#Jasper Stoop

[ilovetheater-nl]

Mugmetdegoudentand speelt The Making of Soros the Musical

Mugmetdegoudentand speelt The Making of Soros the Musical

Op vrijdag 10 maart 2023 gaat in de Toneelschuur in Haarlem ‘The Making of Soros the Musical’ in première. In deze nieuwe theaterproductie van mugmetdegoudentand geven Lineke Rijxman, Jasper Stoop en Vincent van der Valk een inkijkje in het leven van de speculant, miljardair en filantroop George Soros. ‘The Making of Soros the Musical’ is tot en met eind mei te zien in meer dan 25 theaters in…

[kingkunigami]

This is entirely Ari and Jaspers fault. I’m actually insane for this man.

Pairing: Oliver Aiku x f!reader.

Warnings: 18+, cunnilingus.

There’s something about the way Oliver Aiku’s stubble tickles your ear when he leans down to whisper against it that has your cunt throbbing with desire. It’s the salaicious implication behind it as his warm breath fans against your skin and you feel him pressed against your hip, a subtle indication that he might actually be good at it.

But he’s pathetic really, especially paired with the sheer audacity he holds that thought he could get away with asking you such a crude question. It’s enough having to deal with him on and off the pitch as one of the team administrators, but this? You weren’t drunk enough for this—

“Do you wanna suck my cock?”

It had been the last thing you’d expected to hear when he’d pressed his lips to your ear, and you should’ve walked away at that alone. There were more than enough men in this dirty dive bar that would at least have better small talk at bare fucking minimum.

“No.” You scrunched your nose in irritation, already intent on walking away.

“Aw come on,” He grins, taking a sip of his beer, “Don’t be like that, sweetheart.”

The pet name should’ve been his second strike, so why were you still here?

“I’m not your sweetheart,” You shot him a smile back, full of faux sincerity.

“But you could be,” He grinned.

“Nah, I don’t think I could.”

“You always act like you hate me.” He pouts, and you have to stop your heart from squeezing at how adorable he looks— you have to stay strong.

“Yeah, it’s an act.” You reply sarcastically, rolling your eyes as you down the rest of your drink.

That’s why you hate yourself for where you are now, legs spread while Oliver looks at you like the cat that got the cream. Licking his lips as he peels your sticky panties to the side, eyes sparkling in delight as he notices the wet patch that stains the fabric.

“Knew you were lying,” He scoffs, “Were you this wet when you were talking to me, huh?”

“Shut up,” You sneer, scrunching your nose in frustration.

“That’s not very nice, is it?” He presses a wet, sloppy kiss to your inner thigh.

And the moment you feel the rough stubble graze your thighs, it’s game over. Legs lock around his head to cage him in, chasing the sensation as you shamelessly wiggle your inner thighs against the side of his face.

“I haven’t even touched you yet, sweetheart.” He grins, large palms dipping into the plush of your thighs as he prizes them open like a cherished gift.

He licks his lips in anticipation as he ogles your sex, revealing just how wet and ready you are for him— strings of your slick glisten against you invitingly and it only boosts his ego knowing that it’s all for him.

“Prettiest fuckin’ pussy I’ve ever seen.” He speaks, and you’re unsure whether it’s to you or him, but it doesn’t stop your clit from pulsing in response. The swollen nub desperate for attention as you writhe beneath his grip, Oliver’s warm breath that fans against it not nearly enough as you feel pleas sitting on the tip of your tongue.

But you’re determined not to stoop so low, to give his ego even more of a boost. He’s shameless enough as it is, with the cocky curl of his lip as he deliberately hovers inches from your slit.

“At least this pussy’s fucking honest,” He chuckles, “Look how much she wants me.” And it’s enough to have you weaving a hand through his messy mop of hair as your nails drag against his scalp. Twisting at the root to hold him steady as you buck your hips, pushing his face into your eager cunt.

His lips smash against your clit, giving it some needed relief as you whine in satisfaction. Your body convulsing as your eyes roll back into your skull, pleasure shoots through your veins like he’s an addictive drug and you’re certain you won’t recover.

But it’s the way his rough stubble grazes the sensitive skin that has you crumbling, your toes curl as you turn into the needy, desperate slut he’d said you were—

“Fuck,” He groans, muffled by your cunt as he slurps and guzzles your slick like he’s picked the ripest peach, “You’re such a mess.”

It’s debauched, and borderline depraved as you feel a mixture of his spit and your slick drool between the curve of your ass. Slurping it into his mouth before spitting it back down against your messy slit, positive there’s a puddle beneath you as Oliver continues to ruin you.

You’re certain you won’t survive— the flat of his tongue swipes from your tight rim as he works the length of you, all the way to the top as you feel the rough stubble on his chin tickle your clit. Oliver repeats the motion, as though he knows it’s exactly what you want. And perhaps it is— the sensation has you crying out for him as you shamelessly fuck his face. Chasing the sensation of his beard against your slit as you let the friction catch your clit, feeling the familiar throb swirl in your abdomen as you feel yourself teetering on the edge of bliss.

And he knows from the telltale way your thighs begin to shudder and your hole begins to pulse as he weaves a hand around your thighs to press down on your pelvis. Increasing the pressure and pulling the hood of your clit back as he nuzzles your cunt, bristling against you as you find yourself crying out for him. Reduced to a pathetic, debauched mess as he stares up at you from between your clenching thighs.

Oliver works you through your climax, his tongue prods your leaking hole greedily after as though to taste his victory. Pressing a final, lingering kiss to your over sensitive clit as he pulls back with a cocky grin. The mess of your climax now threaded through the fuzz on his chin as he shamelessly wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Still gonna act like you hate me, sweetheart?”

[junkdrawerfics]

Dandelions

Jasper Hale X Reader

Request: If it's not too much to ask, could I request a fic inspired by the song "Dandelions" by Ruth B? Not particular about plot just a lot of fluff if you don't mind. Thank you! @notafraidofstopping876

Word Count: 556

Note: I know this is pretty short, but I felt like it was a cute little scene and I didn't feel right expanding it. So I hope you like it! It was fun to work from a song!

---

“Look! A dandelion!”

Jasper has to hold back a chuckle as you drag him to the edge of the pavement. You stoop down, hand still in his, looking at the little weed in awe. It’s a tiny one, barely grown into the fuzzy little lion it will be, but you’d think it’s a stunningly beautiful flower by how excited you get. Amusement curls in the blond’s chest as he crouches down beside you.

“I love dandelions,” you hum, voice unbearably soft as you lean against him, “I don’t get why people call them weeds. They’re so cute, don’t you think?”

Jasper can’t help but agree, not because he finds the plant to be anything special, but because of you. Your emotions wash over him, a wave of warmth and wonder so intense he could drown in them. You don’t try to hide it either, or care that some students are giving the two of you strange glances. You just look at the little flower, eyes practically glowing with fondness.

You don’t pick the dandelion, though. You just kneel there, chin propped on your knees, humming contently.

“Aren’t you goin’ to make a wish, darlin’?” He asks expectantly.

You shake your head, a kind of knowing smile pulling at your lips, “Nope. I don’t need to.”

You have to bite back a wider grin at the perplexed look that flickers over Jasper’s face. You love when you can surprise the vampire, even in little things like this. He always gives you the same look, brows scrunched, eyes burning with curiosity, head tilting ever so slightly. It makes him look so human, like he hasn’t lived for hundreds of painful years, like he’s just Jasper, the nineteen year old boy who’s trying to figure out what on earth his girlfriend is doing.

“Do you want to know why?” You ask, voice not quite a whisper.

Jasper nods, eyes now narrowed, because of course he does. 

You lean in close, like what you’re about to share is top secret. The blond mirrors you. You take a dramatic pause, eyes sparkling, before finally saying the words you’d been practicing in your head since the moment you laid eyes on the flower.

“I don’t need to make a wish because they already gave me everything I ever wished for.”

It’s like lighting a match. There's a spark of surprise in his eyes before it flickers and warms into something overwhelmingly tender. 

“I wished on hundreds of dandelions for you Jasper Hale,” you finish in a whisper, just for him to hear, “I think it’s someone else’s turn to have their wish come true.”

A genuine smile slants over his lips, soft and lovely and oh, you don’t think your heart can handle it. You feel like you're melting, your pulse fluttering uncontrollably, and you know he can hear it. But Jasper doesn’t tease you like he usually would. He simply lifts your intertwined hands, lips ghosting over your knuckles. 

“You are everythin’ I never even hoped to wish for, darlin’,” Jasper murmurs.

Nevermind that you’re in Forks High parking lot. Nevermind that a dozen people are still watching the two of you with confused expressions. Some loves only come once in a lifetime, and the moment you look into Jasper’s eyes, you know that this is it. 

This is your forever.

[novantinuum]

Artwork for Crack the Paragon Chapter 14.

Jasper’s features twist into a furious scowl. “What kind of blasted mockery is this?!” she hollers, throwing out her hands at the lot. “Those were Pink’s eyes! Pink’s gem! Were you really formed so without respect that you’d even stoop to ridicule the very diamond you shattered?! Why did your eyes look like that, Rose?”

[gisellelx]

Cullen vs. Cullen

Been working seriously on One Day the Sun Will Rise and for some reason, I really needed to see this scene in my head. This is a teaser of a one-shot, set in between the events of Ithaca Is Gorges before it goes AU at chapter 14/15, and about a year before the beginning of One Day.

Mineral, Virginia Early spring 2011

The doorbell startled him.

The house wasn’t even so much a house as it was a cabin. Tucked up in the mountains; four bedrooms, two irrelevant bathrooms. It was remote; the actual property was just over two hundred acres, but 98there were nearly two thousand more undeveloped around them. Edward had joked that they had finally bought a refrigerator, what with the abundant deer and elk and bear nearby. It was entirely remote; when he had been working, Carlisle had traveled nearly ninety minutes by car to the small town of Mineral. Living here again, he hadn’t seen a human in months.

They had been absolutely on top of one another as a family of seven here, but it had been a last-minute move from Calgary sixty years earlier and there had been only so much Carlisle had been able to do. He was thinking of the bickering, the way the girls argued over space in front of the mirror, the walls that Esme was constantly repairing as Jasper and Emmett got into play-tussles they refused to take outside, when he opened the door. And even though his mind had been on the rest of the family, it still took him just a hairsbreadth of a second longer than it should have to make sense of the person on his stoop.

Well, that and that it had been five years.

He greeted the man with silence, and Jasper only raised his eyebrows.

“Carlisle Cullen?” he said.

“Not the name I’m using at the moment, actually. “

An eyeroll. “But it’s one you have.”

“At one point in my life, yes.”

“Allow me to specify. You are the person who used the alias Carlisle Cullen IV, date of birth listed as the fourth of May, nineteen seventy-two?”

He didn’t like changing the actual day of his birth. But doing so had been advised by no less than Jasper himself, as the number was increasingly used as a substitute identifier. One child being born on his father or grandfather’s birthday was a sweet coincidence, too many February seventeenths was statistically improbable. He’d picked this recent one as an homage to the new Star Wars movie, though in the end, Hayden Christiansen had delivered a rather insipid performance.

Even more reason to drop it, he supposed.

“Jasper—”

He found himself cut off. “Carlisle, knock it off. I’m doing a job I don’t want to do. Will you please confirm that? Aloud?”

It was an expression Carlisle wasn’t used to seeing on Jasper’s face. Resolve, yes. Compassion, yes. Annoyance, usually with Edward? Yes.

But not this. Jasper’s eyes looked pained. Weary.

Carlisle couldn’t blame him. It had been a long five years.

“Yes, I’m that Carlisle Cullen,” he replied.

“Thank you.” Jasper held out a legal-sized manila envelope. “This is for you.”

Carlisle took it, flipping open the top. He pulled out a thick sheaf of papers, and glanced at the top of the first page.

IN THE SUPERIOR COURT OF CAYUGA COUNTY STATE OF NEW YORK Esme Anne Platt Cullen, plaintiff vs. W. Carlisle Cullen IV, defendant

He looked back up. Jasper’s arms were crossed over his chest.

“She’s serving me.”

A shake of the head. “She’s divorcing you. I’m serving you.” He gestured to the envelope, his arms still crossed. “Everything you need is in there. You have thirty days to respond or file countersuit.”

He didn’t want one suit, much less two. Carlisle leafed through the envelope at full speed. Everything was documented. The houses were in there, the hedge fund, CEE Inc, right down to the two and a half years of “our finances should look like a normal couple’s” 401(k) savings as an employee of Clallam County , WA.

He looked up when he reached the end. “Who prepared this?”

“Jenks.” Jasper shrugged. “Everything is mostly down the middle, but with a few carve outs, so you should read it.”

Carlisle shook his head. “I’m the one who left. I told her she could have everything.”

Jasper shrugged. “Pretty sure that if she could, she would be completely rid of you; but as it happens, she actually owes you alimony for this current marriage, seeing as 'Carlisle' hasn't bothered working for the last half decade.” Jasper pulled several pages out of the envelope. “You’ll need to have a bank account she can deposit to. So you’ll need to have your old identity in parallel for at least six years.”

Six years. Longer than he wanted to stay connected.

“What if I just made that guy…disappear?”

Jasper’s brow furrowed. “Are you somehow under the impression that more people being dead is helpful, here? Even fictionally?”

It was fair, he supposed. He stepped back into the door frame. “Do you want to come in?”

He shook his head. “I really don’t think I should.”

“Did Alice come with you?”

“Yes, but she stayed in Charlottesville. Better shopping. And she doesn’t want to get near you and—well, you know.”

He knew. He’d asked Alice to stay out of his business. It worked some of the time. Others—well, there was a reason her calls were directed to voicemail.

He turned the envelope over in his hands.

“Well. Thanks, I guess.”

Jasper shrugged. Neither of them were very big on hugging each other at the very best of times and this was not that. Gesturing to the envelope, he said, “Thirty days. FedEx is fine. I assume you’re not going to contest it.” He turned and began to walk away, at human speed. But he made it no further than the bottom of the steps when he turned around, frowning.

“Carlisle, I just need to know something.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Shoot.”

Jasper looked from the envelope, to the house, to Carlisle. He frowned again, that exhausted expression returning to his face.

“Just…are you certain you’ve done the right thing, here?”

The wind was still whipping, making the trees creak and the sunlight shift across them. Carlisle had always liked that about the woods; how even in silence it was never quiet, a tiny reminder that standing still, by himself, he wasn’t ever fully alone. He looked back at the house. It needed fixing up. It would be stressful to do that without Esme, but he wasn’t exactly not handy, and he still liked the feel of a saw in his hands. He’d stay here for a few years, maybe, then pursue something new, re-setting to an older version of himself that he thought he’d left behind forever on that cold October night in 1918. But he was used to that self, and there was a certain aspect of this that felt….normal. That even in his grief, felt as though he was coming back to a strange forgotten familiarity.

Slowly, he nodded. “Most days? Yes. Some days, less so.”

Jasper’s frowned deepened, but bobbed his head slowly. “I’m not sure I’ll ever understand it. But…godspeed, Carlisle. I’ll see you again someday, I’m sure.” And then he was gone, the wind at his back rustling the trees, flashes of dappled light that disappeared as he fled into the lower canopy. Carlisle listened and watched until the forest was once again still.

When the wind died, and the sound of his—son? Former son? How did he even talk about this?—disappeared into the forest, Carlisle pulled out the sheaf of papers again. A lump rose in his throat and he gulped, tamping it back down, pressing all the feelings that were rising back into their places. Edward. Esme. Everyone who had been. And everyone who was gone.

Closing the door the door behind him, he laid the papers on the dining room table, seeing again the words at the top:

Esme Anne Platt Cullen, plaintiff

Today, he realized, was going to be a “less so” kind of day.

[goldeneyedgirl]

TwiFicmas23 Day 8: Mary-Alice & Feral Jasper

Good evening!

Tonight we're opting for some Mary-Alice & Feral Jasper because @sonyawix deserves nice things, and these two are so cute to write. It's a soft and gentle little fic where they get to be cute and awkward together.

This is a bit of a patchwork of bits and pieces from throughout the fic, and kind of establishes some of the dynamic.

I am off to sleep for eight hours and procrastinate over tomorrow's post! I hope you enjoy this!

She watches him from the bower of the tree, as he picks his path away from his coven. She’s lucky she’s downwind; her visions show her that they won’t scent her from this perch. 

And she finally gets to see him in person. 

He’s very tall and lean, but he walks slightly stooped and she wonders why. He looks like he’s waiting for a blow to fall, and she doesn’t like that at all. His hair looks clean and is pulled back from his face, and his clothes are … better than hers, at least. She had to rip up a shirt into strips and knot them tightly into a belt to make her dress sit a little better, and it was filthy and torn. His are ill-fitting and worn, but they aren’t dirty. 

His eyes are still black, and that worries her. She cannot think of any vampire whose eyes have remained black for so long, not even when Maria was holding hostages to get more information.

But she doesn’t know how long he was locked away, and she knows nothing about torpor. Mary-Alice has never been around a vampire that wasn’t healed up in a day or two. Or rather, they’d never kept any soldier that wasn’t healed that fast unless they had a special reason to keep them. This kind of injury is entirely foreign to her. 

//

The girl appears from the trees in a split second, as if she’s materialised from  thin air, and there’s enormous relief that he’s not imagining her, like the Cullens think, and he’s not going mad. There was someone watching him

He stares at her with unbridled fascination. 

She’s so … beautiful. Wide red eyes, a pale face framed in uneven black hair with hopeful little curls. She’s tiny, she doesn’t come up to the middle of his chest, and as thin as a dancer. Her clothing is shredded and filthy, there’s blood and mud on her dress indiscriminately. She’s a new kind of vampire, not like the Cullens, and not like the kinds that he can vaguely remember from his past. There’s something wild about her, like she’s just been formed out of the trees and dirt around them, and he likes that.

The scars take a moment for him to notice. They are littering her bare arms and legs, some of them faded and worn into the fabric of her skin, some of them fresher. There’s a nasty one over her eye, and he’s suddenly intensely aware of his own scars. He remembers the pain that came with them, the suffering, and he hopes this girl hasn’t fallen victim to the same misery he only remembers in fragments of agony and rage and fear. 

“Hello?” His voice is still more of a rasp; his healing is slow, and it’s embarrassing to show such weakness to her. He’s also not the one who usually speaks first, and he wonders if he should have waited. He doesn’t know. Usually, the Cullens correct him if he makes a mistake, but they aren’t here. 

It took him weeks to convince them that he was well enough to go on walks alone. He’s grateful that Emmett took his side. He’s got nowhere to run to; he doesn’t understand this world and how it works, and he knows that until he heals, he probably wouldn’t survive long. 

But Esme worried so much, as if the foxes and deer in the woods might be the thing that carried him off. 

He’s rather tickled that only his second time out alone, and he’s found… her. Except, she just studies him with a blank look; not anger but no pleasure or joy. Just quiet consideration, and he wonders too late if she’s planning to attack him. 

//

He looks better. 

She likes that. 

He’s clean and wearing new clothing, and not stooping any longer. His eyes are a funny gold-tinted colour but he’s been feeding - they’re lighter and they’re clearer now, no longer clouded over. Good, that’s good; she’s oddly grateful that the Cullens know how to help him because she had asked Maria casually about some of the injuries he’d bore, and Maria had not had the faintest clue about what she spoke of. It had made her suspicious, which had slowed down her escape exponentially. 

She might still be annoyed about that. She could have been here weeks ago if Maria hadn’t decided to be difficult. 

Jasper seems calm and curious as he moves closer to her; but he’s still limping. And it does frustrate her that the Cullens have let him out to roam the forest without warnings that he shouldn’t be approaching strange vampires. Anyone else might have taken his head before he realised they were even there. 

Something else she’ll have to explain to him then. She’s got a mental list of things already, and she wasn’t expecting to stay that long, truly - just long enough to make sure that he was okay and safe. Then she was going to go and see what snow was like. 

It looked nice in the pictures she’d seen. 

He’s getting worried now, at the silence since he greeted her, and that’s her fault. She’s not used to having people to talk to - unless she was fucking them or they had a particular gift (well, at least, one that was common knowledge), Maria liked her soldiers silent. 

“They’re taking good care of you,” she says abruptly and wonders when she lost the ability to converse with others normally, and not like a soldier. 

“Who? The Cullens?” He stops and gives her a strange look. “Do you… know the Cullens?” The words rasp and catch in his throat, and he struggles to form the entire sentence, as if he’s trying to find and catch each word. Definitely still healing, and it sounds painful and dry when he speaks. 

Perhaps she can convince him to hunt more often to try and speed up the process. There’s a town less than an hour’s run from this place, it wouldn’t be hard for him to slip away and return before the family even knew. 

“Mmm. I wanted to … I wanted to make sure you were safe.” Her words are flat and short, and she can see his uncertainty. 

//

Emmett recognises the longing in Jasper’s eyes as he stares after the small girl wading in the lake. It’s pretty much the same look that Emmett had on his own face when he woke up and saw Rosalie - properly saw her - for the first time. 

Mary-Alice is really strange, but it doesn’t take rocket science to realize she’s had a bad time - even just the overlapping scars on her arms tell a story of violence and fear, but it’s in every part of her - by the way she moves, the way that she watches and stares, the way she speaks in the flat, even voice devoid of emotion, in short sentences. Wherever she came from, it wasn’t a good place, and Emmett’s oddly pleased that she’d found them - even if she was only hanging around because of Jasper like a stray cat, a thought that made him chuckle to himself - and had looked vaguely disgusted with the idea of spending time with the rest of the family.  

Of course, the rest of the family still thought Mary-Alice was some kind of imaginary coping-mechanism for Jasper that they were tentatively ignoring, so maybe she was offended. 

He should be grateful, actually. It’s taken a few weeks for Mary-Alice to stop glaring at him, to stop prowling around like some kind of jungle cat and freeze up, the second he appears. She’s still distant and rigid whenever Emmett appears, but she doesn’t treat him like he’s a danger anymore. And maybe he’d believe that this was trust and the path to friendship, except he’s seen her with Jasper.

When she’s focused on Jasper, there’s a gentleness in every aspect of her. She’s softer with him, patient and sweet. And she revolves around him like she’s his bodyguard against the world. She almost fusses over him, demanding to know when he’s hunted and how he’s healing. Emmett’s nearly certain he’s caught her smelling Jasper’s hair and clothing - perhaps to make sure he’s clean? Mary-Alice doesn’t seem to give much thought to her own state of cleanliness or her clothing, but Jasper’s are clearly important to her. And the way she stares up at Jasper - Mary-Alice has to be the tiniest vampire that Emmett’s ever seen, and Jasper’s only a few centimetres shorter than him - with this look that he suspects might have human feelings behind them.

Jasper would know better than him, though. But on the few attempts Emmett’s made to ask about that, Jasper’s given him a flat, stubborn look and refused to speak. 

So the longing is probably reciprocated - maybe. Alice just hides it better, behind a wall of protectiveness and anti-social personality traits. Emmett honestly can’t work out why she’d be caring and smelling and fussing over his brother if she didn’t care. 

But Emmett also worries; Jasper was walled up alone for so long that they’ve practically had to resocialize him. He remembered so little of human interaction that it had been a war zone at home for a while. Even now, he still had so many behaviours that Esme politely referred to as ‘quirks’ that they had to correct every day (and now Emmett’s wondering how many of the newer ‘quirks’ had been introduced or encouraged by Mary-Alice, who is practically a wild animal). The idea that Jasper is pining for a girl and all that a relationship entails…

Emmett really, really doesn’t want to have to give his new brother the sex talk.  And he knows if he tries to convince either Edward or Carlisle to step in and have the world’s most uncomfortable conversation, they’re going to want toknow why and then remind Emmett that they aren’t encouraging the idea that Mary-Alice is real. And if Mary-Alice isn’t real, then Jasper doesn’t need to suffer through the indignity of a sex-talk. 

It’s a mess. And Emmett’s relieved that Carlisle has decided not to introduce Jasper to the cousins yet because they all know that the sisters are incorrigible flirts, and he’s got a fifty on Jasper (and Mary-Alice) being utterly humourless about that kind of behaviour. 

Emmett also knows that if he tries to push Jasper into introducing Mary-Alice to the rest of the family, it will be a complete disaster. She’ll refuse point blank and then he will be persona non grata around her and … he doesn’t want to piss her off, and he doesn’t want to piss Jasper off. 

He also doesn’t want to have to refresh his brother’s memory on the mechanics of sex and why waiting to be fully healed might be the best choice …

He’s overthinking this. He should really stay out of it entirely. The thing is, he really wants this to work out for Jasper. He’s a good guy, if weird as fuck, and he deserves to have a nice home and a girlfriend that he’s madly in love with - even if the girl happens to be some scary little traumatized gremlin who Emmett can’t imagine smiling let alone being in love with someone. 

He really hopes this works out. 

—

[willow-and-morel]

Visions Through Orpiment Eyes

Chapter 3: What The Fuck Wednesday

TW: blood, lot of blood, panic, angst, etc....

MY TENSES ARE NOT PROPER �� its a good thing writing is a very very side hobby im so sorry for the writers reading this wondering wtf is this guy doing

it was the gt brain rot, makes me think i can create any form of content possible ;3

Jasper

It was a bit hard to stay up and concentrate on walking. Although the wounds were not life threatening, they ached- I was also somewhat worried about the small creature sitting on my neck. If I fell they would surely be hurt more than I would be.

What are they anyways?

Are there more of them?

As I was pondering these questions, I finally saw the small stream ahead as well as the water-plants growing around the landscape. It was a relatively flat section where the water flowed, allowing water to seep into the surrounding area and avidly fertilizing those sections.

“Is this the place?”

I asked, trying to keep my voice low. I had realized after they mentioned it that my voice was probably very loud to them. Although I could slightly feel them move in the crease of my neck they were so light that it was easy to forget they were there. As I neared the creek I stooped down, letting my knee sit in the patch of plants. I held my hand up to where the creature was and let them descend to my curved palm. I was going to set them down onto the ground, but the area was mostly mushy, covered in water, or plant roots. I set them on my knee instead.

“If you mash the plants into a pulp and spread them on the wounded areas it should help.”

They pointed towards the water plants stemming up from the muddy creek bed. I nodded and gathered a bushel or so of the plants. The creature opted to slide off of my knee and onto a nearby plant. Somehow they managed to stay on it as it swayed under their weight. I stood up once they got off.

“So… what’s your name?” I asked, and walked closer to where the water was. They turned around to look at me as I moved and answered in what seemed like a yell, although it was fairly quiet in comparison to the bubbling brook,

“It’s Fawn.”

I nodded and as I approached the creek I (with some difficulty) pulled my blood stained shirt off. I held my breath slightly as the cloth slid against some of the wounds. I finally managed to yank the shirt off and dipped it into the clear water of the stream.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Fawn

I saw the giant start to take his blood-stained shirt off and winced at the sight of his wounds. They were ghastly- to say the least. Even the monumental collection of plant matter he had with him may not be enough to cover the gashes. I walked around him and ascended the pile of plants to avoid getting swept into the water. He had not noticed that I had joined him, and was still attempting to get some of the blood out of his shirt.

“You’re going to need to rinse the wounds off first, and start to pulverize the plants on one of the flat rocks.” I yelled to him, to make sure I was heard over the sound of the brooke.

He used the blood stained shirt to attempt to wipe the wounds on his back clean, but it didn’t go especially well considering he was unable to reach most of the wounds. He winced at the pain and I sighed.

I’m going to have to help clean these. There’s no way he can disinfect those by himself.

I felt the hairs on my neck lift, and goosebumps start to form on my arms. The thought of having to assist a creature that could squelch the life out of me like a bug was horrifying. I was already busy with trying to keep my body from trembling at just the sight of him. It was a lucky pull that he wasn't purposefully violent.

“You can't reach those, can you?” I asked, just to confirm.

“No, not well at least.” He grumbled, his voice was louder again and the sound easily cut over the sound of the brooke.

“Lay on your stomach, on one of the rocks, I can help. But, you owe me.” I pointed to a rock that I would be able to quickly climb on to. He nodded in response and grabbed the pile of plants, and me. The action might have seemed like not much of a deal to him but it swept me off my feet and left me lying on top of the pile of plant matter as he walked. I still wasn't used to the sensation of tree-like legs moving underneath me. It left my heart rate spiked and with my nerves already shot; I really wasn't having it.

As he set the pile down and layed down onto the rock I gave the giant a look, “Did no one tell you it's rude to pick people up without asking?”

His face flushed red, and he babbled a response as he laid down, “Sorry- I, didn't mean any disrespect? This all is just… new? Please tell me if I do anything wrong.”

I gave him a curious look at the fact he actually apologized.

Humans don’t usually do that, right?

I reduced a huff and started grabbing plants, then I realized I would have to climb up his side in order to apply the plants. Instead, we managed to resolve the problem by moving the pile of plants where Jasper would still reach them with one arm and then I was able to climb on his back using the side of his arm as a ramp.

I covered my mouth to try and suppress the gagging sensation in my throat. The wounds looked horrible- on top of that, they were magnified multiple times from him being so goddamn big. There was one major gash down his shoulder blade and into his mid-back. It looked like it needed stitches from how wide it was, but there was nothing around to use as thread for him. I made a mental note to make some rope- or thread- for him and stitch the wound. It would just reopen if there was nothing to keep it in place.

“Can I hand you some of the plants?” He asked, making me tremble slightly as I remembered I was standing on a conscious and sentient being. I managed to respond with a stifled yes, but I wasn't prepared to move out of the way when he lifted his arm, subsequently turning his shoulder blade into a slide. He yelped as I fell onto and clambered off his wound, tracking sticky blood on my clothes and onto his skin. I could feel his skin literally twitch when I fell into the wound.

He made sharp inhales followed by a slow hissing noise. I could feel as his back rose and fell, and his heart rate was pounding in my brain.

It was so, so, loud.

He groaned laying his head face first onto the cool rock, his heart rate was starting to drop again but mine wasn't. I was there, sitting atop a human, with my heart ready to fly out of my chest. Now his blood was on me along with the blood still on my father’s tool belt. I tried to slow my breathing but it just wasn't enough.

I was covered in blood,

not even my own.

I couldn't get the image of my father's tool belt on the forest floor covered in his blood.

Why was there so much blood?

My eyes started to water. My stomach was already in knots but this just made it flip. I couldn't breathe straight without my breath catching and hiccuping as I cried.

My Dad, Is on the fucking bottom of his shoe.

Like a bug.

Am I really that insignificant?

Am I so stupid as to TRUST the thing that killed him?

Won’t he think I'm just a toy? A bug in his way-? -And won’t he kill me once he thinks I'm not useful?

He tried to say something but I couldn't hear what it was, I could just feel the vibrations of his voice through his back. I held my legs to my chest and sobbed, I usually didn't worry about being “tiny” before

but this- ?

this just me feel so fucking minuscule.

I finally heard him when he spoke again,

“Fawn? Fawn? Are you ok? What's going on?”

He paused and seemed to hear my sobs. He sighed, “Is it the blood? I’m sorry- If it might make you feel any better, I-I’m not that great with blood either.”

I was still hiccuping with my head in my knees,

“Come here, well- to my face I mean, just- it's easier to help if I can see you.”

I was already trembling, scared out of my wits, and he wanted me to come… closer? I sighed shakily and got up, my pants covered in his blood.

Maybe if he kills me I can see Father again.

I wandered up his shoulder, tracking bloody footprints on his skin. I jumped off his shoulder and came around his head to stare him straight in the eyes. He had his cheek resting on the rock with his head sideways. I only stood a couple inches from his nose. I could feel him exhale and inhale in rhythmic motion. I could see the details of his eyes, each one bigger than my head. Seeing them focus on me and me in my entirety made my blood freeze. I could see every single detail in his face, his irises were hazel, with tinges of green, yellow and blue. I didn't know that someone could have that much detail in just their eyes. It was unsettling. It was more than unsettling, it was horrifying. The scales were not in my favor.

Fuck it, what's he going to do to me? Kill me? That would be more of a blessing.

I walked towards one of his eyes, and pointed centimeters away from his pupil.

“You killed my dad.”

I watched him retract, he blinked, and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Just thought you should know.” I added, shrugging.

Nothing you can do can hurt me more than that.

[witchofthesouls]

Team Prime learns (and maybe meets) some cryptids/urban legends

(Heads up, the last one includes death. It starts with "A wolf sits at the side of the...")

The less Ratchet thinks about the rude, little shit of a jackalope, the better off he is. It dented the side of his alt-mode, gouging deep as it insulted his intelligence when he pulled off the road.

To be fair, it's even smaller than a typical human and highly drunk as it slurred a warning about "idiot tourists staying after the sun sets" and "stupid big folk" and "Great Hunting."

It doesn't help that no one else believes him. Oh, sure: ghostly apparitions are fine, but a talking, big-antlered rabbit isn't?

The kids would roll their eyes and think he's trying too hard.

Optimus enjoys people-watching. He enjoys being part of the crowd. None distinguishable from the rest of the men when he uses his holomatter. There’s an old man that’s always at the bar. Hair long since grey, skin full of liver spots and translucent, back stooped, and yet he can out-drink everyone in the vicinity. His body is old and creaky, but his mind is still sharp, his tongue silver, and his hands fast on a fiddle.

Jack is his name. He’s well-acquainted with Optimus, who goes by Leo Cullen, as they struck up an odd friendship at the bar counter. Both are familiar with surviving in the true wild lands, with getting out of sticky situations and too-powerful authority figures, and ruminating on Gone Things.

Old Man Jack with his quick tongue and tired eyes carries a lantern carved from a turnip, and whenever the man and holomatter walk out together, Jack lights it up before his feet touch the ground outside.

Eventually, Optimus will be able to see how the shadows play with its light, the swirling color and shifting patterns on the turnip’s face, and Jack asks him:

“Did you make a piss-poor deal with the devil, too?”

On the outskirts of Jasper at the abandoned roads, there’s a different kind of race for a different breed of thrill-seekers, adrenaline junkies, and lost souls.

When the wind blows right and the night is dark, people race against the coyotes of dust and sand. With eerie eyes and haunting voices, they group together to form sandstorms as they chase after tires and wipe away the roads.

To the winners, howls will crown their victory as Jasper is right in their line of sight. To the losers, a storm will sweep over the area and wash all traces of the racer. Howls will welcome the newest member of the pack.

Arcee goes out there without anyone else and races. The sand scrapes over her plates, ghostly jaws snap over her tires, and her spark thrums wild as she cannot see anything in front, nor behind her, as the storm swallows her whole. 

She wins. She manages to overcome them and they howl at her victory.

Neither of them spoke of it, but when Bulkhead and Cliffjumper raced on an empty stretch of East coast highway under icy conditions, they saw a battle raging in the sea.

A massive serpentine shape with shades of onyx and midnight blues is wrapped around an equally massive squid-like form. Tentacles thrash, deadly hooks swirl within its suckers as it tries to puncture the serpent’s scales, and waves crash upon the rocky beach, the seawater rising high to meet the road. They see the foamy water pulling back and turning, turning, turning-

And then the serpent unhinges its jaw, wide enough to take a chunk out of the Ark, serrated and swordlike teeth gleam wickedly in the distance, and it sinks into the fat head and twists-

 The squid turns a ghastly white and the water calms as the victor and its prey disappear into deeper waters, the sea rippling and distorting before evening out.

“This planet has giant Quintessons.” This planet has a bigger critter that eats the giant Quintesson.” “Primus save us…”

A wolf sits at the side of the road. It’s the same wolf at the same point of the road, all the time, rain and shine. Bumblebee pulls over during his free time, and he notices it bleeding from its mouth and collar on its neck before it darts into the woods behind it.

Bumblebee doesn’t go after it because his comm rings and it’s Decepticon activity. He leaves and feels its heavy gaze upon his bumper.

The next time he stops, it’s still bleeding from its mouth and it moves to the tree line. It stops and looks back, beckoning him and Bumblebee follows.

The terrain is rough and there’s no set pavement, but he can handle it. It moves like the wind, speeding fast as it darts and weaves between trees.

If Bumblebee wasn’t a Cybertronian and so intuitively in control of his alt-mode, he would have run over the wolf that now lies on its belly on the ground.

His holomatter approaches slowly and it paws the ground, whining, pushing away the dead leaves and muck. 

Bumblebee digs deep and finds a familiar collar, he also finds bones and patches of faded cloth scraps.

He keeps tabs on the location’s local news when it finally breaks: an old couple gets their closure on their son and the family’s wolfdog that went missing decades ago. Fingers, adult ones, were stuck in the wolfdog's throat.

[the0garden0of0eyes]

Jasper Oostland

Stoop board acrylic on paper 2002

[toyota12]

Steven Universe Future: Pink State Analysis (Fragments) Part 3

This post continues where Part 2 left off.

As Jasper brings more rocks for Steven to train with, noting that it's getting harder to find a good rock to use (because they'd already destroyed tons of rocks already), Steven tells her that he's finally ready for their rematch.

As they begin to fight, Steven uses the diamond shields he had been using during the montage to launch them towards Jasper, which she dodges.

Steven has also learned how to use these as his regular shield, opposed to using his signature one with the Rose emblem.

However, Steven momentarily hesitates when he punches Jasper in the face, showing how he still fears hurting someone with his powers, and when he tries to block Jasper hits, she sends him flying across the forest.

Jasper eggs Steven to fight her without holding back (even referrring to him by name for the first time). Jasper continues to egg him on (still regarding the gems as a source of weakness for Steven) asking if he's afraid to be strong (physically), and insulting him until he yells that he's not weak with such force that it knocks Jasper back a few feet.

Steven can also fly in this form, as does so to reinitiate the fight with Jasper.

As Steven continues to fight, he begins to show more strength as he summons a shield that's three layers thicks and hurls it with such force that it sends Jasper flying into a tree, which also breaks as a result of the impact.

Steven begins to laugh, thinking he's finally free to express himself without having to worry about hurting someone, however both he and Jasper are still underestimating the strength of his powers.

Steven, now having become confident in this fight, flies towards Jasper, though much quicker than last time (which foreshadows what eventually happens in a few moments)

Steven begins to laugh a lot more during the fight, showing how he's now become carried away by taking Jasper's advice.

This eventually reaches a point in which Steven decides to try out a move of his own on Jasper, knocking her to the ground and summon diamond shields to hold her in place.

It's at this moment though, that Jasper begins to become genuinely worried for her safety, struggling to escape from Steven's shields. Steven then summons a spiked barrier, telling Jasper that she was right about him holding back.

However, the worried look on Jasper's face as Steven launches the wall at her and the diamond shaped pupils in his eyes suggests that instead of embracing his full potential, he's gone too far with venting his anger through violence.

The final scenes of this episode suggests that Steven realizes this as well, as he scrambles to find a fix for what he just did. It's revealed, after Steven runs into the bathroom that his stunt shattered Jasper.

After using all of the Diamonds' essences (including his own tears), to revive Jasper, he apologizes for what he did.

However, Jasper, still misinterpretting senseless violence as a sign of strength, bows to Steven, addressing him as her diamond, which horrifies him.

A final note to make, regarding this last interaction is that Future has made subtle nods to Steven emulating certain traits of the Diamonds, which he has been denying, because he doesn't want to think of himself that way. This moment is Steven likely thinking, that he is like the Diamonds (which he interprets as being just as bad as them, not emulating similar behavioral patterns to them which has also been seen) since he stooped to their level by shattering gems. However, Blue, Yellow, and White Diamond did so intentionally and frequently, while he did not.

[houseoflennoxx]

BEHIND THE SCENES. SAINT MICHEL CAMPUS. 8.35 AM.

(TW: this post contains homophobic language, please be aware!)

transcription below cut

Principal Bergmann: Your Majesties, Your Highnesses, what happened here last night was a very serious act. Leaving aside the consumption of alcohol, tobacco and God knows what else by minors on school grounds... The behavior of the princes has been unacceptable.

Prudence: My son was just defending himself from the attack of that...

Avalon: That what, Prudence? Say it, come on, let us all hear you.

Prudence: I'm not going to stoop to vulgar vocabulary, Avalon

Avalon: As if you haven't already...

Principal Bergmann: Please, ladies. I ask you to relax and talk like the adults that we are.

Alistair: Our most sincere apologies, Mrs. Bergmann. What will be the punishment imposed for the kids?

Principal Bergmann: Since the holidays are so close, my recommendation is that both princes go home today, as a way of reflecting on their behavior. They may return at the beginning of the next term.

Jasper: Okay, ma'am. We'll take care of it-

Prudence: And that's it? My son's face is destroyed. Isn't there going to be any real consequences?

Avalon: When are you going to learn to shut up, Prue?

Prudence: I will when you learn to raise your son in the values ​​of a true king, Avie. Maddox is 100% times a better candidate than your faggot son-

Jasper: Enough, Prudence! You've already said too much, don't you think?

Principal Bergmann: Sorry, I think you'd better discuss this in private. Here, the walls hear everything.

Alistair: Of course, Mrs. Bergmann. We thank you for your understanding and cooperation. Such behavior will not be tolerated again. I can assure you that.

[rurpleplayssims]

Ellen wasn’t sure how long she sat there, stooped and depressed, wailing her head off in her desperate sobs. 

When she managed to stop and calm herself enough to stand up, she started thinking of all the reasons how and why she could still be showing a positive pregnancy result.

Was it because of her hormones?

Was it because she and Jasper had slipped? 

They had slept with each other a few times after she’d given birth to Dalton, and she hadn’t been on any contraceptives. She wasn’t on any medication as she was conscious that any drugs she took would be present in her breastmilk and she hadn’t wanted to give that to her son.

For some inexplicable reason, she’d not thought she could fall pregnant during those occasions, but in truth she had been lost to her own desires. Desperate to feel something other than nausea and sore, tender breasts.

She recalled Zoey telling her once that after birth is when a female body was the most fertile, as it was in full reproductive mode, assuming that more children being conceived was on the agenda. 

Thinking that getting herself relaxed would be a good idea, she set herself to running a bath. Jasper was downstairs looking after Dalton, and for a split second she hoped he’d not heard her crying.

But if he had, he’d have come running upstairs at once to see what had happened.

He must be in the garage then.

What the fuck am I going to do?!

[maxbytes]

In Future, Sands attempts to have a relationship with Jasper but she wants to like, have conversations about the shit Jasper did to her, and it always turns into these nasty fights. Screaming, tears, shoving, cursing, all that. Finally Sands comes home one day and one of her friends is like "Girl this is not healthy, we can hear you two from the middle of Little Homeworld, and we know you were crying." For her own sake Sands finally draws a boundary and is like, "I am not going to keep coming here if you're not even willing to listen" and Jasper just shrugs. It makes a burning coal in Sands' chest for a few days, how easily Jasper appears to have let her out of her life, and it's a spiral about how Lapis also could so easily literally look her daughter in the face and just go "peace *peace sign sound effect fade out*", but then four days later Jasper shows up and she's weirdly obviously sad and asks when they can talk. And Sands asks if she's going to yell and belittle her and deflect and lie and Jasper just keeps saying no, I won't. Sands keeps asking until Jasper puts her hands on her shoulders and looks her in the eyes and says "I'm sorry, Sands. I want to try." And Sands barely keeps it together.

lord... yeah i can see it happening, albeit i'd write it a tad differently but close enough. jasper would stoop to begging a la alone at sea to keep her daughter visiting, although all sands wants to talk about is the past, only for jasper to be like "what's done is done!" "how was i to know you weren't cut out for the life of a quartz soldier?" "looks to me like it all worked out for you anyway, with your crystal gem status and all." it's like talking to a brick wall.

so i'm wondering what jasper's "i want to try" would entail. would she actually try to listen or is she just saying that to keep her daughter speaking to her? like, jasper has it all figured out in her head, so she's always full of excuses, and she never learned to hear out another perspective. i don't think she'd actually, for realzies this time, hear sands out without some mediator there.

[coldnightmareprince]

On mobile, sorry for mistakes.

I put down the cards, "You win again Geoff. I swear you're using magic."

Geoff scoffs, "If you think I will stoop so low as to cast magic on a game with no bet, you're far mistaken woman. "

He taps the cards and they begin to shuffle themselves again. I sigh and notice the sun's going down.

"How long have we been at it today? The approaching hero alarm hasn't gone off yet either."

Just then, a minion bursts through the door, out of breath. I think his name was Curtis. I wave to him and he salutes properly. "Sorry, for the intrusion my lord and lady. I received a missive from Lord Jasper. He says you can keep the useless maiden."

Both Geoff and I stand up in shock, "What??" We shout in unison. Curtis shrugs and hands over the letter to Geoff, or more accurately Almadon the destroyer. After he reads the letter he passes it to me.

There's a long pause before, "Well what do we do now? "

"I don't know my Megan. I thought he would eventually catch feelings if you spent enough time together after being rescued... it didn't work." He pouts and summons his pouting robe. Always the dramatic one.

"I guess this will be the last time we get to hang out then?" I say somberly.

"Oh yes. The terrible separation of two old friends has come has it not? For shame one as powerful as i, cannot craft love. I must only destroy." He downs a gulp of wine, dripping some on his robe.

"What if we show him he's mistaken?" The idea pops into my head immediately.

"I'm sorry Megan, there's just no way. Especially not in my pouting robe." Tears fall from his face, although they aren't real.

"Train me to be a strong sorceress! You kidnapped me all this time and started to finally awaken my potential! He'll have to notice me then! Or hell, he might finally fall in love with you too. "

Geoff's robe switches to a deep red and black, his plotting robe. "If you say it may work, let's give it a try!!"

You are kidnapped by the villain regularly, but you’re starting to look forward to it. You know they won’t hurt you, and are simply being dramatic. It also doesn’t help that you are the only person they ever kidnap. This time, the hero doesn’t bother trying to save you.

[goldeneyedgirl]

Do you have anymore STL missing scenes? I love this fic so so much 😭

A lot of scenes are currently being cannibalized and rearranged for the next two chapters so I can't currently offer you anything canon to STL, but I can offer you some of the OG scenes from back when STL was meant to be 7 chapters max and everything ended a lot neater...

Mar- Alice goes with Esme and Rosalie to Esme’s sitting room, to pour over magazines and computers to find her some clothing. She is currently wearing a tunic of Rosalie’s in a jewel-like green, that fits her more like a dress, and she looks just gorgeous. 

Emmett flops down on the couch next to him (he’s never questioned Esme’s decision to pay for reinforced furniture, but he always gives silent thanks for it when Emmett clearly forgets that in the endless battle of him versus household furniture, the furniture is most certainly at a disadvantage), and gives him a look.

“So, are you ready to admit it?”

“Admit what?” 

Emmett smirks. “That you couldn’t be more in love with Pipsqueak, if she was dipped in elk’s blood and, I dunno…”

He chokes on his own venom, his eyes wide. “What?”

“So, that’s a no. Not yet. Shame,” Emmett plucks a game controller out of thin air, and his attention is partially diverted by loading a game. “Esme’s already planning the wedding.”

“Edward’s wedding.” He is clenching his jaw at Emmett’s enjoyment of his discomfort. 

“Please. You think Esme isn’t already plotting? Isn’t looking at her samples and going, ‘this one for Edward and this one for Jasper’.” The look on Emmett’s face was positively gleeful. “You and Tinkerbell will be up the aisle by Christmas.”

--

When they told her she could do whatever she wanted, none of them expected this. Computers, video games, painting, reading… the possibilities were endless. 

Instead, she gathers paper – entire reams of it that Carlisle orders by the box – and scissors. And she cuts them into perfect white squares, stacking them neatly and tying them with string. She packs them all back into the cardboard boxes they arrived in, to be stored in his study for now. Everyone is curious at her task at hand, at her stooped head over piles and piles of paper. 

And then she begins to fold it. She starts simply, with the boats and hats and fortune tellers of children. Remembering how it is done, using thicker kinds of paper. Tiny paper stars become her favourite, cutting long strips of paper especially for them. Any time she is still, she folds. It becomes normal for her to stand up with pockets full of paper stars and birds, for her little creations to appear in the crease of the couch, or on a counter. 

He thinks about asking Edward about why she chose that, of everything. Instead, he watches. 

Her fingers are a blur of paper whenever Bella is close by, her head stooped quite low. Esme has attempted to staunch the flow with baskets for her creations. 

He finds several tucked in specific places.

A cross for Carlisle, tucked on his desk and obviously kept by the doctor. 

A crown for Rosalie that she neither acknowledges nor discards. 

A bear for Emmett, who crows about it, accidentally crushes its leg, and watches as Mary-Alice repairs it so carefully.

A wolf for Bella, that makes Edward scowl. 

He finds his weeks later, caught under the edge of his laptop. The paper is softer, having clearly been refolded time and time again; the seams are worn. 

[mybrothercainmybrotherabel]

Jasper was in the middle of a lecture when a falcon palisman flew into the room, making an awful ruckus.

Several students gasped, a few even screamed.

Jasper turned around to shout at which ever student had the audacity to let their palisman loose in class, but he froze when he saw that the falcon was his father’s palisman Edgar. His heart sunk into his stomach. His family knew how important his position at the University was to him. There was no way his father would send Edgar to bother him in the middle of the day unless it was urgent.

“Professor Bloodwilliams?” A student asked. “Whose palisman is that?”

“Class is dismissed for the day.” Jasper announced.

The students looked at each other confused.

“But, it’s only one o’clock.” One girl said, “I thought we had a lab test today?”

“Here’s some advice, Rowan: when your professor lets you out of a lab test and dismisses you early, take it as a win.” Jasper snapped. “I want your papers about the discovery of abomination magic on my desk by Scryday.”

He grabbed his jacket and Rigby’s staff. He was out the door before any of his students could even process what was going on. Becks met him at his office. Jasper’s mother’s palisman Crowley was with them. Jasper’s anxiety only worsened. Why would both of his parents send their palismen out? What was so urgent that he and Becks had to be alerted simultaneously?The couple didn’t waste time discussing it. Without saying a word to each other, they set off to the Clawthorne’s house. They flew fast, but close, close enough for Becks to reach out and give Jasper’s hand a reassuring squeeze.

Had something happened to one of his parents? Or one of his sisters? Or even worse, had something happened to his little niece? She was half human after all, and apparently human babies often didn’t survive their first year. No one quite knew why, but according to Caleb sometimes human babies would just die in their cribs. Sometimes there would be signs of sickness beforehand, sometimes the infant would just stop breathing without warning. Jasper tried to banish thoughts of Evelyn going to pick up her daughter only to find the child cold and still in her crib.

Edgar and Crowley led Jasper and Becks straight to the Clawthorne family house. Jasper’s father sat outside, as if waiting for his son. Jasper had never seen his father look like that. His back was stooped, his elbows were on his knees, his head was in his hands. He looked old and exhausted.

“Dad!” Jasper shouted as he landed.

His father looked up at him with tired, red eyes. He had been crying. Jasper couldn’t remember the last time he had seen his father cry. The fear in his heart tripled.

“Jasper, Becks…”

“What happened?” Jasper demanded, convinced now that something terrible had occurred. His father stood up to meet him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“I need you to stay calm for me, son. Your sisters need you to stay calm.”

“What is going on?”

“Caleb is dead.”

For a moment it felt like the ground fell out from underneath him. Jasper heard the words, but he didn’t quite understand.

“What?”

“Caleb is gone, son. He died a few hours ago.”

“No.” It was Becks who spoke. “No, that can’t be. We just saw him a few days ago, he was fine. If he was ill he would have told us. Surely, he would have told us.”

“He wasn’t ill.” Jasper’s father said, his eyes heavy with grief. “He was murdered. Your mother and I found Evelyn clinging to his body a little bit away from the Roost. She wasn’t hurt, but he…he was gone by the time we got there.”

“Philip did this didn’t he?” demanded Jasper. “Didn’t he?”

“Jasper, please...”

“I’M GOING TO KILL HIM!” Jasper shouted, pushing past his father and barging into the house. “I’M GOING TO HUNT HIM DOWN AND KILL HIM!”

Cont.