#ft. jace

[crimsontrxcks]

@arsoneds

❝ If I gave you a gun, bet you'd aim right for the heart . . . you already did that, darlin'. ❞

[midnightscxre]

@waywordhearts [ Closed starter ]

Calloused palms traveled across the silky surface whose scent did not belong in his private quarters. The thick, sooty smoke of cigarettes smoked in the cramped space the ashy blond man called his bedroom was replaced by fresh air in which the aroma nourished the nostrils and did not disgust them. The sapphire eyes blinked away the fatigue and took in the surroundings. The confusion lasted for a couple of strong heartbeats, until the stupor of sleep was replaced by the realization of where he was. The muscular body tensed, lifting itself into a sitting position, elbows resting on knees as broad palms rubbing the heavy eyelids. Movement made him wince, a habit, instinct -- necessity to survive in the world of horrific crimes the president of ' Devil's stranglers ' chose -- always be on alert, one finger on the trigger and another ready to capture the neck of the enemy. " Hey . . . " Although the tempting shape in front of him was no way near a repellent sight he needs to destroy, nothing he needs to ' fear ', the caution remained for a moment too long.

The usual feeling of irritation that would rise as a tide seeing a ' sweet-bud ' overstaying her welcome back in the motor club was replaced by some strange relaxation, sight of the woman mellowing the senses, silencing the constant worry and driving the everlasting tension in the broad shoulders away. Azure irises fell upon a strangely shaped cup, probably a work of art Jace didn't know how to appreciate since his beverages came either in bottles or disposable paper cups, from which steam was rising, carrying another seducing smell. Rough fingers curled over the prepared drink, bringing it to the smirking lips. " Thanks . . . " a name. A name was supposed to be added at the end of the word of appreciation. A name he didn't know. Was not supposed to know. Jace entered this arrangement with rules chiseled in stone tables - no names, no details, no calls, no talks, no. . . well, nothing but physical pleasure. An exchange that worked perfectly well until the present moment.

Not that the man didn't have an abundance of willing women back at his motor club, but those had nothing to say except for ' yes sir, whatever you wish sir ', like programmed robots in tight skirts -- something Jace didn't find compelling at all. Boring. Yet, no matter with who he shared the sheets for the night, his rules were clear to the other person as well. Not one woman, even those whose heart was broken by the ugly truth, had one bad thing to say about Jace Catto. A man who never hid his intentions, had his cards open -- that he will never be nothing but a pleasure provider. That he can't stay and be the knight in the shining armor. Not because he didn't want to, hell, one of the biggest hidden dreams was a stable relationship that bloomed in a loving family -- white fence, dog, house, couple of kids and a wife. . . a distant dream. Jace saw too many of his fellow men lost their sanity to alcohol, drugs and sorrow after reality slapped them in the face. For criminals like them, there was no happy ending. Family killed, kidnapped, or just ran after they realized how cruel the world of crime is. The man vowed never to expose no one to its horrors.

" I really didn't mean to crash here, darling. No fake excuses. I wouldn't hold it against you if you kicked me out. " soft muscle licked the drops of coffee from the lips. What in the bloody hell is her name? Thought rang through the privacy of his head. Grabbing the crumpled white t-shirt from the corner of the sofa, Jace pulled it over the head and strong arms. Why did he stay in the first place? Man couldn't recall, yet there was no alcohol, or better said not enough of it, for him to use as an excuse -- it was just tiredness and the feeling of relaxation that made him stay. Jace got to his feet, scanning the living room as he approached her, taking a few hefty sips of the divine coffee. " Nice place. You live alone or should I expect an angry boyfriend coming too early from a business trip and have a nice brawl for a wake up recipe instead of the coffee? " Smooth chuckle accompanied the half-joke, because the example happened more than once. . . Finally the feet stopped collecting steps and the much larger silhouette towered over the smaller one. Corners of the lips curling in a smile before the brain even realized it. " Don't take this the wrong way darling but, I think crashing at one's crib and serving coffee demands a name. " crossing his own limits, Jace continued. " I know the deal and all, but ermm. . . would like to express my thanks properly, ye? " Slight Irish accent explained. " Name is Jace Catto. " He offered first.

[theobrowningfd]

@jaceeverett

[jamiebower-001]

A whole different flavour of handsome

Jamie Bower in "Run On" music video

[jacenotjason]

moar concept art

characters I haven't really touched in the Opposite au just yet

These were just based on memory so subject to change ppfpft

[xaviermattthews]

closed for: @jaceberg

where: driftwood, before the speed dating event

"Is this your place?" X asks the barista idly as he wanted for his coffee to be finished, the man not one he had seen working there before but he couldn't hide the relief that he was encountering an unfamiliar face rather than the excitable blonde who got anime-eyed the last time he was in there, "You have some intense staff on the books if so."

[midnightscxre]

The eyebrows jumped in sincere surprise, the lips covered with the taste of tobacco and the remains of whiskey from an hour ago slightly opened . "You actually work here?" tone breathed out in amazement. The notions of the gravedigger were stereotyped in his brain. Dusty, scowling, gray-faced, hunched, with a muddy shovel draped over a worn black coat -- definitely not a young, attractive woman with round sapphire eyes. Rough fingers rubbed the chin in wonder. Maybe he shouldn't have made premature judgments, after all, he had seen enough contradictory and shocking things in his thirty years of life to know not to draw conclusions based on superficial observation. Yet, it was still quite puzzling. Fortunately, Jace was drawn to things he couldn't fully explain -- it definitely explained his friendship with Clare, that woman being a constant enigma all his life, and no matter that he viewed her almost like a sister, there was so much he just couldn't understand regarding her choices.

" Well that's too bad, would enjoy a magic show, or could really use a wish. " adding with a another slight grin, man discarded the burned out cigarette, flexing his shoulders. " I don't think it's smart for you to do any more walking. " stating knowingly, head tilted towards her dusty, scratched knees. A second passed before the large shape shifted, moving closer, and thick forearms slipped under her thighs, wide palm finding it's place on her waist. Lifting her like she weighted nothing, feet began collecting steps between illuminated graves and small areas filled with flowers. A few moments were spent in pleasant silence, as the grey optics observed the scenery. Tall thumbs, statues of angels and saints, flickering lights of the candles, tidy gravel paths, shadows dancing on the grave stones. . . all unusually calming. Observing it, Jace had to admit that maybe, slightly, he began to understand Clare's choices to visit such places for mere enjoyment. Well, if he ruled out the grim reality and purpose of this area. " Have a friend. She is into this kind of stuff. . . never fully understood it. " he began casually. " Likes those bloody horror books as well. " It was strange, the way he shared an information with a stranger. President and hardened criminal like him that breaks necks and shoots people dead for not many sins, taking a stroll on a grave yard, chit-chatting about his personal life. But somehow, it didn't bother him.

" Name's Jace. " the blond man offered, looking down at her, secured in his embrace. " Had any sightings, some grave encounters while you were working here? " genuine curiosity masked with humor. Of course there was nothing supernatural. Years of kneeling on pews of an old, rotten church with a drunken priest in a small town ruled by strict religion combined with a hard life filled with tragedy roots out such believes from a person. Specially when his lifestyle was a one way ticked to hell. " I must admit darling, I know this area quite well, never seen you around. "

If it were up to Cindy Berman, she'd never see a dead anything for the remainder of her un-life. The incidents back at camp had been enough blood and destruction and trauma for more than a lifetime, as evidenced in reliving it in her mind after death and rebirth. But unfortunately that was the push and pull of the cemetery. It meant she had to come back, at least from time to time, to essentially recharge. Best to just live next to it, she thought after learning this. The people were nice enough and it gave the displaced woman a place to be. "Bad luck. Right, right- not really a believer in those sorts of things," Even with the extreme bad luck that befell her, the good luck evened it out and made the whole thing a wash. At least that's what Cindy told herself day in and day out. "Rituals? Gods, no. I just work for the caretaker here. Caretakers, whatever. Thankfully those you're talking about aren't here ever day," Faust was annoying enough without seeing him every day. The gesture would have made her blush and stammer in the old days. Even if Tommy and her were still happening, a large handsome man doing such a thing to her was not unwelcomed. There was still a smile but her nerves had cooled as her body had rotted. Like drinking of the earth's reality while six feet under. "I can say with absolute certainty that I am no witch," And yet he could've had one if he found one of the girls, "And I am no fish." Nico. Did this guy know about them? "As for my home, you can walk me there if you'd like. I live on the other side of the graveyard."

[italicized-oh]

so I should be writing a conference paper but. instead I am thinking about jace and anger. specifically autistic meltdown rage. like. god. being told what you do looks easy and so why do you complain about it / what could you possibly be upset about you have such Talent such Gift. and just being absolutely furious with nowhere to put that rage except. no. I shan't say

yes I shall say. put that rage in his hole!!

[lonelyhcart]

📸 + Sterling

@sterlingxlevin

also have an insta story from june of 2023.

[crimsontrxcks]

@7ndcvils liked for a small Apocalypse starter

Muse: Jace Catto, 36 y/o for this verse, criminal ( for Belinda )

Plot: Two strangers who started traveling together through a series of events. They keep their distance but cannot completely escape the growing sense of attachment. After a skirmish with a group of bandits, Jace is wounded, but he does not want to admit it

" Bloody bastards. . . " The third curse in a row rolled down the tongue as irises the color of dark clouds before the storm stared at the crushed cigarettes soaked in mud and blood. " Fucking scumbags. . ." contempt was etched on the harsh features as he glared at the three lifeless corpses. The remnants of adrenaline made the muscles twitch, the foot delivered another blow to the ribs of the already dead man. A sharp pain forced a grunt out of the dry throat, torso convulsed, calloused palm pressed against the left side of the ribs. A sticky, moist sensation spread over the skin. Jace didn't have to check to know he was bleeding, but the wound didn't enrage him as much as the fact that these idiots had destroyed most of his cigarettes.

Unnatural gargling, growling and choking on their own fluids came from outside the abandoned building. The sun was dying below the horizon - which meant that the dead were becoming more active. Man with dirty blonde hair tried to take a step, but another jolt of physical agony from the injury froze him in place. Head felt dizzy, yet persistence prevailed, and Jace took another wobbly but determined step forward. " C'mon, we have to go. Those bloody brain eating fucks are starting their midnight gathering. . . "

[midnightscxre]

A trace of a smile appeared as quickly as it disappeared. Yeah, no shit mate. If you were dating, I would personally hand you the ' man with biggest balls ' award right this instant. Biker thought to himself, heedful to the way this lie was formed. Commitment to honor a promise or even warning, knowing the despotic way his redheaded friend handles things, earned a few point of respect from the ashy blond male. Broad shoulders tensed, nostrils slowly releasing the deep breath stuck in the muscular chest on the next statement. Underground fights. Not a bit shocked, taste for the perilous adventures certainly one of Clare's sins. Still, every such guilty pleasure provided on the underground buffet carries a certain price.

Even a mere observer enjoying the illegal show might get in trouble, and the man feared Clare was not just watching from the sidelines. The concern grew the longer Vince went on. Bloodied knuckles and the posture confirmed the mentioned profession, which again was a two edged sward. Capable to protect, but also -- it is possible that he is subject to aggressiveness, unrestrainedness and if compared to Jace, might black out from the rush that anger gives. . . and if the compass of what is allowed and what definitely isn't is even slightly cracked, it might result in a tragedy.

Sudden rise of the blood pressure on the mere idea of Clare getting in the way when this man gets violent got him sick to his stomach. " I really hope you know the boundaries where that talent of yours must not go astray. " Clare is certainly a nerve challenger, getting people on the edge, so having someone easily triggered was not a good combination. Watchful eye would be above Vince, no matter what the man claimed and promised. Trace of rudeness and hostility slipped under the usual death sentence that followed as a result. As already decided, this situation required adjusted approach, and the reaction was natural -- and correct, since Jace trusted the words about Clare being the one spilling the beans. " I'll see that she does. " replying simply, nothing giving away his thoughts.

Whole ox could be roasted twice with the heat Jace placed on the stranger, soaking in every movement, shadows of various emotions traveling along the facial features, unspoken words flashing in the direct, rebellious glare. Tension so thick in the night air that one could cut it with a kitchen knife. Jace awaited the reaction, ready for whatever it may be. A fist, a retuned threat, insult, quitting this situation . . . but a dose of relief came when Vince answered politely no matter the strained nerves. Biker saw something cracked in the man, something locked away and key swallowed, dreading it might be unleashed. Jace's threats clearly caused a crack in that Pandora's box. . . but something held Vince back, restrained, focused. . . and Jace hoped it was the fondness for Clare. " Good. " nodding as he launched another burned out cigarette under the truck, Jace turned to the bull. " We will see how it goes. " Before he could continue, the man was gone, giving almost an uninterested 'excuse' and disappearing into the club. Callused fingers fished something from the back pocket of the jeans, but this time it wasn't candy nor cigarettes. Smartphone pressed on the ear after dialing the number, the other person answered after two rings. " I need you to do something, mate. I want to know who has illegal brawls in the area, not new but going for some time, keeps the fighters on the payroll, probably does not change the bodies often. Also, Vincent Kraus, I want everything, from the damn birth certificate to how many times does he takes a piss. Find where he fights. Probably will be harder, damn circles of those are closed. . . but not impenetrable. Pay off whoever wants to sing, but keep it on the low, got it? Good. " Hanging up, Jace turned to the metal beast.

***

Woman's feet almost got tangled in a sea of ​​speaker cables as she stormed off the stage. Applause went unnoticed, whistling and cheering fell on deaf ears, only the goal of ghosting the stage as soon as humanly possible remained. Hourglass shape dived in the shadows of the storage room behind the wooden stairs, back pressed on the cold wall filled with signatures of the former bands playing, eyes closed shut. It alright, no one heard shit. Comforting the agitated thoughts, Clare had only one name tied to that 'no one'. He didn't hear it, he does not now, he -- . . . is right next to her. Jumping from the noise of his voice, eyeballs nearly rolled out from their sockets, jaw loosened and nearly dropping to the floor. " What -- " Compliment only caused the ivory cheeks to turn strawberry red, disbelief attacking the brain. No. . . he didn't hear it. . . he couldn't have . . . ' It was about me wasn't it? ' Thor's hammer mercilessly hammered at the skeleton cage. Master of pulling herself out of any sticky situation. . . until now.

Lack of experience where the feelings were bare and served on the silver platter delivered her right to the cage of his suspicion. . . no, even worse -- conclusion. Clearing the throat as the pupils danced behind the wide shoulders, staring at anything but Vince's face, Clare raised her chin and pushed the shaky hands in the small space of her leather jeans pockets. " It is just a song. Not even mine. " Best she could do? In this shaken moment, yes. Shameful for her usual trickster performance. " I--I've heard it. So -- have no clue what you talking about. " Tone way too insecure and giving away the ' caught red handed ' moment to sound genuine. Pursed lips and eyes rolling inside the pink eyelids on the new attempt to tease her, but before she could muster another clumsy comeback, she was invited to join him for a drink. Silently the gaze followed the tall figure's departure, sensing the high, nearly joyful spirits that filled the aura. Thickly she swallowed. He was not bothered, not judgemental, but it seemed . . . he was glad.

Was it possible the feelings he held went beyond the simple crave for curves and short time that didn't mean nothing? Butterflies in the stomach basked on the idea, as Clare sensed something she never did before -- euphoria of crushing on someone, like a silly teenager getting their first 'wink' from their 'chosen one'. Before she could overthink it, ruby haired woman found herself in front of a cracked, dirty mirror in the corner of the room, fixing the little make up she had, combing the scarlet strands with sharp nails. What the -- what was she doing? Deep inhale followed. There was no escaping this night any longer, and a drink was the only savior. At least it will take the edge off while she decided to see this evening through without listening to the choir of demons that existed for one purpose only -- to ruin everything connected to the matters of the heart.

Rage was no stranger to the senses, it was a spiked emotion she knew almost as good as her twin. It filled every inch of her existence, nails sinking in the sweaty palms, while the repellent sight unfolded in front of her. The man that was just next to her, expressing his fondness toward the revealing lyrics, being covered in inappropriate and not at all discreet touches. Abhorrence wrapping her with its ropes, choking the morals and delivering only one solution -- bury them both six feet deep. It would be inevitable, no words would convince her otherwise if it was not for the same group of Avril Lavigne's poor copies from earlier, chatting and giggling a meter away, revealing the truth about this situation. " She will totally get him. " " I bet she can, that will teach that redheaded slut. "

It was a miracle that their teeth were not scattered across the floor then and there, but Clare arranged her priorities differently. She pushed her lithe body swiftly and deftly like a stalking panther through the crowd, her focus only on the one blond head with cheap extensions that wrapped around her man's arm like a boa constrictor. A man whose facial expression showed the same amount of disgust. Woman's silhouette materialized behind the drunken woman as a ghost escaping the peaceful grave after being summoned. . . and the dealt with the situation as every vengeful being would. Hard tip of the black boot hitting the plastic heel which broke like a mere twig. A scream muffled by the music escaped from a mouth that reeked of stale beer, when the woman lost her already strained balance, falling to the floor filled with cigarette butts and faded shoe prints. People separated, and a ghostly shadow fell over the unfortunate woman. One sudden movement, fast as the speed of light, caused a painful shriek. . . Tacky pink nails covering the left eye. " I told you what will happen. " Menacing whisper traveled to the blond's ear canal. A crumpled, hairy thing landed in the woman's lap -- a fake,plastic piece of glued eyelashes. . . one that Clare tore from the girl's eyelid. Leaning closer, all the way to the petrified face, Clare's index finger pointed to the other eye. " This one was not yours, but if you don't get your bony ass out of my sight and away from him, next time it will be something of yours. " Pointing to the fake eyelashes then her eyeball, Clare watched the woman trying to get up, but the broken heel made the attempt impossible. Rest of the women were pale as winter's snow, watching their friend pulling the heels off in sheer horror, barefoot disappearing in the crowd.

" Beer Barney, and one tequila. " Turning to the bar as the crowed around her didn't stare at her in shock without blinking, Clare pulled her leather jacket off, flexing the slender shoulders. Barney didn't seem all too stunned, more amused and slightly surprised, watching her than the reason why this nasty sight occurred. After downing the whole glass of beer, Clare tilted her head toward Vince, eyebrows kitting and lips pursed in disapproval while she observed the touched piece of skin. " I would pour some alcohol on that spot, don't know what kind of diseases she had. " Nonchalantly the woman pointed out, leaning over the bar. " So, the bull? "

Answer came from the different pair of lips. " Just getting in. " Pyke emerged from the sea of guests, standing next to Vince. " Here you go Vincent. " Slamming the hundred dollar bill on the wooden surface, the man smiled. " Barney, you are all stacked up for a month. " The news were received with absolute pleasure, as the plump owner placed another reward next to Benjamin. " Here ya go young blood. " A bottle of whiskey, stolen goods he just shared. " On the house. "

The air felt thick with tension while standing there, not expecting the two other men who made their presence known out of the shadows, waiting for their next move. Expression appearing detached as if they didn't bother him, when in all actuality he was fearful for his life. Honestly, he surprised himself that he even came to assist as well, but at the same time felt it’d been mandatory. Like he didn't have a choice. Realizing he wasn’t being brought here to be beaten to a bloody pulp and left for the coyotes to pick on, relief washed over him in waves, yet he still kept a watchful eye just in case. Not that he stood a chance since there were three against one, but he for sure wouldn’t back down. The Irish accent ceased his thoughts, along with the gruff words of the other man who was referred to as 'Tig', and when the truck door opened, side glances were sent towards him in hopes of a negative reaction. Gawking at every ounce of product in awe, they certainly rounded up the good stuff, and a lot of it. Revealing this as stolen goods didn’t surprise him since he had a gut feeling that Jace wasn't a saint by any means, making sure to collect and keep every puzzle piece given so he could put it all together. If Vince wasn’t mixed in with what he'd been in now, a different reaction would’ve been given. One of shock. Fear. And most of all, resentment. Being one of those people to use the police as a threat. Instead, he didn’t give the reaction all of them pined for, much to the disappointment of the crew.

When Pyke acknowledged him without malice, respect was given towards the crew member for acting as if his presence wasn't bothersome, even if the male held a sense of resentment on the inside. "Right. On it." A grin following at Pyke smacking the mechanical animal, grabbing a barrel alongside him and carrying it inside, placing it in its correct spot. When he went back to retrieve the whiskey boxes, the gruff voice of the older man could be heard again. Biting down on his tongue to hold back any remark, he picked up the pace with no hesitation as commanded by Tig, scooping up the box of alcohol and bringing it inside, setting it down on one of the empty tables. Having found some humor in his words. The guy appeared to be cautious around newcomers, so it wasn’t something Vince took to heart. Paul was the exact same way, minus the snarky jokes, having witnessed it firsthand when he brought in new recruits.

When he walked out, prepared to grab another box, he halted at the change in atmosphere. Turning his head slightly, peripheral view caught the piercing gaze of Jace, sending some form of shiver down his spine. Blood running cold. Catching sight of the firearm that hung alongside his hip, nervousness gnawing away like a parasite while he pretended not to see it, feeling as if he were placed under a spotlight when Jace began to question why and how he managed to dodge the claws of Clare. It caught him off guard, he should've expected it to happen, it would've been foolish to think he'd be able to waltz in like some carefree simpleton without some form of confrontation. As mentioned, Clare wasn't one to just let anyone in or allow them to pass inspection for that matter. Muscles tensed and guard rising when the two crew members were ordered to go inside, leaving both him and Jace alone. The silence had been deafening, minus the chatter from the group of people standing far away that echoed through the air, and the occasional owl making its presence known. The man’s behavior was entirely different compared to how it was back at the apartment. No playfulness. No smile. Only a look a lion would give towards its meek prey.

“We aren’t dating if that’s what you’re insinuating. Purely platonic.” Vince tutted with the shake of his head followed by a feigned smirk, playing it off as if his feathers weren't ruffled. It pained him to even say that, but it was the truth, aside from the last part. He wasn’t going to break his promise on revealing the night they spent together or even her involvement with Paulie for that matter, especially knowing this guy meant serious business, the truth would have to be beaten out of him. Once he makes a promise to someone he cares enough about, he doesn't break it. “I know her because she attends fights, which I’m sure you’re aware of. It’s what I do. And I’m good at what I do. I don't do hospitals unless I'm about to die, and she picked up on that. Helped tend to my wounds, it's just a mutual thing we clicked on.” He gestured with the wave of his hand as if it were no big deal. Having picked up on the obvious codes behind their words, there was no sense in hiding his true nature. Plus, he wanted to make a point that he wasn’t some average man, but one who could and would fight until the death if need be. “You know what? I think she’d rather speak for me anyway, so if you wanna know any vivid details about how we know one another then ask her for yourself.” It wasn’t meant to be sarcastic, but it happened to come out that way, what’d been said was mainly to save face. There was no other excuse he could possibly conjure up that would be convincing to the biker, who threw invisible daggers and munched loudly on candy to prevent from breaking bones.

When Jace stepped forward he stepped back instinctively, observing his surroundings in all directions in case his men tried to pull a fast one like a pack of wolves. The side he didn’t want to reveal came out, just a little, loathing the feeling of being backed into a corner like some caged animal. The laid-back side having been replaced with a defensive stance. Jaw taut and teeth practically baring. Hardened stare with a newfound intensity, pupils dilating so quickly nearly his entire iris disappeared like a shark detecting the smell of blood. As if he were prepared to strike, which he wouldn't unless if someone else were to first or if provoked enough, he’d be singled out with the chance of being silenced with a weapon, on top of that losing any chance with Clare in the process. But something that didn’t set right with him were three things: being talked down to, threats against him, and threats against his life. It reminded him of his father, who used acts of humiliation and partook in such behavior. An unintentional trigger given from the sharp tongue and actions of Jace. Unaware of the true occupation of the leather clad man before him, he didn’t think Jace held the same power as Paul. Paul had put him in his place once, and he never felt more inferior, more shameful than he did in that moment. Powerless. He wasn’t going to let it slide, no, not this time. In all fairness, he tried to understand that this man has familial ties with Clare, he was just watching her back as most figures do. Hell, his friend Julian was the same way, having to convince that this was just for Clare's wellbeing. Eyelids closed for a split second, taking a much-needed breath, he calmed himself and responded with a serious tone, boring into the dark depths of the other, accent slipping by accident out of frustration. “We’re clear. I’m a man of my word.” Did he open a can of worms? Likely. But did he regret it? Absolutely not.

Thankfully, before anything else could be said or happen to be blown out of proportion, he could hear the sound of a guitar strum and muffled words said into a microphone from inside. "That's crazy, but I gotta go." Response was dismissive and short at whatever Jace decided to throw at him, putting their ‘stand off’ to an end when he practically disappeared through the back door without a word or look over his shoulder, quickly passing Tig and Pyke in the process while weaving through the crowd of people. What he wanted was to see Clare perform, that was his whole initial purpose in the first place. Not exchanging blows with someone she viewed as a sibling. Nothing else mattered, maybe the booze, but that wasn’t the primary focus. Standing towards the back, broad arms crossing over his chest, anticipation eating him alive. When she began, stomach felt as if it did backflips, full attention on the woman he was smitten by. Not acknowledging anyone else in the crowd, even if a few local attendees gave side glances at the newcomer. It was as if a hypnotist were waving an object back and forth in front of him to put him in a trance. Every word he’d caught on, it’d been as clear as day. Goosebumps forming on his skin, pretty boy. Heart hammering in his chest, electric shockwaves shooting through every vein, and when the song ended, the sound of people's cheers snapped him back to reality with a few blinks. When she finished up, he waited for the right moment and jogged over to where she stood, glancing around to make sure it was just them two. For now. “You keep surprising me, Clare. You were great.” The words were genuine, eyes gleaming with delight as he stared into her own. “It was about me, wasn’t it?” There it was, the teasing being brought back to life alongside the cheshire grin. Even if she were to deny it, he'd play along, knowing the truth was in plain sight. It was obvious from the get-go. "So, I am your groupie after all yeah?" Head cocked slightly to the side, canine teeth biting down on his tongue. Complete switch of behavior, not like how it was outside. "I'm gonna make a trip to the bar." In other words 'I'm gonna seek something strong to ease my conscience due to what I'd happened to experience'. "You can join me when you've finished up. I'd like you to." He encouraged, flashing a toothy smile before turning away and heading towards the bar. He signaled for a round towards the older man behind the counter, who was currently wiping it down because a scrawny man sporting a cowboy hat too big for his head spilled his drink from too much consumption. "Give me the strongest thing you got." Words held desperation behind them. A shot of absinthe was given, and he downed it as if he'd been deprived of water for days, the burning sensation in his throat caused him to shake his head and slam the shot glass down on the wooden surface, pointing towards it for another. The elder man cocking a curious brow alongside a smile before obliging. It didn't take too long before an unfamiliar figure approached him, a woman who looked like the watered-down version of Lita Ford, a disinterested look was shot at her, but she didn't take a hint. "Well, aren't you handsome." She purred flirtatiously, eyelashes batting while long fingernails traced along his bicep, which tensed out of discomfort, practically salivating over him as if he were a piece of grade A top choice meat. A sour look sent towards the woman, nose scrunching up in disgust, she reeked of alcohol. Her arm linked through his, peering up at him to await a response, only to be given rhetorical question spat with clear distaste. "Do you mind?" Shoulders rose to shrug her off of him, as if he were flicking off a pesty bug.

[mackmontgomery]

🐦 + jace !

send 🐦 for a tweet about your muse // @jaceberg

✧ — ⋆    𝐒𝐎𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 𝐌𝐄��𝐈𝐀 & 𝐓𝐄𝐗𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒 .

[rcdiostcrs]

i feel like rhis would have adored bianca di angelo. another underworldly / dark-powered hunter!!

[jaceberg]

📸 + Mikey

ft. @mikeyxcallahan

[midnightscxre]

" Well aren't you a little lady. " smooth baritone, warm and thick like melted caramel, complimented the manners rather than mock them. It did tickle the man under the ribs, witnessing someone uttering ' please and thank you ' so honestly, not from fear or force. It seemed to him, the girl was a pleasant company even before the army of dead conquered mother earth. The realization followed by another, that the chances of them being in the same circles in the life before were slim, very, very slim, odds for even meeting her where 1 in a 100. Sophisticated, polite, calm women did not enter pubs owned by the mob, filled with people arm to the teeth, downing beer and not minding the brute behavior. No, this one certainly would not be in the cards he was dealt -- so somehow, deep inside, for the first time the man saw the bright side of getting that Joker with a decaying zombie face that changed the world order. . . because meeting Eden certainly didn't count as another disaster.

" Does the please and thank you approach work on the corpses as well? Maybe I am missing something here. . . instead of smashing their hissing, ugly mug, I should have just politely ask for them to take a hike. " the laughter continued to spread through the scattered, ruined space of the gas station, until it suddenly died down. Her touch, that is, the squeeze of the sleeve of the leather jacket left him in place, watching the small hand next to his wide one. He allowed contact, left his hand still, feeling the hunger for protection, comfort. . . perhaps most of all humanity, in that act. " No need to thank me sweetheart, we can't all be just savages, killing for a bite of food or bullet that would do more good if we swallow it ourselves, not others. . . " A grim tone to the response, but honesty evident in the sentence.

A thought passed through the privacy of his mind, a realization of hypocritical statement. He killed for less than a bite of food, which today means literal survival -- before he killed for mere piece of land that wasn't even his. A territory, to protect the invisible lines of what the Devil stranglers proclaimed theirs. Gaze wondered to the chain still hanging on his jeans. A weapon taking more lives than bullets ever did or would. A favorite thing to steal a soul with. Clearing his throat, snapped back to the present moment by the melodic tone of Eden's voice, grin appeared under the untrimmed mustache. " Would never say, Irish's that is so polite? Maybe there is hope for us after all. " he joked, knowing well the reality is far from the stereotypes other glued to the Irish. They were friendly, helpful, honest, loyal . . . maybe after a few pints they were just a bit sensitive with the nerves. However, a few firsts flying in a quick brawl and everything is back to normal. " I am a mutt myself, that is why the accent isn't on point. " Jace explained vaguely, unaware of the small chit chat they were having, not very common for this times. " Am from Texas, long way from here. Left when I was 16. " small pause, deafening silence when the never-ending regret cut the beating blood pump on the memory of what. . .who he left behind without even a proper goodbye. " Mother was Irish, died giving birth to me. My father was Texan, and the old man gave his best to convey the bits and pieces of her memory on me, so he copied her accent, until my tongue didn't shape words with it. . . the thing ended tho, he died when I was eight, went to my uncle and aunt. "

History lesson was over as quickly as it began, telling it stirring the graves of too much buried ghost eager to haunt him. " Some valuable skills for sure. Is she still here? " Regretting the question as soon as it fell from the mouth, thick eyebrows lowered. " I mean. . . if your community fell apart, maybe she is out there. " Approach of reassurance not his usual ammo, though he tried. It seemed this fragile woman experienced a turbulent ride through the roads of Inferno, there was no need for the ' hard truth ' yet, telling her everyone she knew were probably dead, and she had a guardian angel getting her this far if she was so merciful and trustworthy toward strangers. Although, he scolded his own self, recalling the words she uttered before, asking only for a quick death. The woman was tired, obviously, tired of living the life on the run and in constant terror or everything around them. Chest puffed, chains of muscles tensing, need to shield her bubbling in his chest. She seemed as one of the very few pearls of purity on this gruesome battlefield of horror. " The thing you said, about finishing you? I think I'll keep you alive, listenin' to my bullshit probably a better punishment, to teach you not to lower your weapon around strangers, ya? " Jace teased, trying to bring up her spirits.

Pushing the callused hand into the back pocket of the light blue jeans, man fished out a crumpled box of cigarettes, biting the bud of one and extending the hand towards Eden. " Want one? " The other hand lighted the tobacco, as he inhaled the delicious smoke almost feeling the muscles fluttering with euphoria. Yes, he was addicted to this sinful pleasure. Next statement of the woman came as a punch to the gut, nearly choking on the grey could lingering in his lungs, Jace coughed violently. The corners of the eyes tuned red, while the eyeballs were glazed with a thin layer of tears. " Damn darlin' , you nearly killed me, I though we were good. " Commenting while straightening himself up, balled fist slammed the stone-hard chest. " A preacher, huh? I assure you, sweetheart, I was quite the opposite before zombies fucking up the society. " As if the patch ' president' on the left side of his chest and the brutal sight on the back, didn't reveal enough.

" And what were you? Professional climber surely not. " Another harmless joke, trying to keep the conversation light, making them forget for a moment where they are. Thick fingers brought the cigarette to the lips, taking another hit. Mention of the radio caught his interest instantly. " Radio, huh? Honestly darlin' been searching for some of those for a while now. Classic radio, song playing one. . . any chance you know where I can get that? " There was a promise, a legend even, passed down from generation to generation of the bikers. An agreement, between the rival clubs. A story so bizarre Jace always thought it was just a joke. But now, he really hoped it was not. The story went that if ever there was a disaster, something so devastating that the world can't recover from it, the clubs will join forces, unite, see the survival of their ranks is secured. And all he had to do to see if that is really true, is find the radio and listen. . . for the tunes of the song The house of the rising sun. Coordinates hidden inside of the lyrics, to the actual house.

Jace thought through the options laid on the table of destiny. Wounded stranger with probably not one savage bone in her body a bad package to take on. Slowing him down is the least of his problems, after all, he can't fully trust her. " Ok, darlin' this is what I propose. I am heading to a place allegedly not far from here. . . a market so to speak. Vulture's nest, heard of it? " Of course he will decide the opposite, taking her with him Jace got the information from the last guy he joined forces with. . . briefly -- considering Eden was now drinking the water he took from the man after strangling him. But he didn't end the guy's life for liquid, no, it was because the man tried to do that to him. Mistake on his part, underestimating Jace's calmed behavior. " From what I hear, I can get some bullets there, for a price. And medicine, that is certainly a thing there too. . . I just wonder what they will charge for it. " Trade was a complicated thing these days, value determined on the spot by the individuals, depending what they need. But she needed some antibiotic, something to prevent a potential infection. " Can you walk? " Jace asked before she answered does she even want to join him on this path, already approaching her and turning his back. " I would gladly offer you a ride on my Harley, but the flat tire got us separated. So I can offer you my back for a while. Because we have to move. This place? " He looked over the gas station. " Hot spot for unwanted guests probably doing the same things we did, looking for anything they can use. So we need to go. "

"I was running from biters, and.. I mean as obvious as it is I'm little, sometimes it'd easier to climb a floor and pick them off from a height." It wasn't a dumb choice, it wasn't like they'd manage to scale what she could and there was nothing wrong with using your strengths to your advantage. "It was when I was climbing down, there was a bit of metal and I slipped. I wasn't being careful." If she told the truth it'd be that she had that first dizzy spell of light headedness and couldn't keep focus that day. What day was that? What day of the week was it now?

In part Eden knew she was being an idiot, but so help her if he turned on her, overpowered her, murdered her for some bread, then so be it. She was tired, she was worn out, thirsty. Death might be some form of mercy to her right now, or at least she thought so. Maybe it'd all stop being peaceful, maybe whatever lay in the great beyond didn't have snapping jaws and rotting flesh. "When it umm... when it comes to ammo, it's a pain but try the upper floors, the bits that are hard to get to. It's where I find ammo, the places people think will be too difficult now or even too rusted and broken." Her free hand pressed to the warmth she felt bloom against her shirts fabric, crimson now dabbed on her fingertips that she stared down at.

"If I'm wrong, if I'm being a big idiot... if you want to take, everything I have just do me one kindness, and make sure you'd do it quick and make sure I'm dead, I'd not want.." her hand gestured. "I'd not want to be like them." in these times, killing someone was the mercy, the cruelty was to let someone turn, to become a flesh eating monster. It was when he turned, that was when she thought that'd be it and the way her pupils shot showed it, the expectance. Some people would have killed her over bread and berries, some would have killed. her for ammo alone. Then there were the sick ones, the ones that had lost all scraps of humanity and would've tortured the girl for fun. Shamelessly as his expression softened, all she could think was that he had lovely eyes. They reminded her of a storming sea with enraged clouds yet beneath something so gentle, waves that hushed and lulled a sense of security.

"Jace." she repeated and then that, a last name. How very human a thing, and how many people she wondered, had forgotten that type of simple thing? Her blood stained hand touched her chest and in that moment you could see, there was so much love inhabited into the last name she'd never forget, forever her best memories. "O'Connor." she huffed air, a slight amusement. "I know I don't sound Irish right? My grandmother did though she was.. well, her accent was a lot stronger than yours." that didn't matter, but little details like that made them seem more human than surviving animals. Her arm was still, she was stiff.. but as long as she waited in silence for his hands to turn bitter and nasty, for them to squeeze or grip a part of her that was too delicate for rough hands, the moment never came. Those green robs just continued to watch what he was doing, the way he peeled the fabric back to reveal the sore flesh, the blood, wet mixed with dry against pale flesh. "Oh I'll be fine, I'm fine, I'm.." no. She wasn't fine. She barely gasped as he lifted her to the counter and heavens, she was light. Legs dangling freely over the edge freely, her jeans showed signs of the fact she was a good climber, scraps and slight nicks to the thick material but nothing deep enough through them like her shoulder. Eden braced, ready for a sudden sting but what he gave her instead was completely kind, just as she'd been to him.

She didn't seem to timid when she reached to take that from him and she was fully aware she must have looked insatiable when she took three large swigs from that bottle, a gasp following but nothing had ever felt as good, her throat thanked her for the relief of liquid. "Thank you, Jace Catto." she almost panted the words with how she'd drank. She nodded her head, tensed again in preperation but god it did sting, and that instinct reaction was for that first 'f' to roll out, her face scrunching and rather than swear her bodies reaction was to reach and grip, to briefly squeeze what she'd grabbed which by chance, was his arm with slender fingers clutching at his clothings fabric. "Sorry, sorry." she breathed, eased, stopped squeezing her grip. Rare for someone to be polite these days, even rarer to apologise. "Medicine? Hell I'd be lucky wouldn't I? I think I'd be long dead if I had any of that on me." before he moved she reached and rather than take his hand, she took his sleeve again. "Hey— thank you, you didn't have to do that I mean I know how... people aren't people anymore I—" she let go of his sleeve.

Eden remained there, perched on that surface and as if to be disappointed to admit the story, lowered her head. "I'd really love to tell you I have a group but it's more.. I had a group. I was part of this place, there were walls and people, houses, running water." she started to explain, looking reminiscent. "See, I was useful to them because they had a mill and my grandmother was a baker. I learned everything from her so I knew how to make flour go further and how to make bread like that. Bread that'd last and not go stale overnight, how to make a starter for sourd—.. you don't really care for all that part but, it went wrong. Someone hid a bite and came back in the walls and within a few hours it was.. destroyed. I kept some things to the side just incase, made a run for it because.. I guess some people would say I was a coward some would say surviving." a light shrug and she flicked her own hair back behind one ear. She wondered what he'd think, a coward perhaps? Abandoning people like that, or survivor, for not waiting to become one of them. "It might be a little bit stale but it should still taste good." she explained. "There umm.. There was a radio there, they were talking to another group to the west which is why I'm here, looking for this other place. No idea where I'm going." she paused, tilting her head towards him. "Do you think I've more chance of seeing Jesus than finding this place?" Eden pressed her lips together momentarily before flashing her eyes to him again. "See, you're bringing up seeing Jesus and here I was totally thought you were a preacher before the world went to hell." she was joking with him, teasing and that hint of a smile curving the corners of her lips was precious.

[reconstructionlegacy]

[ID: A line graph called "Malgus' Fear". The vertical axis is labelled "Malgus' fear of them," the horizontal axis is labelled "Gruntlement with this fear level". The three data points are Jace Malcolm, Satele Shan, and Darth Vowrawn. As the line, labelled "fear," shows, Malgus is slightly frightened of Jace Malcolm, somewhat frightened of Satele Shan, and extremely frightened of Darth Vowrawn. Malcolm is unhappy about this, Shan is mildly dissatisfied, and Vowrawn is extremely smug (gruntled). End ID]