#[ jace writes too ]

[thealphabard]

Akos' bio!! Kinda. Aka:

Local ADHD man throws this shit together and hopes for the best. I apologize in advanced.

Species

Koi fish

Personality traits

Stoic, with a rather short fuse to go with. Doesn't really mess around, aside from with Mipha or Sidon. Very foul mouthed, lands him in trouble quite often. (Any time I swore during our sessions you'd hear from izuna's player "laaaanguaaaage" in the nasely voice he uses for him lol) can be pretty cocky about his strength (always landed in low rolls)

Height

7"1 (I think...)

Occupation|class

Ex-soldier. Moved on to become a Dragon Scion (will go into depth below)

Residence

Zora's Domain

Relationships

♡Mipha (same age, best friends that grew up together)

♡Sidon (often a care taker, plays with him quite often when spending time with mipha)

♡Loru (mother)(deceased from the calamity)

♡Noti (father)(deceased from the calamity)

Party: the main part of this campaign, who he traveled with :)

Nithril

Izuna

And Mabo (not my art, and I'm not sure if she has social media. one day. I swear lol)

Birthday

May 3rd

Sexuality

(He's never given it thought...)

Weapons

Dual Scimitars, Whisper and Mist (their item description below the image):

During the first great war with the Hylians after their arrival from the deep ocean, a Zoran champion was outfitted with two weapons. These twin scimitars were forged from the teeth of an ancient water serpent, found only in the depths where light never reached. With these weapons, the Zoran champion was smoke on the water, defending their newfound home and leaving the fallen soldiers to drift downstream back to their king. As the war waged on, rumors spread among the Hylians, and although few ever saw the Zoran who wielded these weapons, one thing was clear - when the fog swept up from the waters, retreat was the only option. After peace was finally reached between the Zora and the Hylians, these two weapons, Mist and Whisper, were laid to rest at the bottom of the Zoran shrine, lying in wait for their next champion.

Each blade is an exquisitely crafted +1 magic weapon but, when a wielder attunes to the swords over a long rest, the swords bind to the soul of the person. This binding of both weapons unlocks their true potential, allowing the wielder to attune to them both as a single item. If they are used separately, their effects will not appear.

With the weapons in question, Mipha was the one who helped him in acquiring them from the shrine. He saw it as a great honor.

In depth look on dragon scion (from the site):

Commonly called a dragon knight or dragon warrior, a scion of this subclass draws its power from a draconic origin. This is usually consequence of absorbing the power of a slain dragon, or ritual worship of a draconic benefactor, but there are many other possibilities. In any case, a dragon scion embodies the ferocity and vitality of the beast it embodies. This is most apparent in a dragon scion's capability to temporarily transform parts of its body into those of a dragon, such as growing claws or functional wings. Much as a dragon breathes fire or spits beams of force, so too do a dragon scion's spells embody such visceral destruction. Dragon scions are infamous for their tenacity, as it seems their magical and physical prowess can tear through entire legions of lesser foes with little rest.

Akos, in particular, in his journey to attune with the weapons graciously given to him within the shrine, attacked dinraal like the very smart (he had 10 intelligence...) goldfish he is. Instead of the dragon laying waste to him, saw potential in him and blessed him with the ability to use (primarily) fire magic. The scion class allowed him to have a base resistance to an element permanently (fire in this case) and later in leveling gets dragon resilience. It more or less allows him to resist another element upon changing his form (I went with scale properties any time it was used) or he could be fully immune to fire. When immune to fire, what would be damage taken by the fire instead heals that amount (ie, if the attack roll did 15 fire damage, I would heal 15 hp. Lol)

To go with Akos' short fuse, dragon scions gain access to a dragon rage that more or less works like a barbarian rage.

And the last very important part of dragon scion, is with the ability to use magic in such a Proficient manner, he could use that magic to create functional wings and fly. (There were restrictions technically, but it was mostly the further I flew the more of my MP it took. But I hoarded green potions so it didn't matter)

Now, for the actual story part of this campaign:

The biggest thing to note is I joined this campaign while the rest of the group had already been isekai'd to Termina, on their 2nd or 3rd time reset (yes my dm was cruel enough to keep it). But the setting was originally in hyrule during links slumber. Its around 95 years before the events of BotW. From what I understand Nithril, made a very big fucky wucky, and that's where they ended up. Akos joins them when Aryll hauls ass into the domain, talking about a mysterious portal that showed up nearby. Like the determined little zora he is, investigates it, and ends up in clock town where he meets Nithril Izuna and Mabo. The whole story isn't really that important, we for the most part follow how the game is, going to the 4 regions to wake up the giants and stop the falling moon. Just with some cursed shit in between. My DM was really good at making our skin crawl. We eventually learn that because none of us actually had the ocarina of time, each time reset was more fucked up than the last. Some residents would remember the moon falling, some events would end in very weird ways, and some events would just crack reality. One of the big moments of "shit ain't right" was when we went to see the Zora's. We ended up there during a kind of "battle of the bands" situation, and while Mikau, lulu, ect, get on stage this is what our dm plays for us :) (it's a YT link. I plan to make a full comic out of this scenario, I swear. Our reactions were really fun lol)

Anyway, the other main point of giving us emotional damage was after waking all the giants, we are getting ready to face majora and are more or less sent to like. A zen garden? With a machine dude just called the stranger. He tasked us with burying ancient pieces, that eventually rose as "sentient" beings. we were then, told to keep peace between the civilizations. we failed, really hard. Akos tried to show peace between his and izunas creatures, while mabos and nithrils waged war on each other. It ended with the stranger crushing all of our creatures violently and asking us philosophical questions that none of us could really answer properly about whether or not we should even be saving Termina. It's where this cute little sketch came from though :p

We fight majora, and win (barely. Akos got stomped on, literally.) And are met with goddess hylia who, as a reward, are given the option to go to wherever and whenever we want. Mabo goes on a new adventure, nithril goes back in time to undo the bullshit of the twilight realm, and izuna goes home, just 5 years before the events they are now facing. Akos returns home to the domain (izuna flies over the domain for 5 years. I failed my wisdom saving throws so akos got a headache lmfao) and that's how the campaign ended. We all cried LOL

[jacenotjason]

MoneyGun's History

So on the MoneyGun Toyhouse page, there was this "history" section where i was SUPPOSED to write like. 3-4 paragraphs BRIEFLY going over MoneyGun lore and i. didn't. do that.

I decided to post the full thing here! Since I don't post my writings often I figured why not

please enjoy my spooky month oc x canon garbage hehahah <3

You can also find this on Toyhouse here!

First Meeting (≈1980)

Mars had barely settled into his new life in America. The corporate world was a far cry from his past, but the steady rhythm of office work and the anonymity of a cubicle suited him just fine. He preferred to blend into the background, his stoic demeanor and quiet efficiency ensuring he did just that. The company was owned by the formidable Vaneti Evermore, a name that carried weight, though Mars had yet to see her in person.

What he had seen, however, was her son. Narciso G. Evermore, or simply Evermore to the staff, had an undeniable presence around the office. Charismatic, impeccably dressed, and oozing with a self-assured confidence that bordered on theatrical despite never doing any actual work, Evermore was impossible to ignore. His visits to the office were often and always memorable, as he skated around the office space he would one day inherit.

Mars had taken little interest in the man until the day he caught Evermore watching him. Not subtly, either; Evermore’s gaze lingered, curious and calculating, even as they made eye contact. There was something about Mars's quiet, imposing figure that intrigued him, and Evermore wasn’t one to let intrigue go unaddressed.

A few days later, as Mars typed away at his desk, Evermore made his move. Perched backwards on a rolling chair as though it was a chariot, he wheeled himself across the office floor with the kind of dramatic flair only he could muster. The squeak of the wheels drew Mars's attention just in time to witness Evermore tip too far on the chair and collapse to the floor. Mars glanced up from his computer, his sharp, unflinching eyes meeting Evermore’s sheepish grin.

For a moment, silence hung between them, broken only by the sound of Evermore muttering a few choice curses. It wasn’t the entrance Evermore had planned, but it had certainly worked in one respect: it got Mars’s attention. As Evermore scrambled to his feet, brushing himself off with exaggerated indignity, Mars’s stoic mask barely faltered. A single raised brow hinted at his bemusement, though he said nothing.

First Date

Months had passed since the infamous chair incident, and in that time, Narciso G. Evermore had made it his mission to infiltrate the stoic fortress that was Mars. Day after day, he rolled by Mars’s cubicle; sometimes on chairs, sometimes dramatically leaning against the flimsy partitions like a movie star posing for a magazine cover. Mars remained calm, composed, and frustratingly impenetrable. Yet, Evermore was nothing if not persistent.

One afternoon, with his usual over-the-top flair, Evermore leaned into Mars’s space, his voice carrying the kind of casual confidence only he could muster. “So, how about a swing dance contest this Friday?” He smirked as he fluttered a poster in his hand, though inwardly his nerves prickled. It was a bold move, perhaps too bold.

Mars looked up, his sharp eyes narrowing as if calculating the weight of the proposition. A moment of silence passed, and Evermore felt a bead of sweat form, his mind racing to concoct a witty way to save face if he was rejected. But then Mars gave a single nod, accompanied by a quiet, “Alright.”

The night of the contest arrived, and Evermore’s confidence was sky-high. Dressed to impress, he met Mars at the venue, only to be floored once again by how effortlessly handsome his date looked in his sharp attire. The contest began, and though Mars claimed to have little experience, his natural precision and ability to follow Evermore’s flamboyant lead made them a formidable pair. Together, they twirled, dipped, and spun across the floor, drawing cheers and applause.

When the results were announced, they had secured second place, a commendable achievement, though not enough for Evermore’s inflated ego. As the winners were crowned, Evermore’s smile turned tight, his frustration barely concealed. He ranted softly about biased judges and unfair scoring as they exited the venue. Mars, ever unshakeable, quietly reached out and placed a steadying hand on Evermore’s shoulder.

“Second place is still good,” Mars said simply, his voice calm and grounding. The words, spoken with such quiet assurance, cut through Evermore’s irritation. He looked at Mars, realizing for the first time just how steady and unshakable his date truly was. The tension melted away, replaced by a small, genuine smile. “Yeah,” Evermore admitted reluctantly. “I guess it is.”

By the time they left the contest, the night had grown quiet and still. Outside, under the soft glow of a streetlamp, Evermore paused. “You know,” he said, his tone unusually sincere, “tonight wasn’t half bad.” Mars turned to him, his expression unreadable. Evermore, emboldened by the moment, leaned in. Their first kiss was soft, unhurried, and strangely natural, as though the rest of the world had faded away.

The Reveal

Several years had passed since their first date, and Evermore and Mars’s lives had intertwined seamlessly. Evermore had inherited his mother’s empire, now confidently at the helm of Vaneti Enterprises, while Mars had found fulfillment in his meticulous work as a crime scene cleaner. Now, Evermore was setting his sights on the mayor’s office.

At first, Evermore's campaign had been smooth sailing. His charisma won over large crowds, and his clever maneuvering had kept his opponents at bay. But Aubrey Dhedd-Mi’it, the man running against Evermore, had become a thorn in his side.

Aubrey was everything Evermore wasn’t: humble, gentle, and genuinely kind. He was adored by the public, his sincerity cutting through the noise of the campaign. Where Evermore’s arrogance and authoritarian tendencies inspired a mix of admiration and fear, Aubrey’s warmth invited trust and affection. Polls shifted, and Aubrey took the lead.

For the first time in years, Evermore was rattled. At home, the once-confident man paced their living room, that fire in his eyes dimmed into fear and uncertainty. Mars watched from the corner, seeing his lover in such a state stabbing straight into his heart.

As Evermore finally slumped on the couch, his head in his hands, Mars quietly crossed the room and sat beside him. “What if I lose?” Evermore asked, his voice unusually soft. “I’ve worked so hard, Mars. I need this. I want this so badly.”

Mars studied him for a moment, his dark eyes unwavering. He wasn’t one for grand declarations, but he understood the weight of Evermore’s words. Slowly, he leaned back, his voice low and steady as he spoke, “Daffodil," Evermore turned at the sound of his nickname, his brows knitting together, "There’s something I need to tell you,”

“I wasn’t a cleaner before I moved here, like I told you,” Mars began. “When I lived in Korea, I worked as a hitman.” The admission hung in the air, heavy and unshakable. “I must've worked up a kill count somewhere in the thousands before I retired. If that changes how you see me, I understand."

Evermore stared, his thoughts racing. But Mars wasn’t finished. “I’ve been thinking,” he said, his voice steady. “If you want, I can handle this. I could... persuade Aubrey to back out. He wouldn’t even have to know it was connected to you. You wouldn’t lose.”

Evermore’s initial reaction wasn’t fear, it was disbelief. He blinked at Mars, his mind racing to process the revelation. Then, slowly, his lips curved into a grin, one that only grew wider as the implications sank in.

“You’d do that?” Evermore asked, his tone more excited than questioning. “For me?”

Mars nodded, his expression unreadable but his intent clear. “If it makes you happy, of course.”

For a moment, Evermore simply stared at him, and then, as though unable to contain himself, he laughed. A triumphant, almost giggly sound. He grasped Mars’s face in his hands, pulling him into a fervent kiss. When they parted, his eyes gleamed with their usual mischievous fire.

“Why would I be afraid of you, Mars?” Evermore said, his voice dripping with self-assurance. “You’re perfect!"

Mars said nothing, but the faint smile tugging at his lips spoke volumes. Evermore, once again alight with his unshakable confidence, leaned back with a satisfied sigh. The weight of the campaign seemed to lift, replaced by the knowledge that Mars would do whatever it took to secure his victory.

Proposal

A year had passed since Evermore had claimed the title of Mayor, his dream realized with Mars steadfastly by his side. Life had become a whirlwind of luxury and ambition, but amidst the chaos, their bond only deepened. For their five-year anniversary, Evermore decided to outdo himself, orchestrating an evening befitting their journey together.

He rented a yacht, one of the finest money could buy. The vessel was a floating palace, decked in opulent decor and illuminated by soft, golden lights that shimmered on the waves. As it glided over the calm, moonlit waters, the city skyline sparkled in the distance, a glittering backdrop for their celebration.

Mars, as always, was understated in his reaction to the extravagance, though Evermore swore he saw the faintest hint of a smile as they boarded. They began the evening with champagne, toasting to the years they had shared. Dinner was a decadent affair, each dish paired perfectly with wine and champagne to Mars and Evermore, respectively.

After dinner, they retired to the yacht’s lounge, where Evermore poured them both a final glass of their favorite drinks. His energy was different, slightly nervous, though still carrying his usual bravado. He spoke animatedly about his plans for the city, punctuating his sentences with flourishes of his hands. Mars listened attentively, as always, his calm presence grounding Evermore’s buzzing excitement.

“Nights like this,” Evermore began, his voice softer than usual, “remind me just how lucky I am.” Mars turned toward him, his expression as stoic as ever, but his eyes betrayed his curiosity as he gently tipped his head to one side, silently asking Evermore to continue.

Evermore reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. As he sank to one knee, his confident mask faltered for just a moment, replaced by something raw and vulnerable.

“Mars,” he began, his voice steady despite the pounding of his heart, “you are my knight, my strength, and the only person who has ever truly seen me. I can’t imagine my life without you, and I don’t want to.” He opened the box to reveal a stunning ring, its centerpiece a deep ruby that gleamed like a drop of blood.

“Will you marry me?” Evermore asked, his usual bravado giving way to sincerity.

Mars stared at him for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he reached out, taking Evermore’s hand and pulling him to his feet. “Of course,” he said simply, his voice steady and sure. “Yes.”

Evermore’s face lit up, his grin wide and unabashed. He slid the ring onto Mars’s finger, marveling at how perfectly it fit. Without hesitation, he pulled Mars into a kiss.

[italicized-oh]

she's up!!!! finally, after a much, much needed break, i'm back at it. and by it i mean. fuhgchkin. writinG.

this fucking chapter is 2.3k. why. someone send help.

anyway, enjoy. in which zara facilitates some agreements, jace loses a bet, and porter might be in deeper shit than he thought.

[banefort]

it’s been said before but it’s such a shame that Baela (and Jace too, now I think about it) lack a lot of agency and depth in the show, and only really exist to prop up their teammates. logically speaking, there’s a lot of calamitous things that have happened to them and the people in their life that should be causing some significant inner turmoil or resentment towards their faction, but so much of that is completely overlooked

[rhaenyra-first-of-her-name]

Somebody send me recs about Team Black please.

[birdb1tch]

with all we learned about jace and his thing with rueben, henry, and lola, i wonder how much creative control he has over his songs. the only songs we’ve heard him sing are the one at the thistlespring tree where he chanted smth like “get mad, get angry” and the other “song of the summer” which is literally

“your boundaries slit my veins, your no thanks killed my family, the space you made was outer space, can you hear me screaming” which although is not as overt as the other song, there are multiple reasons for a person to feel angry when listening (i.e relating and being angry at the person it reminds them of, thinking its toxic and being angry at the lyrics, etc)

we dont really know enough about rueben for me to say that these lyrics are in or out of character for him, but considering that jace has the ability to say to ruebens own agent that he wouldnt perform at frostyfair unless it happened at the thistlespring tree, i doubt that hes creating all of these songs about rage of his own volition

[adaines-furious-feast]

In just over a week, I wrote more words by hand about Jace frigging Stardiamond than my entire completed Masters' dissertation.

I'm beginning to think this guy is some D20 psyop thing because this shouldn't be possible.

[eggtargaryenii]

sorry for spoiling the fic again but I am so excited to put jace through the mental torture of thinking that his mom and daemon have mistreated the reader to the point where she is straight up betraying him. love it when meowmeow suffers

[allyriadayne]

do you have any thoughts about if jace was born as a girl? if we're going by what viserys said, that any child rhaenyra and laenor have regardless of gender would be made heir we can assume little jacaera (god that's a terrible name) would be her mother's heir. how much would that complicate things in terms of her being a bastard? also does this increase or decrease the chances of her getting married off to her uncle aegon...

oh boy do i. my thought goes more along the lines of rhaenyra naming luke her heir because her claim is an exception and not the rule. i don't think she wants to rock the boat more with a girl heir, even if jacaera (i do like the name.....) is everything she could want in an eldest child. much of jace's struggles wouldn't change in jacaera, only that her main worry would be how to prepare luke to reign after their mother, esp when she (just like in canon) consideres him weak and soft.

to me the bastard issues doesn't complicate her situation more than if he were a boy, but don't get me wrong, this jace would have the same identity issues as canon jace because being a targaryen princess is still the most important thing. maybe the insults would have a more sexualized nature due to bastards and bastard women being considered promiscuous. this in turn would make jacaera even more stiff and aloof with the rest of the people. i've pondered this issue before (as one does) and l reached the conclusion that like rhaenyra before her, jacaera would have some issues with her gender as well, related to her insecurity around being a princess. how to perform femininity, how not to fall into the traps of being called a slut for simply having the rumors of bastardy around her, etc.

the possibility of jacaera being betrothed to aegon is HIGH. super high. if luke is to take the throne, then jacaera is the one that would be sacrificed for the family. this is what jacaera thinks she should do, even if rhaenyra is not so sure she should give her first daughter to her brother (hey! parallels with viserys!) but the girl has made a whole powerpoint presentation about why is the best path for the family. the thing is that because luke is too, jacaera has overcompensated to the point that she feels she has to be the one to save the family by breaching the gap between the greens and the blacks. and that means marrying the uncle she absolutely didn't worship as a child. 'tis a sad fate!

of course, driftmark happens and the betrothal fizzles out a bit until the families meet again after six years and viserys remembers about the best way to unite their families hehe. i think it's more likely that the greens would agree to have a daughter of rhaenyra with them rather than leaving on of their own with her. and jacaera is so dutiful and quiet that they are sure aegon could make her fall in love and get her out of the way (they don't know about jacaera twenty step plan to get aegon in line. aegon is intrigued and wants to explore her limits like in canon but jacaera has no time for that nonsense. it's time to make this uncle know his place).

[neerdowellnarrator]

When is an ice moon a star diamond?

Based on the tags of this post by @zukkacore and @hauntedwizardmoment

There is a moon of Jupiter called Europa. When Europa is farther away from Jupiter it’s a ball just like most moons and planets, but as it gets closer,Jupiter’s gravity pulls it and it stretches “like a rubber band” out of shape.

A then it continues on its orbit and Jupiter’s pull lessens, and it goes back to being a ball. But evidence of Jupiter’s warp is written in the cracks across Europa’s surface.

I’m sure we all know the story of Europa’s namesake. What if a god stole you away from everything you knew and loved and you never went back. But the story of the planet Europa is equally applicable to one Jace Stardiamond.

Whar if you were irrevocably tied to something much bigger and more important than you? What if that thing pulled you close with so much force it completely changed your shape? What if even after you got some distance the changes your god wrought upon you were stamped across your skin?

What if everything you were and everything you could have been had to be erased to avoid being pulled into Jupiter’s atmosphere and burning alive? Europa could have let go of the bull and drowned in the ocean. Do we call her complicit in her assault just because she held on?

Jace Stardiamond, do you want this life?

What will you do, when it is your turn in the field with the god?

[im-out-of-it]

PSA KIND OF A RANT BUT ALSO JUST A GENUINE QUESTION BUT LIKE DOES ANYONE FEEL WEIRDED OUT THAT THE SHADOWHUNTER SERIES ARE KIND OF TARGETED FOR TEENS (I mean, aren’t they though)

I know I hate and shit on the shadowhunter series (SORRY IT DESERVES TO BE CRITICIZED) and y’all, I’m seriously okay with having characters have trauma and being complex (seriously I’m all for it!!!! I love those fascinating characters) but make these people young adults or something. because this should not be targeted for teens!!!!! LET ME REPEAT MYSELF!!!! THIS SHOULD NOT BE TARGETED FOR TEENS!!!!! I just don’t like the message it sends. I think it’s probably the worst in TMI.

oh if you’re abused or have a shit childhood, it’s okay to put that on others and make it their problem. oh if you’re boyfriend is toxic and emotionally abusive, it’s okay because y’all are soulmates apparently and your whole identity is about him!!!!!!! I don’t mind insane fantasy romances!!!! but don’t target it towards teens!!!!! I still get amazed that this incest toxic fantasy is for teens???????

I don’t know, it’s just weird that a 50+ year old woman is writing about teens having sex. like does anyone feel Cordelia was extremely sexualized????? there’s just so much problematic shit CC writes. and once again, I don’t believe that fantasy books should be “real” “make sense” or whatever excuse people want to use to defend misrepresentation, incest, or heavy topics (abuse, trauma) that are written poorly.

I don’t care if clary and jace aren’t actually siblings- they thought they were and they’re both toxic to one another, also the fact that clary is there to serve jace’s happiness is wild. so like if you want an outrageous fantasy world, that’s absolutely valid but don’t have it targeted for teens. this is my whole beef with the shadowhunter series (and more let’s be obvious) is that teens pick up these books and maybe they don’t understand (doesn’t a brain fully develop at 25 or something?????) and thinks the type of stuff that is in this book is okay or to be admired.

maybe I think too much of this (I’m a very heavy and emotional thinker/person who feels A LOT) and maybe teens don’t actually think this???? maybe they can differentiate that this is fiction and not to be admired? but it’s just weird reading about teens and all the problematic stuff they do. I’m in the young adult ish category so it feels uncomfortable at times for me. make them young adults or something!!!!!!

I’m probably just thinking too much into this lmao but does anyone else feel this way about the books???? and before someone says OmG dOn’T rEaD iF yOu DoN’t LiKe It- the only reason I read these books was because of show Malec and I stupidly thought it was going to be the same masterpiece and I was sorely mistaken- and then I read about the insane stuff CC has gotten away with (plagiarism, how she treated people in the Harry otter fandom, how she treats her own fans when they criticize her, like I think she’s actually insane) and I just feel like this fantasy world and some of these characters deserved better treatment and should’ve been put in the hands of an author who actually cared more. I’m just tired of problematic authors and writers ruining shit for us

[whoblewboobear]

Checking the fic doc and seeing it at almost 30k is making me feral, I’ve never cared this much about a ship in my life 🤧 Starbreaker you will always be famous to me

[jacenotjason]

Always With You - Part One

Spooky Month Fanfic

brief writing of Father Morthy and Father Gregor, soon to have a part two woahh

enjoy!

Gregor pushed open the heavy door to the church, his movements anxious and hurried. “Morthy?” he called out, his voice echoing softly through the vast, empty space. He quickly slipped off his leather bag and hung it on the nearby hook. “Morthy, are you here?” His gaze swept over the church, searching for any sign of the priest. “It’s Gregor,” he added, hoping the familiar name would bring a response.

Rumors had been circulating that Morthy had gone radio silent. The church had been closed for Sunday service, and Morthy hadn’t been seen since. Gregor was all too familiar with the paranoia that accompanied battling demons, but he understood it was far worse when it involved Morthy. While he hadn't heard a single whisper from Moloch after his recent victory, the situation with Morthy and Gadreel was…. different. Gadreel was a relentless tormentor. He had been pursuing Morthy for years, showing no sign of giving up. Unlike Moloch, who knew when to quit and return home, Gadreel was determined to either force Morthy into submission or kill him in the process.

Gregor had never directly faced Gadreel, but the very presence of the demon was enough to instill terror. He didn’t need to see Gadreel to be afraid; the stories of the demon’s cruelty and the aftermath of his encounters were enough to frighten anyone.

"It's just me," Gregor called out once more, trying to keep his voice steady. "I promise." As he continued to search the church, the faint aroma of freshly brewed coffee reached his nose. The comforting smell offered a glimmer of reassurance, suggesting that Morthy might have been here recently.

“Gregor?” Morthy’s voice emerged from the shadows, and the sound was like a balm to Gregor’s frayed nerves. He turned to see Morthy approaching with deliberate caution. Gregor didn’t blame him for being wary; Gadreel’s ability to possess people was deeply unsettling. While Moloch’s possessions were obvious—his victims quickly sprouting horns and fangs—Gadreel operated in a far more insidious manner. The demon was a master of long-term schemes, often remaining undetected for days on end.

"It's me," Gregor reassured him, raising his hands in a gesture of innocence and openness.

Morthy’s relief was obvious, but doubt still flickered across his face. His eyebrows were knitted together in an anxious frown. “...Is it really you?” He clearly wanted to believe Gregor, but had to be on edge.

In response, Gregor gently pulled down his lower eyelid to reveal the clear, human quality of his eyes. Gadreel’s possessions were nearly impossible to detect at first glance, but the eyes were the telltale sign. Possessed eyes would be devoid of humanity, with an unnerving lack of reflection and overly dilated pupils that gave Gadreel away.

Morthy scrutinized Gregor’s eyes with intense focus, his gaze searching for any sign of corruption. After a tense moment, Morthy’s features softened with relief, and he pulled Gregor into a tight, heartfelt embrace. The gesture took Gregor by surprise, but he quickly returned the hug.

After the hug separated, Gregor looked up at Morthy with worry, "What's going on? People are saying you've been absent."

Morthy’s response was hesitant, his composure clearly frayed. He looked far from his usual self; his hair was disheveled, and dark circles under his eyes spoke of sleepless nights. “I…” he began, struggling to find the right words. “It’s Gadreel.” Gregor wasn’t surprised. “He’s planning something… I don’t know what exactly.”

Gregor nodded, trying to process the gravity of the situation. “I��m sorry if this is rude, but…” he ventured cautiously, “When was the last time you slept?”

Morthy’s face tightened as he bit his lower lip, clearly distressed. “About three days ago,” he admitted, his voice shaky. “But I can’t seem to sleep. Every time I doze off, Gadreel—” Morthy cut himself off abruptly, shaking his head as if trying to clear away the memory. “It’s easier for Gadreel to possess me when I’m asleep. I have nothing to defend myself with, and I’m not aware of what he’s doing. Whenever I doze off, I wake up somewhere dangerous—or doing something dangerous,” he stammered, his frustration obvious.

Gregor listened intently, trying to piece together the information. “Something dangerous?” he repeated.

Morthy’s frustration was palpable as he struggled to explain. “I’ve woken up at a train station, right on the edge of the platform, about to fall onto the tracks. Or I find myself on top of the church, like I’m about to jump off. Once, I woke up out in the snow, barely clothed, risking freezing to death. I even—” His voice faltered, “I coughed up a rat. A rat, Gregor! It’s like Gadreel’s trying to make me lose my mind.” Morthy’s voice trembled like he would start crying.

"Is..." Gregor's voice shook slightly as he asked, "Is he trying to kill you?" Gregor asked. He couldn’t help but think Gadreel had grown bored of his little toy, and was throwing it away.

Morthy sighed deeply, his expression one of grim contemplation. "That’s what I initially thought," he confessed, his tone heavy with resignation. "But… I don’t think that’s his endgame. If Gadreel really wanted me dead, he wouldn’t go through such elaborate and different means. He could have killed me easily by now. The fact that I keep waking up just before something fatal happens makes me think that's not what he wants…”

He ran a hand through his disheveled hair, "I think… I think Gadreel is just showing me his power, demonstrating that he can do whatever he wants to me, whenever he wants. It’s like he’s making a game out of it, just to remind me of his control. It’s not about killing me; it’s about making sure I know he’s always watching, always in control, and a-always ready to pull the rug out from under me."

Gregor’s eyes widened as he absorbed this new layer of understanding. Gadreel’s methods were not just cruel but taunting, designed to keep Morthy in a state of constant fear and vulnerability. The idea of being subjected to such relentless psychological torment was almost as horrifying as the physical danger.

"Okay..." Gregor said, breaking the tense silence with a determined nod. "Listen, Morthy, I'll help you contain Gadreel for a little while longer." He understood that they couldn’t completely rid Morthy of Gadreel, but there were ways to keep the demon at bay, at least until Gadreel got bored. "But you're not going to be able to get anything done if you're sleep-deprived."

Morthy started to protest, his voice tinged with frustration. "I can’t—"

"I will stay up," Gregor interrupted gently but firmly, taking Morthy’s hand in his. "I’ll stay awake and keep an eye on things to make sure Gadreel doesn’t possess you again. You need to get a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow morning, we’ll bless the church and your bedroom to help keep Gadreel at bay.”

Morthy’s shoulders relaxed visibly at Gregor’s reassurance, though a new wave of tension soon followed. “I… I can’t ask you to do that,” he said, his voice laced with guilt and concern.

Gregor squeezed Morthy’s hand gently. “You’re not asking,” he replied, his tone resolute.

Morthy’s gaze faltered, “But what if Gadreel hurts you?” The concern in his voice was loud, a blunt reminder of the very real danger Gadreel posed and how necessary it was to fear him. Morthy’s fear for Gregor’s safety was evident, his hands trembling slightly at the thought of Gregor being harmed because of him. “I-I couldn’t bear to think of you getting hurt because of me.”

Gregor’s gaze softened, and he squeezed Morthy’s hand gently. "I can handle it," he said with quiet confidence. "I’ve faced demons before, and I can deal with Gadreel, too.” Gregor’s confidence was obvious, but he was scared, too. He hid the fear of Gadreel for now, knowing he needed to be brave.

Morthy’s expression softened slightly, though the anxiety never fully left his eyes. “Thank you,” He murmured.

“Of course.”

Part Two

[themoonsbride]

Can I Trust You ?

pairing; Jace Wayland x Fem!Reader

summary; Reader has been alone all most all her life as a shadow hunter, she gets into a fight with some enemies one night and ends up meeting someone new.

warnings; fighting, violence, mentions of stabbing, heavy trust issues, somewhat motherly issues? anxiety ish?

a/n; I randomly thought of this today and have been working on it all day that I've been able too, hoping to be able to publish something tomorrow too. <3

--×♥︎×--

It was late, almost 1 am to be exact, and you felt yourself become alive as the breeze of the cold wind whispered against your skin and gently blew your hair past your shoulders.

The sound of your boots tapping against the ground of the alleys and shortcuts were only to be hear from your ears as you walked.

Your black jeans and leather jacket helped keep your skin a little from the cold, but it wasn't by much.

You froze in place, cautiously looking around, you weren't one to be wrong when you'd sense an entity unlike you had been near, and it wasn't for just mundanes. You weren't phased by humans simply because they hadn't even known you existed.

And that was enough for you, the less people knew about your interference with the world and keeping your species safe was all that had mattered. You assumed there were other shadow hunters of course, but you rarely ever came by any of them.

Sometimes it felt as though you were the only one left.

Though, you were practically alone for what felt like most if not all your life. Your mother had tried to keep you safe from valentine, but she had failed and in a battle, a battle that almost seemed like it was war, and now you lived on not only for yourself, but for your mother.

You knew it's what she would've wanted for you, for you to move forward and live on in her memory and your spirit of independence.

You fully spun yourself around to find a vampire prancing itself onto you, your body felt as though it were going into flight or fight mode as you began to defend yourself and fought against the blood thirsty being.

And soon you realized there were more surrounding you, it seemed as though there were about 4 more of the blood strived enemies who were all fighting against you.

In their eyes, they must've assumed 5 against one was no match for you, but you'd been in a few situations similar to this one, and this also had seemed like a simple battle to you as you've fought bigger, stronger entities.

You had punched and kicked some of the foul rivals, grabbing out 2 blades from your hidden pants pockets and stabbed one of them, when suddenly out of nowhere as you were about to fight off the rest, 2 of them suddenly were killed by 2 other blades stabbing them through their backs.

You backed up a bit as your body tensed more, you've learned over the years to never trust anyone, even the people you thought you knew.

Your back suddenly hit a wall, you looked at the other vampires unconscious on the hard ground, their lips split opened and a cut on one of their cheeks.

You looked over and had seen a tall luminous figure in the shadows, Your body entered its fight or flight mode again, and your blades were ready, but your mind felt somewhat scattered.

what was happening here, exactly? who the fuck was this? why did they feel the need to finish the job for you?

"Seems like you could've used some help there." A deep masculine voice spoke, this man also appeared to have an accent.

"Well I didn't." You responded coldly, your grip became more firm on your weapons.

The man strided closer towards you, the moonlight starting to light up his figure, he too had on boots, and dark jeans with multiple pockets, and a leather vest with a grey, v neck tank top.

he seemed to have a long blade strapped to his back as well.

But what you'd noticed before you noticed anything at all, was his ominous glowing blue eyes. His pupils were dark, it made it seemed like he was seeing straight through your soul and sent shivers of anxiety down your spine.

"Well still, it doesn't hurt to help a fellow shadow hunter every now and again." He replied, standing infront of you, he seemed pretty close, you tried to back up, but when attempting so your back only planted itself against a firm brick wall.

"a what?" You hadn't heard someone else use that word in so long it sounded forgien in someone else's mouth to you.

"Do you really think I can't tell the difference between a shadow hunter and a mundane?" He asked, sarcasm filled in his words as he smirked a bit.

"I never said you couldn't. I.. -"

"You've never met another shadow hunter."

"No." you said harshly, God could he let you get at least one sentence out without trying to figure out your life's story. It felt like you were playing 20 fucking questions with him.

"I've met a shadow hunter before, it's just been a year or 2." You said lowly, you knew the dangers of telling people the truth, you didn't even have the knowledge of this man's name.

"Well I can assure you, there's others. You and I aren't the only ones." His eyes went from ominously mysterious to concerned. You felt a little bit puzzled to be honest.

"What're you talking about." You felt like you were being lied to, maybe you were, but in this instance, you couldn't tell. You always assumed there had been others, but to hear it be confirmed that there was, it felt surreal, and it made you feel a little bit denial about it as well.

"Did you think you were the only one?" He said, his voice made him sound genuinely concerned, and it made a small part of you inside feel vulnerable.

You didn't answer him, and he started to get closer to you, you glared him, your body was so tense it felt frozen in place. but your mind was screaming at you to move away, but your limbs wouldn't budge.

"I think you should come with me to the institute." He said, he looked like he wanted to help you somehow, but what kind of help did you need? you'd been surviving since you were 15 years old and now your were merely 26, you didn't need help or protection anymore, you didn't need anyone.

Atleast that's what you've been telling yourself.

"I don't even know your name, why should I so much even consider going back to this 'institute' you're talking about?" You said, one part of your brain was screaming at you to run away and never look back, that it wasn't safe.

You were only putting yourself in danger, but there was also a small part of yourself who was saying to go with him, and you were currently hating that part of yourself, the part of you your mother had taught you to ignore for your own safety.

"Jace, Jace Wayland. And you are?" He said smiling a little, maybe he was trying to seem like he felt sorry for you, and it was a little pathetic to be honest, but it was also kinda cute.

"...y/n, y/l/n." you replied.

[discoidal]

i think. i want to write ava losing their virginity at like 19 or 20 to a guy they Do Not like and are Not into and i want to do this because i want an excuse to put fuck me (i didn't know how to say) by crawlers on my baby birds playlist

[aroace-cat-lady]

I have no idea why Kit is always so straight forward about his feelings and thoughts in fics. Like. Dude. Have you seen this guy.