ewers, at last, a coterie of fruits and cheeses, heaps of steaming meat.

Smells effloresce through the room, filling the space just as much as the entity's voice.

"You cannot pull things from the veil of reality like I do," he explains, "but you are finite and this finitude allows you to hold within you the material and the ethereal like—"

"Feelings?" Livia suggests.

The Collector nods. "You can eat and drink. I can pull through the strings of reality, weave a new tapestry of possibles, fabricate anything, provided it is tangible."

Livia leans forward. "Only fallacies or originals?"

"I can give you anything you want, whether from this world or another, provided you can touch it with your fingers."

"Even the Promissum Mortis?" Sebastian asks, and Livia's fingers tighten around the brass handle of the Mimic.

A flush of heat blooms beneath her cheeks at the imprudence of telling the entity what they are truly after, but the words have escaped Sebastian's lips and it cannot be helped.

The Collector nods.

"You said you had a question for us?" Livia asks their host, eager to leave the entity's vicinity before Sebastian can think of sharing the exact coordinates to their dorms.

"If given the same opportunity, would those you wish to save squander it?"

Livia's heart squeezes, but she lets nothing show. Instead, she lifts her chin. "A waste of a question on a rhetorical one."

"It is only rhetorical because you know the answer to it," the Collector replies passively. Another gesture on his part dissolves all the food on the table, and it is as if there was none at all. "The arcane object you hold under the table will not wield the answers you seek, Livia Novik. I have pondered over any you could think of, and always came short. You cannot understand me. No more than I can."

"Let us have a sample before we make our decision," Livia suggests, her heart pounding at her brazenness. "You made a banquet appear before our eyes, yet you didn't allow us to eat. Let us have a taste of your leeching, and I'll let you have a bite of my emotions. If we both find it palatable, then I'll consider discussing terms with you." Above their heads, the dark fog churns and churns. Livia doesn't falter. "You said the nourisher has to consent to you feeding on them. You need to earn my trust, and this is how you will."

"Agree to her terms," Sebastian adds, "and you'll have at least two people to feed on."

The Collector rises from his seat, the shreds of his cloak winging up in the air. "If the third agrees to participate in the first leeching, I will warrant you a limitation. A safety, to show my good intentions. Ponder over my offer, and return to me when your heart hungers for its missing piece."

Livia nods, her heart lurching against her ribs, and when the squall of the Collector's tempest simmers down from the ceiling and swallows them, Livia, Sebastian and Ominis are surrendered back into the corridor instead of a noose of bedsheets.

"I'm starting to believe you are more Slytherin than Ravenclaw bargaining with that thing like you did," Ominis says as soon as their senses have trickled back into their limbs.

"It was quite sly, indeed," Sebastian adds, bitterness bleeding through his tone.

The blow shouldn't have landed through her armor, yet Livia feels it bludgeoning all the same. "Ominis, would you mind giving me a minute alone with Sebastian?"

"I'm exhausted, anyway," the Slytherin replies before leaving them to their meeting.

Sebastian's jaw is corded, his gaze fleeting and dark, the slants of his face sharper.

Something inside of Livia coils into its shell—something brittle, frightened.

The questions that swell through her mind are agitated. Dreading.

Would she have held her ground before the entity is she was alone?

Could she dive into the Collector's chasmal uncertainties if she had no one to hold her?

Why is the idea of seeing him walk away from her knifing so deep into her gut?

"I know what I did wrong," she confesses. "I didn't mean for you to think I don't trust you."

His jaw loosens, but he cannot speak, or else she will lose the courage to bare herself, so her fingers twine around his arm, and already his heat blisters through her as if it is a sentient thing eager to slide into the cracks in her ice.

"I'm a stranger here, Sebastian," she tells him. "Maybe I'm being presumptuous in saying so, but you're the only one who trusts me. You know, before the dueling night, I lied to the other Ravenclaw students by pretending I didn't speak English. Then I used a bad spell and nearly maimed a girl. A few days later, I asked Ominis to damage his reputation for me—a stranger..."

Sebastian gelid demeanor thaws with her touch, the angles of his face planed by her words. "His reputation is already beyond repair... But I thought you didn't care about Hogwarts."

"I shouldn't," she replies, "and maybe it doesn't show on my face, but when I walk in a classroom and all conversations stop, it... hurts me. So I suppose I do care. At least a little..." she sheds a lithe scoff. "I guess the Collector could've fed on these inconvenient insecurities of mine." She turns her face to him. "I know he'd be replete with my sorrow if I lost the only friend I made here."

A smirk cracks through the varnish of Sebastian's ire and when it has completely slipped from his features, he tugs her along as she hangs at his arm. "I hope you're an early riser, new girl."

The tight coil inside of her loosens and she is able to relinquish a smile. "Why do you ask?"

"Because making you as popular as me will take a good day or two. So we better start early."

#hogwarts legacy fic #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy sebastian #hogwarts legacy ominis #sebastian sallow x mc #ominis gaunt #hogwarts legacy #dark romance

[ladyartemesia]

ঌ⊙ fic preview ⊙ঌ

Once Upon a Bracelet

Pairing: Prince Jungkook x Sorceress Reader

(Featuring Platonic Jin x Reader Friendship)

Genre: Fantasy • Soulmates • Enemies to Lovers

Predicted Word Count: 7K (Teaser is 1K)

Rating: Explicit (18+) (Teaser is PG-13)

Summary: You were born to nothing, but your powerful craft caught the eye of a charming prince.

However, his distinctly un-charming younger brother challenged your betrothal and is routinely challenging you.

Jeon Jungkook is (probably) a former necromancer and (definitely) the wrong prince...

But the bracelets tell a different story.

⊙ঌ⊙థ⊙ঌ⊙థ⊙ঌ⊙ঌ⊙ঌ

Prologue: Blood Magic

⊙ঌ⊙థ⊙ঌ⊙థ⊙ঌ⊙ঌ⊙ঌ

Blood magic was the oldest and most powerful of the ancient crafts.

The best and strongest blood crafters hailed from Dionysia, where the heart of all blood magic, the Sanguine Well, rose up from the earth. The people of Dionysia served as caretakers and protectors of the Well and, in time, reverence of the blood craft wove into the fabric of their souls.

Their culture thrived around it. Their beliefs embodied it.

Even love bowed before it.

Bonding bracelets were born of blood magic.

The ritual creation of a bonding bracelet pair marked the transition from childhood into maturity. When a man or woman reached their 20th birthday, they and their family traveled to the Sanguine Well.

Four cuts were made on the right hand. Six drops of blood offered to the water...

Then the Well would churn and rise with violence, swelling till the overflow swept over the youth who fed their blood to the currents.

When the water receded, the bracelet pair remained.

One bracelet for the man or woman who sought the well.

One for their soulmate.

Only the first of any soulmate pair (the first seeker) to perform the ritual received the bracelets. Many who traveled to the Sanguine Well left empty handed because their soulmate had offered blood first.

The first seeker’s bracelet formed fully clasped around their wrist. The second bracelet remained open and would only close for the first seeker’s destined mate.

When an unclaimed bracelet united with its true host, the open ends stretched and intertwined to form a rune.

From that moment on, the first seeker and their mate were blood bonded; their powers and abilities joined in a sacred union that was – to all known craft – unbreakable.

The strength of a blood bound pair could be quite formidable and, over the centuries, powerful soulmates rose to become great warriors, crafters, and leaders of their people…

For this reason, Dionysia did not take the gift of bonded soulmates lightly.

All proposed matches were registered and approved by the Ruling Council before an open bracelet could even be tried on by a potential partner. Both parties were required to present evidence of their commitment to one another. If the alliance was approved, the betrothed pair participated in a public ceremony where the first seeker’s intended mate would activate the bond by finally placing the open bracelet around their wrist.

The Royal Council believed this care and reverence honored the craft and the gods, thereby allowing the sacred tradition to continue.

In 900 years of recorded history, only five bonding ceremonies ended with a bracelet that did not close.

Now there were six…

⊙ঌ⊙థ⊙ঌ⊙థ⊙ঌ⊙ঌ⊙ঌ

Once Upon a Time...

⊙ঌ⊙థ⊙ঌ⊙థ⊙ঌ⊙ঌ⊙ঌ

“Jin!”

Your voice echoed dismally down the dusty corridor of Silent Truth Hall. “I’m sorry…I—”

Jin whirled on you, shaking his head vehemently.

“None of this is your fault.”

“There are many reasons why this could’ve happened,” you offered breathlessly.

“There’s only one reason why this happens.”

He sighed in defeat as you rubbed your temples in frustration.

“I don’t understand. The Council gave permission!”

The Ruling Council was a sovereign governing body of three kings and three queens, one monarch from each of Dionysia’s six royal bloodlines.

“The Council isn’t all knowing… ” Jin collapsed against a nearby wall. “This is a disaster,” he whispered.

And it was.

You had no family, but all of your friends from the Academy were there.

Jin was technically an orphan as well, but his adopted family, the Jeons, were there.

Jeon Alaya was high queen of the Ruling Council, so half the kingdom was there to see her (adopted) son bond with a craft prodigy from The Wastes.

Half the kingdom, but not her blood. Not her youngest son, you thought bitterly.

The two of you were silent for several moments while your minds struggled to process the shock.

“Do you think the rumors—what they say about me—is true?” you asked solemnly.

Jin’s head shot up in an instant.

“No,” he swore, “they’re absolutely not true.”

“But it didn’t close—”

“It didn’t close because we aren’t soulmates—not because you aren’t one of us.” His expression softened. “We were a good idea… just not the right one.”

Tears begin to burn at the corner of your eyes.

On some level you were not surprised. You cared for Jin but–

Yours was not an overly romantic attachment.

It was a strong friendship—one that spanned several years. When you decided to apply to the Royal Council for bonding, it seemed…

Logical.

Friendship was an excellent basis for blood bonding. More than one bonded pair applied as friends.

You believed in the wisdom of the Royal Council—everyone did. If you and Jin were not meant for each other, then surely the Council would see it. They would turn down the application. Someone would object…

Someone did object, your mind taunted.

But you were approved.

The date was set. Announcements made. Invitations sent out. The bracelet was placed on your wrist and…

Nothing.

Nothing happened.

Jin’s bracelet remained stubbornly un-closed.

And you had never felt so mortified, so exposed… so profoundly alone in your entire life.

It was a scandal of epic proportions, one which potentially called into question the judgement of the entire Ruling Council.

“Listen,” Jin said at last, “I need… I need to clear my head and think about the next steps. I know an expert on bonding bracelets. Maybe I can convince her to help. There might be another explanation.”

His hands slid up to grasp your shoulders in a familiar comforting gesture.

“Head to my house outside the city for a while. No one will bother you there, and I’ll be back tomorrow.” He gave your arms a brotherly squeeze. “We’ll work through this.”

You nodded, extremely grateful for the opportunity to be alone for a few hours.

Jin helped you slip out the back corridor to avoid the insanity still unfolding in the Hall (where the failed ceremony took place), then you parted with a final hug and quietly walked the few miles to his beautiful manor near the lake.

Technically, Golden Starlight House was one of many homes owned by the Jeon family. This one, however, Jin shared with his younger brother…

Jungkook

Jeon Jungkook was a sore subject for you. In fact, you preferred not to think about him at all if possible—and you certainly would never agree to hide at his house if you thought he would be there.

But Jungkook left weeks ago… right after the betrothal was announced.

“I cannot stand by and watch my brother make a mistake like this.”

His horrible words echoed in your mind as you unlocked the door, prepared to simply collapse fully clothed on the chaise when—

“Shouldn’t you be off playing bride-to-be literally anywhere else?”

You turned, already knowing who you would see.

“Jeon Jungkook. Of course.” A mirthless laugh bubbled up before you could stop it.

Just what I needed right now.

Full story should be posting very soon! Please let me know what you thought of the teaser! 🥺I would really appreciate it and it really fuels my creative process! I promise I treasure every word!

Let me know in the comments if you would like to be tagged for this story!

Tagging: @lemonjoonah @xjoonchildx @ppersonna @hobi-gif @untaemedqueen @underthejoon because you ladies are my heart and I always want to show you what I did right away 🥺

Important Note: I previously published a version of this story for a different fandom (Star Wars). So if you see it elsewhere (though I have made considerable changes) I promise it’s me and I can prove it. Tagging @wwilloww because she read the original way back when 😂🤣

#jeon jeongkook #bts #jeon jeongguk #jungkook smut #jungkook oneshots #jungkook oneshot #jungkook scenario #bts smut #ficswithluv #jungkook x reader

[bandaged-writer]

Hello, can i request headcanons for dazai, chuuya, fyodor and mori with a civillian f!s/o where they notice that she has a big cut on her leg, she try's to hide? They where maybe thinking that she got into a fight, but she just cut herself by shaving and is a bit embressed about it? (It just happends to me and it hurts so bad) I hope you are doing good and i'm happy that you are back :)

ugh, shaving cuts are fucking horrible and hurt like a bitch 😭 i forgot the fight part, but i still hope it's okay sjgkgs

warnings: mentions of blood

Dazai Osamu

➤ When the cut re-opens and some blood dribbles on the cushion of your chair, Dazai notices and his first thought is that you got your period.

➤ You know about the misunderstanding when Dazai puts on his trench coat and asks you if you needed pads or tampons or food or literally anything and then it clicks. 

➤ Blushing, you rub the nape of your neck and sigh softly. It was embarrassing to admit, but you couldn't let Dazai run off to the drug store for nothing. "Ah..you know..I just..cut my leg while shaving, you know?" Gosh, if only that damn cut hadn't re-opened, you wouldn't feel so hot from embarrassment at that moment. 

➤ So that's why Dazai wasn't allowed to touch your leg during lunch.You always put his hand back on the table and were a bit fidgety, although you never minded Dazai's touchy nature, but your little confession certainly cleared a few things. 

➤ "My precious belladonna got hurt! How foolish of me not to notice such felony!" Dazai exclaims loudly and is totally on his way to bandage the cut up, because hey! ㅡ he gets to match with you! 

➤ Offers to shave your leg for you the next time and it takes some time until you convince him not to do that, cause lbr, Dazai would probably cause more damage than you ever could. 

Chuuya Nakahara

➤ Chuuya notices you're trying to hide something when you wear jeans instead of shorts or a skirt, although the weather outside is pretty damn close to be considered suffocating and you never passed up on the chance to show off your legs. 

➤ Won't push the subject though, because hey, it's your body, your choice, none of his business. 

➤ "Ahhh, it's way too hot!" You complain and pull at the fabric of your jeans which is sticking to your skin like glue. It's pretty much disgusting, but the cut was a pretty ugly one, so.. 

➤ "Just take those jeans off and change into something more comfortable?" Chuuya deadpans and raises a fine eyebrow at your half-hearted resistance and the weak arguments you bring up. "Cut the act, what're you hiding?" 

➤ "I..got an ugly cut on my leg when I was shaving this morning and it's..embarrassing." You rush through the sentence with heated cheeks and avoid eye contact. Who was so stupid to cut their leg while shaving? Of course, it was your dumbass. 

➤ Chuuya tosses you a skirt ㅡ you don't know where that came from, but you're not complaining. It's free clothing. "It's a battle wound."

➤ "But it's not even a big cuㅡ" 

➤ "Battle wound."

Fyodor Dostoyevsky

➤ If you think you can hide shit from that man, then you're dead wrong. Don't even try to hide it, it's useless. He notices something is off once you get out of the shower with a somewhat sour expression on your face. 

➤ "Did anything upset you, my dear?" Fyodor knows about your frequent struggle with the razor blade which you had declared war on. Honestly, he just wants to see your embarrassed face, maybe make you squirm in your spot, because he knows it makes you a bit uneasy. 

➤ "Absolutely not. Everything's peachy." You lie through your teeth, but it doesn't last long. Fyodor's gaze is pretty intense and you know you won't get out of this until you tell him the full truth, and so you surrender. 

➤ "Fine. I-I cut my leg while shaving, okay?" Hesitantly, you show him the cut which is only slightly bleeding. 

➤ To your surprise, Fyodor actually tends to it by disinfecting the small cut and putting a bandaid on it to stop the bleeding as soon as possible. It's rare for Fyodor to show such affection, so you do 8 question it and appreciate the small action. 

Mori Ougai

➤ You successfully hid your cut until you visited Mori in his office and Elise wanted your attention. By tapping and gently smacking your thighs which caused you to hiss in pain. Never underestimate a shaving cut, okay. 

➤ Mori demands answers right away. After all, you're the girlfriend of a mafia boss and an easy target given that you have no ability and lead an ordinary life with a simple routine. It'd be easy for an enemy to hurt you. 

➤ You beat around the bush for a while and Mori's patience wears thinner and thinner with each word that leaves your lips. "Tell me what happened or I'll have to strip you to see for myself." Mori is a doc, so it's normal for him to say such things, but when it comes to you, he might be a bit more..self-indulgent. 

➤ The thought of Mori stripping you in front of Elise actually terrifies you and you know Mori would 100/10 do it, so you tell him about the little fight you had with your razor blade which cut you in return to you cussing the object out. 

➤ Unlike Dazai, his statement of shaving your leg can't be denied. He'll deadass shave your leg for you the next few times to show you how it's done properly.

#bungou stray dogs headcanons #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs imagines #bungou stray dogs #bsd #dazai osamu #dazai osamu x reader #dazai x reader #chuuya nakahara #chuuya nakahara x reader #chuuya x reader #fyodor dostoyevsky #fyodor dostoyevsky x reader #fyodor x reader #mori ougai #mori x reader #mori ougai x reader

[freddiekluger]

please drop the essay length analysis Judas and Jesus (extra gay Swedish edition), O great and knowledgeable monarch of our times

alright, you ask i deliver! please excuse any typos, my eyes aren't exactly working rn

welcome to my probably super subjective but correct analysis, aka

Judas Was Right and Jesus Was A Victim (At Least, In Swedish)

Before we get started, a couple points: i’ll try to avoid comparisons to other specific productions, i’ve only seen the other recorded 2012 british version which i didn’t like for reasons including but not limited to the amount of white people with dreadlocks. Also, my understanding of swedish is limited to a couple words and phrases, so most of the lyrics i reference will be english subtitles from Ola Salo’s swedish translation and therefore might not be the most accurate !

There’s so much i could cover in this, but for now i’m going to focus on how jesus and judas are portrayed in the 2014 swedish arena tour of Jesus Christ Superstar (JCS) starring Ola Salo as Jesus and Peter Johansson as Judas, along with how this production more implicitly views god. 

From the opening number, translated into swedish as En Dimmig Himmelsdröm (A Foggy Heaven’s Dream), Peter Johansson’s acting and semantic differences in the lyrics present us with a deeply sympathetic portrayal of Judas. Looking purely at language, the english equivalent Heaven On Their Minds instantly paints Judas as much more of a faithless doubter- lyrics exclusive to the english version like “all your followers have gone blind / too much heaven on their minds” and “they think you’re the new messiah / and they’ll hurt you when they find they’re wrong” strongly enforce Judas’ main motivation for his actions being that he has less belief in Jesus and God’s plan than any of the other disciples with strong statements judging the other disciples for following him and claiming that Jesus ISN’T the messiah. The swedish translation doesn’t paint exactly the same picture- the focus of Judas’ number becomes his fear for Jesus’ wellbeing, not because he isn’t the messiah (the production remains fairly ambiguous on this point), but because Jesus can’t cope. The root of Judas’ concern comes from fear for Jesus’ wellbeing, and the disciples are referenced as regularly misunderstanding and wilfully twisting Jesus’ words. The swedish equivalent lyrics for the above examples are “they say, “jesus is god’s son” / but you know how people can change” (judas isn’t concerned with truth, just the danger that jesus will be in if the tide turns), and “the kingdom of heaven is within us, that’s what you said / bu they sew it, stitch by stich into some kind of foggy heaven’s dream”. Judas is showing that he HAS been listening and cares for Jesus’ teachings, but ‘they’ [his disciples] are turning them into something else entirely, and Judas’ worries that the support of the masses is fragile at best- the lines “and everything you say gets twisted by your lackeys / it will be anything but what you’ve said”  and “you are being used by people who want you in their battle” reinforces this again. When combined with Peter Johansson’s tough but tender performance, in which he dances between disdain for Jesus, the institution, and affection for Jesus, the man (an important distinction), Judas is the harsh realist doing his best to look out for the man he loves. The way he takes Jesus hands and looks at him with love and urgency straight away establishes that his motivations are pure- Judas is doing what he thinks is best, even though it feels like no one will listen to him. 

That was long, but En Dimmig Himmelsdröm is the perfect character introduction for Judas. He’s not totally unrecognisable, still delivering digs about ‘Jesus, the little carpenter’s son’, his manner is still rough and at this point we’re not sure whether or not the claims he makes about the disciples have any truth to them, BUT we can also see how much Jesus means to him, an important point that give context to the intensity of their future arguments and really makes the whole story much more heartbreaking.

This brings me to Ola Salo’s Jesus. Delightfully camp and queercoded, Judas describes him as being caught up in his own magic and mystery and buckling under the pressure, and he’s not entirely wrong. Throughout the first act, Jesus basks in the luxuries that being messiah can give him (the oils Mary paid for using disciple funds that were supposed to go towards helping the poor, him absolutely thriving in the shopping cart in What’s the Buzz?), and is shown actively avoiding any reminders of the seriousness of his position. He’s sick of the disciples asking him for a plan, he chooses the comforting Mary, who’s theme consists of telling Jesus everything is okay and he doesn’t need to think about anything, over Judas, who is less perhaps ‘cosy’ but is actively trying to warn and protect Jesus from an awful fate. During The Temple, he starts to crack as he’s overcome by the followers begging him to make him well, fear in his eyes as he raises his arms while frozen on the spot trying to avoid being devoured by the frenzy in desperate need of a messiah. Judas’ point about Jesus buckling under the pressure is starting to look more and more reasonable, and the dashes of showbiz campness add to the sense that much of Jesus is a persona constructed for the masses to give himself enough distance to prevent him from being crushed by the weight of God entirely. Jesus, the institution, prances around, lays his hands on his followers, and projects an air of easygoing calm. Jesus, the man, is scared and alone, and Jesus, the man, really comes out in Last Supper, but before we get there, I want to circle back to the Jesus/Mary/Judas thing.

Jesus, Mary, and Judas are presented as a love triangle: so much so, that Judas seeing Mary sing of her love for Jesus (I Don’t Know How To Love Him) is actually played as the inciting incident that sends him to the pharisees. Judas, the picture of the jealous lover, storms onto the scene, breaking them up and attempting to kiss Jesus, who instead shoves him to the ground in disdain. Judas, who is perhaps a little controlling, realises that any influence he had over Jesus has gone, and it’s likely a combination of jealousy and the knowledge that Jesus won’t stop that prompts him to head to the pharisees. In his meeting with the pharisees (known in english as Damned For All Time, although that phrase doesn’t appear once in the swedish), Judas’ expresses outright that “I’m the one who sees / Jesus, he can’t handle it anymore” “the truth is that this hysteria is making him lose control”, once he can get past explaining how much this plan of action feels like a last resort. He never even verbally or physically accept the pharisees’ offer of money, he denies it twice before it is eventually thrown over him after he reluctantly gives them the date and time to find Jesus- we never even see him pick it up, unlike other productions which show Judas grabbing for the cash and place a higher emphasis on Judas making sure he ‘won’t be damned for all time’, painting Judas as far more self serving. When it comes to Jesus, Judas is active- he’s running around trying to help, caressing him, embracing him, grabbing his hand, kissing him. They share countless moment of intimacy, especially at the start, establishing the fondness between them instead of instantly jumping to their conflict. When it comes to Mary (and admittedly, this is partially because she’s a secondary character- don’t get me wrong I still love her and Gunilla Backman does a brilliant job), she’s much more passive. Other than the much more gentle kisses in I Don’t Know How To Love Him and her penchant for dabbing Jesus’ forehead, she’s mostly just ‘there’. She cares for Jesus after the fact, and even when performing acts of intimacy like the oil and the kiss, she maintains a lot of physical distance- her songs touch on this as, much like Jesus (admittedly for different reasons), she actively distances herself from feelings to protect herself, so naturally she literally places distance between herself and the object of her love.

This brings me back to Last Supper, Gethsemane ( I Only Want to Say), and the kiss of death that broke all of our hearts. Throughout this segment, this is when Jesus, the man, really comes through, and it’s devastating. In Last Supper, he properly expresses the sheer amount of loneliness he feels, reiterating how he feels everyone will forget about him once he’s gone, and doesn’t really care about him as a man (”for you, my blood is not worth more than wine / for you, my body is not worth more than bread” “you will have forgotten me as soon as i give up my life”). This devolves into the disciples fighting each other and, you guessed it, ignoring him. For the first time, Jesus meaningfully lets out his anger, and as it turns to Judas, Judas does the same. Because of the set up of their complicated romantic relationship and the stakes involved, the amount of personal attacks and anger that comes out of Jesus and Judas’ repeated fights (which get physical) make complete sense- Jesus’ frustrations come from the fact that his entire fate has been predetermined and to him, Judas is just another instrument in the ways he’s been controlled (both with Judas being his betrayer, but also the way that Judas’ constant advice and interference with Jesus’ life (most obviously, the mary thing) are acted by Ola Salo as becoming increasingly frustrating to Jesus)- these frustrations are directed at their real cause, God, in Gethsemane. Judas’ frustrations come from the fact that no matter how hard he tries to help Jesus and keep him safe, Jesus keeps rejecting his efforts resulting in “all that we’ve built up [being] destroyed”- Judas’ heart hasn’t just been broken by Jesus rejecting him romantically, but on every level. Here, he’s actually shown to be the disciple most passionate about helping people practically and long term, being the only one concerned about Mary taking money which was supposed to help people, manipulated by the pharisees with the promise of doing good for the masses, and criticising Jesus for how they could be doing so much for people, ending his part of Last Supper with “every time i look at you i ask myself why you let all your things go so wrong? / all i ever wanted was to help you”. 

This is also the point where Judas’ claims about the disciples are essentially confirmed, and this productions intent to portray Judas as more of a tragic hero become absolutely clear. In the english version, the disciples chorus remains virtually the same each time it appears, generally being far too calm considering their leader is about to die, revealing their aspirations to be apostles, and their intent to write the gospels to be remembered. the swedish translation still achieve this, but with variations from chorus to chorus it becomes much more poignant. i’m just going to stick to ttwo, which are choruses 1 and 3. In chorus 1, lines roughly translate to “i’ve always wanted to be an apostle / life is so nice when you’re saved/ then when we’ve got time we’ll write the gospels / then everything will be the way we want”-  the apostles declaring that life is so good when you’re saved supports Judas’ opening statement that they care more about some idea of heaven than anything else, not to mention ignoring the absolute horrors that Jesus will have to go through to be saved, while the final line about the gospels introduces their intent to change whichever details they need to make ‘everything the way we want’: once again, exactly what Judas warned us of in En Dimmig Himmelsdröm. In chorus 3, taking place after Judas storms out for the last time, these lines change to “never really liked that judas / never saw what jesus saw in him / then, when we’ve got time we’ll write the gospels / and we’ll angle it so he gets all the blame”. Judas as a sympathetic character is confirmed here, as the disciples straight up admit how they don’t like Judas anyways and intend to write him as a villain (also inadvertently admitting that, since they have to write the gospels to make it look like only Judas’ fault, Judas isn’t really the sole one responsible for everything that is to come). It’s deeply unsettling, and for me was the point where I really began to question how good any of these disciples were, and by extension, how good is this production’s God if his truly sanctified followers are acting like this?

Jesus vents out all of his anger and desperation in Gethsemane. He acknowledges his own powerlessness and begs him to change the plan, but with the dark stage and no response (along with Ola Salo’s spectacular acting) it becomes clear that if anyone is there, they’re certainly not listening (”you, who have all the power / can you please change the plan / for i can already feel the pain burning in me”). It’s worth mentioning that a lot of the imagery in this swedish version is much more intense than the english, both in this song and the production as a whole. Jesus plainly calls god “thoughtless”, begging to understand, and it’s that this point we realise that he agrees with much more of what Judas has been saying than he’s been letting on- Jesus’ faith appears to be the only thing keeping him from listening to Judas and running away. Judas’ messages about people misunderstanding Jesus’ words also come out (”you care that everyone sees / but not that anyone understands”), and his eventual agreeing to die is played less as an inspiring act of faith, and more an act of desperation as he realises, he realise has no other choice. In this song, we see just how much of Judas Jesus has valued and taken on board, and that his air of carefree aloofness which frustrated Judas was, as we’ve already touched on, a complete act. The line “might as well finish what i’ve... what YOU’VE started” is absolutely miserable, reinforcing one of the major themes of this production: the idea that Jesus and Judas were both just ordinary men tormented by futures defined by forces out of their control. Just as Jesus has absorbed Judas’ logic, as an audience so we have, and it’s difficult to view the rest of the play’s events as anything other than an immense and unnecessary act of cruelty.

we’re almost done i promise!

Even knowing what Judas has/will do, Jesus still greets him with love. Judas, still under the impression that Jesus will be okay and that he’s doing what’s best, approaches him with the utmost tenderness, and the kiss is a beautiful signifier of two things. For Jesus, the return of his love for Judas shows his realisation in Gethsemane that Judas isn’t the one who’s sealed his fate and has only being trying to help, it’s god himself who has decided Jesus’ future. For Judas, the kiss shows that despite all of the anger and frustration that has been pouring out of him, he truly does love Jesus, and the way he cradles the scared and alone Jesus to his chest afterwards shows just how much he wishes he could be the one to help him and keep him close. Even with all their arguments and dysfunction, here Jesus and Judas find comfort in each other, and it almost seems like everything will end up alright. It’s in this moment that Judas and Jesus are most identifiable not as enemies, or as villain and hero, but as archetypal lovers from a Shakespearean tragedy. Neither of them set out to hurt each other, but through miscommunications, their own flaws, and external forces (both natural and supernatural), their love is simply never to be. Furthermore, in the following torture and spectacle, everything that Judas predicted for Jesus is about to come true. Another detail I find interesting is the way that Jesus and Judas both sport black nail polish, leather pants, and similar length hair: along with just looking cool as hell, the similarities really reinforce how close they are and how much they influence each other- it feels like a contemporary version of carrying a cameo or a lock of your lover's hair with you, a way for 'star crossed lovers' to keep a piece of their beloved no matter what.

The disaffected persona of Jesus, the institution, comes back as he’s taken by the authorities and subsequently insulted, degraded, and whipped. Also the swedish version of The Arrest, when the chorus starts singing questions, contains this dick joke and I think we all deserve it: “why were you dating a whore? / talk about a huge magic wand!”

Skipping forward to Judas’ Death, this is where both his character and the production’s conception of god beautifully (and miserably) align. When Judas runs to the pharisees, minor semantic changes (along with the genuine concern and great acting from Peter Johansson) reinforce that this Judas genuinely didn’t know that Jesus would be beaten and sentenced to death the way he has been, and Judas’ concern regarding how things look is played less as ‘oh no people will hate ME!’, but how having sentenced the man you love to death is one nightmarish thing, but for everyone to think you did it knowingly and willingly and then congratulate you for it is unthinkable. Where the english shows Judas’ attempting to evade responsibility for Jesus death, the swedish is more focused on Judas’ guilt, horror, and regret. The english “I’d save him all the suffering if I could / don’t believe our good / save him if I could” is swapped in swedish for “If anyone should die here I should / don’t say I’m good / better if I died”. While the english statements are somewhat empty (sure, Judas says he’d save Jesus’ suffering if he could, but he can’t so we’ll never truly know) and are still focused on Judas’ attempt to construct himself as a good guy, the swedish translation has Judas admit his guilt (even if it’s not really his fault), and make the promise of “better if i died” which, given the name of this sequence, he later delivers on. When english Judas sings “Christ, I’d sell out the nation / For I have been saddled with the murder of you”, swedish Judas sings “Jesus, I’ve been deceived / because of my act your blood’s now being spilt”, and instead of ending this first section with “I should be dragged through the slime and the mud”, swedish jesus returns to the theme of character assasination with “i will be cursed as the one behind your murder”. 

The swedish translation of the next rework of I Don’t Know How to Love Him also places much more emphasis on Judas’ genuine romantic love for Jesus- we’d be here for hours if i listed everything but here are a few key contrasts. The english has Judas sing “I don’t know how to love him /  I don’t know why he moves me”, whereas the swedish has Judas crying while singing “how do I show my love / all I want is to be close to you”. Along with acknowledging Judas already loves Jesus, the entirety of this segment is shifted from Judas singing about Jesus in the third person ‘he’, to a direct address. Judas isn’t performing his sadness, or venting his emotions, he’s emitting one last desperate cry to the man he loves as he sobs on a stage completely shrouded in darkness, and it’s devastating. Peter Johansson lets his voice run raw as he’s belting, and interrupts lines with sobs, and this Judas answers the question of “do you love me too? do you care for me?” with a quiet “no”- Judas is about to go to his death convinced Jesus must hate him, just as Jesus will face his knowing his love inadvertently put him there.

We finally reach Judas’ actual death, and the production’s far more ambiguous (if not negatively geared) depiction of god comes to a head. Judas’ screaming at god the moment he realises that his god essentially forced Judas to be the one to kill Jesus (an act of ultimate cruelty given their love) comes across as horrifying in it’s validity, unlike in other english language productions where it follows the more common characterisation of Judas being an unbeliever who can’t take responsibility for his own actions. When he spits on the ground, screaming “you have murdered me!”, we can’t help but agree- Judas was trying everything he could to stop Jesus from dying, and yet here he is. Most notably, Judas doesn’t set up his own suicide- a noose literally descends from the heavens, already tied, and Judas is literally trapped between the edge of the stage, and the symbol of death behind him. Much like he didn’t choose to kill Jesus, Judas has no choice in his own suicide- it’s suggested to merely be another part of the plan god has for him, and Judas raising his arms to form a crucifixion pose before he finally turns and jumps, disappearing into the depths of the theatre as the rope trails down (somewhat evocative of a leap to hell), highlight the sick joke. Much like Jesus begging in Gethsemane, a plea with god that in anyway implies fault or cruelty is met with silence followed by a death sentence. 

When Judas reappears to the broken and bloodied Jesus in Superstar, he appears as more of a twisted hallucination than the literal spirit of Judas. He’s the opposite of everything he was in life, draped in colour, surrounded by red lighting instead of the signature blue, his hair quite literally let down, joking and dancing. Despite singing about him, Judas virtually ignores Jesus for the whole song except when he’s taunting him, snatching his hand away after a broken and desperate Jesus reaches out for the image of his beloved (refuting Judas’ belief that Jesus would die hating him), along with the swedish additions of Judas repeatedly addressing him as “little Jesus”. Where the living Judas was serious, sometimes harsh but always well intention, often paying more attention to Jesus than he received, this Judas is the opposite: light hearted but cruel, not caring about Jesus one bit. It’s somewhat an inversion of the beginning of JCS, where the tormented Judas was constantly reaching out to Jesus, and often met with scorn and insult (see: most of their arguments, this line from Everything’s Alright: “the thought is beautiful but quite unrealistic / yes, even quite stupid”). As the song goes on, and even as Jesus is crucified, the victorious scoring of the Superstar theme ends up reinforcing the cruelty and questioning of god distinctive of this production: Ola Salo’s Jesus is one of the bloodiest Jesus’s (Jesii?) I’ve been able to find, with blood covering his torso, his arms, and all over his face, not in passive dribbles, but violent ‘swooshes’ spreading out from his eyes, emphasising the fear and pain contained within them. As the music suggests how great and wonderful Jesus’ death is, the images straight out of a horror movie before us don’t seem to match up: as both Judas and Jesus question, if no one is understanding what Jesus is saying, why kill him? instead of making a point, you’re ensuring that the falsehoods continue to circulate, unless spreading the true message isn’t really the intent at all. or, simply that Jesus was wrong: his interpretation and teachings of god were far too kind and practical, and the true god really is the one that he briefly saw in the garden of Gethsemane, and that Judas saw before his death- a cruel and vindictive god using them for his own sick purposes. If you're a strong Christian, I'm sure you could watch this production and still believe that God was right (although I think Jesus and Judas being in love counts as blasphemy), but I think in doing so you'd lose part of what makes this production so hard hitting and, as i keep saying, devastating.

that’s pretty much it for this one! i feel like jesus and judas as a queer couple is less significant to this production than the fact that it’s specifically jesus and judas that are in love - they don’t face explicit homophobia as such, although i do think the paratextual and historical associations of queerness (both with them each looking visibly queer, and them as a couple) adds a beautiful dimension by subverting the standard christian teaching of Jesus’ sacrifice as “a love that changed the world” and making the love that truly could have been transformative (and was, to a degree) the love between Jesus and another man, not to mention the way in which queerness is often viewed as radical perfectly upholding the ‘radical’ views of god and the story of Jesus shown in the production. Why wouldn’t the love between two men be the love which has us questioning god, faith, and that which many of us have been taught since birth? Ola Salo has talked about how he’s able to be positive and negative towards christianity, along with how he wanted Jesus and Judas to really represent two sides of the same coin (’faith and intelligence’), and being bisexual along with having alluded to being raised christian (not to mention Breaking Up With God, a song by his band The Ark), it’s not surprising he’s managed to present such a nuanced and layered interpretation of Jesus Christ Superstar that even me, a trans exvangelical, can fall in love with.

UPDATE: @bands-and-hobbits has just let me know that Ola's dad was a priest! Apparently he's said that he liked the organs and the music, but that was all when it comes to christianity, which (when combined with Ola stating in interviews that the JCS soundtrack has been one of his favourite albums since he was 14) makes a lot of sense about the level of familiarity he had with the text giving him confidence to go in and make changes to really capitalised off of some of the themes that are hinted at in the english version- you have enough information to understand how everything works together, but aren't so dedicated to preserving belief that you feel you can't improve/change things (and my god are we glad he did)

#thank you if you made it this far! #also the inherent rhythm in swedish as a language just makes all of the songs sound better i'm gonna say it #english is really hit and miss when it comes to music and can get especially clunky with musicals requiring exposition #also sorry there's so much i've left out ! #anyways enjoy #jesus christ superstar #jesus christ superstar swedish arena tour 2014 #jcs #peter johansson #ola salo #also i have barely edited this so i hope it's coherent

[tidustargaryen]

Hate to put you in this position 😬 but Jonerys or Jamie x Claire?

So let me reassure you straight away. , absolutely no problem with this, it's not even a choice. Frankly ... xD It's really not comparable, Dany & Jon how long did it last? 5 minutes before he throws a dagger right in her heart, not to mention all the drama before it gets there? I love Dany too much to think about it... I sincerely think she deserves better than that, than him. Very toxic relationship that ended very badly for my queen...

Claire & Jamie... I think this is THE model of a wonderful romantic relationship, it is now my standard for judging all other fictional love stories. The story revolves around their romantic relationship, which is already a very important point, unlike Dany & Jon. It would even be unfair to compare the two, as I said above, Dany & Jon's relationship lasts 5 min (figure of speech of course) on screen, while Outlander is centered on Jamie & Claire . There are two things that were sorely lacking in the first relationship, and present strongly in the second, loyalty and trust. There is also an incredible chemistry between Claire & Jamie, between the actors too. I admit that it also helps that they are unrelated ^^ There is so much proof of love in the relationship of Jamie & Claire, while for the other two...

Yes, of course Dany shows her affection, she risks her life, her dragons, for him, she also listens to him when he tells her not to attack King's Landing, big mistake. Their only true romantic moment between them, is the scene from the boat right after Viserion's death. Season 8 it’s awkward, revolting moments between them, a sad queen who needs comfort after very hard losses, and instead, the man she loves pushes her away ... it was too much to ask a simple kind word, even a hug ???? I really wouldn't like being in Dany's place. This man has no heart.... Seriously ? What’s wrong with him?!! It's horrible to see your favorite character suffer so much and see the man, who's supposed to be there for her, ignore her so much. I had already cursed him in the 7 hells long before he killed her. 

Jamie, him, sleeps on the floor, in front of the door of a woman (Claire) he barely knows, to protect her from possible rapists. He has no doubts and totally trusts her when she tells him that she is not from this century. Jamie sacrifices his marriage, and the woman he loves, so that she can return to her time, in safety, with her first husband. Jamie, him, chooses to be raped by another man in order to protect the woman he loves. He chooses, yet again to sacrifice his marriage, the love of his life, and his unborn child, because he thinks he is going to die, and that he wants his wife and unborn child to be safe in the future. . Jamie, he jumps into the water, in the middle of a storm, to rescue Claire who almost drowned. And I don’t mention all the magnificent attentions he had towards her.He his the King of Men.

Claire has saved Jamie's life countless times. She trusts him and decides to tell him the whole truth about her time, knowing full well that he could have disbelieved her and risked her safety. She could have gone back to her time, chosen safety, her first husband, but she chooses Jamie, knowing full well the future of the Highlanders and the dangerousness of this century. When he is imprisoned in Wentworth, she takes big risks to save him. She decides to do whatever is possible to prevent him from dying in Culloden with the Highlanders, risking changing the history and all the mess it could cause in the future. She's ready to die with him when they fail to change history. Back in her day, she learns he's alive, although it's not spelled out in the show, but in the books, she takes the risk of passing through the stones once again, knowing that it can kill her. , or that she might not find him, or find him but that he’s with another woman, and in love with her.

And there are still so many reasons but too long to list them all.

There's what Claire & Jamie did for each other, and what Jon did against Dany. It’s incomparable.

Of course, it's very subjective, we all have different tastes, but in a really objective way, the two stories are really not comparable, the first is too short and ends in a horrible way, while Jamie & Claire .. Jamie would choke on his kilt before he even dared to think of stabbing the woman of his life.

Sorry I could also have answered with a simple: Jamie & Claire xD I have a big problem with short answers. And personally, Jon is the character that I hate the most, because he killed the character that I love the most. So the choice is really not a problem for me. 

I'm sorry but there is nothing on this blog that can make you think I like Dany with Jon, he is ‘persona non grata’ here. I liked this couple, but that was before I saw him show her the same respect he had for the shit he picked up in Castle Black. I probably have higher standards when it comes to love in fiction.

But thank you very much for asking this question, don't hesitate if you want to know other things :) (Sorry for my bad english)

#ask #anti jonerys #jamie x claire #the best otp #soulmates #pro daenerys targaryen #my queen deserves better #outlander #game of thrones

[detectiveconnor]

You talk a lot about connors strengths, and the positive aspects of him as an individual (which I absolutely adore reading)

But I'd be curious to know what some of his weaknesses are? Some of his flaws 👀

Ooooooh thank you for this question anon! I appreciate it, I love him very much and his weaknesses are as much his as his strengths. I am not putting this under a readmore because it is very good and so I’m leaving it out. Here are some things about Connor that are a little weaker than they could be: 

1. His (lack of) diplomacy. Connor is a trained negotiator and when it ‘matters’ in a sense of urgency he is very good at his job, but Connor can be dry and sarcastic with people he’s decided he doesn’t feel like tolerating. There’s a lot of room for social faux pas and the use of the wrong language he’ll brush right over or etc etc (Connor is very patient), but when someone says something that strikes him as cruel or as trying to take too much or assume too much space for themselves, Connor will cut right to the point in a way that probably isn’t as diplomatic as some of his New Jericho colleagues would prefer. He has a genuine tenacity for cutting through ‘shit’, as he puts it: sometimes this can help other people involved see a side of an issue that they might not have seen so readily if Connor had not been there. Other times it can be sharper than what other people might go for - Connor will not sabotage negotiations, but he also will executively decide, ‘this is shit and they know it. But just in case, I’ll remind them.’ 

It is a weakness in that he can see straight through these people and it is not something he can turn on or off. If Connor has a truth to share that he thinks is worthwhile sharing, he will share it. Yes he’ll try to do it in the right company - but sometimes, he thinks, people should have a thick enough skin to accept being called out. 

2. He is very intuitive, to the point he can be blinded by an instinct in one direction even when someone explicitly tells him the opposite. This is something to do with trust issues, maybe? Connor will trust his gut, more often than he won’t. He likes to take people at their word, but he is willing to press sometimes if his instincts or evidence tell him something else, and he is not always well equipped to handle the situations he gets into because of it. Connor will always show up (it’s who he is and I love him), but there have been times where he’s stepped on toes by mistake because someone says A and he thinks he sees B instead. This happens ... if it’s about their emotions this happens less with the people he loves, and there are a handful of people he will leap blind for in what his gut says is the wrong direction because they give him their word that there is something to land on. But ... he has stepped on toes before because he thinks he knows. It’s a problem. He always apologises. 

3. He can think about the notion of a conversation more than actually having a conversation. He only does this rarely, but I have noticed sometimes if he is trying to talk about something difficult or raise a subject that doesn’t fit well into the conversation, he will try to set up a dialogue path in that direction without ... telling ,... anyone outside of himself about this plan. He will eventually just say it, probably, or decide it wasn’t important. Part of this weakness is that he reaches for the ‘right’ way to talk about things that hurt, and yes he’ll eventually just say it ... but if you catch Connor fishing for something, ask him what he’s skirting around / tell him to ‘cut the crap, what do you mean?’. He will appreciate the opportunity. Connor sometimes feels ... ‘nobody asked currently here now this instant’ means nobody cares to know. 

4. He’s very private, and though friendly, doesn’t consider a lot of people to be his friend. This isn’t a weakness necessarily, but there are more people who consider Connor to be their friend than people whom Connor thinks of as friends. Connor really doesn’t like to feel like his privacy is ... being entreated on any more than he would like it to be. He often permits cameras and questions from the media, being ‘the deviant hunter’ - but there is a firm line in the sand and they will not get so much as a toe over that line. There is no flexibility in it at all and he will permanently put a ban on any reporter who tries to cross it. This has to do (and he will not say this aloud) with the way he has once-upon-a-time thought of Amanda and the word ‘violating’ in the same sentence. His business, his head, his thoughts, his work, and his self are all his. He is willing to share what he is willing to share. If people try to take more, he will Stop Them. 

5. He has difficulty slowing down. Connor is very good at his work and he enjoys it immensely. It makes it difficult sometimes to see that he would benefit from a break, or that it is a good idea to step away a little. Sometimes Connor’s close friends will have to tell him he needs a break before he notices it himself - Connor will eventually notice, but he ... really does get caught up in work. Meet-ups with friends can turn into a conversation about work or what he’s hoping to do next or - just because he enjoys what he does, and it’s on his mind. When he gets to be present with his friends and loved ones, he is very happy about it. Connor has to actively choose that sometimes, but it is nice when he does. 

6. He will not budge at all whatsoever on the things that he has decided are non-negotiable. There are a lot of things Connor is willing to bend on - he will bend but not break, bend until there is that point of Absolutely Not and he will stop moving altogether. You won’t shift him. His privacy is one of these lines; also cruelty, asking him Not to be a Detective, taking agency from someone, trying to take agency ... Connor values a bit of ethical flexibility and he uses it often, to find what he feels is the best outcome. But there are hard lines that he will not compromise on at all, and regardless of how good those lines are that is nonetheless a weakness. 

7. Quick to assume responsibility for things that he could theoretically have stopped. Connor does not have a guilt complex, but he will say, “I should have been faster,” with regret about a situation that he just wasn’t quite ‘good enough’ for. This has some perfectionism vibes, and that’s something Connor will... yes. He moves on quickly enough, but there is that, about him. This is a flaw for the fact that he assumes personal responsibility for every situation he might have affected - Connor is not personally responsible for every preventable thing that ever happens in his presence. He is stretched thin. Connor is fair to himself, but he will readily assume responsibility for things where ... he just ... didn’t manage to do what he needed to do in time. (There are many people who just wouldn’t try.) 

8. He is sometimes more curious about people’s emotional experiences/how that looks/how that emotion is experienced ... than he is about how to help them. This typically won’t be too much of a drawback for him, but he has definitely caught himself (been caught!) asking more questions about the emotion than about what they need, or reaching for an interface for the sake of getting a glimpse of what... he doesn’t have some morbid curiosity, he doesn’t want to sit and gawk at people’s feelings, but he does want to know. It is inherent. His curiosity could cost someone something someday, if he is not careful. He’s watching himself. 

9. He hesitates to share information about himself without being asked for it. It won’t always stop him - sometimes he will volunteer things suddenly just because he’s been thinking about them, or someone makes him think of it - but he does have that hesitation to be visible for people he doesn’t yet trust to see him. He... is always there. But he will use more neutral objective language (”I am experiencing a minor error in my program in response to their absence. It will be resolved shortly,” vs “I ... miss them,” the difference in distance and volume-of-self in those two statements) with people he isn’t already comfortable with, because he was trained to (not on purpose: the way someone can inadvertently train a dog to behave only when its owner is around. Connor was Trained as one might train a dog, and he was too smart not to learn who he was performing for.) 

10. There is a whole part of him that is willing to... that doesn’t ... rule out ... death. He doesn’t want to die even a little at all remotely. But, say, if Amanda were to come back and seize control again, Connor wouldn’t be able to justify staying alive (the risk that poses to the Android cause! Because Connor has done everything he possibly can to keep her out, already, so if she gets back in that means he cannot stop her. If she comes back that means he cannot stop himself being a threat to everyone around him). There would be ... gosh. There would be out-loud considerations and conversations about it. He would want to have that conversation with the people he loved, ‘if she comes back...’. Just so they know, so they don’t think they ‘missed’ something (he wants to live he wants to live he wants to live he wants to live), but .. for the record. He is prepared to die. He readied himself in the Garden on the night she tried to rob him of himself, and he barely escaped with his life. Connor has been ready ever since. 

I am going to stop here! I hope these help you Anon <3 I love Connor very much. Thank you for asking! 

#about connor #headcanon #long post for ts #long post #connor dbh #suicide mention tw

[ingravinoveritas]

Okay I'm going to say it.

DT's answer to the on screen chemistry question has always irked me a little.

Don't get me wrong, I really like Georgia and I adore them as a couple, because you can really tell (and could tell from the very beginning) how much love they have for each other. There's no doubting that.

I'm also not saying that it's a lie that he feels like he had the most chemistry with his wife. That's obvious. She's his favourite person. Again, in their case, I'm not doubting that.

But... look, as someone who's seen almost all of the bigger things he was in (not even on purpose, it just so happened haha) I just can't agree with that answer at all, because, yes, it's true that he feels that way, sure, but from an outsider's perspective: No!

And that really doesn't mean that he married the wrong person! 😂 But off screen and on screen can make such a huge difference. Not always (see: him and Michael), but in some cases it's just not the same thing. At the end of the day, at their level, acting is a craft. That needs to be considered. I think DT&MS said it themselves, didn't they? You can't really know if it works just as well and as naturally and as clearly on screen as it does off screen, not until you actually do the scenes. Just because you have a natural off screen chemistry with a person doesn't mean that it's going to be just as noticable (from the audience's perspective) when each of you portray characters on screen. I mean, there are also enough pairs who worked really well on screen, but actually despised each other irl.

So, all jokes aside: I think if you were to see it from an objective POV (and I'm aware that that's only halfway possible, because the whole matter is obviously quite subjective in itself, but oh well - call it my subjective objective lmao) the answer would ACTUALLY be Michael. And if it wouldn't be Michael then it would be either Billie Piper or Olivia Colman, imo. Three absolutely outstanding examples for on screen chemistry, that have two actors playing with each other, making each other shine and just doing their craft (with three completely different dynamics for each pair, too) in a way that is or was almost too good to be true.

His chemistry with Georgia was far from off, obviously, but really no match. Just my opinion. But... it's still cute that he said that and feels that way. :) And quite telling that he then immediately had to think of Michael. :P

I am totally with you here, Anon. You’re right and you should say it: On screen chemistry is not the same as off-screen. I was actually once asked who I thought David and Michael had the best on-screen chemistry with (other than each other), and Olivia Colman was one of my picks, too. Interestingly enough, Georgia has actually said in interviews that she’s been told that she “wasn’t convincing” as David’s wife on-screen. And that’s coming from a casting director, whose job it is to look for and read the chemistry between actors, so that is certainly saying something.

Again, like you said, that doesn’t necessarily mean David married the wrong person. But having chemistry off-screen is no guarantee of having it on-screen (though I would argue that actors who are supposed to be a couple having no chemistry either off- or on-screen is demonstrably more awkward than just one or the other). On-screen chemistry, though, is about the characters as much as the actors--what each person brings to the role, and how well they are able to “click” with their on-screen partner. The examples you gave (Billie Piper, Olivia Colman) speak to this, but Michael and David do far and away outshine all the rest on screen, including David and Georgia.

What was interesting to me about David answering this was that there was no discernible reason for him to bring Michael up. He could have never mentioned him, and no one would have blinked an eye. So it seems telling that he first gave what would be the more obligatory response (albeit with a question mark on the end, with the way his voices goes up an octave), followed by what could be characterized as the more “honest” response (again, like you said, he wasn’t lying by saying Georgia, but he also might not have been thinking of on-screen chemistry, because the question wasn’t specific).

It also shows us that David thought of Michael right away all on his own, without prompting or any sort of lead-in. And while it could certainly be argued that he said it as fan service, I’ve noticed a tendency on David’s part to hide a kernel of truth behind fan service. He could have simply said, “Michael Sheen and I also have really amazing chemistry,” but maybe saying it outright like that would’ve felt too...revealing, somehow...so he said something much more outlandish (”Maybe I should’ve married Michael Sheen”) instead. By doing that, he could then use the safety of a joke/fan service to share something much deeper.

That’s wild speculation on my end, at any rate, but the whole thing definitely does give one lots to think about. So yes, I agree with everything you’ve said about chemistry, Anon, and I’m glad you took the same to share it with me. Thanks for writing in! x

#anonymous #reply post #david tennant #soft scottish hipster gigolo #michael sheen #welsh seduction machine #georgia tennant #dragon con #this man is a bi disaster and i love him #david is definitely more subtle than michael #but he knows how to speak volumes without saying a word #i've never seen David be so blatant #at least before this #their chemistry is and always will be amazing #ineffable lovers #good omens rpf #discourse

[vanillapie-80]

The Road to Recovery Chapter 4: Guilty Until Proven Otherwise

The trial begins

Ao3

In the Hero’s Forge, the Tribunal stood on a viewing deck in the middle that loomed over the group. “The Trollhunter on trial is standing in for James Lake Jr. who chose to go into the Darklands, allowing the release of Gunmar the Black. He has admitted responsibility for his actions. What do you say of the charges?” Usurna asked, her voice booming with authority as Steve was once again in a cage in mid-air.

“We’ll fight the charges!” Blinky declared, taking a few steps forward.

“Once convicted, the Trollhunter will be sentenced to exile in the Deep.” Usurna explained.

“What’s the Deep?” Toby asked the historian.

“A place of unknown madness. No one exactly knows what resides at the bottom of the Deep, since no troll has returned from it.” From a glance, Blinky could tell that his explanation had made Steve very uneasy.

“Well I’m not a troll so maybe I’ll be lucky.” The trollhunter suggested, hoping that such a difference would help him in the future.

“Shall we begin?” Usurna questioned.

“One moment, if you please.” Blinky before turning back to the group. “Before we continue this further, I must remind you all that we cannot fight these allegations.”

“You don’t think we know that?” Steve said. “We’re going through with this because you guys need the amulet to kill this Gunmar dude.”

“Right, then who is going to represent him?” Claire wondered.

“What about you Claire? Your mom is a councilwoman, maybe you learned some tricks from her.” Toby said, to which Claire only shook her head in response.

“I tend to avoid anything involving my mom’s work as much as I can, also I don’t think councilwomen are involved with court cases.”

“What about you Domzalski?” Steve asked.

“To be honest I’m practically on the same boat with Claire, unless you count watching true crime stuff with Darci and court drama shows with Nana as useful information,” Toby answered.

“Well, it is something. And who knows, maybe there might be similarities between human proceedings and troll proceedings.” Blinky stated as he patted Toby in the back as reassurance.

“And besides, some of that stuff of tv has to hold some truth.” Steve added, but Toby only gave them a doubtful look.

“Your time is up.” Usurna declared. “Have you made a decision on who will represent you?”

“Yeah we did. Domzalski is going to represent me” Steve said.

“Very well. The Tribunal will permit a short recess to allow Mr. Domzalski to prepare his case.”

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

“So can we all agree that this is going to be an absolute mess?” Toby asked as they were in the library.

“No doubt about it.” Claire remarked. “But remember, Steve’s life depends on this. You have to give your all.”

“I know, it’s not like I want him dead. But how are we going to prove to the Tribunal that Jim didn’t let Gunmar out?”Toby slides one of the books close to him from the table.

“Well, it’s pretty obvious that he’s guilty.” Claire leaned onto the wall and thought for a moment. “What exactly happens to those who plead guilty?”

“Usually they try to get the lowest sentence possible. But I don’t think it’ll work in this case, there’s no sign that there’s a lower sentence other than the Deep.”

“So that’s off the table.” Claire paced around the room while biting the edge of her finger. “What if.... We prove that someone else was planning to let Gunmar out.”

“I do not understand how that would help our case.” Blinky said.

“It doesn’t. But it might show the Tribunal how pointless this trial is. To show that Gunmar’s release would’ve been inevitable.” Claire explained, sprinting towards Blinky. “And for them to see the bigger picture. So they could focus on the real problem at hand.”

“It is a risky move. But it sounds like the best option.” Toby admitted.

“Very well, it seems like our course of action is very clear. Tobias will try to convince the Tribunal that this trial is pointless with me assisting him, while Claire and Aaarrrgghh will find evidence and root out Gunmar’s agent.” Blinky explained.

“Then we can’t waste any time.” Claire made her way to Aaarrrgghh and tugged one of his arms towards the library’s sentence. “Come on. Let’s go.”

The large troll followed the girl’s lead, waving his companion and wingman goodbye. “Find proof how?” He asked Claire as they walked through trollmarket.

She rubbed the back of her neck, hesitant to speak at first. “You were a general for Gunmar right? Did he have a preferred method for spying on his enemies?”

“Changelings.” Aaarrrgghh answered quickly.

“But aren’t they used to check up on the surface world?”

“Can work both ways.” Claire let the idea linger in her mind. It wouldn’t be impossible, just because changelings aren’t welcomed by trollmarket doesn’t mean that they can’t try to disguise themselves as a regular troll.

“Okay so let’s work with a hypothetical here.” She stated.

“Hyper-thet- tical?” Aaarrrgghh asked as he struggled to understand the word.

Claire gave him an understanding smile and explained. “It means exploring something that might happen even if you’re not sure if it’s true.” She clapped her hands together and began setting up the scene. “So hypothetically, a changeling was assigned to be a spy in trollmarket, a place where their kind is hated, to see if they can get to the bridge pieces to release Gunmar. What would they do?”

As they continued to walk, Aaarrrgghh saw the RotGut’s establishment from afar, and an idea sparked in his head. “Gaggletacks.” He pointed at the store to Claire, who gasped in response.

“Of course!” She exclaimed. “The only way for a changeling to be at risk of being found out in trollmarket is a gaggletack.”

“Changeling have to get rid of gaggletacks.” The large troll added.

“Exactly. This means that if someone bought a gaggletack, we might get some leads.” Claire and Aaarrrgghh began passing through the marketplaces to interrogate RotGut.

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

As the trial was about to begin, Usurna looked displeased at the sight of Blinky being by Toby’s side. “Blinkious. As we have stated you cannot speak on the Trollhunter’s-“

“It’s okay!” Toby interrupted. “He’s going to be my co-counsel, so it’s all good.”

“And how do you plead?” Vendel asked.

“Not guilty.” The redhead said with a confident demeanor.

The Tribunal looked and muttered at each other, perplexed at the teen’s plea.

“So just to be sure.” Steve whispered to Toby. “You have a plan right?”

“Of course.” Toby remarked. “Why wouldn’t we?”

“…. Is it a good plan?”

Toby’s coincidence wavered for a moment but it wasn’t too noticeable. “Well it depends on how fast Claire and Aaarrrgghh can find evidence for our case.” “What?!” Steve exclaimed, trying his best not to raise his voice.

Toby quickly changed the subject, the last he wanted to do was cause more doubt for Steve. “Anyways. First order of business, I would like to request that Gatto is removed as a member of the Tribunal, at least for this trial.”

“And why would we do such a thing?” Bork asked.

“He and I have had a rather delicate history, which I’m afraid might bring his ability to be objective into question.” Toby explained.

"There have been too many delays for this trail as there is.” Usurna stated. “The Tribunal will proceed.”

“But my request is quite simple.” Toby persisted. “All you need to do is remove him from the courtroom. This trial is important, So I’m sure that none of you would want to mess this up, right?” The

Tribunal silently looked at each other. “And besides, the majority of the Tribunal will still be here even with Gatto gone and-“

“Enough.” Vendel interrupted. “You have made your point clear. And I, for one, do not see the issue of following the human’s request.”

“You can’t be serious.” Gatto objected.

“I agree with Vendel. I accept the request” The Quagawump Queen added. “Usurna, do you object to this request?”

Usurna stared at the chubby teen, her eyes narrowed, before saying, “I do not. Gatto, you may leave.”

Toby smiled brightly as he saw Gatto silently cursed at him before the pile of stones that shaped the troll’s face collapsed.

“State your grounds for your defense.” Usurna stated.

“Of course. We know that Jim went into the Darklands.” Steve gave Toby a bewildered expression as he listened to his classmate listing off all of Jim’s offenses. “We know we went in to save him, giving

Gunmar the opportunity to escape.” The redhead continued as he paced back and forth. “But who is to say that someone didn’t plan on doing it in the first place? That is the ground for my defendant. Woah!”

Suddenly the Tribunal began throwing rocks at Toby. “Hey, hey, hey! Easy there!” Toby ran behind Blinky as a cover.

“Uhhhh what’s with the rocks? “ Steve quickly asked Blinky as he also backed away to avoid the rocks hitting him as well.

“I’m afraid it’s a part of troll law.” The historian explained calmly.

Toby sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, as he vaguely remembered that being in one of the books Blinky gave him. “Of course it is.”

Toby hesitantly stretched his hand out away from the historian’s protection and took a sharp inhale as one of the rocks hit his arm and held back the action to yelp in pain.

“Bork’s rock wins. They will be heard first.” Usurna said as her fellow member stepped forward.

“I have a complaint. How does this make your defendant innocent if you admit he’s guilty for releasing Gunmar?”

“Well if someone was already planning to open Killahead bridge, then wouldn’t that mean Gunmar’s return was bound to happen no matter what the trollhunter did.” Toby explained, which seemed to satisfy Bork as she backed away. “So any other questions?”

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

Claire and Aaarrrgghh made their way to the RotGot, and Claire was about to slam at the large door knocker before the large troll stopped her. “What’s wrong?”

“RotGut hard to get information out of.” Aaarrrgghh said. “Need plan.”

“Right, although I haven’t watched a lot of crime shows, there was one episode where two detectives played good cop and bad cop to a witness who wasn’t willing to talk. So maybe we should try that?”

Aaarrrgghh nodded at Claire with a gentle smile.

“Worth a try.” He said.

With excitement now bubbling inside her, Claire slammed the doorknob a few times and then cleared her throat. “Open up RotGut, or I’ll kick down this door!” Aaarrrgghh was caught off guard by how genuine her anger seemed, though he does faintly remember her mentioning once that she was into theater.

One of the speakeasies opened from the door to reveal Gut. “Ailment or curse?”

“Neither, you two-headed dirtbag! We need information.” Rot showed himself as he heard the teen’s yelling. “Gunmar’s got a mole down here, and you’re gonna tell us who it is!”

Rot and Gut looked at each other with confusion. “Why is she being so mean to us, Gut?”

Gut shrugged and looked at Claire. “We don’t share that kind of thing. Salesman-client confidentiality.” He reasoned.

“Oh, so you wanna obstruct official trollhunting business?!” Claire retorted. “Is that what you want to do- huh?!”

Aaarrrgghh suddenly grabbed Claire with both his arms and set her aside out of the trolls’ view. “Take breather.”

She groaned in frustration. “Fine.”

“Whelps.” Aaarrrgghh remarked. “Information important, help save trollhunter’s life.”

“Will it make the small human stop yelling at us?” The large troll nodded at the orange salestroll. “Well…. I don’t know from Gunmar, but there was a guy.”

“It’s Krax, you imbecile.” Gut interjected.

“Yes Krax. He brought out our entire stock of gaggletacks.”

“That’s definitely suspicious.” Claire muttered. “Do you guys have Krax’s address?”

“Uhh sure, give us a moment.” The two trolls looked at the teen, perplexed at the sudden change in mood from Claire, before going around their shop to find the address.

“Good job.” Aaarrrgghh patted the teen by the head.

“Thanks. You know we make a good team.” Claire smiled as she put her hand on her hips. “Let’s hope that Toby and Blinky are as good as we are.”

RotGut returned and gave them a small piece of paper through the speakeasy. “Here’s the address.”

“Thank you.” Claire grabbed the piece of paper and the two walked away from the shop. “We got our first lead. Now let’s if this Krax guy is a changeling, or a troll who just really likes gaggletacks for reason.”

The teen passed the address to Aaarrrgghh for him to see. “Do you think you can find Krax’s house? I don’t know how addresses work here.”

The large troll squinted at the small writing for a few seconds, before looking back at Claire and giving her a thumbs up. Claire’s smile grew brighter and followed Aaarrrgghh’s lead as they walked through Trollmarket in search of Krax’s home.

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

“Isn’t it true that you’ve been to the Darklands?” Toby asked NotEnrique as his witness, dangling a dirty sock to keep the changeling’s attention. “Isn’t it further true that you knew Gunmar was trying to get out of the Darklands on his own, and he probably would’ve gotten out eventually anyway even if we hadn’t gone in to save Jim?”

A rock then hit Toby from the back of his head by the Quagwump Queen.“Sounds like you are the one testifying.”

He looked at the Tribunal, wincing as he rubbed on the dull pain on the back of his neck. “Easy. ‘M trying to be thorough with my questions here, alright?.” Toby explained and turned back to NotEnrique. “So?”

The changeling shrugged carelessly. “Well… Jim’s a good guy. You know, for a human. While he was in the Darklands, he saved me familiar. A pretty cute kid.”

Toby leaned his arm on the slab to where NotEnrique sat. “So to you, Jim is a hero?”

The changeling casually rested his face on his hand. “Yeah, he’s a hero. I mean, if he wasn’t, you guys wouldn’t have gone into-” NotEnrique was then interrupted with Toby quickly shoving the dirty sock in his mouth.

“That’s quite enough.” Toby nervously remarked, trying to get the message across for NotEnrique to stop talking without actually saying.

“No. I think the witness should be allowed to finish.” Bork said.

“Oh no.” Steve whispered. Claire and Aaarrrgghh hadn’t come back yet, so they were practically grasping straws at the moment for any kind of evidence they had, if you could even call it that. He crouched down at Blinky’s direction and tried to get his attention. “Blinky.” The historian looked up at the sound of the blonde teen’s quiet voice. “Can’t I do anything to stop this.”

“Hmm, well you could stand as a witness. However, I’m not sure if it’s even possible as-“

“Good enough for me.” Steve said.

“I beg your pardon?” Blinky watched as Steve stood up and took a few steps toward the front of the cage. “Hey! How about we skip the dramatics and let me speak for myself? Or for Lake, I guess.”

“What are you doing?’ Toby asked as he approached Steve’s cage.

“Trying to make this less bad than it is.” He answered.

“But you can’t-“

“The accused cannot testify for himself, it’s against Troll Law.” Quagwump Queen explained.

“Yeah, what she said.” Toby remarked.

“I say let him speak.” Vendel said as he stood up and looked at Steve, his expression unreadable for the blonde teen. “Go on trollhunter.”

“Right…” Steve struggled to find the right words. Now that his plan was in motion, he realized now that he really didn’t know what to say.

“Come on. Think for once.” The blonde teen thought.

“Okay, um… look I’m probably the last person Lake would want to speak for him. But it looks like to me that all of you guys are really pissed at him for making a choice, a bad one at that. But so what, even good people can make mistakes. And while he’s not here, I’m sure he would admit that what he did was wrong. And come on, don’t tell me that none of you haven’t made a bad choice in your life.”

None of the Tribunal reacted except for the Quagawump Queen, who Steve managed to see her raise her before putting it back when she saw that the others weren’t doing the same. “But in the end, Lake is a good person and just did what he thought was right. And who knows maybe he would do it again but-”

The Tribunal all gasped in shock.

“An admission!

“He would do it again?”

“It seems like we have our proof. Let us all rule.” Usurna said.

Steve stood still for a few seconds, his mind trying to keep up with what just happened. “What?!” He saw the Tribunal beginning to leave. “Hey! I wasn’t done talking!”

“You have said quite enough.”Usurna remarked. “Now if you’ll-”

“Oh shut up!” The Tribunal quickly turned around, stunned at the trollhunter.

Frustration began to rise from Steve, he was tired and was just about done with the tribunal. “You guys talk about punishment for what happened to Gunmar because I don’t know about you, but getting your ass beaten by the person you let out and fighting for your life in the hospital sounds like punishment for me.” The blonde teen said as he gritted through his teeth.

Steve glanced down at Toby, his eyes filled with panic and disbelief, but as guilt began building up, he looked away. The trollhunter didn’t care if he was making it worse for him, deep down Steve knew that they were going to make him guilty no matter what, so who cares with what he has to say right? The blonde teen was a dead man walking at this point. “You all act high and mighty when in fact none of you seem smart enough to have your priorities straight.”

The anger the Tribunal had for Steve could be felt, but for Usurna she was more than angry, she was outraged by the trollhunter’s words.

“Are you done?” Ursuna asked with a venomous voice.

“Yeah. I said all that I needed to say.”

As the Tribunal left to make their ruling, Toby opened his mouth to speak but not a single word came out. The redhead staggered as the dread of what might happen next infested in his thoughts that it made him sick.

“Tobias?” Blinky placed his hand on the teen’s shoulder, but Toby pulled away from it.

“I… I need to find Claire and Aaarrrgghh.” He muttered under his breath. “I- I have to….” Toby couldn’t bring himself to finish that sentence and ran out of the Hero’s Forge.

Steve leaned back on the cage and slid down. As the moments went by, he could still feel Blinky’s presence. “Why are you still here?

“I don’t think I quite follow.”

The trollhunter felt his throat tighten. “I mean the trial is basically over and there’s no one here, even the changeling left.”

“NotEnrique has somewhere to be, keeping watch I believe he said. But for me, I’m right where I’m supposed to be. Technically I’m supposed to be your mentor, so you are my responsibility till the day you reach your last breath”. He explained, still sounding calm with no hints of being angry at Steve at all.

The blonde teen could only stay silent, blinking as he tried to wrap his mind around the troll’s words. “You know it was quite brave of you to speak of the Tribunal like. Not even the bravest of trolls would do such a thing.”

“Or stupid. I don’t think calling out trolls who are important figures in your culture was a good idea.”

“Well, some of the members of the Tribunal were not on good terms with master Jim even before this whole mess began, so don’t feel discouraged.” While what Blinky said didn’t necessarily make Steve feel any better, but at least he knew nothing would please the Tribunal as long as a human holds the mantle of trollhunter.

“Look, I know you’re trying to make me feel better or whatever, but you’re wasting your time. Don’t see how I can be in a better mood when I’m as good as dead now. So just do something better than being here, please.” Blinky stared at the trollhunter. The lack of emotional connection he had with Steve seemed to make it harder for the historian’s words to hold value.

Blinky didn’t want to leave Steve alone in the Hero’s Forge, but it was also apparent that his presence wasn’t doing much good either. “Very well then.” He muttered solemnly, very much reluctantly shuffled away to his library. Using the excuse that he might find something in his books that might help their situation, but he knew better he wasn’t going to find any.

Steve tightly pulled his hair back and began to wonder what would happen if he died he knew he was going to. Would his parents care? He hopes that they would, because it pained him so much to know that everyone else wouldn’t mind. Maybe they’ll feel pity for a moment, but it’ll quickly fade, because Steve hadn’t been given the initiative to show his change just yet. So they’ll just remember him as a dumb bully and nothing else. The world will still be the same. Despite all that, Steve pushed back the feeling of crying. He refused to go out like a crybaby, even if it made it hurt more to think about.

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

“Krax’s house here.” Aaarrrgghh said. It was a cave that looked like any other in trollmarket, with its entrance with a wide flight of stairs that went downwards.

“Hello? Is anyone here?” Claire looked around the cave then back at the stairs. “You guys make it fairly easy to break into homes.” She told Aaarrrgghh.

“Now find gaggletack?” Aaarrrgghh asked as he touched the tire that was in the room.

“That's the idea.” Claire glanced at the many boxes that sat in the corner of the cave.

She approached it and lifted the lid off of one of the boxes. Claire gasped as she saw that it was filled with gaggletacks. “Hey Aaarrrgghh. I found a gaggletack mother lode .” Claire kept opening the other boxes to see if the contents were the same, and they were.

The large trolls looked inside the boxes and picked up a handful of gaggletack. “Enough for proof though?”

Claire's smile faltered a bit and thought for a second. “It makes him suspicious, but being suspicious doesn’t necessarily mean he’s working for Gunmar. So maybe we need more proof?”

“Why not talk to Krax?” Aaarrrgghh suggested.

“Yeah but-“

“Claire! Aaarrrgghh!” Both were caught off guard by the sound of Toby’s voice as he walked down the stairs. “What is taking you guys so long?”

“Well we got a lead on this Krax guy and decided to check his house, which just so happens to be very far away from the Hero’s Forge.” Claire explained. “Hold on a second, why are you here Toby?

Aren’t you supposed to be stalling?”

The two saw as Toby crossed his arms and looked away. “I did the best I could. But the trial is over, the Tribunal is deciding their ruling right now.” He answered with a quiet, regretful tone.

“What?! They can’t do that!”

“Technically they can.” Toby cleared his throat at the sight of Claire’s hardened expression.

“It’s not fair.” She muttered, looking away. For the past few days, Claire had this feeling of helplessness looming over her. She was so close to fixing this, to make things right and prevent someone from being in the clutches of death.

“Claire?” The large troll asked, concerned at the teen’s silence. “We’re not giving up. We keep going.” She said.

“So we still find Krax?” Aaarrrgghh asked.

“Guys. Even if the plan could still work. We have no idea where he could be, and it’s not like we can just wait for him to come back here.” And just as Toby said that, the sounds of heavy footsteps and humming were heard amongst the three.

As Krax entered his home, he gasped at the sight of Aaarrrgghh, Toby, and Claire, who stood absolutely still in silence. “Well then. I guess we can.” Toby remarked. Claire quickly grabbed a gaggletack from the pile Aaarrrgghh was carrying and tossed it at Krax. When he grabbed it, the group shielded their eyes at the bright green flash of light. Now a human stood where the hulking troll once was. The uneasy silence continued for a brief moment before Krax tossed the gaggletack away from him and changed back into his troll form.

The changeling looked at the group, eyes frantically darting left and right, absolutely baffled at what he’s supposed to do now. With no other option to come to mind, Krax swung a punch at Aaarrrgghh and tried to leave the scene, but Claire was fast enough to block his way to the entrance.

“Wait! We’re not here to hurt you. We just want to talk.” She explained.

“And why should I believe you? Coming into my house without my knowledge and having the gall to blow my cover. Don’t you understand? All of trollmarket could be at my throat now because of you!” A pang of guilt came over Claire, her eyes diverting away from the changeling. “Then help us save the trollhunter’s life. Please I know your kind is not evil as everyone down here believes. Right now you can prove them wrong.”

“The trial…” There was no relief on Krax’s face, but rather was full of anguish and pity for the trollhunters. “Oh how much it pains me to see just how naive you children truly are.” The changeling then pulled out a dwarkstone from one of the crates. As he shook it, the dwarkstone began to flash a green glow repeatedly. “That for a changeling, failure such as this is a death sentence.”

Krax grabs Claire by the collar of her shirt and tosses her across the room where Aaarrrgghh and Toby were. The large troll managed to catch the human teen just in time. But Claire was quick to look back at Krax and a thought came to her. The thought that she had enough time to snatch the dwarkstone out of the changeling’s hands and toss it far away from everyone.

So Claire ran. Running as fast as she could towards the changeling as she heard her friends calling her to come back, Claire wasn’t going to let Krax die.

But it was too late. As the dwarkstone went off, Claire was hit by a blinding flash of light and a powerful force that pushed her back. A loud ringing noise clouded her hearing and her vision was blurry for a moment.

“Claire? Claire?! Come on, talk to me!” Toby begged as his voice was becoming less muffled to Claire.

She tried to lift herself up but suddenly felt like the skin in her right arm and the side of her face was on fire and fell back down. As Aaarrrgghh and Toby helped Claire to get up, she glanced at her friend’s face covered in thick gray dust, she looked ahead and Krax was nowhere to be seen, only just dust splattered all over the room.

“He… He’s gone.” Claire whispered, with that looming, helpless feeling now crashing down on her. “I….. I forced someone to kill themselves, and for what?”

“No.” Toby interjected. “Don’t do that. Don’t blame yourself. It wasn’t your fault.”

“Then whose fault was it?!” Tears were already pouring down Claire’s face.

“No one.” Aaarrrgghh responded, placing his hand on her shoulder. “This is messy side of war. Always hard to see.” The large troll took a look at Claire’s arm and saw the burns she had. “Let’s get back to Blinky.”

“Right…” Toby said slowly. That alone, and Claire staying silent with a blank expression gave Aaarrrgghh the impression that neither of them wanted to face what was next, and he couldn’t blame them. They were just children after all. He of all trolls should know that.

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

Blinky stood in front of a table in his library, two of his hands pressing themselves onto the table. The bitter emotion he felt towards the poor trollhunter’s fate. The Deep was a mysterious and terrifying force of nature, Blinky couldn’t bear to imagine what might happen once Steve made it to the deep.

“Blinkous!” The historian jolted at Vendel’s sudden presence and then saw how upset trollmarket’s elder was. “That trial was a complete disaster! The Tribunal’s votes are practically unanimous to declare him guilty of the charges.”

“Believe me Vendel, I am aware.” Blinky responded. “But surely there is something we can do to-” In a nick of time, Aaarrrgghh suddenly barged inside alongside Toby and Claire. “Aaarrrgghh, you’re back. Did you find something they might give us a chance to fix this?” Blinky asked.

“Maybe. But Claire hurt.” The large troll brought the teen forward, who still seemed to be in shock a bit. “Needs help.”

Blinky gasped at the sight of Claire’s burns. “By Deya’s grace, what happened?”

“Turns out there was a changeling here at trollmarket by the name of Krax.” Toby explained.

“You found one?” Blinky asked in surprise.

“Yeah, but he wasn’t too happy that we found out so he used a dwarkstone to….. dispose of himself.” Toby’s voice wavering and low at that last part, feeling uncomfortable putting what happened into words.

“Oh dear.” Blinky whispered.

Vendel grabbed Claire’s arm that was burned and took out some gauze from his bag. “Tragic, but not surprising. For changelings, this tactic is used quite often when they’re discovered.” As the elder tends to Claire’s arm, Toby couldn’t help but feel uneasy by how casual Vendel made it sound.

“So what do we do now? We still got nothing and it’s not like the Tribunal will take our word for it.” Claire said, wincing at the stinging sensation her arm felt in contact with the gauze.

“Then perhaps they’ll take my word.” Vendel responded, tearing the end of the gauze and gave it to Blinky. “Blinkous, finish tending to her wounds. I shall take this to Usurna and do everything in my power to have her at least consider stopping this trial.”

"Well amongst all the bad shit that has happened today, it seems like maybe things might turn around for the better.” Toby remarked as Vendel exited the library.

“I’m sure at this point we can all agree towards Tobias’ sentiment.” Blinky takes out a first aid kit that was under the table. Jim suggested in the past that Blinky should have one around just in case, and since then he was quickly proven right after a couple of missions. “Claire, I hope you don’t mind asking but how are you holding up? You seem quite shaken.”

The teen held a grip and twisted the fabric of her skirt. “I guess what I saw was… a lot to take in. It’s not right.”

Blinky sighed as he placed a pad where the side of her cheek was burned. “I understand. I suppose it is another problem added to the mix that needs fixing, but sadly that will be more difficult to accomplish. So for now, let us focus on one problem at a time.”

“Right…” Claire muttered. “Do you think that Vendel will be able to save Steve?”

“I have hope. All I know for certain is that with Vendel’s status as trollmarket’s elder, we have a better chance at turning the tides to our favor.” What the historian said to Claire managed to put her somewhat at ease, but after failing so much, the doubt never left her mind.

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

After reuniting the tribunal, Vendel requested that he could speak with Usurna alone inside of the Heartstone.

As they walked, Vendel explained the discovery of the changeling and what occurred after. “A changeling? Here in Trollmarket?”

“Yes.” Trollmarket’s elder confirmed.

“And you are certain of this? That this isn’t a ploy by the trollhunter’s companions to buy themselves more time?” Usurna glanced at Vendel, her expression seemingly skeptical.

“I have it on good authority. If Gunmar’s agents are within the walls, something is afoot. We must suspend the Tribunal at once and deal with the real threat.” Vendel said, looking back at Usurna. “Real threat? You think there may be more than one ally of Gunmar, here in trollmarket?” Vendel was beginning to hope that the Krubera queen was finally coming to her senses and prioritize the real issue that was at hand.

“Yes. If Gunmar has one agent within Trollmarket, who’s to say there aren’t others?” He explained. The livelihoods of trollmarket’s residents were at risk, and Vendel would not allow this to be ignored until it was too late. “It’s time we root out this enemy at the core and end this.”

Usurna halted herself in surprise at what she just heard and watched as Vendel continued to walk forward. “You’re wrong Vendel. There are only two agents of Gunmar within Trollmarket’s walls.”

Confusion riddled Vendel’s mind of hearing Usurna while picking out some of the rocks that were on a table.

“The changeling.” Usurna plucked out a thin, small dagger from the feather-like neckpiece. “And the changeling’s master.”

“What?” Realization suddenly hit the elder. No couldn’t possible that Gunmar would have someone with that great of a position of power on his side. Vendel took a small crystal in his hand before facing Usurna, who was already dangerously close to him. Just in case the worst came to be for him. “How do you know this?” He asked with a heavy voice.

“Because.” Usurna stabbed Vendel in the stomach with the dagger. “I’m the master.”

To the shock of the elder, he was already turning into stone. It seemed that her dagger wasn’t an ordinary weapon. Gasping for breath, Vendel began backing away. He dropped his staff and struggled to maintain movement as his body was slowly beginning to harden.

“I apologize Vendel.” Usurna said, genuinely sounding disappointed. “I was hoping you’d live long enough to see Gunmar’s glorious return.” She placed her dagger back to her neckpiece and grabbed Vendel’s staff.

The elder loses his balance and falls down to his knees. “Usurna… You cannot…” He muttered, his voice becoming hoarse. Even with the burning pain Vendel felt, he had enough tolerance to be able to stand up in front of Usurna. “They’ll stop you. The trollhunter…” Vendel could not finish his last words as his body was now completely engulfed in stone.

“Shall die.” Usurna said. “Both of them.” She used the end of Vendel’s staff to tip his body over, smashing into pieces by the impact of the floor. “Farewell, Vendel, Elder of Trollmarket. A shame that you had to meet your end like this.” The Krubera queen tossed the staff aside and walked away, coming out of the heartstone with a calm expression as if nothing had happened.

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

With everyone back in the Hero’s Forge to finish this trial, the group was quick to notice that Vendel was noticeably absent from the court.

“The Tribunal will come to an order.” Blinky narrowed his eyes in bewilderedness at Ursuna’s lack of acknowledgment of the elder’s absence.

“Wait a minute, Vendel isn’t here.” Steve looked down at Blinky, hoping that he had some kind of explanation for this. “Didn’t you say that he was going to tell them what you guys found?”

"Pardon me but we spoke to Vendel, and he was going to present our newly found evidence to the Tribunal.” Blinky explained.

“When I spoke to him, he said nothing of any evidence.” Blinky’s eyes widened at the notion, while the rest were shocked at what they heard. That couldn’t be right, Vendel was an honorable and quite frankly blunt troll. He wouldn’t lie about such a thing.

“However, it became apparent to me that Vendel’s judgment for this trial might not be as objective as I hoped, so I had him removed from this trial.” Usurna stated. “Hold on you- you can’t….” Toby wanted to object to this decision, but how could he when he requested the same thing with Gatto at the beginning. He could feel his friends and Steve’s gaze, waiting for him to finish saying something that could help them.

“You were saying?” Bork questioned, raising her brow.

Toby was at a loss of words, without the evidence, there was nothing more he or anyone could do. Toby’s silence was all the group needed to realize the painful truth that it was over. They had failed. “Very well.” Usurna took the teen’s lack of response as an indication to continue on. “The Tribunal finds the trollhunter… guilty. He is hereby sentenced into the Deep, to face death at the hands of his greatest fear.” The Tribunal left the viewing deck, but Usurna wanted to see this through till the end, so she made her way down to the Hero’s Forge.

When the cage started to move backwards, the others looked back and began following it. “Vendel was supposed to make things better.” Toby muttered, looking utterly defeated. “We were so close! and now-“

“You tried.” There was a bitter acceptance in Steve’s voice, with his small, tired smile making all the more painful for the others. “You… you all tried. It’s not like we had much of a winning shot anyway.” Soon he felt his throat tighten and the spots of small tears in his eyes, but Steve made sure in all his power that he would push it back down. “At least it has to be me instead of Lake.” “But it doesn’t have to be this way.” Claire objected, sprinting closer to Steve. “I can use my shadow staff. I get you out of the Deep, you don’t have to die.” Steve stayed silent. There was an option that would have him live another day, but what next? Helping him out of his sentence sounded like treason to him. Steve wondered if it was fair to put Claire in so much trouble just to save his life.

“I… I can’t let you do that. Who knows what Trollmarket would do if you do that.” The cage stopped at a bottomless pit that was at the edge of the Hero Forge. Just the anxiety and fleeting fear by looking down made Steve grab the bars of the cage with both hands.

“Master Steve, things may be hopeless. But you mustn’t give up.” Blinky implored. “As long as you keep on fighting, you can be capable of overcoming anything. Please remember that.” Then Usurna stepped in with her Krubera guards. “If there’s any consolation, these past few days have shown me something that humans should have never been a part of troll affair, the mere existence of a human trollhunter should be a violation of Troll Law.”

With that, Usurna signaled a guard to lower the cage to the Deep. The group watched as the cage dropped, Steve’s screaming getting fainter and fainter as it fell further.

He held his breath and braced for impact. The cage crashes below the many edges of the sharp, stony walls, sending Steve flying everywhere and constantly slamming into the bars.

Once the cage finally made it to the ground, Steve crawled out of it as the door seemed to be already open. His whole body ached as he slowly got up on one knee, hearing the quiet wheezing of his breath. The crystal from the cave soon flickered out, leaving the blonde teen in the darkness with nothing but the small glow of the amulet as his light.

Steve wandered cautiously, keeping his hand in contact with the walls as some kind of guidance. As he walked, Steve looked down at his free hand and began to concentrate on summoning Daylight. To his surprise, the sword appeared swiftly at his palm. Sure it took a while to summon, but Steve expected that it wasn’t going to appear at all.

Using his sword as a light source, the trollhunter moved it around to see if there was anything or anyone. Taking a turn around, he felt the wall was becoming smoother, and began hearing the most faint voices. However, they were not like the ones in his dream, it was coming from somewhere. Steve’s mind told him that following the voices was a bad idea, that finding a way to get out would be a better idea. But now there was this nagging thought in his mind.

The blonde teen remembered his fear the pixies had forced to show him. Even now he could still remember how it shook him to his very core. So the question arose in his mind, would his fear be any different now?

Steve grimaced and gripped his sword tightly, then with a frustrated groan, he sprinted towards the voices. Soon the dark cave-like pit soon transitioned to the hallways of Arcadia Oaks High. The voices turned out to be chatter from students that the trollhunter could seem to hear. He tried getting closer, but it didn’t make one of the conversations clearer. Even stranger, no one seemed to take note of him. As if they were ignoring Steve.

“Hello?” He shook a student’s shoulder, but didn’t have any kind of reaction, not even a dirty look.

Suddenly all the lights began to go back and forth between going on and off. The constant switching was getting faster and faster before one by one, each light began to explode, with sparks of electricity flying off of the circuits. Steve was baffled at no one reacting, they just kept talking and remained oblivious beyond belief. Steve steadied his hold on Daylight with both hands and looked at his surroundings with anxious dread.

The sound of metal scraping against each other almost made the trollhunter jump, he turned around from behind and waited as whatever was coming came closer. From a hallway on the right side appeared a dark figure with a black suit of armor and a large sword with a piercing red glow. Their eyes were red as well and wide, and Steve could just tell it was full of hate and anger. A chill went down his spine as they stared him down. They lifted their sword up and brought it close across their face.

The color on Steve’s face drained the moment he saw that this…. thing had his face. The doppelganger found the trollhunter’s reaction amusing and formed a large smile, his teeth sharp with fangs. In his panic state, Steve decided to take this opportunity to strike first. He swung his sword, but the doppelganger quickly avoided it by sliding to the side. They went ahead of Steve and hit his back with the handle of his sword.

Steve stumbled and bent down, having the air knocked out of him. As he tried his best to straighten himself, the doppelganger gave him no time and lunged at Steve, pinning him down to the ground. Steve thrashed around with all his strength, trying to escape the doppelganger’s hold, but nothing seemed to help. “Let me go!” Steve shouted. “Or I swear to god I’ll-"

The doppelganger pressed their finger on the trollhunter’s lips. “Shhhhhhhhhh.” Their voice was raspy and strained, nothing like Steve’s. “Hush and listen. Listen to their whispers.” The students’ conversations suddenly became clear.

“What’s psycho Steve doing now?”

“Is he alright? I’m starting to get scared.”

“Ugh, why does Steve always have to make a scene?”

“He must really like the attention.”

Everyone was talking about him, as if he wasn’t there or was too stupid to notice. Couldn’t they see that he was in trouble? “Please!” Steve cried out. “Someone help me!”

But they just kept talking and talking. “No one is going to help. Why would they?” The doppelganger said, tightening their grip on Steve’s wrist. “Someone as horrible and disgusting as you should get to clean up your mess by yourself.”

The trollhunter hissed as it felt like his wrists were going to break at any moment. Steve head-butted the doppelganger, moved to the side, and kicked them out of his way. As Steve dragged himself back up, he summoned Daylight, leaning onto it like a crutch.

He could tell that the doppelganger was furious now. The doppelganger charged at Steve, raising their sword up high, but barely missing the trollhunter as he slid to the side, with the upper part of his right arm taking the hit.

Steve held back the urge to scream and, as if on instinct, swung a punch at the doppelganger’s face. They didn’t seem affected much by it, and swung their sword again. The trollhunter brought out his shield and was forced to stumble back with each strike the doppelganger made with their sword. Steve knew he couldn’t keep a steady hold for long with how strong their blows were, but he was having a hard time figuring out how to beat something that practically seemed invincible.

“Such a useless coward!” The doppelganger exclaimed with a devilish grin. “Can’t even win a fight with himself.”

When the doppelganger struck the trollhunter’s shield again, Steve brought himself closer to them and pushed the sword out of the way, and thrusted daylight right through their abdomen. The doppelganger recoiled as they spat out blood, and for a moment Steve felt a sense of relief that it was over. “Oh my god! He killed him!” Someone screamed in horror.

Steve looked around and found a crowd forming amongst the hallway, and with it, fear and outcry could be heard all around. When Steve turned to see the doppelganger again, Jim stood there instead. His classmate looked at the blood that covered his hands then looked back at Steve. “You….. Why?”

Just the sound of his voice being so fragile and broken made the trollhunter’s stomach drop. “I…. I…” Then Steve furiously shook his head. “No! This- This isn’t real. You’re not real, none of this is real!”

Tears started to cloud his vision, but he could still see the expression of disbelief and distraught in Jim’s face. “So….. is my pain not real?” Jim slowly started to bring himself closer to Steve, letting Daylight pierce further into his wound. “All the torment you put me and so many others through just doesn't matter?”

Steve tried all that he could to stop Jim without hurting him anymore, but he kept walking forward. “Who are you to tell me that what I dealt with you is or isn’t real.” He snapped through his choked sobs. “What did I ever do to you to deserve this?!”

“You- You didn’t, you didn’t anything wrong! You didn’t deserve anything of what I did to you!” At this point, the two were face to face with each other, where Steve could only see the sword’s handle in front of him. “Please…. I’m sorry! I-I don't know how to make things right. Just tell me how!”

Jim leaned onto Steve, making his struggle to breathe any further loud and clear for the trollhunter. “You already know the answer to that.” A small smile escaped his lips. “To truly redeem yourself, you have to face the crowd and endure all the pain and suffering you deserve. You know as well as I do that you’re not even close to being a person people can tolerate.”

Steve felt like he was suffocating as he now held to Jim’s dead body. With nothing else he could think of, the trollhunter pulled the sword out and moved away from the body as far as he could, letting it collapse to the ground. As Steve walked backwards, the crowd pushed him forward.

“Murder!”

“I can’t believe you could do such a thing?!”

“Get him!”

Booming voices came from who knows how many people, calling him awful things but what he believed to be true. As the crowd was closing in on Steve, he was already at his breaking point. Hands grab Steve to restrain him, and was met with a punch in the face that came out of nowhere. Countless students came forward to throw a punch or kick at Steve. Amidst all of this, Blinky’s words then echoed in his mind. Even if it seemed like there was no way out of this, Steve knew there was still some fight left in him. As the next person got close, Steve kicked them out of the way as far as he could, only to receive a punch in the stomach.

Might as well die trying than not at all.

#tales of arcadia #trollhunters #steve palchuk #toby domzalski #claire nuñez #blinky galadrigal #aaarrrgghh #vendel #usurna #vanilla writing #damn it's been a while since I've updated this fic #but whatever #here it is

[villlainarc]

All of These Stars (Will Guide Us Home)

Summary: Logan had a guardian angel. Okay. He could sort of work with that.

Angels were real. He could work with that a bit less, though he supposed it wasn’t entirely unreasonable.

His guardian angel was very pretty and absolutely fascinating—from an objective and scientific standpoint, of course. He knew that those two were indisputable facts, so he didn’t have a problem with that, he could accept that.

The fact that he had a guardian angel meant he needed help.

Oh, absolutely not. Logan couldn’t even pretend to work with that.

In which Logan finds himself stuck with a guardian angel and a strange feeling blossoming between them.

Pairing: Logince

Warnings: brief mention of not eating (though it isn’t intentional), swearing, it gets real sad before it gets happy again

Word Count: 11,504

Taglist (ask to be added!): @max-is-tired @raaindropps @kiribakuandcats @main-chive

Notes: for the sanders sides reverse bang, run by @sanderssidesfanfiction. as per the rules of the reverse bang, the art this is inspired by was done by none other than @2queer2deer and is here

and finally, many thanks to ren for offering to beta this after it got too long for me to catch everything myself and my brain gave up on me fjskskd

ao3

_________________________

Logan was a neuroscientist. He knew that a fight or flight response was triggered when the human brain was overwhelmed and stressed. He knew exactly how it dealt with information and that if need be, it would formulate more believable scenarios when the current one couldn’t be processed. He knew that when it came to sleep deprivation, intense hallucinations would only start after a full seventy-two hours of no sleep.

Logan was not overwhelmed. Logan’s mind had always processed things in the way it should have, and he was not prone to coming up with scenarios that had never happened. While it wasn’t as much sleep as would have been ideal—seeing as he had been consistently sleep deprived for the past week—Logan had still slept for a full seven and a half hours last night.

And that’s why, for the life of him, he could not figure out why there appeared to be an angel in the middle of his lab.

“Ah,” the angel said, turning around, completely oblivious to the fact that it (he?) was not supposed to exist. “You must be Logan.”

So. The angel knew his name. Logan found himself nodding blankly in response, trying to think up some sort of explanation for why there would be a fucking angel in his lab.

“Nice to meet you then, Logan. How are you?” the angel asked, still clueless about how utterly impossible its (his?) being here was. He (Logan had decided somewhere in the back of his mind that calling something humanoid “it” felt distinctly wrong) lifted himself onto one of the stainless steel tables littered about the lab, swinging his feet as he continued talking. “I’m Roman,” he added, almost as an afterthought.

Logan blinked. The angel—or Roman, as Logan supposed he should refer to him—was sitting on his lab table, and that’s about all Logan’s mind could process at the moment. Acting on the one thing that made sense to him, Logan took a step forward. “Get off my lab table.” After taking a breath and making a very conscious effort not to scream, he tacked on a clipped, “Please.”

“Oh! Sorry, yes. I’ll do that.” Roman pushed himself smoothly off the lab table, landing on the ground with barely a sound.

“Right,” Logan said under his breath. “Right,” he repeated, this time directed more at Roman than himself. “I’m going to have to wipe that down, and then you’re going to tell me exactly why you’re here, how you know who I am, whether or not you’re actually an angel, how your wings work, and then you’re going to get the fuck out of my lab.” With that, Logan felt perfectly secure in grabbing a clean cloth and a spray bottle of bleach before walking back to the offending lab table and wiping it down thoroughly.

“I think you’re going to have to repeat all those questions for me, one at a time, and at a far slower pace,” Roman said, hovering in the background once Logan had begun cleaning. “I caught exactly none of it.”

“Yes,” Logan agreed. “I apologize, I was rambling a bit. Give me one moment and I’ll be right with you.” With a final swipe of the cloth, Logan put away the cleaning supplies and pulled a notepad out of his lab coat. “Now,” he said, scrawling something across the page as he sat down, “please, have a seat in this chair right across from me and then answer this to start: why are you here?”

“Why, for you, of course! I’m your guardian angel, Logan, and it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

That raised a fair few more questions than it answered, but Logan wasn’t going to think too hard on that just yet. He finished noting what Roman had said and then moved on to his next question. “I had asked you how you knew who I was, but I think that question just answered itself, so I’m going to skip it.” Logan tapped his pen against the notepad for a moment, recalling what he’d said next. “Ah, and then I asked if you were actually an angel, which, again, I feel has been sufficiently explained. Now then, how do your wings work?”

“Like any wings would work, I suppose,” Roman said, ruffling his feathers a bit as he stretched them out to their full width. Logan winced as a few feathers fell to the floor, making a mental note to sweep them up as soon as he could. “I flap them, and they help me fly. What else would you like to know about them?”

“Hm, they do protrude from your back, correct? And you were born with them?”

“Yes, and yes, I— where are you going?” Logan had gotten up from his chair while Roman had been in the middle of speaking, poking about his lab for something.

“Just getting a pair of gloves. Please, don’t mind me. You can continue.”

“Oh, no, that’s alright. I was pretty much done. But may I ask why you’re looking for gloves?”

“Right,” Logan agreed with a quick nod. “I suppose I shouldn’t have assumed before going to get them, but… would you mind if I touched your wings? I’m curious as to how they feel.”

“Absolutely! Be my guest.”

“Thank you. Could I ask you a few more questions while I work?”

“Ask away, darling.”

“In that case—” Logan pulled the gloves over his hands with a snap, walking up behind Roman, “—I hope this isn’t too forward or uncouth, but what exactly does it mean to be an angel? On Earth, we have a multitude of myths and ideas about what they are, how they act, where they come from, what they do, and so on. What’s the truth?”

“Hm, I can’t really answer that. Since you’re a mortal, there are certain things I’m simply not allowed to tell you. But! I can say that every culture got at least a few aspects right. Every story holds a grain of truth, and the stories of angels are no different.” Roman paused, and Logan heard the first few hints of a frown enter his voice. “What are you doing back there, anyway? It tickles.”

“Me? Oh, I’m just looking for muscles or bones, I suppose, though anything interesting would do. I’m not sure. Do you happen to know what your wings are made of?”

“Um. Muscle, probably? And bone and feathers? I’m not sure, honestly. It’s not something that’s of particular importance, you know?”

“I see,” Logan said, still running his hands through Roman’s feathers. “They appear to be almost identical to bird wings, did you know that?”

“…No? Is that a good thing?”

“It means they were specifically designed for flight, likely longer flights as well. They’re more similar in structure to the wings of a bird of prey, though I suppose that would make sense, especially considering that the rest of you is humanoid and we too are a predatory species. So yes,” Logan concluded, clearing his throat awkwardly. “I’d say that is a good thing.”

Roman turned his head slightly, watching Logan pull off his gloves and put them carefully in a waste container with a curious look in his eyes. “Well, I’m glad.”

“Do you mind if I take a few of your feathers to study them?” Upon seeing Roman bristle a little at the thought, Logan added swiftly, “I was only referring to the ones that have fallen to the floor, I wouldn’t take them directly from your wings, not to worry.”

“I don’t see why not, then. You didn’t have to ask, you know.”

Logan shrugged. “It’s always better to ask about everything when working with human—or humanoid, in your case—test subjects.”

“Hm,” Roman replied, cocking his head to the side as Logan lifted a few feathers from the ground with a pair of tweezers before carefully sealing them in a plastic bag.

Once he’d done that though, Logan’s scientific curiosity immediately waned, leaving only a looming sense of panic because, as he’d somehow managed to forget, there was a fucking angel in his science lab and absolutely no protocol for handling such a situation. “I need to sit down,” he decided aloud.

“Good idea,” Roman hummed, getting out of his own chair and making his way around the lab. “This is where you work, huh?”

“Yes. Don’t touch a thing.” Logan’s words were purely instinctual, any rational thought he may have had vanishing rapidly.

“Noted,” Roman replied, making a show of folding his hands behind his back before peering into a microscope. “You’re a neuroscientist, right?”

“Shouldn’t you already know that? Being my ‘guardian angel’ and all,” Logan said, and he would have put finger quotes around the words “guardian angel” if his hands were not currently occupied with holding his head between them. Logically, Logan knew his sarcasm and disbelief stemmed from the fact that he was currently falling into denial but emotionally, Logan was very far from ready to acknowledge the fact that angels just might exist—no, scratch that—that they did exist.

“Oh, of course I knew that. I’m merely trying to make small talk. You seem a bit overwhelmed, that’s all.”

“This ‘small talk’ is only serving to make me more overwhelmed.”

“Ah. Would you prefer if I got straight to the core of your psychological issues and the reason you’ve been deemed worthy of being assigned a guardian angel?”

“…I’m going to have to say no to that. What would really help is you shutting the fuck up so I can think straight.”

“Jeez, I knew you weren’t good at making friends, but I didn’t—”

“So sorry, did you not hear when I asked for complete silence?”

“Right, right. Got it. Shutting up now.”

Logan let out a sigh at that, letting his head drop once more into his hands.

He had a guardian angel. Okay. He could sort of work with that.

Angels were real. He could work with that a bit less, though he supposed it wasn’t entirely unreasonable.

The angel was very pretty and absolutely fascinating—from an objective and scientific standpoint, of course. He knew that those were just indisputable facts, so he didn’t have a problem with that, he could accept that.

The fact that he had a guardian angel meant that he needed help.

Oh, absolutely not. Logan couldn’t even pretend to work with that.

Having come to a decision, he lifted his head from his hands. “You need to get out. Now.”

Roman blinked at him from his place behind a different microscope than the one he’d been near before. “I— what? Why?”

“I don’t need—nor do I want a guardian angel, so I’m asking you to leave. That’s all, I can assure you it’s not personal.”

“Logan, darling, I’m frankly offended that you would imply that I would just abandon you like that! Besides, I’m tied to you until further notice. I couldn’t leave you behind even if I wanted to—which, for the record, I don’t now and won’t ever.”

“Yes, well— figure something out. I am not entertaining this any longer. I apologize for the inconvenience, but you are of no use to me. Thank whoever’s in charge for thinking of me, and goodbye, Roman. It was nice meeting you.”

“…So, what do you not understand about the fact that I cannot physically leave? Because I thought that was pretty clear, but if you need me to, I can explain again.”

“I understood you perfectly fine,” Logan said, standing up and taking an unintentionally menacing step towards Roman. “I simply don’t care. I’d thank you kindly for leaving me alone. I don’t need your help.”

“Was that an invitation for me to list all the ways you do, in fact, need my help?”

“No, it really wasn’t, it was actually a very explicit invitation to leave me alone and get the fu—”

“So! First of all, you’re lonely.”

“That’s just wrong, plain and simple. I have Patton and I have Virgil, not to mention my family and—”

“Very true, but if you try to tell me they truly understand you, you’d be lying, no?”

Logan had nothing to say to that.

“Exactly. Secondly, your ambition and curiosity are the only things you’re living for. You have no proper sense of self and no confidence in who you are as a person.”

“I—”

“No, no, I’m not done yet. Thirdly, you still haven’t moved past the fact that your aspirations and curiosities have always been mocked and still don’t feel that you can speak your mind freely because you fear you’ll be belittled for your interests.”

“I think that’s more than enough, I get the idea—”

“And finally,” Roman said a bit louder, talking over Logan’s objections, “in your drive to prove the people from your past wrong, you’ve lost all trust in those closest to you. Not only are you lonely now, you still insist on keeping everyone at a distance so you will forever be lonely.”

Logan was silent.

“So, how did I do? Was I right?”

“Perhaps a few things you said were somewhat accurate, but that in no way means I need your help. Because I don’t.”

“Mm, my boss begs to differ, and so do I. Besides, you really don’t have a say in this. You’re stuck with me, I’m afraid.” Roman didn’t seem very troubled with this information, sending Logan a sparkling grin followed quickly by a wink.

“Well then. Let’s just say you do end up staying around. What exactly do you plan on doing that any good therapist couldn’t?”

“Well, for starters, I’m an angel, Logan. My angelic nature is a healing force all on its own. Secondly, a therapist couldn’t provide you with love now, could they? They wouldn’t be able to help you feel less lonely by being your friend, huh?”

“I don’t need—”

“You don’t need friends? Everyone needs friends, Logan. It’s human nature, I’m sure you know that.”

Logan sighed, running a hand absently through his hair. “Let’s say I ignore you. Would you eventually leave me alone?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Alright then, let’s just pretend I do accept your existence in my life. How am I supposed to explain who you are?”

“Oh, don’t worry about that, darling. I can handle the explanations, that was all a part of my training.”

“How comforting. Now, what happens if I’m never deemed ‘fixed?’ Do you just have to live with me until I die? Does that mean you’ve failed?”

“Okay, so let’s get one thing straight—”

“I don’t think you can do that. I’m gay.”

“Oh, I know, it’s just a figure of speech, but anyway, that wasn’t even the point. What I was going to say is that you aren’t being ‘fixed.’ You don’t need to be fixed, you need love and support. So I’m not here to fix you, I’m here to help you, and I won’t fail in that, Logan.”

“That’s a sweet sentiment I suppose, but that doesn’t eliminate the possibility of failure by any means.”

“Well then, it seems we have an opportunity here, now don’t we?”

“Do I want to know what that entails?”

“Quite possibly not, but you also don’t have a choice. Either way though, you need to learn how to trust people, right? Here’s your first chance. Trust that I won’t fail you, because that’s all you can really do in this case.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Hm, I don’t think that sounded much like you trusting me, somehow. Let’s try that again: I won’t fail you, Logan. Trust me.”

“I… will ignore the possibility that you might fail.”

Roman snorted. “That’s closer, at least. You’ll get there someday.”

“Well,” Logan said, clearing his throat. “Would you mind getting out of my lab while I work, at least? I’m afraid I won’t be able to concentrate with someone else in the room.”

“Even if that someone’s fabulously charming and winningly handsome?”

“I’m afraid so, and I’m so very sorry about that,” Logan said, not sounding very sorry at all.

“You don’t sound very sorry at all,” Roman pouted.

“Yes, well, I am and I’ve wasted enough time entertaining you. So if you don’t mind, I have work to do now.”

“Ooo, what are you doing toda—”

“No, nope, absolutely not, get out.” He herded Roman out the door, slamming it once he’d made it through. Leaning his head against it with a sigh, Logan made a futile attempt to collect his thoughts, knowing instinctively that no matter how hard he tried, he would be getting absolutely nothing of worth done today.

_________________________

For the next several weeks, Logan was constantly plagued by Roman’s continued existence.

The angel refused to leave him alone for more than fifteen minutes at a time, and Logan was certain he was going absolutely insane because of it. No matter how many locked doors he hid behind, Roman always managed to find a way through. Logan hypothesized that it was magic, but Roman vehemently denied that when asked.

“Me? Use magic? Why, of course not! It’s not allowed when I’m on Earth because I’m supposed to be ‘blending in,’ and I would never break a rule as important as that. I’m shocked and appalled that you’d accuse me of such a thing, my darling Logan.”

Logan didn’t believe that absolute bullshit for a second, but he could never prove anything to the contrary, even though he did spend nearly every waking moment with Roman. Even if he could never get Roman to stop talking. Even if he was overwhelmed with the constant onslaught of Roman Roman Roman—

At that point, Logan couldn’t remember what he had been trying to find out in the first place. As he spent more time around Roman’s constant chatter, he could feel himself physically losing brain cells; it was getting harder to think, harder to move, harder to calm his head, his heart, his breaths.

It was possible that he should have mentioned this to Roman, but Logan didn’t want to tell the angel any more than necessary, even though doing so would mean that he would leave him behind sooner. That wasn’t worth the vulnerability he would be showing, nothing was.

So he just had to… survive.

He could survive; he’d done so all his life, clearly. There was no reason at all for him to stop now.

Besides, he had a few hours of Roman-free time while he was at work, and that was enough to let him breathe properly. Though it was gradually becoming harder for him to concentrate long enough to find the correct train of thought to follow, his time spent at work as a neuroscientist was still far superior to any time spent around Roman.

At least, it had been before today. Because today, everything—everything—was going wrong.

First, it was his alarm being set to the wrong sound. Instead of waking him up with its usual serene tones that gradually increased in volume, it emitted a jarring series of beeps that physically hurt Logan when he heard them.

Then, it was his coffee being too cold, then too sweet, then being spilled over his counter. It hadn’t all been lost, but what was left in the thermos wasn’t enough to placate Logan as the right amount would have on any other day.

After the spilled coffee came the pout Roman gave him after he’d snapped at him for humming too loudly. After the pout came the imploring request to pretty please tell Roman what was wrong, after the request came another bout of waspish remarks, after the waspish remarks came another pout, and after the pout, Logan simply left.

Once he arrived at work, Logan was certain that his day was going to get better. It could only go up from the pit he’d fallen into, right?

Wrong. Logan’s day could—and would—get so much worse.

The first thing to go wrong at work was seeing his messy lab. He’d been tired when he’d left last night, leaving the clean up to his future self. This was proving to have been a terrible idea.

Cringing at the equipment strewn all over, Logan locked his bag away in a locker on the left wall and got to work cleaning.

That, at least, was calming.

What was decidedly not calming was having one of his coworkers burst through the door without so much as a knock. This was the second thing to go wrong after Logan had arrived at work, and the following conversation was the third.

“You aren’t busy, are you?”

“As a matter of fact, I—”

“Doesn’t matter. We need you to check out these scans right about… oh, now, but no pressure of course. I’ll be in room 312 whenever you’re done,” the man—whose name Logan couldn’t seem to remember for the life of him—interrupted with a tight smile. “Thanks,” he added as an afterthought, strolling out of the lab without even having the decency to close the door behind him.

The fourth thing to go wrong was the fact that Logan had to actually concentrate on doing something while there was still clutter all over the room, but he did manage to do so with only mild suffering.

Logan had just begun to grow hungry when the realization of the fifth thing to go wrong dawned on him. He’d forgotten to pack his lunch.

Fuck.

This wasn’t catastrophic, of course. He could always go somewhere to buy lunch, but it was while Logan was searching for his wallet that he remembered leaving it on the counter at home. While Logan would by no means starve without lunch, not having food to sustain him for the rest of the day would not bode well for anyone who needed to speak with him.

That was the sixth thing that went wrong.

The seventh thing to go wrong was Logan’s lightheadedness, a sudden reminder that he hadn’t had breakfast either, so consumed had he been with the spilled coffee and argument with Roman. This left him with two awful options. He could either wait until he got home to eat (which would have countless adverse effects on his physical health) or he could ask to borrow money from someone he worked with (which would have countless adverse effects on his mental health). There really was no winning for him.

But having to deal with the discomfort of asking for money seemed to Logan a lesser evil at that point than having to wait for several more hours before he’d be able to alleviate the gnawing pain in his stomach.

This was the eighth thing to go wrong, the ninth being the fact that the sandwich he’d been lent had been slathered with mayo and gone soggy because of it.

Logan’s day seemed to be looking up after lunch, though, as he had finally managed to finish cleaning up his lab by that point and was able to continue research into a different patient’s condition at a more leisurely pace than he’d had to think at that morning.

There was still so much that could go wrong, though, and it all did.

The tenth thing was a conversation with a coworker that stretched on for a small eternity, the eleventh a series of three brand new things he had to do at “his earliest convenience,” the twelfth a glass beaker that Logan had dropped shattering to pieces on the floor.

Logan left after he’d cleaned up that mess, not wanting to get to the thirteenth bad thing because although he was far from superstitious, the fact that he now knew angels existed was fucking with his mind in that regard.

Once he got home, he restarted the count of things that went wrong solely for his own sanity. Reaching a count of unfortunate incidents that was any higher than twenty things would make him want to scream, so when he saw Roman waiting for him on the couch as soon as he walked through the doorway, he considered that the first terrible thing to happen once he’d gotten home as opposed to the twenty-first terrible thing that had happened in total.

The second thing was the discovery that Roman had raided his refrigerator earlier that day and eaten the lunch he’d made for himself, the third that he found his house to be entirely void of Crofters jam. The fourth was the fact that peanut butter eaten alone made his mouth feel thick and dry, the fifth Roman’s proclamation that he’d told Logan so.

The sixth thing to go wrong once Logan got home was the fact that Roman would simply not stop singing, even after he’d mentioned that he was going to take a nap because it had been a long day so could he please be quiet for just thirty minutes? That was all he wanted, thirty blissful minutes of peace and quiet.

He didn’t even get five.

That was alright though, he decided, because he could read and block out any noise that happened to drift his way, obnoxious singing included.

The seventh tragedy occurred when Logan finished his book and had to return once again to reality and the angel that came with it. It was getting dark, and Logan should have gone to the kitchen to get food at that point. He hadn’t eaten much at all today, but going to the kitchen also meant having to deal with Roman and his loud voice and prying questions and— nope. Logan didn’t have enough mental energy left to handle that.

So instead, he decided to do what he always did when his problems proved to be too much for him. He ran away from them.

Specifically, he ran away to a field of wildflowers in the middle of nowhere with the most perfect view of the stars he’d ever seen.

While that was still running away, Logan tended to ignore that in favor of admiring the night sky.

Now, all he had to do was get out of the house without running into Roman. He would want to know where Logan was going and then he’d have to explain and then Roman would want to come with him and that could only end with Logan becoming even more frustrated with the world, so he opted to leave through his window.

He’d never tried to do that before, so he was pleasantly surprised when he made it out with only a slight stumble. Without the walls of his house closing in on him, Logan noted that he felt more at ease than he had all day. The night air also helped to calm him, and his entire demeanor had relaxed by the time he reached his field of wildflowers.

Letting out a sigh, Logan felt any remaining tension melt away as he sat down beneath the leaves of a willow tree. He leaned his head back against its trunk and allowed himself to simply trace the constellations above him with his eyes.

When he’d been far younger, more naive, and less concerned with making enough money to live comfortably, Logan had seriously considered becoming an astronomer. He’d also toyed with the thought of being an astrophysicist, but the idea of having to work with concepts that weren’t concrete or truly proven made him feel slightly panicked and had turned him off from that completely. Still though, he’d always found anything to do with planets, galaxies, stars, and anything in between to be utterly fascinating. He could have spent hours in the library reading about astronomers and their discoveries from centuries past, and while Logan wouldn’t ever be one to work solely in theoreticals, learning about those theories was almost more fascinating than the facts themselves. No matter what else was going on in his life at the time, he had always been able to turn to the stars in some form or another as a calming presence. They were the one constant that hadn’t managed to fade from his life, and Logan was incredibly grateful for it. He didn’t even want to think about a life lived without the stars for company.

That’s why this field of wildflowers meant so much to him; it wasn’t the place itself as much as it was what it allowed him to see. His surroundings were undoubtedly beautiful, but they paled in comparison to the sky above. And, sitting beneath the willow tree and looking up, up, up, Logan was perfectly content.

He would have stayed that way too were it not for the arrival of one The Blessed Roman, guardian angel.

“Logan? What are you doing all the way out here?”

Sighing, Logan avoided the question. “Did you follow me?”

“No! Well, kind of. That depends on what you mean by following. No, I didn’t see you leave and then decide to leave then as well. But yes, I did notice that you were being awfully quiet and decide to check on you before discovering that you were gone before using the bond between us to guide me here.”

“Wonderful, so I can never escape you.”

“No, you really can’t, I’m afraid.” Roman walked the rest of the way to the trunk of the willow tree, sitting down beside Logan and pressing his back up against it as well. “Now, why are you here?”

“I don’t want to talk about it, and I don’t want to talk to you. In fact, I would much prefer to be left alone.”

“Ah, you’re shutting down again. You don’t want to be vulnerable, so you’re pushing me away when I try to get you to open up. You definitely shouldn’t do that, especially considering that no matter how vulnerable you are, I am physically not able to hurt you in any way, shape, or form. I promise you can trust me.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that I don’t want to talk about this.”

“Oh, that’s fine too! You can talk about anything, but please, Logan, just talk to me.”

“I— why?”

Roman shrugged. “Talking helps, sometimes. Just to have someone who’ll listen to you, you know?”

“I’ll try it, I suppose. But if I ask you to leave me alone again, please do so.”

“Of course, darling.”

“Alright. So.” Logan cleared his throat, not knowing how to continue. He looked up at the stars again, and his eyes lit up with the sudden brilliance of an idea. “Look at the sky, and see that star over there? The really bright one?”

“Yes, I believe so.”

“Its name is Rasalhague, which is derived from the Arabic phrase meaning ‘the head of the serpent collector.’ And since it’s the brightest star in the constellation Ophiuchus—a constellation depicting a man often believed to be the Greek god of medicine, Asclepius, with a serpent in his hands—the name is rather fitting. And the bright star below it? That’s Sabik. Its name also comes from Arabic, meaning ‘the preceding one,’ though this time there’s no fitting explanation as to why. If you connect those two stars with twenty-five others, the brightest ones being there, there, there, here, there, and there—” Logan pointed at a new star in the constellation with each word he spoke, “—then you have the full Ophiuchus constellation. And if you look just to the left of Sabik, you can see Serpens Cauda, which is the tail of the serpent Asclepius is holding. Now, below and slightly to the right of Rasalhague is Serpens Caput, the other half of the full Serpens constellation. If you translate their names from Latin, they mean exactly what they are supposed to depict: ‘snake tail’ and ‘snake head,’ respectively.”

“Oh! I remember those! If I’m not mistaken, I helped to create them.”

At that, Logan’s gaze snapped back down to Earth. “You did what?” he asked, voice breathy with awe.

“I’m an angel, Logan, of course I helped with the creation of the universe! I made quite a few stars, actually. I think you humans call the constellations they make up Corona Borealis and Corona Australis? The northern and southern crowns? There are a few others that don’t remember the names of, but if you look over there—” at this, Roman took Logan’s hand in his and moved it in a circle around a spot in the sky a little bit to the left of Ophiuchus and Serpens, “—that’s where most of my stars are.”

Breathless, Logan went quiet for a few moments, trying to remember which constellation those stars made up, if any. Then, without warning, he gasped. “Oh! Oh, your stars are near Microscopium and Telescopium, two of the six constellations Lacaille discovered and named after scientific instruments and navigational tools, all first documented in 1756. Lacaille was a French astronomer who also christened a fair amount of other modern constellations the same year, but my favorites are those six: Microscopium and Telescopium, of course, and Fornax, which is the chemist’s distillation furnace, Octans, the octant, Pyxis, the compass, and Circinus, the dividing compasses. You can’t see all of them right now since they’re in different places throughout the sky and some of them aren’t as bright nor as recognizable as, say, Ursa Major and Minor or Orion’s Belt, so even then they would be more difficult to see, but—” Logan stopped, seeming to catch himself. “Sorry. You probably didn’t want to hear about all that.”

“No!” The intensity in Roman’s voice caused Logan to turn towards him in confusion, a slight frown on his face. “I mean, of course I want to continue to hear you talk about constellations, so no, please don’t stop talking, please never assume I won’t want to hear what you have to say. It’s interesting, and I like hearing the joy in your voice.”

“Ah,” Logan said, his face coloring lightly. He cleared his throat again before continuing in a softer voice, “Thank you.”

“Of course, Logan. When you talk about stars or space or science or honestly, anything that makes you smile, it’s—no, you—are beautiful.”

“I’m just… lecturing, really, and there’s nothing special about that.” Logan rubbed awkwardly at the back of his neck. “Besides, you were the one who created the stars I was telling you about. Compared to that, I didn’t do anything at all.”

“On the contrary, I think your knowledge is far more than a simple ‘anything.’ When I formed those stars out of light and space dust, I never could have imagined them inspiring a smile—or anything else, for that matter—so gorgeous.”

Logan wanted to ask how Roman could have possibly believed that stars, some of the most beautiful creations in existence, wouldn’t result in something just as pretty.

Logan also wanted to completely ignore the fact that Roman thought the resulting pretty thing was his smile, fearing how flustered he’d become if Roman so much as alluded to that statement again. Eventually though, he settled on a response that didn’t encapsulate even half as much as he was feeling. “Thank you for creating them,” he said.

“If they’ve brought you even a fraction of the amount of happiness as they seem to have, it all will have been worth it.”

Logan felt himself blushing again, but he chose to pretend that his face was not a brilliant shade of red. “Yes, well—” he trailed off, finding himself unable to think of the right words to say.

Roman laughed, lightly setting his hand over Logan’s to pat it in a show of fond affection. “You’re adorable.” He grinned once more, shifting his grip so he was holding Logan’s hand properly before moving on to an entirely new subject. “Anyhow, are you feeling any better?”

“Actually? I think I am,” Logan said, making a valiant attempt to convince himself that his improved mood had nothing to do with the fact that Roman was so casually holding his hand.

“Soo… are you saying that I was right?”

“Oh, absolutely not. I would never.” Roman laughed again, and Logan found himself smiling at the sound. “But thank you.”

“Of course, Logan. That’s why I’m here.”

“I know it is, but… it’s nice to have someone pretend to care anyway.”

“I’m not pretending.”

“Aren’t you?”

“No, I’m not. I promise you, Logan, I will never pretend with you.”

“Oh.” There was an odd sort of warmth in Logan’s chest, and he wanted to hold onto the memory of it for the rest of his life. As he drowned in that wonderful feeling, he felt the rest of his day fade into nothing, completely insignificant in this current moment of peace. “Thank you,” he repeated.

“You’re welcome,” Roman replied, but it sounded like he meant something else too, something hidden just beneath his spoken words that Logan couldn’t quite pick up on.

With a soft sigh, Logan leaned closer and rested his head on Roman’s shoulder. “You know,” he began, “I should apologize for the way I treated you earlier today. It was uncalled for, and you didn’t deserve it. I took out my feelings on you when you didn’t really do anything but sing too loudly—which, to be fair, can be incredibly annoying, but I digress—so I’m sorry.”

“Um,” Roman said in a way that was very nearly a squeak as he looked down at Logan. “Thanks.” He swallowed, and his voice returned to normal when he spoke again. “Now that you mention it though, I should probably do less of that when you’re around. I didn’t realize it bothered you as much as it did, so I too apologize.”

“Thank you,” Logan said, a relieved smile spreading across his face. “And I’ll do my best to remind you in a less snappish way whenever it gets on my nerves.”

“That would be nice, yes,” Roman agreed, returning Logan’s smile with a soft one of his own. “Now, I don’t want to ruin the moment, but I am truly glad I got to talk to you tonight. I know it may not seem like a lot, but it’s a better start than I would have ever hoped for you. Forgive me if this sounds odd, but I’m incredibly proud of you for that.”

“You’re very pushy, it was going to happen eventually.” Logan let out a small laugh at Roman’s answering noise of offense before clarifying, “And it’s nice to talk to you. I like having someone who’ll listen to me.”

“More people should listen to you. You’re fascinating, Logan.”

Logan felt his face heat up and his heart flutter yet again. “I— hngk.” he turned to bury his face in Roman’s shoulder. “You aren’t so bad yourself, I suppose,” he replied eventually, once his face had cooled down just a bit and his heart had slowed to a slightly more normal pace.

Roman hummed his agreement, placing a light kiss on the top of Logan’s head—which, for the record, completely nullified any progress Logan’s face and heart had made in calming themselves—before saying, “It’s getting rather late, and you’ve had a long day. We should go home.”

“Hm, we should,” Logan agreed, making no effort to move.

Roman sighed. “If you want, I could carry you.”

“What?!” Unlike Roman’s almost-squeak, Logan’s was far more obvious. “No, no, that’s alright, there’s no need for you to carry me. It’s fine, it’s all fine,” he said, standing suddenly and brushing nonexistent dirt off his clothes.

“Let us be off then!” Roman declared, kindly ignoring Logan’s flustered state and offering out his arm with a flourish.

Logan placed his hand in the crook of it, a smile that didn’t read at all as love-struck back on his face. “What a perfect gentleman.”

_________________________

After their conversation beneath the willow tree, Logan’s days passed much more peacefully. Roman wasn’t as loud and overbearing, and Logan found that talking to him about anything and everything was just as easy as it had been that night. Their days were full of laughter and happiness, and Logan finally grew comfortable with the idea of living with a—with his—guardian angel.

Logan had also grown painfully aware of the lulls in conversation whenever Roman complimented him and he found himself at a complete loss for words or when he shot Roman an unexpected smile and the angel’s face turned a shade of red almost as bright as the sash he’d had on the day Logan had met him. He was certain it couldn’t have meant much, but those lulls still blinked out at him like a neon sign on a deserted street.

…Alright, so it was possible that he wasn’t so naïve as to think that the constant state of being flustered and the constant blushing and the constant heated eye contact and everything else that had been happening meant nothing. And it was possible that he was aware that this likely meant he harbored feelings for Roman and Roman for him, but that in no way meant that he had to acknowledge these feelings.

He very much did not want to waste a month of perfectly good friendship, so he would also very much pretend these feelings did not exist.

At least, this is what he would have done had he not walked into his room one day while Roman was stretching his wings.

It was only then that Logan had realized that he hadn’t seen Roman’s wings at all since the first day they’d met and in all honesty, had nearly forgotten about him. There were times when Roman seemed so human that Logan couldn’t believe that was not the case. When he saw Roman’s wings though, he was reminded sharply of the fact that Roman was an angel, through and through.

Roman was an angel, and he was falling.

Logan assumed that this was why Roman’s wings were going black at the tips, but he still figured clarifying would be prudent. “Roman?” he asked, knocking lightly on the door frame to alert the angel to his presence.

“Logan!” Roman exclaimed, spinning around and hiding his wings behind him as best he could in one rapid movement. “What— what are you doing here, my darling?”

Giving a sigh that was altogether too fond, Logan said, “This is my room, Roman. I’m in here because I forgot my glasses on the nightstand.”

“Oh,” Roman nodded, still trying to make his wings disappear behind his body. “Yeah, that makes sense. Uh, go ahead and, um. Get your glasses so you can see. Not! That there’s anything interesting to see here.” Roman flashed him a sparkling grin, hiding the layer of panic beneath it.

“Telling me that there isn’t ‘anything interesting to see here’ is only going to convince me of the opposite. Besides, I already saw your wings. Why are they turning black?”

“That? Oh, that’s nothing!”

Logan raised an eyebrow.

“…By ‘nothing,’ I of course mean nothing of importance! I tried dyeing my feathers and was checking to see how they looked. It’s not good, I know,” Roman said with a laugh, that impressively enough, barely sounded forced.

“Are you falling?” Logan asked, ignoring Roman’s explanation entirely.

“Am I— am I falling?” Roman scoffed. “Why on Earth would I be falling? There’s no reason for me to fall, is there?”

“Well, I don’t think I should know. I’m not the one who knows the rules and hierarchy of the angels. So, you tell me. What reason would there be for you—or angels in general, I suppose—to fall?”

“Ah. Angels fall when they do… something bad. You know. Bad things. Evil things.”

Logan raised an eyebrow again. “Such as?”

“Oooh, you know. Pride, sometimes. Or jealousy, sloth, lust, greed, gluttony, wrath, too much disrespect or insubordination, not doing their job, uh, consorting with the enemy, and other such wickedness. Just. General bad things, as I said.”

“So, have you been prideful?”

“Not any more than what’s healthy.”

“Jealous? Lazy? Lustful? Greedy, gluttonous, wrathful?”

“Nope.”

“And I know you haven’t been disrespectful and that you have been doing your job.”

“Mhm. See, Logan? No reason at all for me to fall.”

“What would you define ‘the enemy’ as?”

“What?”

“ ‘The enemy,’ ” Logan repeated. “As in, ‘consorting with the enemy.’ ”

“Oh! Some define it as any non-angelic entity, but most would agree that ‘the enemy’ is more along the lines of a beast from Hell or another demon of sorts. And I clearly haven’t been consorting with any demons, so—”

“Define ‘consorting’ for me in this context, will you?”

“Well, normally it would mean to closely associate yourself with someone, but, seeing as I am a guardian angel, that is sort of my job. I’m not consorting with you if that’s what you’re worried about. The only way I’d be able to properly consort with you would be if I developed some sort of bond with you outside of a normal guardian angel-mortal relationship. Which! I haven’t! I’m just helping you work through your issues, and if I just so happen to become closer to you while doing so, no one could fault me for that!”

“Roman, I hate to break it to you, but that sounds exactly like consorting with the enemy. If you’ll excuse me for pointing this out, I feel we have a relationship that is just a little bit different than a strictly professional one.”

“Okay, so maybe you’re right. But almost all good guardian angels become friends with their humans! I’m hardly the first one, and none of them have fallen.”

“Mm, I suppose that is true. Can you think of any other reason that you could be falling?”

“Well… there is this one thing? That might possibly be happening? But I sincerely doubt it is,” Roman said through blithe laughter.

“Do you admit that you are falling, then?”

“I— uh, no…?”

“That convinced me of precisely nothing, thank you.”

“You’re welcome!” Roman’s demeanor brightened immediately upon saying this, as though pretending that everything was fine would convince Logan that it was.

It didn’t work, clearly, as Logan asked not a moment later, “Now, what’s that thing that might possibly be happening?”

“That? Oh, nothing! Again, nothing at all of importance. I assure you I’m fine, Logan. I can take care of myself.”

“I have no doubt that you could. In theory, at least.” Logan couldn’t help the smile that spread over his face at Roman’s offended gasps, but he managed to continue through barely repressed laughter. “But right now, you are very much not taking care of yourself for whatever reason. Care to inform me what that’s about?”

“I mean, no. Is that an option?”

Logan sighed in fond exasperation. “I’m afraid not.”

“Well. It was worth a shot.”

“No, it really wasn’t.”

“You’re no fun. But! Nice talk, it was great to see you, Lo!”

“…What are you doing.”

“Uh, I’m going to finish getting ready for the day?���

“And are you just assuming that I forgot about the whole ’you’re falling’ thing?”

“…Yes.”

“That would be incorrect, then. Please Roman, just let me know what’s going on. It’s clear you’re hiding something, so what is it?”

Roman winced at the accusation, sitting down on the bed. “Is there anything I could say to convince you to stop prying?”

“No, nothing at all,” Logan replied, sitting down next to him.

“Then… it would be best to just say it, right? Not draw it out for too long?”

“Yes, that is what most people would prefer to do.”

“I fell in love with you, Logan.”

“You did.”

“I did.”

Logan wasn’t sure why he felt so shocked, in all honesty. He’d known that this was very likely to be true. He’d known that Roman was falling from the second he’d walked in the room, and he’d had his suspicions as to why he was a moment later. He was at a loss, then, as to why he would possibly be feeling tears on his cheeks.

“Are you… crying? Did I say something wrong?”

“No, I— no. You’re fine.” Logan turned away to wipe the wetness from his cheeks before looking back up at Roman. “I believe it’s just that you—essentially, you’re falling because of me, aren’t you?”

“Well, not exactly. This is still entirely my own doing, after all.”

“But it is because you fell in love with me that you’re falling, correct?”

“I mean kind of, but I promise you that this isn’t your fault, Logan.”

“Isn’t it?” he asked, wiping away the final traces of his sadness from beneath his eyes. “If I had—”

“What, been less easy to love? You aren’t easy to love, Logan, and that’s one of the infinite reasons I do love you. I had to do so much to be granted even a glimpse of who you are, and after I did… well, I can hardly fault you for being yourself.” Roman gave him a bittersweet smile. “It wasn’t any one thing that caused me to fall in love with you, it was everything that you are and were. I love you—not something that you said or did or anything else—and there’s nothing you could have done to change that. My fall isn’t your fault, Logan. I promise.”

Logan dutifully ignored the blush that began to cover his face. “Is there any way to stop an angel from falling?”

“I’m not sure. But frankly, Logan, I don’t mind falling one bit if it’s for you.”

“That’s incredibly sweet and all, but I am trying to figure out a way to save your soul here, so I’d appreciate any information you may have on hand.”

“Yes, right. I, uh, I’m sorry to say that there isn’t a way to save a fallen angel, darling. You can’t raise angels, so while I do appreciate the fact that you care for me, there’s nothing you can do.”

“You haven’t fallen though, have you?”

“No, the darkening wings just indicate that I’m going to, and I’m going to soon.”

“You haven’t fallen yet,” Logan repeated, giving Roman a pointed look.

“…Yes. That’s what I just said.”

Logan shook his head, deciding to fully explain what he was thinking himself. “So if you stop doing whatever is causing you to fall, halt the progression of black over the rest of your wings… you could still be saved. You are still an angel, so you can be saved. All you have to do is—”

“No. Absolutely not. Logan, I made you a promise, and I won’t break it. I won’t—”

“—leave me behind.”

“—leave you behind.”

“You have to. I want you to be able to remain an angel, to not fall, to be happy because I—”

“I can’t. I don’t care what happens to me as long as it means I still get to see you and spend time with you and as long as you’re happy because I—”

“—love you,” they finished in unison.

“And that’s why you have to leave.”

“And that’s why I can’t leave.”

“I love you,” they said again, perfectly in sync, the words meaning everything and not nearly enough all at once.

“I don’t want to lose you,” Logan whispered.

“So then you won’t,” Roman replied, voice just as quiet.

“But I— I know there’s no other choice.”

“There’s always another choice.”

“Not this time. No matter what you do, I lose you.”

“Logan—”

“You have to leave. You have to go back to— to heaven or whatever sort of paradise it is that you came from. At least this way, I’ll get to say goodbye.”

“Logan—”

“Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me there’s another way, and I’ll stop.” It was a question, a challenge, but most of all, it was a plea.

“I—” Roman took a quivering breath. “You’re right. You’re always right,” he said with a slightly watery laugh. “There’s no other way. You’re right.”

There was a tragic sort of irony in that. The one time he wished more than anything that he was wrong, Logan knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he wasn’t. “I’m sorry,” he said as he leaned forward, resting his head against Roman’s chest. “I’m sorry.”

“I am too.”

Logan looked up and placed a delicate kiss on Roman’s cheek. “Do you— are you alright with leaving now?”

“Now?”

“I know it’s sudden, but I— I don’t want to draw this out any longer than necessary, not while I know that you’ll be leaving soon enough anyway.”

“Yeah. Yeah, that makes sense.”

Both Logan and Roman went silent for a moment, neither moving, neither wanting the world to continue hurtling towards the end of their time together. Finally though, Roman spoke.

“How about one more day?”

“One more day?”

“Mhm. Just… spend one more day together, and then I leave tonight. So we can part with a few more beautiful memories of each other to hold on to.”

“That sounds—” Logan had to pause, clearing his throat to banish the emotion from his voice. “That sounds nice.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Do you have a plan?”

“Oh, absolutely not.”

Logan laughed, happy to ignore the ticking countdown in the back of his head until later. “I figured I’d ask, but somehow, I didn’t think you would.”

“You know me too well, love.” Roman lightly kissed the top of Logan’s head before continuing, “Give me a few minutes, and I’ll be ready. You’re good just wandering around town for a while, right?”

“With you?” Logan smiled. “How could I not be?”

_________________________

Time has a funny way of passing sometimes. When you’re looking forward to something, it seems to crawl. When you’re doing something you enjoy, it can become negligible and easily forgotten. When you have nothing to gauge it by, Mondays become Thursdays and Thursdays become Sundays.

And of course, when you’re dreading something, the time before it passes in a blur.

Roman and Logan’s day passed in a blur.

They’d gone to all three bookshops within walking distance of Logan’s house and the ice cream shop situated beside the final one. There was an odd little museum near the edge of town, and they’d dropped by there too. They had brunch at a charming cafe and made up stories about the people that walked past the window, perused the aisles of several stores just so Roman could try on increasingly eccentric outfits for Logan’s amusement and bought nothing. At the dog park just off of Main Street, they’d stopped to laugh with each other at the antics of the puppies that rushed to and fro before strolling along the road towards a park of their own, lined with the most beautiful flowering trees. They stopped in bakeries and candy stores, coffee shops and out-of-the-way boutiques filled to the brim with various antiques and trinkets. Logan and Roman did all that and still would have sworn they couldn’t have spent any more than four hours together.

It was, of course, closer to eight and a half hours since they’d walked into the first bookshop to the moment the sun had almost fully set and their day was over.

Time can do that to you sometimes.

Similarly to the way time had felt earlier in the day, time after the sun had set passed in flashes, quick as lightning and just as bright. The walk to their willow tree should have taken at least fifteen minutes, but it felt as short as one shallow breath.

When they did reach the willow tree, they stood there for what felt like an eternity, lost in each other’s eyes before Roman broke the silence. “Dance with me,” he said.

And though Logan had never once danced in his life, he replied, “Of course.”

Beneath the moonlight that filtered through the willow tree’s branches, Roman twirled Logan to the beat of the silence around them. Neither pointed out the lack of music, and neither mentioned that Roman had only asked to dance to put off the inevitable.

It was only when their feet grew too tired to keep moving that they stopped and stood still. Logan looked up at Roman and the stars above him, wondering how he’d gotten so lucky as to find someone like his angel, even if it was only for a fraction of his life. Roman looked down at Logan and the silver light that gleamed in his dark eyes, pondering what he had done to deserve having so little time with the love of his life before everything was ripped away.

The whole world paused as they held each other, Logan’s arms twined around Roman’s neck and Roman’s wrapped around Logan’s waist. The air felt fragile, like everything—not just their hearts—would shatter into trillions of pieces once they spoke again.

Still, time continued stubbornly forward on its path towards the end of Roman’s life on Earth—his life with Logan—so the angel spoke despite the fact that he could practically hear how the world shattered around them.

“Logan,” he started, moving his hands from Logan’s waist to brush a lock of hair behind his ear and brush the beginnings of a tear from beneath his left eye. “Logan, there are no words I can say that will truly encapsulate all that I feel for you. There is nothing in this world that could explain all that you mean to me, and there is no way for me to express the euphoria in my heart at having gotten to know and love you. Everything you are and every bit that you’ve grown causes me to fall more in love with you as the seconds tick past, and every moment I find I love you more sets a new precedent for the amount of love I’m able to give. Meeting you is the best thing that has ever happened to me, and no matter what happens, I will never, ever forget you. I love you, Logan, more than all the stars in the sky.”

“Roman,” Logan began, wracking his brain for a way for him to say everything he wanted to. “Did you know that if you were trapped in a black hole and you peeked out, you’d see everything that had ever happened and will ever happen in that tiny patch of sky?” he asked, settling on what he knew how to do best: teach.

“This is because black holes are so dense that they distort time itself. The universe slows down and speeds up on a whim, and the passage of time means nothing at all. You could enter a black hole today, and if by some miracle you managed to escape, you’d emerge thousands of years into the future though to you, it would have felt to be mere minutes. This ‘time dilation,’ as it were, would allow you to look ahead of you and see everything that had fallen into the black hole before you and if you managed to turn around, you’d see everything that would fall in after. So, if by some miracle you had enough presence of mind to observe the world around you as you neared the event horizon, you would be able to see the entirety of what had happened in your small corner of the universe when you did. Everything would be moving so much faster than light itself that you’d be able to watch the whole evolution of the universe happen—from the Big Bang to the end of life as we know it—all at once, over and over again.

“But you know, I think if it were me in that black hole, looking out at the creation and destruction of the universe, the rise and fall, again and again, all I’d be able to think about was being here with you in this moment. I don’t care one bit about seeing the rest of the universe when I have something more precious to me than all the stars in the sky—when I have you.”

Roman’s jaw had dropped at some point while Logan had been speaking, awed by the love and eloquence in his words. “Beautiful,” he whispered as he brushed a hand over Logan’s cheek, unable to say anything else and unwilling to shatter the silence any further.

Then a breeze blew through their hair, and Logan and Roman were reminded abruptly that the rest of the world existed.

“You have to leave,” Logan said, and it was at once an order and a lament. He took one step back, and it was the most painful thing he’d ever done.

“I do,” Roman agreed, and it was at once an acknowledgment and a form of mourning. He unfurled his wings, and it hurt more than anything else he’d done in his immortal life. They opened fully, glowing a brilliant white against the darkness as he flapped them once, lifting off the ground. He flapped them a second time, and he was well into the air, barely close enough to reach out a hand and brush it against Logan’s face. “Goodbye, my darling. I love you.”

“I love you too.” Roman’s hand began to pull away, and before he knew what he was doing, Logan’s own hand shot out and grasped his wrist as he said with sudden intensity, “Wait.”

“Yes?”

“May I kiss you? Just once, just to remember you by.”

“I wish I could give you thousands of kisses, Logan. Of course you may have this one.”

With that, Roman floated down slightly, feet still a few inches off the ground as though he knew that if he landed he’d never leave. Placing a gentle hand on Logan’s cheek, he leaned towards him, preparing for a soft, sweet kiss.

Logan seemed to have other plans though, for he laid his hands on Roman’s face and dragged him closer, standing on his tiptoes to reach Roman’s lips and meet them in a kiss so passionate the flame burning between them could have set the whole world aflame.

Logan didn’t pull back for a long while, refusing to come up for air because he knew—he knew—that when he did, it would mean Roman’s goodbye would be permanent. But he was human and had to breathe eventually, so pull back he did. Even then, though, he still wouldn’t remove his hands from Roman’s face.

“I love you,” Logan said once more, resting his forehead against Roman’s.

“I love you too. Goodb—”

“Don’t say goodbye. Please. I don’t want to think about the fact that I— I won’t— I won’t ever be able to see you again. Just say I love you. Those can be—” Logan swallowed hard, but he continued holding Roman’s face in his hands as though it were a lifeline. “Those can be your last words to me. Better than goodbye, I think.”

“Okay,” Roman whispered, fluttering his wings gently as he gradually lifted himself farther and farther away from Logan. “I love you, Logan. I always will.” Roman didn’t wait for a response, wiping the tears glistening in his eyes away as he fluttered into the sky and vanished in a bright flash of light.

He was gone.

Logan took a breath, willing it to stay calm. It hitched anyway, and his voice came out similarly unsteady as he said to empty air, “I love you too, Roman. Always. Always, and more than all the stars in the sky.” If he really listened, Logan could almost imagine he heard those final words echoing back at him, falling from the sky the same way Roman almost had.

_________________________

Roman was falling.

He was falling, and his wings hadn’t turned black. He was falling, and he wasn’t screaming in pain. He was falling, and he was smiling.

He was falling, and Logan was staring at the sky in disbelief as he did.

Logan was a neuroscientist. He knew that a fight or flight response was triggered when the human brain was overwhelmed and stressed. He knew exactly how it dealt with information and that if need be, it would formulate more believable scenarios when the current one couldn’t be processed. He knew that when it came to sleep deprivation, intense hallucinations would only start after a full seventy-two hours of no sleep.

Logan was not overwhelmed. Logan’s mind had always processed things in the way it should have, and he was not prone to coming up with scenarios that had never happened. While it wasn’t as much sleep as would have been ideal—seeing as he had been consistently sleep deprived for the past week—Logan had still slept for a full seven and a half hours last night.

And that’s why, for the life of him, he could not figure out why Roman appeared to be falling from the sky.

Roman wasn’t supposed to be falling from the sky. Roman was supposed to be in heaven or whatever sort of paradise it was that he lived in because Logan’s heartbreak hadn’t been for nothing, because Roman leaving had meant something, because their dual sacrifice had ensured that he would be safe.

So why the fuck was he falling now?

And where were his wings? If he were falling, shouldn’t they be as dark and black as night?

Something was wrong. Logan didn’t know what, but something was wrong. He had to get to Roman.

Logan wasn’t normally one for running, but he did make sure to keep himself in shape. That, combined with the adrenaline coursing through his veins, caused him to arrive at the field of wildflowers in record time. As long as Logan’s sense of direction was sound, he was sure that Roman had, for whatever reason, appeared to be falling straight for their willow tree.

Panting, Logan slowed down as he scoured the ground for the place Roman had fallen.

“I’m up here, love.”

Logan looked up. “You’re on top of a willow tree.”

“Astute,” Roman agreed.

“Why are you on top of a willow tree?” Logan asked, refusing to ask the question he wanted the answer to most of all.

Roman shrugged. “It’s just where I fell. I didn’t have any control over that.”

“Right,” Logan said, only slightly distracted by the fact that Roman was currently leaping from branch to branch in an attempt to reach the ground. “So then,” he began, figuring that putting this off any longer didn’t make the least bit of sense, “why did you fall? And doesn’t falling usually entail becoming… you know.”

“A demon? Yeah, it normally does. But I’m a special case,” Roman grinned as he made one final jump and landed on solid ground.

“Yes, I’d say you very much are.” Ignoring Roman’s spluttering response as he continued to make his way towards the angel, Logan asked, “But in this particular scenario, how so?”

With an annoyed huff—presumably still directed at Logan’s previous comment—Roman replied, “I didn’t technically fall, not in the way you’d think of it, since I did nothing wrong. So I’m not a demon, but I’m also not an angel anymore.”

“So what are you, then?”

“Human.”

“Wh— How?”

“Easy,” Roman said, tucking a lock of Logan’s hair behind his ear the moment he drew near enough for Roman to do so. “You know how I fell in love with you? And you fell in love with me?”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “You think I could forget? It’s not as though that’s all I’ve been thinking about for the past several weeks.”

“Yes, well, my point is that angels are creatures of love, of course, so once my boss figured out why I came back, She decided that tearing me away from the love of my life went entirely against everything angels stood for.”

“And that… caused you to fall?”

“Not exactly. That caused Her to give me a choice: stay an immortal angel until the end of time, helping people as I always had or fall to Earth and become a human so I could still be with you.”

“And you chose to come back. You chose to be human. You chose—”

“You.”

“Me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of doing anything else, my darling.”

“Roman—” Logan stopped, suddenly finding himself unable to speak.

“Yes, love?”

Still lacking the words he needed, Logan instead took another step forward at the same time Roman did, and their lips met in the space between them for their second-ever kiss.

“I love you,” Roman said, voicing what Logan could have only hoped to.

For once, Logan was more action than words as he kissed Roman again. It was a promise—a promise to them both that their kisses would be just as numerous as the very stars Roman had helped to create, their love just as beautiful.

“More than all the stars in the sky,” Logan replied finally, lips still a hairsbreadth from Roman’s, voice barely a whisper.

“More than all the stars in the sky.”

_________________________

find other stuff i’ve written under #writings from the stars

#sander sides #logince #roman sanders #logan sanders #guardian angel!roman #neuroscientist!logan #sander sides fanfiction #angst with a happy ending #not eating mention #swearing #fanfic #fic.txt

[locria-writes]

do i have a clever title? no. am i ashamed of this? for a while, yes, but i’ve grown past this and discovered worse kinks (〃‿〃✿)

Today, he’ll finally ruin you.

Valentin had meticulously arranged for the whole night, having blackmailed the host into accepting his demands. He made sure that you would be seated next to him for dinner. For the entirety of the meal, he hiked up your skirts, letting his fingers draw patterns on your knee, then your thigh, until he finally slipped a finger into you.  

He must commend you for your masterful composure, expression barely flinching as his thumb rubbed your sensitive bud. Perhaps this is what separates your ilk from the rest, but he knows that’s not true. A lesser woman would have crumbled immediately.

So, now he pulls you into a room after dinner, one that the host prepared for him as specified. He leans against the door, a not-so-subtle sign that you will not flee from him.

“I’m quite impressed with you.”

“I’m rather flattered.” Your lips quirk to a practiced smile. “Could you please explain what you need? My father might be looking for me.”

“Forget the old man. I’m here.” He crosses his arms, staring you down. “I’m here to propose a game we should play.”

“A game?” You tilt your head, almost adorably so, as you regard him warily. “What kind of game?”

“A very fun one.” Valentin steps toward you. “I promise you’ll love it.”

“I’m not so sure I believe you.”  

“Hear me out.” One hand cups your warm cheek. “If I win, you let me do as I please with you tonight.”

Your pout reminds him of a puppy – an accursed weakness of his. “That sounds like every night we spend together though.”

“Yes, well, if you win, you can do as you please with me for the night.” It’s a preposterous idea, really, because there’s no way you can win this. He’s planned everything so that you’ll lose.

Your eyes light up at that as you clasp your hands behind you. “What’s this game then?”

Valentin smiles thinly, stepping away to retrieve the box he left in here earlier. “Take a look.”  

Your gaze is uncertain as you remove the top of the box. “What is this?” Your voice is sweet as can be as your hand touches the object inside.

Oh, he can already imagine your expression when he tells you. “What do you think it is?”

“I haven’t any idea.” You pick it up, tracing its grooves. It takes a lot of willpower to stifle his laugh. “A glass ornament?”

His hand touches your soft lips, gently tracing its shape. “Think less like a noble.

Doesn’t it look familiar at all?”

Your cheeks flush pink as you look down at it again. “Please, just tell me, Valentin.”

He chuckles as he pushes his thumb into your mouth. “You really are a precious nobleman’s daughter, aren’t you?”

You pout again, but before you can say anything, he leans down and whispers against your ear, “They use these in whorehouses. They’re to simulate a man’s cock.”

It’s hilarious and absolutely adorable when you’re face turns bright red and you stumble backward. “I beg your pardon?” Your voice is higher than normal with panic. “And you let me touch that…that filthy thing?”

He laughs. “Calm down, it’s brand new. I went through a lot of trouble to procure it, you know.” A half-truth. He knows somebody who makes and sells them.

“W-why are you showing me this?”

“For our game, of course.” Valentin flashes you his most persuasive smile as he steps toward you once again. “This will be in you for the entirety of the party. If you can handle it, you win. However, if you need me to help relieve you, you lose. Understood?”

“That’s…that’s so…immoral…”

“Immoral?” He rolls his eyes and sneers, “So that’s immoral, but our relationship isn’t? You think that letting me fuck you in my office with others next door isn’t immoral, but this is?”

You squirm under his scrutiny. “I-I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just…m-my father is here.”  

“Because he’s here is the reason why we should play this game.” He catches your chin and raises your head so you’re looking at him. “Wouldn’t it be fun to do such lewd things while he’s none the wiser?”

He can see you deliberating the options in your head before you finally nod. “I…I guess it’ll be fun.”

Fun…for him, he supposes, but he won’t ruin it for now. “Sit down on the divan over there and get ready.”  

You obey him, like you always do, as he takes out the toy and covers it in the oil he had the sense to bring with him. He might hate you, but he doesn’t want to hurt you like that. If he were to hurt you like that, it would be because of himself, not some silly toy.

It’s a sight to behold, the precious scion of the Spellmeyer clan with your legs spread and undergarments loosened. It takes a remarkable amount of willpower not to tear your dress off and fuck you right then and there.

Patience, he reminds himself. He can do whatever he pleases with you once he wins.  

The wide gaze you give him almost does him in once again. “Why do you look so scared? It’s just like any other time.”

“It’s different.” You’re looking a little shy now. “My father doesn’t know anything about this and…and it feels so exciting.”

He snorts. “You want your father dearest to know that his darling daughter is being ruined by a commoner?”

You look away, a strange look on your face, but when you say nothing, he doesn’t push the subject. Instead, he presses the tip of the toy to your entrance. “Ready?”

“I think so.” Despite your words, he can hear the thrill in your voice.

He pushes it in, slowly for a bit, and when it’s clear you’re not in any pain, shoves it in quickly, eliciting a cry of his name from you. “Did that hurt?”

“N-no…” Your breathing is ragged.

“Damn, I wish it did.” He sighs as he offers you his hand to help you up, ignoring the indignant harrumph you gave him. “How does it feel?”

“Full.” Your face is pink. “It, um, doesn’t feel like you.”

“I’d imagine not.”

“I-I prefer you.”

That makes his brows go up in surprise. Your eyes are downcast as you leave the room with him, and he notices your stiff gait. So, he smirks and says, “Need any help?”

“I…I’m fine…” The trembling of your lower lip indicates otherwise, but he decides to humour you for now.

Naturally, Valentin would never dream of letting you off easy. The entire night, he sticks close to your side. Instead of your asking him to dance, he volunteers himself, a rush of excitement coursing through him whenever you faltered. He makes you sit down often, knowing that it will push his toy deeper inside you, and the faces you make as you struggle to compose yourself are nothing short of splendid.  

“Are you feeling all right?” he murmurs next to your ear, wrapping an arm around your waist.  

He’s well-aware of the whispers swirling around. They’re no longer surprised about seeing him with a woman – they’re not even shocked that it’s you – no, their astonishment comes from his tender appearance.  

Your discomposure has been chalked up to the wine he’s given you, explaining your flushed appearance and unsteady carriage. It only serves to further his purpose as he steadies you throughout the night. He’s not ignorant to the murmurings of how gentlemanly and dashing he is.

How foolish they are.

“I-I don’t…” Your voice is breathy; an inflection he’s grown used to. “I can’t do this…”

“Then shall we go relieve you?”  

Valentin wants to curse himself for his trepidation of fucking you. It’s just to further spread the rumours, he tells himself. It’s only to spite your father, he says.

But he knows somewhere deep down, he truly does love the sounds of your moans and the feeling of how warm you are around him.

“I need you, Valentin…” You’re more or less clinging to him as you leave the ballroom You must so close to your breaking point now.

“Needy little whore, aren’t you?” He can afford one kiss, right? If not to lead you on, it will at least add to his newfound reputation, right?

Your lips are soft and warm, the barest trace of wine still clinging to them as they part for his tongue. The quiet moan you give him encourages for his cool hands to cup your flushed cheeks.  

There’s something about how warm, how delicate you feel under his calloused fingers that makes his resolve falter. Deep down, he knows it’s not your fault; that it’s wrong to put Burkhard’s sins on you, but he’s gone too far to give up now. Someone must pay, and he’s long decided that that someone is you, yet…

He can’t bring himself to acknowledge that he really does love you.

“Ah, Elector Sonnen.” The voice sends chills down Valentin’s back as he lets go of you. Stepping back stiffly with his eyes darting to the source of it – the one man he’s been trying to get to.

Burkhard regards the two of you coolly, though Valentin doesn’t miss the flicker in his gaze as he looks at you. “So, this is where you’ve wandered off to with my daughter.”

“F-Father.” You attempt to curtsey, but almost collapse, and would have, had he not grabbed your arm.

“Why are you acting so unbecomingly, foolish girl?” Burkhard’s glare at you is enough to make Valentin angry.

Why is he angry though?

“It’s my fault, my lord.” He steps in front of you. “I gave her a little too much to drink, so she’s tipsy.”

“How uncouth.” His sneer isn’t even masked now that he’s out of respectable company. “The son of a whore thinks he’s worthy of helping my daughter?”

It takes all of his willpower not to punch the man right then and there. Valentin grits his teeth as he levels his own glare. “A bastard is a hundred times more respectable than yourself.”

He doesn’t let the older man speak another word, instead, he drags you away with him. You’re barely stumbling along whilst whimpering quietly, but Valentin doesn’t want to look back, fearing he’ll still see Burkhard’s face.

He pushes you into the room from earlier, hard enough for you to topple over onto the floor. “V-Valentin…” You sound like you’re halfway between sobbing and moaning.

There’s almost a pang of pity when he sees the desperation on your face as you rock your hips in an attempt to get any friction to relieve you. It’s a bit charming, dare he say.

The sweet sound of his name leaving your lips almost makes him reconsider his plans.

“Valentin…”

So, he crouches down to your level, grabbing your chin with one of his hands. “Tell me what you want.”

“I-I want this to be over…”

“You just want it out?” His other hand hikes up your dress. “That’s it?”

You nod so furiously that he chuckles while pushing your skirts up and pulling off your soaked undergarments.  

“Aren’t you a dirty little slut?” A cool finger traces the outline of your wet entrance. “You look like you’ve cum several times already.”

“I haven’t.” Your hand grabs onto his upper arm. “Please, Valentin…I-I can’t do this.”

Valentin flashes you an amused smirk as he pulls out the toy with no preparation whatsoever, drinking in the cry of relief that goes along with it. “Happy now?”

“Yes, yes, yes, thank you so much.”  

He watches your warm smile, feeling himself mimic it as well, as though your silly happiness infected him. It’s disgusting to let such vapid emotions affect him, but he doesn’t resist as he undoes his cravat.  

“It’s time for your punishment, whore.” The words are spit out harshly, yet you no longer cower nor flinch.

Instead, you look at him with wide and excited eyes. “What’s my punishment then?”

Were you enjoying this? Valentin chuckled as he tied the cravat around your eyes. “That’ll be for me to know, and you to find out.”

It’s a double-edged sword, depriving you of your vision. He takes a great amount of delight in seeing your eyes tear up and look about curiously, but the fact you’re going to be hypersensitive to his every touch is more enticing.

“Y-you’re not going to leave me like this, right?” There’s a trace of panic in your voice that eerily echoes that of his own. What happened to a precious noble girl to have such a fear?

He brings his lips close to your ear, licking the shell of it before murmuring, “A tempting idea, but I don’t turn down a good fuck by a desperate whore.”

Valentin picks up the glass toy, watching it glisten under the lights, before bringing it to your lips. “Clean it, harlot. Taste how wanton you are, letting yourself cum to this fake cock.”

You obediently do as he says, pink tongue licking along its surface. Maybe it isn’t such a good idea, since his trousers suddenly seem so much tighter as he thinks about how your mouth around him.

The thought of how warm you, the picture of your doe-eyes looking up at him with tears in them, the thought of how gently you speak to him…

Suddenly, he feels an immense distaste for the toy, and pulls it away. “That’s enough.”

It’s not hard to think that you’re blinking in confusion. “D-did I do something wrong?”

No, no, you did nothing wrong, he wants to say. It’s his sentimentality.

“Of course you did, you dim-witted slut.” He flips you onto your stomach, grabbing your hair in the process. “Don’t you know what you’ve done wrong?”

“I-I don’t know.” The fear is rising in your voice. “I’m sorry.”

Valentin bites down on the nape of your neck, ignoring the pained cry you let out, and undoes his trousers. He wanted to torment you at first, but it’s unbearable now. “If you don’t know...” He presses himself against you, and he feels you stiffen from surprise. “Then I’ll make you suffer for it.”

He rubs himself against your entrance, coating his length with your wetness. “What is it that you want?”

“I want you.” You try to move with him, but he pulls on your hair harder. “Be clearer.”

“I want you to fuck me.” You’re whimpering now.

“How so?”

“P-please fuck me like your whore.”  

“Good girl.”  

Valentin pushes himself inside easily, giving you almost no time to adjust before beginning to pound into you.

He likes it this way – your being completely obedient to him, and the sex only being about lust and pleasure, but it’s almost not enough now. Now, he almost craves something more intimate. Somewhere in the deep recesses of his mind, he just wants to shower you in kisses, and let this act drop.  

Almost as though he truly wants to make love to you.

The realization of that fuels his furious thrusts, forcing himself to let your cries and moans sink in.

He only wants to fuck you.

He only wants you as a pawn.

He only wants you for revenge.

…He really wants to love you.

“Valentin…Valentin…” His name spills from your mouth time and time again as you cum, it almost baffles him. Why do you keep chanting his name? It’s always been like this, and it’s always confused him. Do you not know that this is wrong?

Do you not know that he’s a bad man?

“Fuck,” he groans, coming deep inside of you. He’s reluctant to pull out, desiring little more than the feeling of how gentle and warm you are.

But he eventually pulls out, watching his seed slowly trickle out of you. Every single time he’s cummed inside, yet he’s always fascinated by it. Will this time leave you with child? If you are with his child, what will you do then?

As if drawn by these thoughts, he uses a finger to push it back inside of you as he continues to watch, almost tenderly so.

“What are you doing?” Your voice sounds so soft.

Whatever mildness he has disappears as he presses a harsh kiss to your neck. “I was making sure that this time you’ll be left with my child.”

“Child…?”  

“What greater honour is there,” he says, untying his cravat from your eyes “than to bear my children? Think about the chaos that the precious Spellmeyer daughter has my child out of wedlock. What will they do then?”

Your eyes fill with worry as you turn to look back at him. “I-I can’t…”

“But you will.” His nips at your lips. “You’ll be my wife. It’s your duty to bear my children.”

“Wife?”  

Valentin’s cheeks warm slightly at your echo, so he buries his face in the junction between your neck and shoulder. “Is there another position where we can fuck and have children without questions?”

There’s that adorable breathy laugh of yours. “I suppose not.”

He can still make this work. He’ll marry you, and then ruin your family – the two can be mutually-exclusive.  

You don’t deserve him, that much he knows, but he also knows that he doesn’t deserve you. You should have someone who’ll love and cherish you, neither of which he can do, and yet…

Valentin knows that he’s hopelessly and desperately in love with you. Even if it’s not the smartest thing to do, he’ll keep loving you.

#aab snippets #aab valentin #in which he catches the feels by accident and tries to deny them for like 3k words

[i-dream-of-twilight-sparkle]

Chapter 25: Starlight’s Mother, Part 1 - Who Was She?

The Elements of Harmony and the CMC are on their way to town to search for Starlight. While there, they walk by Trixie’s wagon. Trixie opens up the side and sees the group walking by.

Trixie: Heeeeeeeeey! Twilight and Friends!

The group stops and turns toward Trixie who’s waving to them, they decide to go see her in case maybe Trixie knows where Starlight is.

Twilight: Hi Trixie! Good to see you.

Trixie: Same to all of you, did you enjoy Trixie’s performance last night?

Trixie grins smugly, hoping for some more praise

Sweetie: That was pretty cool how you got yourself and Starlight to fit into that lamp without being a genie. And your horn didn’t even glow! I can’t even imagine how that worked out...

Scootaloo: Maybe there was a secret escape under the bottom of the lamp?

Apple Bloom: But even then, Trixie would o’ still had t’ squeeze her and Starlight though such ah tight space!

Scootaloo: True, but didn’t Big Mac once accidentally squish you so hard you went down the berry squish drain during the Sisterhooves Social?

Apple Bloom: Well yeah… though this was certainly still ah different method then the sheer force o’ weight…

Sweetie: Are we more liquid then we thought?

The CMC continue to ponder more on how Trixie did what she did. While the rest giggle knowing it was just something Trixie wished for from Twilight’s genie magic.

Twilight: You had a good show, Trixie. Though while we’re stopping by, I don’t suppose you know where Starlight is right now? I know you told me last night that Starlight wanted to see me when I was available today.

Trixie: Well... coincidentally she’s probably looking for you right now! I think she headed to Saddle Arabia using the portal gum expecting you to be back at the palace.

Twilight: Uh oh, I don’t know if I should go to Saddle Arabia in case she happens to gum portal back to town, and we just end up traveling in circles. I feel like she’ll come across Princess Celestia, Malakhar, Kubuya, or the Sultan. She’ll ask them where I am and they’ll say I’m likely at…

Twilight widens eyes briefly

Twilight: Sweet… Apple… Acres… Oh no! We better go back… We should of just stayed at the farm!

Trixie: Oh Twilight, is it ok if I come with?

Twilight: Of course, Trixie! Come with us!

Trixie opens the exit of her wagon and starts galloping along with the group back to Sweet Apple Acres. They quickly get back to the gates of the farm, but then they hear a scream.

Twilight: That sounds like Starlight! Come on, she might be in trouble!

They get closer to the farm house before they hear Starlight’s voice again

Starlight: APPPPLLLLLEEEEEEJAAAAAAAAACCCCCCCKKKKK!

Starlight is then seen running from the other side of the house straight to the other side where the Elements, the CMC, and Trixie are. Starlight heads straight over to Applejack. She’s shaking, and terrified.

Applejack: Starlight, what’s wrong?!

Starlight: Applejack! I think your house is haunted!

Applejack: Haunted?! What do ya mean?

Starlight: You’re probably going to think I went insane… but when I got here looking for Twilight after Princess Celestia informed me at the palace that she’d likely be here… I came by the backdoor of your house and peeked into the windows… and I saw these transparent, glowing ghosts of your parents!

Applejack chuckles as she’s aware that this would have made her an emotional wreck just hours ago, and also expresses relief that Starlight is ok. 

Applejack: Oh? Is that all? Ya’ll had me worried fo’ ah moment!

Starlight goes wide-eyed, she thought Applejack was going to be surprised that somepony has seen ghosts of her parents.

Starlight: WHAT?! How can you respond like this isn’t a big deal?!

Applejack: Well… ah mean… it would o’ been ah big deal just ah few hours ago… and it even took ah little while t’ convince me even after they appeared… But Twilight and Spike summoned mah parents’ spirits using Spike’s Dragon Tear. It’s capable o’ bringing down the deceased souls all the way down from space!

Starlight flails her hooves as she looks absolutely incredulous

Starlight: Since when could it do that?! Since when have we found out the dead go to space?!

Twilight: Ohohoho… Believe me, Starlight… it has been an absolutely crazy day…

Twilight and the others proceed to recap to Starlight what they talked about around Pear Butter and Bright Mac’s spirits. Starlight just holding her fore hooves on the sides of her head hearing everything that’s been learned in just the past few hours.

Starlight: So let me get this straight… we can bring back the dead as spirits with the Dragon’s Tear… the sun and moon wouldn’t be able to move without our magic… plus our planet doesn’t rotate… the souls of the deceased join some big shield invisible to us orbiting around our planet and moon… said souls protect us from outside threats in space… Life is magic… Genies and thus Twilight is at least PART spirit… and the planet is alive?!

The rest of the group nods, though Trixie herself is also kind of freaking out since she hasn’t heard all this either.

Trixie: And all of you are taking this calmly like it’s already some common knowledge?!

Twilight: Oh we freaked out alright. We just kind of already got most of it out of the way. It’s still kind of all swirling in my head to be honest… *Twilight spins her eyes*

Starlight: This is just insane… the fact that Applejack is calm during this means it is true… she’s the element of Honesty. She couldn’t lie, or at the very least… wouldn’t be able to hold a straight face very easily if any of this was not real…

Applejack: Like ah said, it did take some time fo’ me t’ acknowledge much o’ this as the truth. But considering just moments before ah was told all this, mah parent’s spirits were summoned… there’s just about no way ah could really object. It’d have t’ be one heck o’ ah conspiracy t’ say both ponies that are living AND dead have conspired together including mah own parents t’ peddle ah lie… especially since there’s really only been one time before all this that ah Dragon’s Tear has brought spirits down. And that was ah long time ago when Jinn was still around…

Starlight: Just let me take some deep breaths, then I can finally be calm and proceed to tell you what I wanted to see you about.

Starlight takes a few moments to do a breathing exercise as all the things she was just told swirl in her head. She still kinda shakes a little or her ear twitches thinking about all the crazy but true facts about their world as well as life and death. But eventually, she gets back to a relatively normal state with a determined look on her face.

Starlight: Ok… Twilight… it’s time.

Twilight walks on over to the front of Starlight with a determined look of her own.

Twilight: Yes, it is…

Starlight / Twilight: Please, help me find my mother! / I’m gonna help you find your mother!

Starlight & Twilight: Wait… How did you know?!

Starlight / Twilight: Applejack must of told you! / Applejack told me!

Starlight & Twilight: Maybe we should stop talking simultaneously?

The two giggle a little bit before ultimately the subject matter of finding Starlight’s mother puts a rather heavy air around the area.

Twilight: Before we go to try finding your mother. Is it alright if we get an explanation from you? I know you’ve already told the CMC, at least a big part of it considering you’ve told them how you got your Cutie Mark. We’ve already got the gist from Applejack that you don’t know who your mother is, and your father refuses to tell you. Maybe start with… why haven’t you shared this years ago?

Starlight lowers her head solemnly

Starlight: I guess… it just never occurred to me to bring it up at the time…

Applejack: It’s ok Starlight, after all… Twilight went almost 2 years without telling us she had ah brother that she loves so much. *winks*

Twilight smiles sheepishly, putting a hoof behind your back

Twilight: Well… you girls never asked!

But er… ahem… how about we get the little that you do know about your mother?

Starlight: There’s only a few facts I know. One of which I just learned recently, thanks to the Cutie Mark Crusaders

Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle, and Scootaloo all beam a grin.

Starlight: Just to narrow it down so not too many questions are asked. My father actually doesn’t know what happened to her after she disappeared either, he really only just refuses to tell me her name. Because otherwise he’s just as much in the dark as I am, the birth certificates in Sire’s Hollow conveniently leave off Parent’s names, and this wasn’t a case where she died from complications of childbirth. She gave birth to me in my old home rather then a hospital, but she survived my birth for certain. And even if she had died from child birth, then my father would of most certainly known.

And the only other big fact I know is something the Cutie Mark Crusaders already know...

Twilight: I did overhear Apple Bloom mention that you told them how you got your mark, and that your mother might be related somehow. I suppose that’s a good time as any for you to finally tell us, too?

The other elements pay really close attention as they themselves have always been curious about how Staright got her mark.

Starlight: Certainly, I also gave a little bit of the gist of it to Applejack at the ball. But I’ll certainly provide at least a little more detail then the summary I gave her…

Starlight takes a deep breath

Starlight: First of all, I was a latchkey filly. I never even had one babysitter, when my father went to work I was always alone in the house by myself. When Sunburst was still in town, he at least tended to come over from time to time. But once he got his cutie mark and left, that was it. Which added to why him leaving was the beginning of such a dark part of my life... As I was left alone for most hours of any days my father had to work.

One day, I was playing with a ball in the basement and when I accidentally supercharged it into a wall. A hole broke through, and when I looked into it... I found two books, and read them both. The first one I read…. ehehhehheh… isn’t exactly relevant right now… but the 2nd one absolutely was. It was a spell book for some of the more advanced unicorns, and I mean like super advanced. As in probably most students aside from you at Celestia’s gifted students school may have had trouble performing the kind of things in that book. And yet, even as young as I was… I somewhat understood the nuances in the book.

I found a spell in the book of self-levitation AKA flight with just magic. Surprisingly, it was one of the more simpler ones in the book. I decided to give it a try, and soon I was having some fun flying all around the basement. But then things went wrong when I tried picking up the ball at the same time. Because it was such an advanced spell, and I was inexperienced with controlling that kind of power, it led to me unable to control what I was picking up and soon all the toys on the basement floor were orbiting around me. A magic aura appeared, and at least my father has told me he remembers that my eyes were glowing then.

Twilight:  *gasp* This sounds quite similar to my magic freakout after I had hatched Spike…

Starlight: It probably was pretty much just like that. Though speaking of my father, he came home at the time and I screamed to call for him to help me. He came down, and eventually tackled me down. I may have a complicated relationship with my father, but I was thankful to him for saving me. I became scared of what might have happened if say… I had that same magical freakout but in the kitchen, with a lot more dangerous materials like knives swirling around me…

Once we recovered from the shock, I told my father what happened. Naturally, leading to him keeping that spellbook as far away as possible from me. But amid my father looking if I had any injuries, that’s when he noticed that I had gotten my Cutie Mark. He pointed it out to me, and I immediately looked at my flank. Now obviously that magic outburst was what gave me my cutie mark. But what an outburst like that doesn’t exactly do is really explain what it means. Perhaps, naturally it just means I have a lot of raw magic power. But the problem is, it makes it quite vague.

Twilight, your cutie mark is somewhat similar in that way, but you knew it meant your skill in magic because you had read for hours upon hours about magic, plus you received the mark just as you were about to become Celestia’s protege. I didn’t have that, it just simply happened as I used an advanced spell for the first time. So I didn’t understand what sort of future I was destined for, not to mention of course that I hated cutie marks because of Sunburst leaving. So even if I kind of knew what it meant, I would of grumbled about it regardless.

So… the only explanation for my raw magic power… as deduced by the Cutie Mark Crusaders… is I had to have inherited it. Somepony in my family has a bloodline of strong magic power. And my father’s bloodline I’m pretty sure has no signs of that. So that means… it has to be related to my mother somehow…

Twilight: I see… then this isn’t just a matter of family-related strife... The identity of your mother holds the keys to the very pony that you are destined to be!

Starlight: Also, Twilight… I think it’s about time I confess something to you… Do you remember when I finally turned around while we were traveling through time after all you did was just softly speak to me?

Twilight gasps, as she’s long wanted to hear this

Twilight: Yes…?

Starlight starts streaming down tears

Starlight: I think I gave in… because hearing your voice then… was almost like having the mother I never had… you’re the closest to a mother figure I’ve ever had… *sniff*

Twilight: Oh Starlight… come here…

Twilight calls Starlight in for a hug. Starlight hugs Twilight and Twilight wraps both of her wings around her, as Starlight’s tears stream down her face and onto Twilight’s shoulders. The rest of the group with sympathetic tears and smiles as they watch the long hug Twilight gives Starlight. Twilight softly speaks to Starlight in the middle of the hug.

Twilight: Let’s go solve this, together… We’ll go to Sire’s Hollow right now… You and your father are going to be reuniting with your mother, one way or another…

Starlight lets go of the hug and wipes the tears away from her eyes

Starlight: Thank you, Twilight… Allow me to get us there.

Starlight pulls out another piece of gum back to Starlight’s old hometown. Once the portal is open, Starlight enters first, as Twilight and the others follow. 

((Story continues after the break))

Before they bring Firelight out of his home. They discuss the game plan on setting out to find Starlight’s mother.

Twilight: Ok… so if I recall correctly... you said you have no idea what happened to your mother, ergo, you don’t even know if she’s alive or not. Correct?

Starlight nods

Starlight: Correct

Twilight: Well… then there’s 2 ways we can go about this first. Either you wish you knew where your mother was on the planet to check if she’s alive, or… we use Spike’s dragon tear to check if she’s among the deceased.

Starlight taps her hooves together with a bit of a sinister grin

Starlight: What if… I wished I could read my father’s mind?

Twilight scowls

Twilight: Sorry Starlight, but I’d rather not grant the ability to read a pony’s mind. Everypony should have a right to their private thoughts. Even if it’s a secret that your father has selfishly kept from you. Besides, the two ways I told you about will do it just as well.

Starlight: Ok… I guess I understand. Guess this is why Malakhar genified you, you’re responsible with your wishes. But I suppose it’s time to get my father out. I’ll be right back out with him.

Starlight walks into her old home again, this time Firelight is drinking a cup of coffee in the kitchen. Firelight turns to see her daughter’s back.

Firelight: Hey there Pumpky-wu-WHAAAA

Starlight grabs her father by the collar with her magic, the sudden jerk makes him drop his coffee, the cup breaking on the kitchen floor, a big coffee spill now on the floor, and Starlight brings his face close to her’s

Starlight: No childish nicknames right now. We are ending this… right. now.

Firelight: Agggh! Starlight, what are you talking about?!

Starlight: We are reuniting with my mother, one way or another. I have Princess Twilight and her friends outside the house. I’m going to get a wish from her that will let me find her. And you’re just going to stand there and watch!

Firelight: B…b..bu….but I thought you said you could wait for years at the ball!

Starlight rolls her eyes

Starlight: Oh Father, you’ve always been soooooo naive, when I was very clearly being sarcastic!

Firelight: Wait, Starlight you don’t have to do this!

Starlight drops her father’s collar and raises an eyebrow as he drops to his floor his chin hitting the floor.

Starlight: Oh? Are you willing to say who she was yourself right now?

Firelight just sweats nervously and keeps quiet. Seems like he’s still not willing to say it himself. Starlight raising an eyebrow. Giving him time to answer, but Firelight still says nothing.

Starlight: *sigh* I guess I’ll take that as a no…

Starlight now grabs her father by the tail with her magic and starts dragging him out of the house.

Firelight: Agh! Starlight! Wait! There’s going to be a storm any second now! The weather patrol told us to stay inside!

Starlight ignores her father’s pleads and has soon brought him out to the group outside their home. Starlight let’s go of his tail. And he stands back up, looking at a group of displeased mares, fillies, and one dragon given they know he’s been the one who’s hidden Starlight’s mother’s identity for so long.

Applejack: Ya’ll should count ya self lucky we have other methods t’ finding Starlight’s Mom. Otherwise, ya would o’ had t’ deal with me!

Rainbow: And me!

Firelight: But I do have a reason for not telling her!

Applejack: Then maybe at least try t’ tell us?

Firelight: I… can’t without revealing the identity…

Applejack: Well then, ya’ll pleading is useless, we’re finding Starlight’s mother whether ya like it or not!

Firelight just droops his head. Twilight and Starlight then get set to preparing to do either of the two methods Twilight mentioned.

Twilight: So, do you want to check if your mother is alive or dead first?

Starlight: I suppose we should check if she’s alive first… So… Twilight… I wish I knew where my mother was on the planet!

Twilight takes a deep breath closes her eyes, and makes her horn glow. Suddenly, overhead the storm that Firelight warned about approaches, Firelight tries to use the coming storm to try to delay things further.

Firelight: Hey uh… the storm from the weather team I told you about is here… you think we can try this another time... when the weather’s more clear…?

Starlight: NO! You are not weaseling out of this, just because you might get a little wet!

The group carefully watches Twilight still trying to use her magic to locate Starlight’s mother. Rain starts falling over Sire’s Hollow. Starlight stands there watching Twilight, she’s shaking a little in anticipation for finally finding the location of her mother.

A few moments later…

…

……

………

…………

Twilight opens her eyes and frowns

Twilight: Starlight… Firelight… I’m sorry… but… I can’t find her… 

I’m… afraid... That likely means that the worst has happened to her…

The entire rest of the group gasps, especially Starlight and her father. Because of this one try… the possibility of Starlight’s Mother is dead is still out there, and in fact… is probably more likely then not.

Firelight: No… no… nonononono… s-s-sh-she can’t b-b-be… there must be some sort of explanation for this…!

Starlight glares at her father.

Starlight: LIKE WHAT?! That she’s such a powerful unicorn that not even SOUL MAGIC can find her?! Twilight’s magic is quite capable of looking across the entire world for one pony in the time she tried granting that wish!

Rain starts falling faster, and the rumbles of thunder can be heard as the sky gets darker.

Firelight: I… mean… maybe… but wait, how did you…

Starlight: Find out she was a powerful unicorn? That’s thanks to these 3 fillies over here who know how to read a cutie mark story *Pointing to the Cutie Mark Crusaders*

Firelight: Well uh… I guess while you know… you at least brought up a good optimistic possibility of why Twilight didn’t find her?

Starlight: There’s only one way to find out now… Spike, please come on over here.

Spike: Right!

Spike gives a determined face as he heads up to where Starlight is standing.

Starlight: So Twilight, if I recall correctly from you girls telling me how spirits are summoned. If my mother is indeed deceased, I just touch Spike’s Dragon Tear and send a message to my mother mentally, right?

Twilight: Yes… As for you Firelight, you can also say something. I know you don’t want to believe she’s dead, but you also don’t know what happened to her since she disappeared. Even if you’d rather be blissfully unaware of your wife’s fate… wouldn’t you at least like to try to speak to her? And if for some reason, nothing happens, then you will be proved right that she was still alive despite my magic being unable to find her.

Firelight: Wait, even if she is dead… which I hope she’s not… you expect me to believe we can talk to her simply by touching the gem on the dragon’s necklace?!

Applejack uses her status as the element of honesty to her advantage, looking at Firelight with a smug face and just replying with a very blunt…

Applejack: Yes!

The reputation of the Elements of Harmony is pretty much known world-wide by now. So Applejack saying this in a straight face, reassures anypony that it’s the truth. Firelight just going wide-eyed, and bites his lip. Before heaving a long sigh and giving in

Firelight: Does it require more then one pony to work?

Twilight: No, Starlight could do it solo if necessary

That sort of entraps Firelight since regardless if he touches it or not, they’re going to find out. The storm also picks up intensity. Rain falling harder and lightning can be seen in the distance.

Firelight: I guess I have no choice then… I’ll try… but I hope to Celestia that somehow she’s still alive… I don’t know why your magic couldn’t find her… but I hope, hope, hope, hope she is somewhere on the world… that just can’t be found by magic means… maybe Starlight is right that she’s using her own magic to hide herself…

Starlight: But then that’d mean she’s been neglecting us AND refusing to let anypony find her under any circumstances…  to the point SOUL MAGIC can’t find her! Would that really be a good thing…?

Firelight closes his eyes, droops his head, and sighs

Firelight: It would be to me… because at least she’s still alive and safe… even if she no longer wants to be a part of our family… knowing she’s ok would be good enough for me... and quite frankly today’s conversation almost makes me want to remain blissfully unaware... but... I know Starlight’s about to find out either way... so I can’t...

Starlight: A part of me hopes she’s still alive too… just so there’s a chance that even if I never had her for my childhood. I can have her around for however long she will be alive. I guess thanks to learning of the existence of the soul shield, even if she is dead, I will be lucky enough to still get to talk to her, but we won’t exactly be able to do a lot of things together, if she’s part of the trillions of souls protecting our planet…

Twilight: I hope that by some miracle she’s fine too… for both of your sakes. But we also shouldn’t try to deny reality and face the truth. Starlight’s agonized long enough not knowing, she needs to know what happened to her mother. She’ll never understand who she truly is, if we don’t do this. If you have any basic decency as a father, you’ll want her to find out...

Firelight lowers his head

Firelight: y-y-Yeah… l-l-let’s d-do it….

*THUNDER BOOM*

Firelight: …p-p-Preferably before we get struck by lightning!

Starlight and Firelight touch Spike’s Dragon Tear. And proceed to take deep breaths, then close their eyes to focus on a message inside their head.

Starlight: (Hello? Mother? This is your daughter… Starlight… you disappeared 2 weeks after i was born… I don’t know for sure if you’re really up there… but I really wish to see you for the first time in my life… I wish to know who you were… I’m gone my entire life without knowing, I can’t even be sure how I’m supposed to feel about you… I suppose that if you are up there, there’s a good chance that I’ll like you because only those who lived normal or better lives are up there… But even if for some reason I don’t, I’ll at least get answers… Please! Open up the keys to who I truly am!)

Firelight: (I really hope that I’m doing this for nothing… please, I plead for nothing to happen. I hope that my wife’s actually ok… I’d like to see her… I don’t care if she suddenly decided she never wants to anything to do with me or Starlight ever again. I don’t even care if it turns out she just abandoned us for an unknown reason without telling us… I’ll just he happy that she’s fine… I beg of the many souls that are apparently surrounding this planet… please don’t tell me she is among you! Please! I just won’t be able to take it…)

*THUNDER BOOM*

Starlight and her Father finish, and open their eyes. Starlight shivers, partly because of nervousness but also because of the cold rain now making her mane and tail soaked. Her father on the other hand is a complete wreck just shaking a whole ton of nervousness. He’s mentally praying that nothing comes down, proving once and for all his wife is still alive. The rest of the group keeps an eye on Spike’s Dragon Tear.

…

……

………

…………

*THUNDER BOOM*

Just as more thunder is heard, Spike’s Dragon tear starts glowing. Firelight freaks out, and wonders what’s happening

Firelight: w-w-wh-wh-Wha…? What’s happening…?!

The rest of the group including Starlight lower their heads, they know what this means: A spirit is being summoned. But Starlight remains determined as she picks her head back up and puts on a brave face. Watching the sky to witness her first spirit summoning, and it’ll be none other then her long, lost mother.

Firelight: Somepony! Please... tell me this doesn’t mean…

Out in the distance a bright white light from the sky starts approaching fast towards Sire’s Hollow. Twilight whispers to herself.

Twilight: Here she is…

Firelight: Is that… a comet? Shouldn’t we try to evacuate, before it hits?!

Spike: Don’t worry, her spirit isn’t going to impact the planet.

Firelight: Don’t you dare say her spirit! This has to be something else! Couldn’t it?!

The rest of the group just shakes their head at Firelight’s attempts to deny the reality of what’s happening.

*THUNDER BOOM*

The white comet comes down closer and eventually stops just in front of a nearby house near the group and forms into a white sphere. It starts to turn into a pony shape, it’s at this point where Firelight’s heart finally starts to sink. He’s been able to deny as hard as possible until now, but the silhouette is starting to look unmistakable. A unicorn with a curvy mane and tail, that’s slightly spiky on top, the outline of what might just be one small bang next to the horn.

Then the color starts fading in, the coat revealing to be a golden yellow/amber…

A mane and tail that is a mix of red and yellow that evokes similarity to a fire, The spirit opens up it’s eyes showing a color of greenish-cyan, and the cutie mark in the shape of… a sun.

Just looking at the cutie mark was when Twilight knew… they didn’t just find Starlight’s mother… they had found…

*THUNDER BOOM*

Twilight: *gasp* Sunset Shimmer…!

The spirit looks at her daughter and her husband with a sad look on her face. At last, the identity of Starlight’s mother has been revealed. She’s none other then Celestia’s missing former protege prior to Twilight… Sunset Shimmer

The rest of the Elements of Harmony, and Spike all gasp, Starlight who has never heard a thing about Sunset Shimmer is confused.

Starlight: What’s this about a sunset’s shimmer? This storm is blocking the sun right now…

Twilight: No, Starlight.. Sunset Shimmer is your mother’s name!

Starlight: Huh?! How in the hay do you know that?!

Twilight: I’ll explain soon…

Sunset stands quietly for a moment, before finally speaking herself. She first turns toward Starlight

Sunset Shimmer: Hello… my lovely daughter… I… am so pleased, I get to see you again... 

Then she sadly turns over to her distraught husband

Sunset: But… as for my darling Fi-Fi… I am so sorry… but…

Sunset lowers her head and closes her eyes about to give her husband the harsh truth

Sunset:  I… was murdered a long time ago…

Firelight falls to his knees. Tears welling up in his eyes, even though he can actually see her, hear her, and even talk to her again. This is the moment it finally dawned on him that his wife was dead, and even worse… she just said she was murdered. So acting as if she had been killed right in front of him, he lays his front hooves on the ground in a puddle that’s a mix between his own tears and the rain from the storm. And yells out a long…

Firelight: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

His screams of grief echo throughout the entire valley.

UP NEXT: Chapter 26 - Starlight’s Mother, Part 2 - Why Did Firelight Keep Her A Secret?

#Secrets Of The Dragon's Tear #Trixie Lulamoon #Twilight Sparkle #Sweetie Belle #Scootaloo #Apple Bloom #Starlight Glimmer #Applejack #Rainbow Dash #Spike #SPOILER WARNING AFTER SEE ALL TAGS #...; #......; #.........; #*** #****** #********* #Sunset Shimmer #Spirit Summoning #Firelight

[harryskalechips]

The long way home Part 2

A/N Hello I’m sorry for such a late update I was going to post this in the afternoon but silly Tiff here kept procrastinating in AP bio , she now doesn’t understand anything! ALSOOOO, This will just have three parts, and i think i’ll just be writing little blurbs for them :) 

It’s been 7 months since Alison has been working for Harry. A night at Louis’ new club though seems to spark the feelings that both parties definitely tried to ignore.

Part 1 

Word count: 1582

Many say a job that pays well includes loads of work and a high degree of knowledge yet here I am a personal assistant. I can say there is a lot of work for my Job. The high degree of knowledge doesn’t even need to be on a specialized subject. I like to think of myself as a stay at home mother. Always making sure there is something to eat in the Styles’ household, Harry being present at Dylan’s programs and his meetings, and Dylan, to make sure he doesn’t feel the brokenness of his family... just yet anyways.

I’ve been working with Harry for about 7 months now, I’ve gotten to know his routines and Dylan’s, I even met his family. I like to think I’m really lucky to have this job especially since my boss has practically made it easy for me to be best friends with him. He wasn’t much older as he was 29 and we had a lot of mutual interests. The sad thing is I think I’m falling more in love with him.

“Harry, I bought some groceries, I’m going to make some breakfast!” I yelled in the empty apartment. I set my own pair of keys down on his counter as I unload all my goodies bought with Harry’s credit card. Harry was most likely playing with Dylan upstairs around this time. Sometimes, I would arrive and breakfast would be ready but today, knowing Harry took time off from work, he would not have time to make food.

“Hey.” A girl comes down trying to zip up her dress. She was pretty and I could already tell why she was here.

“Hi.” I smile and glance down trying to unopen my pancake box.

“Alison, you’re here.” Harry walks down in just his sweatpants. “Making breakfast, thank you.” He kisses me on the cheek and watches me. “My friend here is just leaving.” he turns his head to the side so I can acknowledge her once again.

“Yeah, bye.” She smiles pretending I’m not watching her do the walk of the shame. I wasn’t surprised this happened since it wasn’t the first time I’ve experienced this. I know Harry is a good looking guy who is fairly well single. He can do whatever he wants too.

“Had fun last night I see.” I raise my eyebrow at him and smirk.

“Yeah, met her at Niall’s birthday party last night.” He explains nonchalantly as he helps me make the batter. Usually when I see Harry’s night one stands, he doesn’t really talk about them. It’s not my business but he seems to not care much about them either.

“She’s pretty.” I note. I didn’t know why I said that because Harry usually always goes for pretty girls anyways.

“You’re pretty.” He shrugs his shoulders and takes a bite of the grapes I had just bought also. “Dylan’s at Kristen’s house.” Kristen was his ex wife who left him for a man double our age.

“I thought so.” I mix the batter. “Hey, stop eating the grapes, you haven’t washed them properly.” He rolls his eyes and stops leaning on the counter. He makes his way to the sink to wash them the right way.

“I was planning on picking up Dylan tomorrow since Louis’ club is opening tonight.”

“I think that’s a good idea.” I smile. “I’ll try to make it to Louis’ tonight too.” Louis was Harry’s best friend, we became friends too after a while of knowing each other. He was very funny and charismatic. Tonight, he was opening his 3rd club, Haven.

“So um- are you going to bring a date?” He stutters a bit as he picks on the grapes from his bowl.

“I might have to drag Penny to be my date. I do want to look around for guys tonight though.”

“What? Why?” Harry gives a disapproving look as he takes the bowl of batter from my hands so he can cook instead. I take a seat on top of his counter, eating some grapes too.

“Women have needs too Harry.” I try to say without the embarrassment seeping through my voice.

He turns around and smirks while walking towards me. He places both of his hands on either side of me. “Ms. Kingsley, are you horny?” He laughs. I push him away, touching his shirtless toned body. I try to get off the counter but instead he stops me by his grasp on my waist, making my chest touch his. He pulls away quickly rolling his eyes as he makes his way back to the pancakes on the stove. “When was the last time you got laid?”

“Two years ago.” I mumbled. I hear him laugh. He turns back towards me and smiles.

“I guess I’ll be seeing you later tonight then?”

~ H.

“Mate, I’m so glad you were able to make it.” Louis rests his arm around me as we both drank our drinks. The club was packed and I knew there was a big line outside. I came at a reasonable time, sitting with our friends in the VIP section. Looking around, I see there are a lot of gorgeous girls I can finish the night with but I can’t seem to stop looking for Alison.

“Who are you looking for?” Zayn asks as he takes a gulp of his beer. Gigi was sitting next to him, just on her phone.

“Alison.” I shortly replied and stared at my drink. I was confused too why I was anticipating her arrival.

“Your personal assistant yeah?” Liam asks, he lives in London, so he doesn’t know much about what goes on here in New York. I nod my head.

“Harry. You like her don’t you?” Louis teases me. Everyone’s eyes are on me now.  I shake my head with a confused look.

“What are you kidding? I’ll never like her. She’s my PA.” Niall shrugs his shoulders. “Plus, she really isn’t my type. I don’t think anybody will find her attractive anyways.” I let out a lie. Truth be told, when I made eye contact with her on the train, I thought she was very beautiful, I still think she is. Tonight, however, knowing she’s looking for a man, I can’t help but feel envious. I want no one to eye her, to find her beautiful. I just want her to be... mine.

Fuck, I do like her.

“Mate too far,” Louis replies back.

“He isn’t wrong.” A voice sparks up in front of our booth. It was from Alison. She was all dolled up in a red lip, with a silk rose gold dress. She was absolutely gorgeous.

“Alison-” I try to get out of my booth but she walks away, straight to the exit. “Wait.” I make eye contact with the boys who seem just as embarrassed as I was.

As I stepped out of the building from the exit I saw her go through, I realized we were in an alleyway. She was there sitting on the bottoms of her feet against a wall, trying to not get her dress dirty.

“Alison.”

“Leave me alone Harry.” She cups her face into her hands. I pull her up and force her in my arms. She tries to remove herself but I try my best to hold onto her. I can’t let her go.

“I’m sorry for saying that about you.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am.” I pull her away from me and grasp onto her waist like earlier in the morning. “I think you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen since I met you. I know what I said in that room was wrong but I was just in denial.”

“Denial? Denial of what?” She wipes her tears in confusion.

“I like you, Alison. I’ve had a crush on you since that train ride when I first met you.”

“Harry, I don't think so. I mean you slept with so many girls-”

“I’m lonely...I promise you I’m not that guy who sleeps around even though they like someone. Hell, I didn’t admit I liked you until now. I just- I didn’t want to screw us up because you’re working for me.”

“Maybe, you shouldn’t have offered me the job and asked me out like a regular guy.” She pouts.

“You were in need of a job. Hell, the moment I got off the train, I called Sabrina and told her I have a job opening and to only let you apply for it.” She widens her eyes and takes a step back.

“Harry!”

“I’m sorry. I just wanted to get to know you better. I mean see- we became so close over the past months. Dylan loves you and I.. love you. You became part of the family so instantly.”

“I love you guys too.” I walk closer to her and hug her.

“I was just so envious today when you told me you were on the hunt to find a man to satisfy your needs tonight.”

“I was a bit jealous when I saw that girl walk out of your apartment.” I bit my lip and played with her hair.

“She meant absolutely nothing to me. I was pretty drunk last night and I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

“No excuse Harry. Girls aren’t objects. Don’t use them to avoid your feelings.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” I kiss her forehead.

“It’s okay.”

“Would you like to stay at my place tonight?”

“I would love to.”

Part 3 (Final) here!

#Harry Styles #harry styles angst #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles smut #harry styles oneshots #harrystylesimagine #harry styles fluff #one direction #ceo!harry #the long way home

[heresathreebee]

Garrote part 3

[Starz Power Diego Jimenez X Jazmine Mann (Black!OC)]

Word Count: 2,700 words

Warning(s): Rated Mature, language, partying, mentions of sex and drugs. Previous Masterlist Next

AN: I am constantly mere clicks away from releasing everything I have at once but I know if I do I will lose momentum for the plot. 

Edit: I. Forgot. The tags again.

@nicke0115 @1zashreena1 @mental-bycatch

The week that followed was heaven and hell. Diego went back to throwing parties nightly, fucking girls coked out of his mind, and in general trying to forgot all about Healy and his pretty bait, but Tommy Eagan was threatening war over a dead partner unless Alicia met his ridiculous demands. Thanks to Tommy's new right hand man, there was an opportunity to gain instead of lose now. All they had to do was wait and see if Dre could pull through. 

There were two new numbers in Diego's phone. One unsaved that sent cryptic messages about their deal, and the other marked as an emoji rather than a name. Jazmine's texts seemed forced– like she was reaching out on behalf of Healy's instructions. So of course Diego elected to simply ignore them both. They were buzzkills anyways. 

Diego was showing something important on his phone to his sister when Jazmine sent another text. 

Remember when you scared off Haagen? I miss that every time I see him. 

On the other end of the line, Jazmine felt pathetic sending the text. Healy hadn't even asked her to write this time, she was just so… bored. She hadn't been sleeping well, pulling double shifts involuntarily since her boss found out she closed the store when her coworker didn't show up. She carried her stress in her shoulders– the tightness in her neck caused her daily migraines and there was a new pinching sensation between her shoulder blades to accompany the rest of her pain. In the shower, she massaged whatever she could reach and thought of Diego's big hands doing it for her. 

She literally shook herself to clear the thought and pelted the shower curtain with water in the process. Diego Jimenez wasn't some faux bad boy with a secret soft side– he was the leader of a cartel. If he hadn't killed people himself, he definitely had people killed for him. He was beyond dangerous to even fantasize about. 

DING-DING. 

Her phone called out to her from the bathroom counter and she realized it was past time to get out. Her fingers were pruned to the point of over-sensitivity and there was a rapidly closing window to apply the leave-in conditioner to the best of its use. Still, she wiped her hands on the towel to read the text. 

Come out and party. Wear something nice. 

Alicia boxed his ear over the last sentence but he brushed her off. Jazmine declined anyways claiming exhaustion and went to bed. There were people to socialize with already– what was the absence of one little minimum wage laborer going to do?  Apparently she was important enough to occupy a corner of Diego's head. He was still bent about the way she had reacted to his identity. Who the hell did she think she was? As they discovered in the ungodly hour after the party ended, she was also important enough to drag Healy out of whatever hole he hid in. 

"Diego, we need to talk." 

Alicia had gone home– Diego expected she would likely never attend another one of her brother's parties as it wasn't her brand of debauchery– and she'd cleared the place out in her disgust, so his penthouse was empty for once. 

"What's the matter," Diego poured himself yet another drink, "am I not being a good boyfriend?" 

"We don't care what you do when you're not operating," Healy reprimanded. "But we need you to cooperate. Be a presence in Jazmine's fake life. You've been established as a rival for her affections, and you need to become an obstacle standing between the bait and the target. Jazmine walks home from work every single morning by herself. I don't know if you noticed it's been pouring buckets for three days straight." 

Healy almost sounded like he was shaming Diego. It wasn't his fault she was poor. She wasn't his real girlfriend and therefore not his real problem. "Please don't make me regret making this deal, Diego. We will never get an opportunity to dismantle Haagen like this again. Need I remind you that you've got a missing child on your hands?" 

Diego glared fiercely over the rim of his cup. Healy smoothed his hands down the front of his shirt and returned to his neutral position as righteous commander. 

"Schedule more time to spend with Jazmine, especially in public spaces. We have it on good authority that Haagen is going to put a detail out to give him updates on Jazmine in the near future, and he needs to see you in these updates." Healy turned on his heel and reached the elevators, stopping them from closing dramatically and fixing Diego with a stare. "And no more ignoring us." 

Jazmine woke up the next morning to one new notification. 

I'm coming over. 

"Oh shit." The woman threw herself out of bed and looked around. This wasn't fair. Cleaning day was a bi monthly ritual where she took a day off to deep clean the entire apartment, blasting music and stepping around her dog to get things done. Hercules wandered into her bedroom looking chipper as ever. "I guess we better get started then, huh?" 

The fucker showed up on her doorstep not ten minutes after she got out of bed– she wasn't even dressed for the day. Her hands nervously tried to cover the broth stain on her jeans as she cleared a space for him to sit and wait while she finished her morning routine. She worried while brushing her teeth that Diego might be a psycho like her last boyfriend. Psycho enough to kick her overly friendly pet, but no sound of yelps filtered through the paper thin walls and when she finally emerged, the pit-bull was settled with her head on his lap. 

Diego turned his head at the sound of a huge sigh. Jazmine was gazing at him but quickly turned when she realized she'd been caught. She began to flit about the room, picking up lost things and piling them up until she could figure out what items went where. He watched, making absolutely no move to help other than keeping the dog out of the way. Hercules– as the tag on her collar read– laid as much in his lap as he would allow. 

"Buena perro," he muttered, and if she still had a tail, she would have wagged it. Growing bored, Diego rose and stalked over to the fridge. "Do you have anything to eat?" 

The white void in the fridge answered for her, but she still called out, "no, it's empty." 

"I'm ordering pizza." 

"What about Chinese?" 

Diego looked at the lonely, days-old Chinese boxes in the fridge and shivered. "I'm getting pizza." She didn't complain. He returned to the couch to do just that. Distractedly, he admired the curve of her spine as she bent over. She wore jeans again and another band shirt, this time it was a baggy Chicago thing. He licked his lips thinking about taking them off her. 

Healy’s meddling had repercussions– mainly that it would made taking girls home harder, or at least less frequent. Diego still felt great suspicion towards this Jazmine, but it didn’t stop his body from wanting her under him. Or over him, on him, riding him… he tried to blink the images out of his head. 

“What kind of dirt does Healy have on you?,” he found himself asking. “My sister and I have been dying to know.” 

Jazmine shrugged, keeping her back to him. “No dirt.” 

“So you’re just helping out of the goodness of your heart?” Pizza arrived in time for her not to answer, and they returned to their positions for further interrogation. “Anything to get that creep Haagen away from you for good? Or are you an agent as well?” 

“No,” she said. She slipped rubber gloves on to begin maintenance on the tower of dishes piled on the side of the sink. She seemed to live alone– there was no reason to have so many dishes. Maybe he had been wrong in his assessment from earlier? Or maybe she was just a hoarder. “To tell you the truth, I’m about as fond of Healy as I am Haagen. I take that back– Healy’s a step up but not by much.” 

“Because you don’t trust him?” 

“I don’t know…” That mountain of plates and glasses seemed to disappear quicker than he expected and she began to scrub out the sink and the cleared counters, grunting with effort as she did so. “I trust I know the kind of man Haagen is, more so than I do with Healy. Partnerships like the one I have with Healy– they’re subject to change, and not always for the better. He’ll always do what’s in his best interest. What’s good for him is good for me.” 

For Now. The implication that she may harbor the same feelings towards Diego was not lost on him. In fact, he stood up from the couch and approached the windows with their blinds down to peek out at the street. There was nothing quite so conspicuous as a black SUV with a mean mugging thug staring back at him. Even his own protection didn’t roll that sloppily. 

Jazmine objected to the windows being opened but Diego insisted. “Need our relationship on display, right? Haagen’s got to know I’m here.” 

She relented quickly and threw her gloves aside, plopping her butt on the couch to rest a moment. The leftovers in the box were room temperature but she hardly seemed to mind. God, he wanted to run his hand up her shirt just to see if she was wearing a bra. They twitched in his lap and he realized there was no way she missed the hunger in his gaze as he did. 

“Did you bring those beers,” she laughed as she noticed the case on the coffee table for the first time. “Can I have one?” 

The beer seemed to quell the tiny tremor in her fingers. She kicked her feet up on the coffee table permitting Diego to do the same. "What the hell are we even doing? Hanging out? What exactly is this accomplishing?" 

Jazmine gave it some thought as she took a pull from her drink. "Putting on a show. We need Haagen to think I'm in love with you, like you're no good but I'm not ready to let you go for something 'better.'" 

"And Haagen is something," Diego put his fingers up like claws, "better." 

"He certainly needs to think he is." She noticed Hercules whining and let her out the door unaccompanied. "We've got his 'gentleman' ego to work with." 

Diego followed her to the window and grasped her hips from behind. She half turned, gazing up at him with a question in her eyes. He leaned into her space to whisper into her ear. 

"Those eyes Healy thinks Haagen sent to watch you? Well they're watching right now, and they're not being subtle about it." 

She doesn't try to look like he expected her to. Instead, she stepped away from him and pointedly crossed her arms. "You don't look very comfortable if you're still wearing that." 

She nodded her head at his coat. 

"So take it off me." 

That startled her. Jazmine's eyebrows lifted, and her feet shuffled when he gave her nothing but a smirk in return. Finally, she did as he suggested. She did not miss the way his hands seemed to brush lightly over her rib cage. These small, fleeting touches that left her breath audible and her stomach warm. He didn't even give her a chance to put the coat on the hangar when he dragged her back against him. 

"What are you doing?" She didn't mean to sound breathless, turning her head to the side and exposing more of her neck at the behest of his pushy nose and allowing him to trail kisses on her skin. 

"Putting on a show," he said against the shell of her ear. 

He felt her stiffen a little against him. The tent on his pants was preventing a lot of important blood from entering his brain, but he was conscience enough to feel how conflicted she was. Diego slipped his hand up her shirt like he wanted, cupping her bare breast and sucking a mark into her neck. She allowed it, but it felt more like compliance than enjoyment. All at once and against the protest of his body, he let her go. He watched her shoulders relax and her hands find a home beneath her armpits. 

Jazmine nodded in answer to a question left unasked. She did grab his hand and pull him away from the window, backwards into the tiny hall separating the front room from the bedroom and bathroom. She dropped his hand as soon as they were out of sight of the window. 

"I appreciate the enthusiasm," she said. "Just hang out for twenty more minutes and you can leave. I'll text you tomorrow and we can makes plans for another 'show.' You can stay in my room while I clean the bathroom." 

Diego sat heavily on her bed. Just as he was about to get comfortable, someone knocked at the front door. Jazmine brushed invisible dirt from her knees as she got up to see who it was. He followed from a distance. The peep hole was almost out of her reach, but she stood on her toes to see outside. Suddenly, the woman looked back at him with wide eyes. It's Haagen, she mouthed. As soon as her head was turned to the task of confronting him, she missed the part where Diego began to undress. 

"Hey!" She flung the door open and yelped when Hercules barreled through her legs to get inside. "You... found my dog!" 

"Indeed," Haagen said, folding his hands over his heart. "I saw this poor creature wandering and I returned him using the address on its collar. I am astounded to learn that he belongs to you." Nice cover story. The man continued, "since you have the day off, I was wondering–" 

Haagen's wondering was cut off by the appearance of a half naked boyfriend. Diego wound his arm around Jazmine and leaned down so he could engulf her clothed nipple with his hot mouth. She gasped, pushing his head away on instinct and he pressed her into his side like a vice. 

"Come back to bed, baby," he purred, then pretended to take notice of Haagen watching in the doorway. "Oh, you're that guy, right? James, Jeff, Jebediah or whatever." 

"Jeremy," the man hissed through his teeth. "Hello Di-e-go." 

"Right right right." An embarrassed Jazmine buried her face into Diego's nude shoulder, acting unconsciously but playing into her role perfectly. "Kinda crazy how I start hearing about you and then all of a sudden you're showing up on my girl's doorstep, isn't it?" 

Haagen made a move to defend himself but Jazmine was quicker. "He found the dog, honey! Jeremy was just bringing her home, he didn't know I lived here." 

"Right," Haagen cleared this throat. 

Diego's smile bordered on a threatening mania-- there were far too many teeth displayed to suggest any sort of friendliness. "Life is so full of strange coincidences…" 

No one missed the way he squeezed Jazmine harder. It sent a message to be sure. Vague enough for Haagen to infer whatever he deemed necessary to the story in his head. It was quite brilliant actually. 

"Well I ought to," Haagen swallowed, "leave you to it then. I'll see you around the shop, then?" 

"Bye–" she barely managed to say before Diego dragged her into the apartment and slammed the door shut. He kept dragging her all the way back to her bedroom, and all the while she protested being treated like a misbehaving child. It wasn't until he'd slammed the door and collected his shirt from the floor that she realized what exactly had transpired. 

"Oh." She brushed the frizzing curls invading her eyes, "oh that was perfect. Healy was right to pick you." 

Diego rolled his shoulders once his shirt was tucked back into place. "Come over tonight. I'll text you my address and we can capitalize on this. Wear something nice." 

She was about to protest his leaving but realized it wouldn't matter. If Haagen expected a fight from the noises he'd heard, he would probably just assume it had ended quickly if he saw Diego storm out alone. He crafted his own version of events. She let the pieces fall where they lie and made arrangements to meet Diego tonight. 

#Diego Jimenez x OC #Starz Power #fanfic #Diego Jimenez #Garrote #three bees writing #🐝🐝🐝✏

[waywardwrestlewritingwaif]

The Guardian’s Oath, Part Eleven

So we ended the last part with the Demon Balor doing a three count... What did that mean? Well, there’s a little insight provided in this next chapter... Of course, if you don’t know what I’m talking about there, you can go back and read the previous chapters, all of which are linked in the Master List. 

Pairing: Feargal Devitt/ Finn Balor x OFC

Word count: 3,027

Content advisory: Nothing in particular; It’s a horror story that involves demons (well, a demon) and there are some discussions on the subject of childbearing that might be uncomfortable but that’s it. 

It was several weeks after I discovered the baby blanket and robe that I finally decided to confront Feargal about them. I had determined that I would say nothing apart from that I had found them in the cedar chest. I was not going to mention Sophia’s invocation of the name “Colin”. I was not going to say that Kate had told me the story of Sophia’s prior obsession with a younger brother of that name. I was certainly not going to mention any part of what Susan had heard from her aunt or the villagers. I was simply going to state the facts as I would have interpreted them without any information from others. 

“My love,” I began quietly when we were retired to our room for the night, “I found these when I was making space in the cedar chest. I know that you told me that there was nothing that you wished to keep there but these looked like they might have some sentimental meaning and so I thought that I would check with you.”

My hands shook as I held the pieces out to him, scanning his face to read his reaction. If he had ever seen these objects before, there was no evidence of it. He took the fabric from me with no more than mild curiosity and it wasn’t until he started to unfold them that there was any change in his expression. When he saw the embroidery, his hand moved over his heart, still clutching at the fabric, and I was afraid that his heart might give out. 

“I’m so sorry, sir, have I done something wrong?”

He took a few deep breaths before he gave me a pained smile. “I do hope that eventually you will entirely stop calling me sir.”

I smiled and blushed a little. 

“You’ve done nothing wrong at all, Helen and I’m sorry that my reaction alarmed you.” He took my hand in his and fixed me with his boundless, clear eyes. “Just before my former wife died, she thought that she was pregnant again. Based on the signs and her experience, she was certain that it was another boy. We planned to name the baby Colin, after my father.

“But as time wore on, things became confused. She became obsessed with the child she was carrying, one day believing that it was some kind of monster and the next that everyone was conspiring to do her and the baby some kind of harm. Again, I meant to have a doctor evaluate her but then…”

His shoulders slumped and his gaze fell to the floor. “In the end, I don’t even know if she wasn’t making the whole thing up. The child could have been one more delusion. But she died before I knew for certain.”

“Feargal, I am so sorry. I am sorry that you had to go through such things and I am sorry that I inadvertently made you think of them again.”

“I found out after Sarah was gone that she’d been talking to Sophia about the new brother she could expect. For months, Sophia seemed to have this idea that both her mother and the baby were out there, that they would come back.”

I wrapped my arms around him, unable to think of anything else I could do, and held him against my body, as close as possible. He responded, pressing me flat against him and burying his face in my neck. I thought I felt him shed a couple of tears but after a minute or two, his lips twitched and I could feel a slight smile form on them. 

“How God must smile on me to have sent you here,” he murmured, lifting his head so that his lips grazed my ear when he spoke. “A woman to whom I can speak about my darkest times and whose beauty reminds me of the fact that darkness passes into light.”

I gasped at the compliment. “Oh, my love, I cannot hope to thank you enough for saying that.”

He held my face in his hands and kissed me, lips soft and pliant and yet somehow demanding. 

“There is nothing I would keep from you,” he whispered, “but if I can ask you for this one favor, I would like this to be the only time we discuss this story. Get rid of the blanket and the robe, please. I would honestly feel better without them in the house, in our house.”

I nodded and laughed a little as he lifted me into his arms and carried me to the bed, to our bed. 

*

I kept my promise never to mention the subject of “Colin” again with my husband. Likewise, I never mentioned it with Kate and Susan or with Sophia. But that was not to say that I did not think of it. I fretted over whether my predecessor had told the truth. I fretted over how Sophia might have perceived the stories told to her by an unreliable mother. I fretted over what had transpired in the village between Susan’s Aunt Anne and Sarah Devitt. When I tried to rest, I found myself trapped, wondering what my beloved husband knew and did not know and wondering if and how my demon lover fit into the story. 

I tried not to let my worrying distract me from the beauty of my life. I had scarcely dared imagine that I could have a husband that I loved so much, that I could be mistress of such a fine home, or that I could feel as loved and wanted as I did. Everything else, I told myself, was my imagination, something conjured by the Devil to entrap me. 

When Feargal was at home, it was easy to ignore the darkness; we would spend time together with the children and when we would retire to our room, we would make love that was tender, romantic, and like a fantasy. 

When Feargal was on the road, Balor would come. He paced his visitations so that I could never be sure when he would arrive or what he would expect from me. He would never simply allow me to participate passively. He wanted me active in our encounters, whether it was by servicing him or by becoming so excited that I would aggressively seek my own climax. He seemed as aroused by my reluctance as my excitement, which made both feel shameful to me. 

My body felt worn down as the winter wore on. I slept too little because of my dark visitor and I was always flinching from the invisible welts and cuts he left over my body. It remained cold weeks longer than usual and the coast was frequently locked in a frozen fog that made it seem even drearier. I bore up as well as I could but I felt myself growing sickly, my body like some kind of sack I was forced to drag everywhere, but also like something that was angry at me, taking out that anger by inflicting pains whatever I did. 

Kate and Susan noticed what I was going through and did what they could to help me. Susan would take the children on her walks to the market so that I could stay indoors on days when I felt weak. Kate was always coming up with excuses for me to sit near the fire in the kitchen, the warmest place in the house. 

“You’re not sick, are you?” William fretted as he showed me some stones he’d picked up on his walk with Susan. 

“No, I’ll be fine soon enough. This is my first winter by the ocean, that’s all.”

Sophia took her coat and her brother’s to put them away and he skipped off to show his new rocks to Kate.

“If you’ll pardon me for saying so, ma’am,” Susan told me once the children were out of earshot, “I don’t think it’s the ocean that’s making you sick. I think you’re in the family way.”

I was a little shocked at her impertinence but I was more astonished that this hadn’t thought of this myself. I wasn’t terribly well-informed about the signs of pregnancy but when I reflected on it, I realized that there was a very good chance Susan was right. 

“My sister Ellen had three and she was always bad at the beginning. She was so sick at first with her youngest that the doctors thought there was a problem with it but they were both fine.”

I bit my lip, trying to imagine what it would be like to go through months of this. Seeing my concern, the girl continued. 

“And she wasn’t sick the whole time, either. Just the first bit. All her children came out healthy.”

“I hadn’t thought about it. We haven't talked about having another child, the Reverend and me.”

“It’s not the talking that does the job,” she quipped.

I couldn’t help but laugh a little at her joke, however coarse it was. She was right. Feargal and I had done what was necessary to conceive a child many times, even if we had never discussed it as a possibility. Did that mean he would want a child with me?

Susan leaned closer and whispered, “Has it been long since you’ve bled?”

I nodded dumbly. “Longer than usual, definitely.”

She nodded and was about to speak again when the children came back into the room. I turned my attention to them and Susan left us. As I read with them and helped them with their piano practice, I tried to imagine what it would be like to make such a thing, to have one of them grow in my body and emerge as its own soul. I thought about how such a child might look, a mix of my features and Feargal’s. And at the same time, I fought back the far worse possibility, that I was pregnant with something terrible, some monster that Balor had put into me. Surely, that couldn’t happen? But if I accepted that I had had communion with some sort of demon, why couldn’t it be true? Hadn’t I engaged in the same acts with him? 

Once Susan had put the idea in my head, it was all I could think about. I had no idea if I should tell Feargal right away or wait until I was certain. Then again, I didn’t know how long it would take for me to be absolutely certain. During the days, I was able to distract myself by spending time with the children and attending to matters of the house, but at night I lay frightened in my bed, wondering what was happening inside my body. 

After three or four nights of this, it was almost a relief when I saw Balor crawl out of the shadows and onto the bed. I sast up but he immediately pushed me back down, pinning my shoulders against the bed until he was sure I would remain still. He gave a little smile that was somehow more disturbing than his usual sneer and ran his hands down my body, roughly grabbing and pinching at my breasts and finally fanning them out over my stomach. As he did, I felt something like a spark, like a candle being lit deep inside me. 

“You can feel it now, can’t you?” he hissed. 

“Get your hands off me. It’s mine, mine and Feargal’s. You’ve had your favor repaid.”

“Is that what you think, my dear? You think that this is only about you repaying a small debt? Oh no. The third one is mine and I will not be cheated again.”

“The third one? What? And how can you say I’ve cheated you?”

He cocked his head slightly, waiting for me to catch up with his meaning. As the truth dawned on me, I wished only to go back to my state of ignorance. 

“You mean the third child is yours. His third child. You intend to take it from me!”

He nodded slowly. “Yes. I do and I will.”

“And if I try to stop you?”

“I hadn’t decided, but I was thinking I might take you to live with me as well,” he chuckled. “No need for more unpleasantness.”

“Unpleasantness?”

He kissed me gently, easing our lips together in a way that was more romantic than carnal, and for a moment it felt like I was embracing my beloved husband. As the kiss continued, I felt the air leaving my body and at the same time, I couldn’t force any back in. I struggled a little in his hold, growing frantic as I felt like I was suffocating or drowning until it was like something broke inside me, like I no longer needed to breathe, but that my body could simply draw what it needed with no action on my part. 

Balor pulled away slightly and I opened my eyes. We were no longer in my bed but in an ancient, overgrown forest, the tall trees eclipsing the sky above us. Looking back at me was not the seal-skinned demon but Feargal, pale and beautiful and otherworldly, exactly as he had seemed to me when I had first met him. As I stared at his face, however, I was increasingly troubled that something seemed off about him. The longer I looked, the more it became obvious that Feargal’s face was some kind of mask or disguise and as I struggled to comprehend what I was seeing, I realized that we were actually underwater, that the forest was submerged in the ocean. 

I opened my lips to scream and felt the briny water rush in, but then I was once again back in my bed, the Demon Balor perched over me with an inscrutable expression. 

“What did you mean when you said ‘more’ unpleasantness? And why did you say you wouldn’t be cheated again?” I mumbled, trying to get my bearings. 

The Demon wrinkled his nose and shot a derisive expression to the sky. “She cheated me of what was mine.”

“Colin,” I choked. 

“Mine. The third one was always to be mine.”

“But she wouldn’t let you have him.” I sat up, feeling like I was seeing something clearly for the first time. “She went to the village woman to get something to get rid of the baby. Then when that didn’t work, she ran away and drowned herself and the child she was carrying.”

He flashed his fangs at me and leapt back onto my chest, pinning my body between his thighs. A stream of hisses and snarls escaped him and small beads of spittle dropped from his lips to mine. 

I recoiled and a few tears escaped but I persisted with what I now felt was the truth. “She found a way to protect her son. But what did she owe you?”

“Silly girl. She never owed me anything. She never knew me. You’ve embraced me. You’ve given yourself over to me. You don’t have that pious reluctance in you because you know you’re ruined.”

“Get the hell out of here!” I cried at him, marveling that the sound of my voice when he was near never woke the others in the house. “I won’t let you take this child! I would let you hurt us! I pray I never see you again and if I do I shall make certain to send you back to Hell forever.”

Grinning, he withdrew from the bed and back into the shadows. 

“Soon enough,” he rasped in parting. “We shall meet again soon enough.”

*

When Feargal made it home at the end of his travels that week, he was shocked to find me awake and fully dressed, waiting for him with a pot of tea. 

“My love, you look distraught. Has something happened?”

I hardly knew where to begin but knowing his preference for the practical, I chose to start there. 

“The Church has been promising since before we were married that they would find someone to take on some of the work you’ve been doing, so that you could spend more time at home.”

“I know,” he responded sadly. “I should have followed up with them and asked what they’ve been doing about it. I didn’t mean to make you feel like I’ve avoided being here with you.”

“It’s not that I want you at home, Feargal,” I snapped, immediately feeling guilty when I saw his hurt expression. “I mean, it’s not just that I want you near me. If it were just me, I could find a way to bear it but I’m afraid… My love, I think I’m… I have a baby in me. Our baby. And I want to know that you’ll be here for us and that you want this.”

“Want this?” he repeated incredulously. “How could I not want this?”

He crossed the room and ran his hand over my stomach as if it were something magical. 

“Are you certain?” 

I took a deep breath. “I don’t know how to be certain. I have all the signs. My body feels different to me. I know we’ve… I know almost nothing about children but I believe that’s what’s happening.”

“Oh love,” he touched his lips to mine and took me in his arms. “Don’t fear. I shall write to the Church tomorrow and insist that they send someone right away.” He trailed kisses down the length of my neck, smiling at the soft mewls it elicited from me. “At the very worst, if you aren’t with child now, we could use the extra time to make sure we get you that way.”

I gasped at the implication, only for him to pull me into a passionate kiss. 

“You can’t imagine how much I miss you when I’m away,” he whispered, pushing himself flush against me. “I think of you all the time.”

He caught both of my arms in a firm grip and guided me upstairs to our bedroom, the wild, hungry glint in his eyes offering me a clear preview of what was in store. 

“I’m glad you stayed up,” he told me.