#maybe freak out about revelations here and there

[snapscube]

I FINISHED TURNABOUT BIG TOP! Which means here is my updated autopsy report ranking for cases and characters!

Both have actually shifted around quite a bit so you may find it an interesting update. I'll explain some of my current thoughts on the new placements as well as my thoughts on 2-3 in general below a break if ur curious.

Okay so first thing let's just address the elephant in the room: We have an all new category on the character ranking!! One that I sure wish I didn't have to include but unfortunately Big Top made some... very Interesting decisions with specific characters. It would be one thing if this content was featured and then addressed, but it was particularly off-putting and frustrating to me that everything was played entirely straight?? So yeah. New lowest of the low category for a couple freaks who are actively courting a 16 year old!!!! yayyyyyy

OTHERWISE, I do have to say.... I was really pleasantly surprised at 2-3 as a case. I can say now I completely understand people having a distaste for it especially in regards to the unsavory age gaps, but literally..... almost everything else in this case was well put together and generally on-par with the quality of the rest of the series? As an overall package I actually still find Turnabout Samurai infinitely more dull. Like, maybe it's just because the lead-up to actually playing it was so uniquely frustrating for me and forcibly lowered my expectations by a ton, but there was so much good shit in Big Top. Maya, in particular, is in top form during this case. She is so fucking funny. I loved almost every word that came out of her mouth and it really solidified her top spot in the character ranking for me at present. But past that, I think the second half of this case is EXTREMELY strong compared to its opening half. I'll admit during the first trial section I was getting kinda tired with it and finding it hard to care given how much I just do not root for Max, so I had tentatively placed it at bottom of C tier. But then once von Karma arrives in the investigation section and then Acro's storyline enters the equation I really think it finds its footing. I actually found the last few scenes of the trial very emotionally effective, especially Acro's breakdown at the witness stand and mentioning how he couldn't follow through with taking his own life to escape his crime due to his desire to see his brother wake up. Like... I legitimately teared up.

And FURTHERMORE.... von Karma. Oh my god. I don't know if I'm picking up on anything here, nor do I want to know until I maybe see it for myself, but something about her conduct in the final trial really spoke to me. I feel like a surface read makes it apparent that she's just as frustrated as she is because she's losing the case to Wright again, and I do think that's a huge factor still to her reaction... but I don't know, I felt something else with her. Particularly when it came to her reaction towards Acro's attempted murder of Regina. I felt like she came across as PARTICULARLY disgusted towards that revelation and towards her own client in a way that subtly humanized her and had me just CHUCKLING AND CHORTLING in evil anticipation towards potential character arcs. I really hope I've grasped onto something here because... I love her so much. I love the idea that in spite of her reputation we're still gonna get to see this spark of humanity light up. AHHHHH.

Okay. Anyway. In summary:

I understand why people have a distaste for Big Top now, but it does not change the fact that I desperately wish I had been given the chance to experience the story myself going into it without that baggage. It genuinely did not help my experience in the slightest to just have that cloud of expectation over it and it is generally irritating that I couldn't even bring up that I was playing it without people jokingly apologizing to me or telling me that I wouldn't be able to handle it or whatever. Really not a great vibe.

As a case, it has a couple MAJOR, GLARING points of discomfort but I'm still really glad I gave it a chance and was able to find a lot of good in it anyway. It inspired me to unfortunately lower some of my other rankings because this is what I kind of consider a more middle-of-the-road quality for the series now. Solid B tier. I have played much worse.

Maya Fey is a god damn treasure.

As for some of the other character shifts, particularly in relation to some of the characters who got bumped from S to A rank, that's less because I decided I like them less now than I did when I first ranked them and more that I decided my initial interpretation of my feelings was incongruent in some cases. Like, for example I LOVE Mia I really do she's great, but in no way at this current time is she on the same level as Maya or Lana for me. So I just needed to adjust the ratios a bit.

Anyway, I'll be back eventually with posts about the next case and the last one of AA2! :3 I hear it's pretttyyy long but pretttyyy damn GOOD. Can't wait.

[pleaselmhau]

Random scenario I’ve been thinking about of single parent reader

Accidental-boyfriend-and-stepdad-Ghost who had fuck all to do in between deployments. He spent his time wasting away. half at the pub near his dingy flat and the other half in said dingy flat. His fingers curl around the cool glass containing his bourbon. He knew he probably looked like a intimidating, sitting on the absolute end of the bar up against the wall with his hood up, but hey, at least he wasn’t wearing his mask in a civilian pub. That surely would raise a few alarm bells, a jacked, 6’4 man in a mask is probably the line drawn where civilians might start to freak. Not many people really bother him here, that’s why he likes it. He always found people watching occasionally interesting, as long as he could sit back and stay uninvolved.

So he’s a little more than surprised when sweet, attractive you pops right up next to him all sugary smiles and batting lashes. It becomes clear quickly with how your hand brushes against his bicep and you keep giving them flirty looks that you were looking for a fling. A one time hookup. It’s been awhile since he’d fucked so even though you aren’t his usual type, he bites. Not his usual type not in that he doesn’t find you attractive, he does, it’s more he thinks you’re out of his league- or rather out of your element. You seem a little too friendly, chatty even. It’s nothing really in particular that you do, he can just tell you’re the type to get attached. Though you did approached first so maybe he’s wrong, he decides.

The hookup is rather run of the mill at first, sloppy make out session from the front door to the bedroom. Both of you bumping into various furniture and walls as you lead him through your small apartment. His foot brushes against some hard object on the floor but he pays it no mind, too wrapped up in how you’re kissing him like he’s the air you need to breathe. You’re so full of life, passion, it nearly flusters him. But he is nothing if not adaptable, so once close enough to the bedroom he can see where you two are heading he just leans down and scoops you right up with one arm around your thighs. Faster, more efficient. It takes a mere nudge of his shoulder and lean before you’re falling back on the bed and he’s following you. His mouth slots over yours again, hot and heavy. Your hands tug at his shirt and he obliges, letting you pull the fabric off. It’s dim in your bedroom, only the moonlight filtering in through the window but he can see your silhouette clearly when he pulls back your last layer of clothing, and fuck is it a pretty sight.

He didn’t mean to spend the night, he really didn’t. But when you were bouncing on his lap, pressing fresh kisses to his throat after two rounds already he knew it was gonna be a long night. He wakes to find you draped all over him, wrapped up in the sheets like you’re trying to be some renaissance painting. He squeezes his eyes shut for a few moments, blinking away the grogginess of just waking up. Never being one to just lounge around in bed he detangles your limbs from around him and slips out. Bending down he retrieves his clothes, tugging his pants and shirt. When he has all his things he risks a glance back, hoping you’re not awake, he’s never really been good at the whole morning after shit, always preferring to leave during the night. Though for some reason the way you were all over him, the way you clung and kissed at him like he was the only man in the world made him want to revel in it, in you, long enough until he simply was too tired to consider leaving last night. His eyes flicker over you for a moment as if he’s subconsciously trying to commit you to memory, maybe he’ll meet you again sometime at the pub, he wouldn’t mind a repeat, but he’s not staying. Or so he thinks because as soon as he steps out the bedroom he’s met with the sound of two small feet pitter pattering on the floor then big eyes staring up at him.

His brows furrow in confusion, he didn’t notice a kid last night, actually he’s sure there wasn’t any kids in the apartment last night. For a long few moments he just stares down at the kid, not sure what really to do. The little girl, probably no older than ten stares right back up at him. “Can you make pancakes?” She asks, head tilting a little in curiosity. “Uh.. sure.” As she leads him through the living room he realizes what he kicked last night was her toys scattered about the floor.

So now he’s in the kitchen with Lily, as he found out the little girls name was, sitting on the counter. He figured out her aunt watched her last night and brought her home this morning. shes stirring up the batter as he puts butter into a pan. “You’re a friend of mom’s/dad’s?” She asks, stirring maybe a little harder than need be. “Something like that,” he responds, dipping in a random measuring cup then pouring the batter onto the pan. He can hear her still stirring even after. “that means we’re friends now too right?” She asks. He glances over taking in her kiddish hopeful expression and finds himself nodding immediately. “Yeah, we’re friends now too.” He responds, trying to not sound so flat. Truthfully he hasn’t a clue what he’s doing or what he should do. He tries to put himself in your shoes, how weird it’d be to stumble out and see your one-night stand still here cooking breakfast with your daughter. Though at the same time it feels rude too to just dismiss her.

When the pancakes are done he watches her jump off the counter and scamper over to the lower cabinet, pulling out a tray. “Well bring mom/dad some too!” She announces, grabbing at the pancakes with her hands and plopping them on the plate. Once the tray is all made up, a few pancakes stacked and a glass of orange juice she picks it up again. “You helped make it so you have to come too,” then she’s waddling off back toward the same bedroom he woke up in, orange juice splashing out of the glass in her excitement. He wonders if he should just slip out now while Lily is distracted, though he finds himself following, opening the door for her then watching as she pushes the tray right on the bed next to you before jumping on it and pressing her hands into your shoulder to shake you awake. He stands in the doorway awkwardly, watching the scene with a hint of… well he doesn’t really know. Warmth? A breakfast in bed from Ghost and your daughter wasn’t really what you were expecting when you woke up, though you can’t help but to smile as you see the jagged pancakes and half filled orange juice, rest on the tray itself.

The three of you spend the rest of the morning watching movies until it’s late enough that the three of you end up going out for lunch. Then end up making dinner together. And Ghost realizing maybe being off duty wouldn’t be so bad if he had a family to come home too and seems the perfect one was placed right in his hands.

Sorry if this is word vomit it’s very late and I was just swooning over the idea of Ghost with single parent reader

[eggcats]

Radioapple fic, where Lucifer decides to get to the bottom of that deer asshole's agenda and figure out what he wants with a DEAL with his DAUGHTER.

So, Lucifer decides some reconnaissance on Alastor is necessary - except it's so hard to sneak up on him with that whole shadow shtick. And every time Lucifer tries to talk to him, Alastor needles him so much they wind up fighting, even when he wasn't even trying to start a fight! Can't they have one (1) single civil conversation so he can figure out how to break this deal he has?!??! ONE!

*cough* Anyway.

Lucifer notices that Alastor doesn't bother when KeeKee invades his kitchen (he even feeds her scraps!) and just overall is fine being bothered by a cat. He can work with this. He is a master manipulator AND shape-shifter. He can also become a cat. And Alastor will never be the wiser.

(Spoiler. Alastor is the wiser. It's a white and red cat with yellow eyes that half the time has a fucking tophat on.)

The problem, though, is that ALASTOR doesn't think Lucifer is trying to hide his identity. He just thinks Lucifer decided to bother him as a cat and just took it in stride. Why not, Hell is weird enough as it is, and to be fair, it's kind of entertaining. He'll let it go. Plus, for whatever reason, he's quiet as a cat, so it's fine if he just wants to hang out near him as he works. (Alastor kind of thinks the king of hell is desperate for socialization, but it is too awkward to actually do it. Which, he's not wrong but, ouch.)

LUCIFER, HOWEVER thinks he's being the epitome of discretion. He can get close to Alastor, who will become overly comfortable and spill all his secrets to cat-him! Foolproof!

It eventually escalates to Lucifer regularly hanging out with Alastor as a cat, and after the first time where he broke into his room (as a cat!) and Alastor just let him do it - it became a habit.

(It's not Lucifer's fault if, for thousands of years, he was used to sharing a warm bed with someone, and now he has trouble sleeping alone. Not that him and Alastor are sleeping together! But. Sometimes, he curls up near him as a cat on the bed, and sometimes, they both sleep there. It's not weird! Alastor doesn't even know it's him! [He does.])

Lucifer starts going through a mild crisis one day as he realizes he likes Alastor and kind of wants to be with him (as friends! FRIENDS) as himself, and not a cat. But he has absolutely no idea how to, and kind of spirals.

Alastor walks in on him having a freak out on the couch, and just casually removes his hat and starts petting his head to calm him down.

"Wh-what are you doing?!"

"This seemed to calm you as a feline, I figured it would do the same here."

"WHAT!?"

"Is it not working? Now, what could be so dire as to have His Majesty using the hotel as his own personal room? Surely you don't wish for Charlotte to see you in such a state, sire?"

Lucifer, very quickly, has to come to terms with the fact that Alastor KNEW. (For how long????!) Are they- are they friends? Is this actually not weird?

(Lucifer might have almost forgotten about his original purpose with the deal, but that's still definitely something he'll keep a watch on. Just, maybe he can as himself, too?)

This revelation gives him a whole new set of issues. He...he still sleeps in Alastor's bed as a cat, though, right? Asking to do that as himself (even if it's still him!? Seriously, how long did Alastor know?) would be weird. Right? Right.

[daisys-reality]

── 🥝ꜞ˖ ꒰ 𝙿𝙰𝙲: Connecting with your desired reality ꒱

⌇ reality shifting themed tarot reading | general disclaimers apply | masterlist

𝙿𝙸𝙻𝙴 𝙾𝙽𝙴 🥥

Trusting that that’s exactly where you need to be right now. Doing things that make you feel wholesome. Feeling connections with your precious people. Feeling emotions in regards to your connections with your DR people (love, empathy, hate, excitement, sadness, anger…). Your bonds with those people create a strong foundation. Meditating about being in your DR to feel inner peace - to feel at home (do it regularly - maybe even daily, not to shift, just for the sake of feeling at home and basking in the connection with your DR until it becomes second nature). Practice feeling gratitude (for your connections, for your DR, for all the opportunities given to you) and let this feeling wash through your whole body. Practice experiencing your DR through your senses - revel through beauty (aesthetics), art (moodboards), music (playlists, ambience videos), scents and sensuality (imagining the feeling of your DR clothes or the things around you or imaginary acts of love-dovey stuff lol). Make it a sweet experience (imagine tasting the food in your DR you’ve been dying to try, kissing your lover which you longed for for so long, speaking gently words to the people dear to you heart and imagine seeing them smile fondly at you) - involve your emotions or focus on how these things make you feel - don’t force it, just observe and acknowledge. Your deep emotions are your strong point. 

Don’t focus too much on the “finally getting there” part - for you this is not just a magical quick transition because it already started with your first shifting attempt, it all is a part of you transitioning - you need to focus more so on the slowly merging of yourself and this world - acknowledge the transitions and feel it intensely - in order to do so you must be fully present and ‘awake’ in the sense of you actively recognizing what you’re doing with no expectations or rules about what “should be”. You don’t need anyone's approval. Instead, just be unconditionally in awe of what this life is offering/presenting to you. Beauty is everywhere and you have the natural ability to see it. Devote yourself to it (seeing it). It will increase your mood, your energy and your ability to connect with what you desire.

Learning to rely on faith is a major thing in all kinds of spiritual practices. Letting loose and putting trust in yourself/the universe etc. Acknowledge personal fears and issues, finding out where they’re coming from and learning how to deal with them. Healing parts of yourself with patience, love and devotion. Devotion to yourself and your happiness. There is no need to rush. Time is irrelevant. Connect the mundane everyday life with the otherworld. Make your human life magical. You have a knack for it. 

If you are struggling with the “trusting” part and are more so the type to be a ‘control freak’ maybe try to switch your perception of things, like this for example: “Change is coming whether you like it or not. You may be feeling like things are out of your control, maybe they are. You will be forced to shift, you will be forced to be in your DR - fight against or accept it”.

Also, maybe do not try to talk about this with others in your CR, I feel like there are a few people in your environment (family or friends) who are not trustworthy enough and might make you out to be crazy - which might hurt and discourage you a lot. Please be careful with who you share all this with. Others might not be able to appreciate these things like you do. You’re such a precious person. Don’t let others dim your light.

𝙿𝙸𝙻𝙴 𝚃𝚆𝙾 🌱

Doing activities here that relate to your DR that bring you immense joy and a sense of belonging, daydreaming freely about your DR and realizing consciously that all your fantasy will come true (the desired ones obviously) - see how that makes you feel and bask in that feeling. Making use of your creativity (making DR related content like posts, moodboards, playlists or stories or DR related clothes, accessories etc.), meditating on and/or imagining things about your DR that give you a sense of safety and emotional fulfillment ( ex. with relationships and family). Be at peace with your DR. Gaining inner peace will make you overflow with clarity and grace, reaching beyond depths, through your cells in your body to your soul. Practice feeling at home in your DR (imagine/visualize your DR self doing daily activities or self care at home etc.). Know that the ‘wholeness’ you feel in your DR with your precious DR people reflects the wholeness you’ve created for yourself. Doing things in the way that they align with your personal values will give you immense strength and resilience - you don’t need to bend over backwards or stretch yourself thin.

Don’t follow every other person and their advice, just follow your heart. I know that putting a lot of effort and energy into a situation is wearing you down, especially when you are not seeing the return. Right now you might lack confidence and feel as though you don't really know what you're doing. Or you might feel like something is hindering you from expressing the full range of your skills/ideas and keeping you locked up in a box, when all you want to do is to be free and flourish! You might be a little ungrounded or suppressing something - not wanting to deal with it - which confuses you in return. I feel like you’re someone who struggles with knowing what you really want, letting yourself be influenced by other people's dreams/desires  and therefore being indecisive about a lot of things. In your case, feeling stuck and unfulfilled is increasing your awareness of what you do want. This suspension in time is actually a blessing in disguise! Meditating on your ‘issues’ so that you can gain clarity before making any moves/decisions - clarity about your DR, who you want to be and what you want to experience - this clarity will bring you closer to your DR - emotionally but also on the mental/consciousness sphere (I don’t really want to say ‘physically’ here in this context but I hope you know what I mean lol). Sitting still and realizing that your life is bigger than this one moment. There are endless options and opportunities for you. Don’t get discouraged and keep moving. Every step you take is a step closer to your happiness (even if you can’t see it at that time, know that there is only movement forward not backwards). 

Be innovative, do things with grace and ease - it comes naturally to you. (Your DR people, the universe, we as a community etc) We  all have your back, there is no need to worry or be anxious. You are safe. Time is irrelevant.  Once you’re clear about your intentions and use them to fuel purposeful action. The more specific you are (about your overall intentions - not necessarily about your DR or script), the more you magnetize your creative energy and manifesting magic.

Try reassessing what you worship everyday (consciously or unconsciously). What are you elevating? Where does this ‘sacred ladder’ you climb ultimately lead to? What if instead of putting your DR at the center of your spiritual/shifting practice, you put yourself, a god/goddess, the universe or nature at the center? Think about how that would change your approach. I think honoring, devoting and worshiping something gives you a lot of joy, energy and an overwhelming sense of love and gratitude. Being humbled by the immense sense of wonder this life can bring leads to a shift in your perception. You can be in awe and feel breathtaking delight of this otherworldly opportunity (called shifting), it is very natural to do so. But even if you put it on a pedestal, don’t twist its nature of existence. There is no need to sacrifice something or to acquire a certain worth first to be able to finally shift. The ability to shift ‘realities’ is an innate ability of our consciousness, there is nothing being asked to be done in return. Being in awe about something and honoring it, does not equal giving your power away. Don’t forget or undermine yourself on this journey.  

When we were children (and even now), we can barely comprehend the vastness of our own lives, let alone the existence of other planets and realities. It’s  not long before we learn we (as in our CR self) aren’t necessarily the center of the universe: We are specks of stardust in one of its many skies. But we must all still do our part to take care of our own individual worlds, or else it throws everything else off-balance. So take care of your own little world (your mind, body...) but keep in mind that you are not alone in this world. Help and support is always available. 

Some quotes for you: “The distance between two objects is always relative. Objects in a mirror are closer than they appear.” ; “Don’t just take the picture - enter it.”; “Accept what you desire, not what you feel pressured to desire.”; “Be proud of the person you’ve become.”

𝙿𝙸𝙻𝙴 𝚃𝙷𝚁𝙴𝙴 🫐

There is something toxic going on in your psychic realm aka in your subconscious. It might be present in your relationships with people and things,  in your environment or in your thoughts/speech patterns in the way that your words have a sting of poison in them. Regardless of what it is, it needs to be identified and acknowledged first. Change comes second. Overall, I can see a theme of “self-realization through suffering”.  Right now, you might feel a little scattered, moody and directionless or like you being off-course. It feels like you’re hesitating in taking control of your life. You might be holding back due to various reasons. Sorry for having to call you out but you need to start to take responsibility for your inner resistance and make choices. Because of this lack of control you’re unable to handle any stress and pressure. It feels like your life is running over with way too much drama that you can barely keep up with. It's a very unpleasant feeling tbh.

Remember when you harm others, you harm yourself. A very negative outlook on others, yourself, your shifting journey or your life will only chain you to the ground - slowly clouding your focus, draining you of your willpower and leaving you only with frustration and aggression. 

There might be two or more forces pulling your psyche into seemingly opposite directions. As humans we tend to see things in black & white, forgetting all the gray in between. There might be someone or something (a feeling/desire) in your life that begins to fade away, or maybe is gone altogether now. You might want to hold onto it or bring it back to life in your DR. But the advice here is “Don’t fight it”. There are no neat and tidy bows to tie things up at the end, leaving you satisfied. Acceptance isn’t easy but it’s a thing you need to work towards. We create our own closure. You shouldn't build a home that will come crumbling down if a single person walks out of the front door, right?  When it comes down to it, we can’t depend on other people or things to make us feel happy or fulfilled. Fact is that people/things are going to leave from time to time and you’re the only one who’s guaranteed to stay. Take time to find sources of joy outside of your beloved people and things (ex. through mediating). You deserve happiness that lasts. So try to rethink your plans/ideas for your DR first of all.                                               

In addition, I think what you need right now is stability and structure. As I said in the beginning you need to make a choice/decision on where your destination is. Make a move and try to gain back a sense of control. Don’t get discouraged when you hit some road blocks along the way. Give yourself direction by choosing to live with a purpose and/or intention. You should know that forcing outcomes can be disappointing  and will not ultimately satisfy your needs. Try to build a routine or a ritual. Whether small or large, honoring rituals can help you feel grounded and connecting to your DR. You might even join a group that has a similar interest in your DR world or start something together with a friend creating rules you can follow together.  It might give you a sense of acceptance, unity and strengthen your beliefs and resolve. Try to gain more knowledge about your DR - for example if it’s in a ‘fictional’ universe try to watch/read the original CR source or read fanfictions - anything that gives you more of a feeling of how this world works, how people interact etc. While doing so you might come up with a lot more ideas you can’t wait to discuss with others. Your excitement and creativity might come back. You feel the need to put ideas into action and just go for it. Writing and speaking might come easily to you - so anything that involves that might be good to connect with your DR (ex. journaling, letter writing, vaunting, talking to yourself as your DR self). You will want to find answers and your drive will be immense. Your will be unstoppable and success inevitable. So go after what you want, and you will succeed! 

[whore-ibly-hot]

Yan!Bully x Gn!Reader x Yan!Loser

'Art-Project'

18+ Minors DNI

Warnings: Bullying, name calling, degradation, violence, mentions of non-consensual photos, nonconsensual touching, male pronouns for the yans, mentions of school, general perversion, toxic behaviors, creep behavior.

(AN: Had a fun time with this one, really enjoyed toying with the dynamic between this two. I think I'll probably make a part two with these trainwrecks in the future)

Part 2 here

The crashing of books and pens falling on the tile floor rings out through the boy's bathroom, as a young, dark-haired boy is thrown harshly onto the cold multi-colored tile. The boy lets out a cry as he hits the ground, and he scrambles away upon impact, pressing his back up against the wall as he looks up at his assaulter.

"F-fuck off, Patrick!" Ahmed exclaims, his frightened eyes never leaving the predatory gaze of the bully who stands over him. Ahmed's free hand wanders around the bathroom floor, grasping blindly to try and find his book bag. Ahmed's accent only becomes more prominent, as his voice shakes and cracks. "Fuck did you say to me, you little shit?" Patrick grabs the boy by his collar, yanking him up from the ground and sneering at him. Ahmed gulps when he feels Patricks breath tickle his neck, making him tremble. "I-I didn't, didn't mean it, c'mon. I was just shocked when you threw me on the floor, it just slipped out." Patrick rolls his eyes, and as he does, his gaze falls on Ahmed's bright red backpack, laying open on the floor. Patrick notices how Ahmed's eyes widen when Patrick looks at it, causing Patrick to raise an eyebrow.

"What's in the bag, freak?" Patrick whispers, and before the sentence has even fully left his lips, Ahmed is fiercely shaking his head. "Nothing, nothing! Just work, please-" He hits the floor again, and he's sure tomorrow he'll be bruised from the rough treatment. "Pick it up." Ahmed looks up. "What?" "C'mon, pick it up. You're all freaked out, freak... I wanna know why, so I'm gonna tell you one more time." Patrick crouches down, and nods in the direction of the cloth schoolbag. "Pick. It. Up." He pauses after each word, relishing the fear in Ahmed's eyes.

Since Ahmed transferred to Morrisville high, Patrick had made his life a living hell. Not that he wasn't already unpopular at his old school, but people at least tried to avoid him there. People did here at first, before Patrick set his sights on Ahmed. Patrick wasn't sure what drew him to the scrawny, quiet boy. Possibly the way everyone avoided him, or maybe it was how little everyone knew about the new kid. Most likely, it was the knowledge that no matter what he did to the boy, or what he made him do, no-one was going to stand up for the boy. Patrick picked on everybody, but god, Ahmed became his favorite. The way he'd squirm, and cry. The way he was able to convince the other kids at the school to pick on the lonely boy. Things only got worse when Patrick found out that everyone at Ahmed's old school thought he was a freak too. Suddenly, shoulder-checks in the hallway became full-on beatings, stolen homework became shoes and clothes being taken from Ahmed's locker, or even right off the poor boy. Patrick never hesitated to remind Ahmed that even if he reported him, or got away from this school, that he'd still be a freak, no matter where he went.

Ahmed's sobs snap Patrick out of his reveling, as the scrawny boy crawls over to the bag, his hands shaking as he tries to grip the red canvas of the backpack. Patrick huffs, but before he can open up the backpack and take a look, he hears footsteps outside the bathroom, coming from down the hall. "Get in the fuckin' stall, go." Patrick growls, pointy sharply at the large handicapped stall at the other end of the bathroom. Patrick steps outside of the bathroom, and Ahmed can hear Patrick greeting whoever is outside. A friend of Patrick's probably. Another member of his little delinquent gang. Ahmed shuts the lid of the toilet and sinks down to sit on the lid, afraid his knees may give out. The sound of heavy boots approaches, and Patrick fingers slid around the stall door, pulling it open as he slips into the stall, locking it behind him. Ahmed tries to steady his breathing.

"Alright, open it up. C'mon." Patrick nods in Ahmed's direction. Shaking hands pull out textbooks, pens, pencils, even the leftovers from Ahmed's lunch. The objects clatter to the floor, scattering across the bottom of the stall. "See, nothing in here, just my school stuff." Ahmed's trembling hands extend the now empty bag to Patrick, presenting it almost proudly. "What... there's no fucking way." Patrick huffs. He begins to dig through the objects, kicking away the writing utensils as he grasps at the textbooks. He flips through each of the pages, trying to find anything incriminating. His frown only deepens as he finds nothing. He's about to give up, as he reaches for a blue folder labeled 'Math'. When he does, Ahmed lets out an involuntary whimper, causing Patrick to freeze. A sick grin spreads across the blonde's face, as he slowly pivots his head to look at Ahmed.

"There we go, somethin' in here you don't want me seeing?" He asks. Ahmed nods, tears cascading down his cheeks. "Alright, I'll tell you what, freak..." Patrick stands straight up, leaning up against the wall behind him. "Tell me what's in the folder, and I won't even look, okay? Just get it off your chest, I'm open-minded." Patrick purrs at the boy, watching his resolve crack in real-time.

"It's-" Ahmed goes quiet towards the end, his words so soft Patrick can't hear. "What was that? You gotta speak up." He sighs. "Or, I guess I could just look-" He moves to flip open the folder with the edge of his boot, causing Ahmed to jolt forward. "N-no!" The boy yells, thrusting his hands out in front of him. Patrick scoffs, tossing his head back for a moment as he laughs, clutching at his stomach. "Jesus, Ahmed, what the hell is in here that's got you so spooked?" Patrick asks. Ahmed shivers. Somehow Patrick using his real name is worse than him calling him 'freak'. It feels more personal.

"It's nudes... nude photographs." Ahmed whimpers, a blush of shame spreading across his cheeks as his gaze falls to the floor. "Oh- yours?" Patrick asks. Ahmed doesn't respond, causing Patrick's brows to furrow, an amused and pleasantly surprised expression coming onto his face. "Not yours, huh." Patrick glances down at the folder. "Who the hell's been giving you pussy, freak? Who's been letting you take those pics?" He asks. Ahmed's hands are tense, gripping the fabric covering his knees so hard that he worries they might tear.

"I- they didn't, alright?" Ahmed cries, curling his knees up to his chest and burying his face in shame. "They didn't-" Patrick takes a moment to process this information. His eyes light up in realization. "You really are a little pervert, huh? I knew something was off about you." He puts his hand on his knees, leaning over so he can make eye contact with Ahmed's curled up form. "A sick little pervert. You get off on those photos?" Ahmed whines. "Some poor kid at this school doesn't know that the school freak strokes it every night to a picture of them... poor them." Patrick leans down and picks up the folder.

"Wait, w-what are you doing, you said you wouldn't look if I told you the truth about what was in there?" Ahmed coughs, almost full on hyper-ventilating at this point, eyes wide in panic. Patrick nods, keeping eye contact with Ahmed as he flips open the folder. "True, but..." He shakes his head, his blonde locks falling from his loose ponytail. "How do I know you're telling me the truth about what's in here if I don't look?" Ahmed scoffs. "Why would I lie about having a folder of some creep-shots?" Patrick shrugs. "I don't know, maybe something like that doesn't seem that serious to you, y'know, because you're a pervert." He suggests. Patrick sticks his tongue teasingly out at Ahmed, before looking down at the gritty Polaroids nestled behind some math notes.

The photos are taken from all sorts of places. The ones at the front are simple upskirts from behind, the subjects face not visible. As Patrick examines more of them, he notices they seem to get more invasive. The final photograph was clearly shot at night, a bedroom window visible. The subject of the photo lies nude, and Patrick's face falls when he sees the face. He looks up at Ahmed, his breath halted. "They... they are cute, huh?" Ahmed looks up from his knees, confused. "You know them?" Ahmed swallows harshly, then nods. "Sort of... we have English together." As Ahmed explains the nature of his relationship to you, Patrick flips through the photos once more. Now that he knows these photos are of you, they have an even greater allure. "Hmm, I have lunch period with them, gym too..." He muses. "Heh, you should see em' in those little gym shorts, shit..." Ahmed isn't sure where this is going, but Patrick's calm tone and hyper-focused expression stress him out even more than when Patrick is outwardly aggressive. At least then he's predictable. Right now, Ahmed is in new territory with his tormentor.

Patrick sighs, and tucks the photos back into Ahmed's folder. He smacks the folder into the center of Ahmed's chest, making him let out a grunt as his trembling hands grip the blue plastic. "Listen, freak." He whispers. He places a hand on the wall behind Ahmed, allowing him to move his face right up in front of the boys. Brown eyes look back at him with fear. "Nobody has to know about all this. I'm still gonna kick your ass, but nobody has to know about your..." He thinks. "Let's call it 'extracurricular art project', okay?" Ahmed, gulps, and asks. "What do you want in return, I know the way you are." Patrick chuckles. "You're pretty smart, huh? Alright, I'll tell ya. Get me some of those photos, some new ones. And copy that last one, that shot into their room." He says. "Why, y-you like them too?" Ahmed whimpers. Patrick shrugs. "I know they've got a sweet little body, and I wouldn't mind a closer look at it, that's all." Ahmed considers this. If he doesn't agree, who knows what Patrick would tell everyone. God, Ahmed might even have to change schools again, and if he did, he couldn't be near you. He shakes his head. He won't let that happen.

"Alright, you got it. I- I think I can get them to you by friday." Ahmed offers, and Patrick nods. Ahmed moves to stand, but Patrick pushes him back. "One more thing, freak." He whispers. Ahmed bites his lips in fear. Patrick slips his hand from the boy's shoulder, down past his waist, and to the front of his victims school shorts. He roughly palms Ahmed's limp cock through his pants, making the boy choke on his own spit in shock. Patrick sighs softly at his reaction, leaning in to whisper into his ear.

"Snap me a pic of yourself too, freak..."

[soulofapatrick]

Domesticated - Jace Herondale x Female (Daylighter) Reader

Summary: this is a 5 + 1 of all the times you and Jace act like a couple even before you admit feelings for each other

Words: 6k

Warnings: injury, bleeding, blood drinking

Y/N’s POV - 

Part One

I’m not really sure when Jace appearing at random hours of the day in my apartment became a normal things. He’s dirty and covered in ichor from a demon hunt the Clave sent him and Alec on and he’s grumbling to himself as he shrugs off his leather jacket. There’s dried blood on him from wounds his iratze rune probably healed and he’s toeing off his shoes before grumbling more about the demons. 

“I’m going to shower.” He tells me, voice gruff but there’s a softness to it as he addresses me. 

“Alright Jace.” I respond, turning back to the show I was watching, waiting up for him to get back as it’s nearly 2am. Being a vampire is weird, especially a daylighter like Simon as at first I was nocturnal and now, suddenly, I’m back to daylight hours. It was weird getting used to humanity again but ever since Jace has been coming round it’s been easier somehow. 

As I listen to the sound of the water running in the bathroom, I can’t help but think about how effortlessly Jace fits into my life. We’ve been…friends? Yeah, friends for so long, and lately, it feels like we’ve crossed some invisible line into something more. But whenever I’m around him, my heart would be pounding if it could still beat and there’s a stirring in my undead soul, a flutter of excitement I though I had long forgotten. 

If it weren’t for Jace, I might have left the Shadowhunter world behind altogether, taken Magnus up on whisking me somewhere far away, maybe Canada, Clary and Simon, my own best friends, seem to have forgotten about me again, lost in their own adventures and relationship. And Luke, the only parental figure in my life, is more invested in his pack than checking up on me. But somehow, Jace always manages to find his way back to my doorstep, like a guiding light in the darkness. 

I remember the first time he appeared on my doorstep, how he looked at me with those piercing golden eyes and saw something in me that no one else seemed to. He didn’t treat me like a monster or a freak because of what I had become, but instead, he saw me for who I truly am—a creature worthy of love and friendship.

And now, sitting here on the couch, waiting for him to remerge from the bathroom, I can’t help but wonder how the hell we ended up here in this weird dance and routine, so domesticated. One moment we’re battling demons and next, we’re lounging on the couch like a couple of teenagers on a lazy Sunday afternoon. 

Finally, after what feel like an eternity, Jace remerges from the bathroom, looking surprisingly innocent and boyish in a pair of tracksuit bottoms and a graphic tee-shirt that I’m pretty sure is either mine or my brothers. His hair is still damp from the shower, tousled in a way that makes him look disarmingly handsome. Despite the exhaustion tech into his features, there’s a spark in his golden eyes that never fails to draw me in. 

Jace collapses onto the couch beside me, his head finding its place on my shoulder, it feels like the most natural thing in the world. His weight against me is comforting, like an anchor tethering me to reality amidst the chaos of our lives. I close my eyes, revelling in the warmth of his presence and the steady rhythm of his breath against my skin.

As exhaustion finally catches up to him, his breathing evens out, lulling me into a sense of peace. I listen to the sound of his steady inhales and exhales, a gentle melody that soothes my restless mind. And as I drift off into sleep, I'm enveloped in the cocoon of his scent—sunshine and something uniquely Jace, mixed with the subtle fragrance of my shower products. It's a comforting aroma, one that fills me with a sense of belonging and contentment.

In the depths of slumber, I feel his warmth beside me, a constant presence that eases my fears and worries. But when I wake in the morning, he's gone, leaving behind only a hastily scrawled note on my coffee table. My heart sinks as I read his words, explaining that Alec called him in early for paperwork and debriefing on the previous day's hunt.

Despite the pang of disappointment at his absence, I can't help but smile at the thought of him, out there in the world, fighting alongside his fellow Shadowhunters. And as I rise to start the day, I carry with me the memory of his presence, the echo of his warmth lingering in the air like a promise of his return.

Part Two

I awake to a crashing and the grumbled cry of Jace, my panic immediately vanishing at the sound of his voice. My phone reads 7.03pm and I’m realising my nap was longer than I had planned or anticipated, having tried to stay awake for Jace who had messaged me to say he’d be home in time for dinner. 

As I groggily process the situation, something within me stirs at the realisation Jace used the word “home” to describe my place. It’s a simple word, but coming from him, it carries a weight that sends a flutter through my un-beating heart. I push aside the covers and pull myself sleepy from bed, feeling the fabric of a shirt that definitely isn’t mine brush against my skin as it reaches mid-thigh. 

Shuffling towards the kitchen, I’m met with the sight and smell of chaos. Jace is in the midst of a culinary disaster, his brow furrowed in frustration as he grumbles to himself. The scent of burning food fills the air, assaulting my sensitive vampire senses, But despite the mess and the mishap, there’s something oddly endearing about the scene—the way Jace is so determined to make dinner for us, even if it means nothing is going according to plan. 

As I approach him, I can’t help but smile at the sight of him, his hir tousled and his expression a mix of annoyance and determination. Despite the chaos, there a sense of warmth and familiarity in the air, a feeling of him that I’ve come to associate with him. 

I head straight for the fridge to grab fresh ingredients as soon as I get the gist of what he was trying to make by the minced meat and the spaghetti, catching the way he looks at me. There’s a softness in his gaze, a silent appreciation for my presence and the way I effortlessly step in to salvage the situation. But when I reach for the pasta sauce, Jace stops me, holding up a jar of red liquid. 

My heart tries to burst out of my chest when I realise what it is. Jace wasn’t just trying to make dinner for us; he was trying to recreate a meal I loved as a human, altered for my now vampire self. It’s a small gesture, but it speaks volumes about his thoughtfulness and the depth of his care for me. 

“Raphael said it was the best of the best and told me how to prepare it so it doesn’t…” Jace waves his hands around trying to think of the word Raphael used, “Separate?” 

I can’t help but laugh softly at the face Jace makes as he says the word ‘separate’. It’s moments like these that remind me of just how endearing he can be, even when he’s trying his best to navigate unfamiliar territory like helping a vampire like me. 

Stepping closer to him, I wrap my arms around him in a hug, feeling the tension in his muscles as he hesitates before finally relaxing enough to return the embrace. His strong arms wrap around me, pulling me close as he buries his face in my hair. In the moment, with the scent of blood and spices lingering in the air and the warmth of Jace’s embrace surrounding me, I feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude and love for the man standing in front of me. 

Reluctantly, Jace finally lets me go, suggesting we try cooking again. As I try to assist him, he’s suddenly spinning me back to face and him and gripping my waist in his strong hands, lifting me and sitting me on a clean area of the counter top, “You’re to just sit there and look pretty while I work this out.” He says with a smirk, a hint of redness colouring his cheeks. 

I can’t help but let out the most embarrassing giggle at his sudden shyness, feeling a warmth spread through me at his playfulness. As I watch him move around the pitch with practiced ease, a sense of contentment washes over me. Despite the chaos and mishaps, being here with Jace feels like home. 

And as I sit on the counter, watching him cook, I cant’t help but feel grateful for moments like these—simple, ordinary, mundane moments that remind me of what I could have had when human. Surrounded by the warmth and aroma of our makeshift meal and Jace’s soft humming as he cooks, I know that no matter what challenges may come our way, as long as we have each other, we'll always find a way to make it through.

Part Three

The library is quiet as I slip inside, the familiar scent of old books and parchment greeting me like an old friend. Alec had given me permission to use the Institute as a safe haven whenever I like, and I often find myself wandering towards the library. It’s become my sanctuary, a place where I can escape the weird world I’m now a part of and lose myself in the pages of novels and histories. 

As I roam the aisles, my fingers trailing along the spines of countless books, I feel a sense of calm wash over me. The library is a treasure trove of knowledge, and I’ve made it my mission to learn as much as I can about the Shadowhunter world. I immerse myself in the histories of the Clave, learning about the battles fought and the heroes who rose to prominence, the history of the main families in this world. 

Eventually, I pick a book off the shelves, one that Alec had actually recommended to me during one of our conversations. It’s a thick volume filled with tales of Shadowhunter lore, and I can’t wait to delve into its pages. With a contented sigh, I sink into one of the soft loveseats scattered throughout the massive library, feeling eh weight of the book in my hands as I lose myself in the pages. 

For the rest of the afternoon, I’m lost in a world of magic and mystery, my surroundings fading away as I become immersed in the story unfolding before me. The hours pass in a blur, but in the moment, surrounded by the knowledge and history of the Shadowhunters, I feel a sense of belonging and purpose that I’ve been searching for since the day I was turned. 

My attention is momentarily drawn away from the pages of the book in my hand by the faint murmur of voices approaching. It takes a moment but I’m recognising the voices, the cadence of their speech familiar to me even from a distance with my new hearing abilities. But it’s the sound of the library door opening that truly captures my attention, and when I look up, my heart skips a beat at the sight of a familiar blonde figure standing in the doorway. 

Jace. 

His golden eyes scan the room, searching, until they land on me. A smile spreads across his face, lighting up his features in a way that never fails to make my heart flutter like it’s still beating, “There you are, Mouse,” He greets, using the stupid pet name he’s decided for me, “You weren’t at home.” 

As he strides over, my attention is captivated by the way his muscles ripple beneath the fabric of his tight black shirt, each movement a testament to his strength and grace. My pulse would be skyrocketing if it could, and I can feel a flush from the recent blood I drank creeping its way up my neck as he stops in front of me, his presence commanding and magnetic. 

“Hey Jace,” I manage to say, voice betraying the flutters of excitement I feel within me. 

He smirks, golden eyes dancing with amusement as if he knows what he’s doing to me, “What were you doing here all alone?” He asks, tone teasing yet filled with genuine curiosity. 

I just shrug, attempting to maintain an air of casualness despite the turmoil of emotions swirling within me, “Just needed the quiet.” I reply, my voice soft. 

He nods in understanding, his expression softening as he reaches out to gently tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. The simple gesture sending a shiver down my spine, igniting a rush of sensations that I struggle to contain. His proximity, his touch—it's all too much, and yet not enough.

“Hey, listen,” He says, his voice warm and inviting, “We’re all heading to the Hunter’s Moon to hear Simon sing, You wanna join us?” 

The thought of being surrounded by so many voices, sounds and smells—the overwhelming sensory overload—has me shuddering involuntarily. I feel a knot form in my stomach, a wave of anxiety washing over me at the mere thought of venturing out into the bustling world beyond the quiet of the Institute currently. 

With a shaky breath, I shake my head almost aggressively, “No, I think I’ll pass.” I reply, my voice barely above a whisper, “I’m… I’m not really in the mood for crowds tonight.” 

Jace nods in understanding, his expression sympathetic, “Hey, that’s okay,” He reassures me, his voice gentle, and he’s surprising me by leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to my cheek, “You do what feels right for you. But if you ever change your mind, we’ll be there.” 

I offer him a weak smile, grateful for his understanding, “Thanks Sunshine.” I murmur, the weight of my anxiety slowly easing with his words of reassurance and his sweet actions. 

As Jace turns to leave, I watch him go, feeling a sense of longing wash over me like a gentle tide. His departure leaves an ache in my chest, a yearning for something more, something I can't quite name. But then, I feel the lingering warmth of his kiss on my cheek, a fleeting touch that sends a jolt of electricity through me.

Despite my reluctance to join them, a part of me wishes I could be there, sharing in the camaraderie and laughter with Jace and the others. The thought of being by his side, laughing and joking like we always do, fills me with a bittersweet longing. 

In the moment, as I sit alone in the quiet solitude of the library, the whole interaction feels strangely domesticated, as if it’s something we’ve done a thousand times before. Jace’s kiss was casual yet intimate, like it was a natural extension of our friendship, and yet it leaves me yearning for more. 

I can’t help but replay the moment in my mind, the sensation of his lips against my cold skin, the warmth of his touch. It’s a memory I want to hold onto, to savour and cherish, and yet it only serves to deepen my desire for him. 

As I sink back into the soft cushions of the loveseat, the ache in my chest lingers, a constant reminder of the feelings I can’t shake. I want him to kiss me again, to make me feel alive in a way I never thought possible. And as I close my eyes and let out a heavy sigh, I know that despite the risks and uncertainties, I can't deny the pull he has on my undead heart.

Part Four

I honestly have no idea how I ended up in the training room with Jace but I definitely know how I ended up on my ass glaring up at his laughing figure. Jace decided that he was going to teach me how to defend myself as Alec wants downworlders to help Shadowhunters on patrols to bridge the gap that had formed since Valentine. 

So here I am, climbing to my feet and glaring at Jace who readies himself for another round and my body is already aching. Jace is already readying himself for another round, and I steel myself for the onslaught, determined to at least make him break a sweat. As he lunges at me, I use my vampire speed to dodge and jab him in the back with my elbow with precision. But before I can revel in the small victory, he’s already spinning around and swiping my feet out from underneath me again. 

I hit the ground with a frustrated grunt, the air would have been knocked out of me if I were still breathing. I let out a sound of pure annoyance as I lie there, staring up at the ceiling, feeling so goddamn angry that I haven’t managed to get Jace down once. 

“Come on, Mouse,” Jace says, offering me a hand up, “You’re getting better, I promise.” 

I take his hand and pull myself to my feet yet again, but the weight of defeat still hangs heavy on my shoulders. No matter how hard I try, I can't seem to measure up to Jace's level of skill and agility. It's frustrating, disheartening even, to constantly fall short despite my best efforts.

With a heavy sigh, I get back into position, expecting Jace to do the same but instead a small gasp is drawn from me when I feel his body practically pressed to my back as he adjusts my positioning. I feel a rush of warmth as he nudges my feet into a better position and adjusts my arms, guiding them a little higher. 

His touch is firm yet gentle, his hands moving with practiced precision as he adjusts my stance. And then, his hands fall to my hips, twisting them slightly to improve my balance before he steps back, satisfied with his work. 

I’m left standing there, the lingering sensations of his touch sending a shiver down my spine. Despite the lack of a heartbeat or any physical sensations, I can’t deny the way he makes me feel. Safe. Protected. As if, just for a moment, the weight of the world is lifted from my shoulders and I can simply be. 

With a renewed determination, I square my shoulder and focus on the task at hand. As we being sparring again, I find myself moving with a newfound confidence, each strike more precise than the last. And then, miraculously, it happens—I actually manage to get Jace down for once. 

I just watch in disbelief as he hits the ground, a surprised laugh escaping him as he looks up at me with sparkling eyes. In the moment, his laughter is like music to y ears, lighthearted. As Jace lies there, sprawled on the ground with a grin that could light up the room, I can't help but feel a rush of exhilaration. His boyish charm and playful energy are infectious, making me forget for a moment that we're supposed to be training. But as he starts to rise, that cocky smirk forming on his lips, I know the challenge isn't over yet.

With a twinkle in his eyes, he beckons me forward, goading me to try again. His confidence is palpable, almost tangible in the air between us. And I, of course, take the bait, eager to prove myself once more. 

But, as I unleash my vampire strength and speed, throwing my self into the spar with all I’ve got, I quickly realise that Jace has activated both runes, his agility now matching mine. His speed rune makes him a formidable opponent, dodging and waving with ease, always one step ahead. 

In the blink of an eye, he’s behind me, sweeping my feet out from under me with a swift motion. I feel the ground rushing up to meet me, but my reflexes kick in instinctively. As I tumble backwards, I grab onto Jace’s shirt, pulling him down with me. 

We land in a tangled heap, laughter bubbling up between us as we lie there, catching our breath. For a moment, time seems to stand still, the world around us fading away until it's just the two of us, tangled together on the ground. I can smell how sweet and like sunshine Jace’s blood smells in his veins and feel the way his heart is pounding as he buries his face in my neck. 

And in the moment, I realise just how much I enjoy being with him, the easy camaraderie and undeniable chemistry between us, making me, again, realise just how domesticated we are with each other. 

Part Five

The rain is coming down so hard it’s bordering on hail and as overwhelming as my senses are, the sound of it hitting the windows of my apartment is actually very comforting. Jace is in the shower again, coming back from another demon nest hunt and he’s told me he ordered pizzas on his way home as he invited the others around to jin us for the movie night before he jumped in the shower. 

As grateful as I am for his presence, a flicker of anxiety creeps into my mind at the thought of the others joining us. Alec and Magnus have always been welcoming, their easygoing nature together putting me at ease from the start. But Simon and Clary, lost in their own bubble of love, often seem oblivious to anyone around them nowadays, especially me their childhood friend. And Izzy.. well, Izzy can get anyone she wants with a bat of her eyelashes has me a little jealous. 

As I wait for Jace to emerge from the shower, the sound of the rain drumming against the window grows louder, echoing the turmoil of my thoughts. I find myself questioning whether I’ll be able to navigate the dynamics of the evening, whether I’ll be able to hold my own amidst the company of the Shadowhunters and Downworlders that make up Jace’s inner circle. 

But then, as if sensing my apprehension, Jace appears, a towel draped casually around his waist and a smile lighting up his face. It’s as if time itself pauses for a moment, allowing me to drink in the sight before me. His presence is like a beacon of light in the dimly lit apartment, his golden eyes sparkling with warmth and mischief. With his damp hair tousled and his skin glistening with droplets of water, he looks every bit like an adonis, a vision of strength and beauty. 

The towel draped casually around his waist hangs dangerously low, teasingly revealing the beginnings of his happy trail. My gaze is drawn to the tantalising glimpse of skin, the curve of his hips, the sculptured muscles of his abdomen. It's a sight that leaves me breathless, a reminder of just how effortlessly attractive he is.

But it's not just his physical appearance that captivates me; it's the way he carries himself, with a confidence that borders on arrogance yet somehow remains endearing. His smile is like a beacon of warmth, infectious and irresistible, drawing me closer with its magnetic pull.

As he moves closer, the scent of his shower gel fills the air, a heady mixture of musk and citrus that sends a shiver down my spine. I find myself mesmerised by the play of light and shadow on his skin, the way the droplets of water cling to his body like liquid diamonds. He brushes a gentle kiss against my cheek, his touch reassuring in its familiarity, a warmth spreading through me, soothing the lingering traces of anxiety that had gripped me moments before. His touch is a familiar reassurance, grounding me to the present moment and easing the flutter of my nonexistent heartbeat. 

But before I can fully lose myself in the intimacy of the moment, a sharp knock at the door interrupts us, shattering the fragile bubble of privacy we’ve created. With a playful smack to Jace’s arm I stop him from heading to the door, “Go get some damn clothes on, I’ll answer it.” Before I’m striding over to answer the door, cheeks flushed with a heat that most likely betrays the intensity of my emotions. 

As I swing the door open, Jace is ducking into our room and I’m met with the amused gazes of Alec and Magnus, their eyebrows raised in teasing curiosity. Magnus’ playful smirk hints at the mischief dancing in his eyes, while Alec's expression is a mix of amusement and affection. 

Despite my embarrassment at being caught in such a vulnerable moment, I can't help but smile at the sight of them. Their presence is like a ray of sunshine breaking through the clouds, casting a warm glow over the room and dispelling the tension that had threatened to linger.

Suppressing the urge to bury my burning cheeks in my hands, I offer them a sheepish grin, knowing they heard what I said through the door, hoping to deflect their teasing with a lighthearted remark. But as Magnus's eyebrow quirks suggestively, I know that my attempt at nonchalance has fallen short. So, with a sigh of resignation, I step aside to let them in, knowing that there's no use in trying to hide the flush that still colours my cheeks

As I step aside to let them in, Alec hands me a DVD with a knowing smile. I can’t help bit roll my eyes fondly at his choice—Dracula. It’s become somewhat of an inside joke between me and Jace so I just know Jace told him to bring it. But before I have a chance to protest, Magnus is interjecting, his tone unreadable as he tells me “I’m afraid the others won’t be joining us tonight,” 

But Magnus’ words cut through the light-hearted banter, his tone carrying an unexpected weight as he informs me of the absence of our other friends. A pang of disappointment courses through me, a subtle ache in my chest as I realise that Clary and Simon won't be joining us tonight. They were more than just friends—they were my childhood companions, the ones who had been there through thick and thin. Their absence feels like a tangible loss, a reminder of how much our lives have changed since those carefree days of youth.

As I put the DVD in and get it ready, sinking into the couch with a heavy heart, I can't help but feel a sense of longing for the comfort of their presence. But I push aside those feelings, focusing instead on the company of Alec and Magnus, who have become like family to me in their own right. 

I sink into the cushions, allowing Alec and Magnus to take the other couch as we wait for Jace to return with the pizzas. Despite the disappointment lingering in the air, there's a quiet camaraderie between us, a shared understanding that in times of need, we can always rely on each other.

As the anticipation of Jace's return hangs in the air, the sound of the door opening signals his arrival. He appears just in time to answer the door, a grin spreading across his face as he enters with pizzas in hand. The sight of him brings a flicker of warmth to my heart, dispelling the lingering disappointment of our missing friends. 

Jace sets the pizzas down on the table with a flourish, his presence injecting a sense of energy into the room. With a casual ease, he joins us on the couch, seamlessly sliding in beside me. Without a second thought, he wraps an arm around my shoulders, pulling me snugly into his side. The gesture both  comforting and familiar, a silent reassurance of his affection for me. I lean into his embrace, feeling the warmth of his body against mine as he adjusts the blanket to cover us both. It's a simple act, but it speaks volumes about the bond we share—a bond that transcends words and barriers, connecting us on a deeper level.

With the remote in hand, Jace settles back against the cushions, his gaze fixed on the screen as he starts the movie. As the opening credits roll, I feel a sense of contentment wash over me, grateful for the warmth of Jace's embrace and the company of friends who feel like family.

Despite the disappointments and challenges we may face, in this moment, surrounded by laughter and love, I know that we'll always have each other. And as we lose ourselves in the world of Dracula, I find solace in the simple pleasures of friendship and companionship, knowing that no matter what the future may hold, we'll face it together, as a team.

Plus One

I’m not really sure how it happened but one moment I’m walking home from a day at the coffee shop and the next I’m being thrown into a wall. A wave of disorientating pain washes over me, leaving me gasping for breath and struggling to make sense eo what just happened. My sense reel, the world spinning in a dizzying blur as I try to focus on what just hit me. 

For a terrifying moment, I’m convinced that this is it—that I’m facing my end, torn to shreds by whatever unseen force assaulted me. Panic claws at the edges of my consciousness, threatening to consume me as I brace for the final blow. 

But then, as suddenly as it began, the assault ceases, leaving me trembling and shaken in its wake, unable to heal as I’ve lost too much blood. Slowly, I stagger to my feet, the world still spinning around me as I struggle to regain my bearings.The realisation that I’ve lost too much blood to heal hits me like a physical blow, leaving me lightheaded and unsteady. Every step is a battle against the dizziness and weakness that threatens to overwhelm me, but I push forward with grim determination. 

With each faltering step, the distance to the institute feels impossibly far, unable to use vampire speed without passing out. Panic sets in as I realise that Jace, my lifeline, is at the Institute today, and he hasn’t called to tell me he’s on his way home. Fear grips me like a vice, squeezing the breath from my lungs as I struggle to keep moving forwards. 

The world around me blurs as I stumble out of the alleyway and into the desired streets. My vision swims, the darkness closing in around me as I fight to stay conscious. Each breath is a struggle, my lungs burning with exertion as I push my body beyond its limits. 

Time loses all meaning as I continue to trudge forwards my footsteps echoing in the empty silence of the night. The Institute looms in the distance like a beacon of hope, its towering walls offering the promise of safety and sanctuary. But with each passing moment, it feels as though I'm slipping further and further away, teetering on the brink of unconsciousness.

Desperation claws at the edge of my consciousness as I force myself to keep moving, driven by the fear of what awaits me if I don’t reach the Institute in time. Every step is a battle against the darkness that threatens to engulf me, but I refuse to give up. 

With every ounce of strength I can muster, I push myself forward, determination fuelling my movements as I draw upon the last reserves of energy within me. As I approach the looming doors of the Institute, desperation spurs me to action, and I unleash the full force of my vampire speed. 

The doors fly open before me with a forceful momentum, swinging wide as if welcoming me home. But even as I breach the threshold, I trigger the wards surrounding the entrance, setting off alarms that echo through the empty halls. Before I can fully comprehend the situation, Jace appears before me, his weapon raised in a defensive stance. The sight of him, strong and unwavering, fills me with both relief and a sense of impending doom. I choke out his name, my voice barely a whisper as I struggle to remain upright. 

My knees give way beneath me, threatening to send me crashing to the unforgiving tiles below. But in the blink of an eye, Jace is there, his arms wrapping around me with lightning speed, catching me before I can hit the ground. The seraph blade clatters to the floor, forgotten in the urgency of the moment as Jace sinks us to the floor, cradling me in his arms, his eyes filled with concern and a hint of fear. I reach out to him, my fingers trembling as they brush against his cheek, a silent plea for reassurance. 

Despite my initial resistance, Jace's urgency is palpable, his wrist pressed insistently against my mouth as he pleads with me to drink. Fear courses through me as I shake my head, the thought of losing control terrifying me to the core. But as the scent of his blood fills my senses, a primal hunger takes hold, overpowering my rational thoughts. With a grip on my hair that borders on painful, Jace guides my mouth to the wound on his wrist, his other hand pressing against the back of my head. The taste of his blood is like nothing I've ever experienced before—warm and intoxicating, with a sweetness that rivals the warmth of the sun. 

As I drink, the fog that had clouded my mind begins to lift, clarity returning with each swallow. Guilt washes over me in waves, but I can't bring myself to stop. Jace's blood is a lifeline, grounding me in the present moment and soothing the ache of my wounds. I feed until I can feel the worst of the wounds stopping bleeding, my tongue lapping at the skin on Jace’s wrist to seal it shut. The taste of his blood lingering on my lips, a bittersweet taste. 

With a sigh of relief, I collapse against Jace's safe chest, my body trembling with exhaustion and relief. His touch is gentle yet firm, his hand cupping my jaw with a tenderness that tugs at my heartstrings. I feel his thumb under my chin, lifting my gaze to meet his, and as I look into those golden eyes, I see the raw emotion reflected in their depths.

Tears glisten in his eyes, a silent testament to the fear and concern he's been harboring for me. His voice is soft as he checks if I'm okay, the sound of it like a soothing balm to my battered soul. In that moment, I realise just how much he cares, how deeply he feels, and the thought fills me with a warmth that transcends the physical. 

As he leans down, his lips ghosting over mine with a hesitance that speaks volumes, I can feel the tension building between us, a palpable electricity that crackles in the air. My heart would be hammering in my chest, a rhythm that matches the erratic beat of his own. A small whine escapes my throat, a sound born of longing and need, and in that instant, his resolve crumbles. His lips crash against mine with a fervour that steals my breath away, a kiss so full of passion and intensity that it leaves me reeling. 

In that moment, I feel alive in a way I never have before, as if every nerve in my body is on fire with the intensity of his touch. It's as if he's breathing life back into me with each caress of his lips, each touch igniting a fire that burns brighter than the sun. 

“Maybe don’t almost die to act upon mutual feelings.” Jace is mumbling against my lips, earning a weak smack from me. 

“Shut up.” 

“Make me.” He retorts, kissing me softly once again. 

“Later I will.” 

The Shadowhunters Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 21st Dec 2023

[simonisferal]

Valentine — wanderer x gn reader

erhmm, kaveh gets taped to the ceiling, obvious courting/pining, reader's a fucking simp, wanderer's a small bitch/affectionate

guy came up to me and became my valentine, now i gotta reject him because i dont see him like that 😭 but happy valentines day!!

1.5k words

Valentine’s Day was literally today and you were stressing about what to get your lovely partner! Well, not really. If anything, you’re freaking out on how to confess your feelings for them and *then* ask him out. Crazy, and very last minute, you know, but hear yourself out!

You’ve been pinning and courting him for a while. It’s painfully obvious that you liked him, or at least you think.

Wanderer had no revelation. Sometimes he thought that the flowers and large amounts of flowers, snacks and drinks you left on his desk or mail was part of a big prank. Not even his new friend group (“Aggravate”, as Cyno called them) could tell him differently.

They were walking down the halls, ignoring most people who gawked and eyed them. It wasn’t rare for people to look at the five beauties but it was fairly worse since it’s a holiday.

”You excited?” Tighnari, one of the only people who have a brain in this dumb school, mentions.

"For what?” He pauses his walk.

“Oh! For his little secret admirer to come up and confess!” Kaveh squeals. Alhaitham, who stood behind him only snorted but stayed quiet. Tighnari looked to the side but nevertheless agreed with him, “Something like that. I was going to say chocolates or a present but that works.”

Cyno interjects, “Maybe a letter? Something simple to not attract too much attention to you, I would guess.”

”Oh please, I doubt that prankster has the balls to come up to my face and say something, let alone a fake confession.” Wanderer says, not only denying the idea but shooting down Kaveh’s suggestion as well.

"Booo! Where’s your passion for love? I don’t understand how people like you, babes.” Alhaitham pats Kaveh’s back but we all know he thinks it too.The puppet snorts but doesn’t refute anything else. He continues to walk, leaving the four behind while they head to their classes.

Wanderer was interrupted many times by others trying to give him gifts, making him late several times. He grew tired of the holiday and just wanted to go home. Maybe Tighnari can give him something to ease his mind when it's time for study hall.

But they never show up. Wow, ‘real friends’ my ass.

When he goes to his next class, down a small hall in the Vahumana category, Wanderer only sees the empty class. There was no way he was late or early or even in the wrong classroom.

His wary behavior didn’t cease when he noticed a singular note on a desk, his desk. Wanderer didn’t hesitate to pick it up, his smooth hands running over the frail paper before unfolding it from its fold.

Dear Wanderer, it read.

You’re probably reading this with caution or at least looking behind your back right now but I can assure you, nothing bad’s gonna happen as you read this! (I don’t know if that sounded ominious ominous or not so, sorry :( )

I’m the one who keeps buying you flowers and those snacks if you didn’t know by now! I actually have something to tell you and I really hope you come to the library or else I’ll kind of look like a loser lol— Your secret admirer

ps: I’m a little offended you think this whole thing is a prank, Wanderer :(

Damn. He closed the piece of paper and ran his hands through it again. ‘Yeah, right. Like someone would actually love me enough to do this’, he thinks.

Wanderer shoves the note into his short’s pocket and sits down in his seat. There are small trinkets and sour candies in the desk with another note, “Just in case you get hungry :)”. …He sighs. He takes one of the candies in his hand and starts unwrapping the wrapper. ”You guys can come out now. I finished reading the letter.”

There was a small hint of silence before anyone spoke.

"Oh thank the gods, I thought you were gonna leave us here.” Kaveh groans. Both Tighnari and Cyno reveal themselves from hiding in a closet and Alhatiham just turns around in the professor's chair.

”Kaveh?! How’d you get up there?” Tighnari leaves the closet, passing by Wanderer to get under Kaveh, who was duct-taped to the ceiling. He looked sick and frail and like he was about to throw up.”I asked Alhaitham to help me like three hours ago but he never got me down! I missed a bunch of classes..” He whines. Tighnari gives Haitham a glare but the grey-haired male ignores it.

”I’ll help you down, okay?” Tighnari comforts Kaveh and stretches his hand out towards the closet. “Cyno, give me my bow.”

”Alright.” Cyno starts reaching into the closet while the four of them could hear Kaveh pleading, “Wait! No! I can get down myse—!”

Wanderer’s ears ring at the loud sound of Kaveh crashing onto the floor. Joking, of course. He used his anemo powers to safely get the blond down.

"You four are such a hassle.” He groans.

"Well?”

“‘Well’ what?”

”Are you gonna go?”

”Go where?”

”The library, for god's sake!”

Cyno nods along. “[Name] is waiting for you there.”Wanderer groans again while everyone else looks at Cyno like he just admitted to a murder. They whisper as the puppet crosses his arms in his seat. “I’m not going to a dumbass library to just meet [Na]—…[Name]?”

"Oh wow, Cyno spilled. Expected it to be Kaveh.” Alhaitham retorts. Wanderer could only hear a small ‘hey!’ from the thoughts running through his head.

Believe it or not but you were the second place bachelor in the Akademiya. Most girls and guys would be pursuing you right now but you were just in the library? And you liked him? Yeah, right, he’ll have to see it with his own eyes.

”Fine, come on. Let’s go.” He stood up from his seat and began to walk out the classroom, leaving the four boys again.

”Should we go after him?” Kaveh asked.

"You just fell off of a ceiling, I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to go…”He whines again but wipes his butt from any dirt from the floor. “Okay…”

”I’ll stay with you.”

”Alhaitham, what?”

”You heard me.”

Both Tighnari and Cyno left to chase after Wanderer, the quick fellow already somehow causing a commotion in the halls. You were sitting in the library when Wanderer ran in. You expected him to come, not because you thought of him as a hopeless romantic but because you knew he’d want to see such a wanted figure as yourself actually liking someone.

”Good afternoon, Wanderer.” He heard.

You were carrying a Sumeru rose in your hands, fiddling and admiring the petals and thorns. He just stood in front of you, not believing it wasn’t a prank.

”’Good afternoon’ my ass. What do you want?”

You frown. “Did you not read the letter I left for you?”

He crosses his arms and scoffs. He had an obvious face of disdain, still not believing you. “Why yes of course I did. And just so you know,” he took a small step closer. “I still think this is a dumb joke.”

That statement couldn’t help but make you laugh. “Really? Aren’t a lot of people pursuing you? What about me courting you for, like, 3 months?”He falls silent. You weren’t known for your jokes, most people (excluding Cyno) thought you were unfunny. You also weren’t a liar—everyone calls you honest and trustworthy that even Wanderer can only imagine how many promises you’ve completed.

”Look. I’m really not joking…” You stand up from your chair at the library, taking small steps towards the short male. You extend your hand, showing him the rose you had been admiring for so long.

“I like you.”

Ha… Haha.. He starts laughing. Wanderer found you absolutely stupid. No one, ever, would actually admit to liking him—let alone on a holiday all about love. You had to be an idiot to even think about him romantically.

The puppet stops laughing after noticing you hadn’t gone away or laughed with him. He raised an eyebrow and looked at your frown. “Seriously? You’re an idiot.” His rude remark did nothing to hide the small smile on his face. It was amusing, such a silly thing actually. Who knew you would be such a dumbass for love? Now he doesn't feel even a single drop of guilt for eating all those snacks.

That look on your face says it all. You're in love with him. Pathetic, honestly. But Wanderer'll give you (and himself) a chance at this little game called life. He finds this little situation funny now that he knows it's not some sort of sick joke.

”Fine, I’ll give you a chance.” He takes the rose in his hands, twirling it with his fingers. He looked up at your excited smile. Humans are so easy to please, he thinks but it doesn't stop the small smile crawling on his own face.

”Just don’t bore me.”

[vauxxy]

the moon ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

ECLIPSE- PROLOGUE, PART ONE, PART TWO

luke castellan x reader

ABOUT - luke invites you, the strange dionysus girl, to spar with him. luke makes a revelation, and you invite him to hang out.

A/N - hey y’all! it’s been a while!! so here i am, with an introductory chapter to a three parter luke x reader series called ‘eclipse’.

there’s not a lot happening in this chapter, but it’s important to the next chapter me thinks :P

also i think i’m sooo funny 😭 the title will make even more sense soon ok

WARNINGS - swearing n alcohol mention and that’s it

to say luke castellan didn’t like you would be a big understatement. but it would also be untrue.

the reality of his feelings towards you were much more complicated than simply ‘liking’ or ‘hating’ you.

his feelings towards you were completely incomprehensible. and he hated it.

you were just… so strange. the eldest daughter of dionysus, a talented actress, a rebellious girl with a sharp tongue and an even sharper blade. you were everything all at once; and it perplexed him to no end.

maybe that’s why your rivalry persisted throughout all these years. you made no sense, and luke needed everything to make sense. he needed everything to be predictable and understandable.

and you were neither of those things.

but there was also a comfort in the way that you consistently confused him- a sense of irregularity that provided him with the same comfort he would receive from those who were less strange than you were. maybe a bit more comfort, it fact.

it was truly comforting; the fact that you were always there to annoy and pester him when he was training, or at the campfire, or when you asked him to spar.

it was comforting knowing there was always someone there to challenge him- someone there to make him feel the same feeling over and over again… until the feeling changed.

“y/n, i need to talk to you.”

his voice echoed throughout the training grounds, alarming you enough to whip your head around fast to find the source of such commotion.

you were standing in the middle of the grounds, the remains of the practice dummies you were throwing your axe at scattered around the premises.

luke watched your hair move with the soft summer wind as you turned around to face him, no doubt in his mind that you knew exactly what he wanted.

“yeah? ‘bout what?”

your face was a little red and your arms were a little tired from your undoubtably taxing training session. if luke saw you like this a few months ago, he’d chuckle at how disheveled you looked.

but it was not a few months ago.

to distract himself from your appearance, his eyes trailed down to your hands as you tightly gripped your axe. it always freaked him out seeing you with that gnarly axe- throwing that thing around like it weighed nothing.

“hello? about what?” you asked again breathily, swinging your axe back and forth aimlessly as you tried to get his attention.

it seemed as though he had been distracted by something. something strange and pretty and unusual. and whatever it was, he needed to snap out of it before he went crazy.

“i need a sparring partner,” he stated blankly, leaning his back against the nearest pillar and letting out an exasperated breath.

“you’re the only one in camp who can give me somewhat of a challenge. anyways,” he took a good look at you, tapping his fingers against his forearm.

“i’m bored. wanna fight?”

you shrugged your shoulders, recklessly tossing your axe to the side and unsheathing your sword.

“yeah, okay,” you said dryly.

your hair fell over your face as you looked up at him, groaning in irritation at the minor inconvenience.

“hold my sword for a minute?” you asked blankly as you offered your sword out to luke for him to take.

luke looked down at you, amused by how easily you were able to ask him for a favour- even if it was just a minor one. it seemed like you were growing a lot more reliant on him these days. or maybe more comfortable with him? who knows.

“yeah, okay,” he said reluctantly, taking the sword from your hands.

he watched you in silence as you took a step back, running your hand through your hair.

“you really aren't much of a talker, are you?” he asked, smiling smugly as his eyes followed the flow of your hair.

you pulled a hair tie off of your wrist, quickly tying my your hair into a lazy ponytail.

“oh, i’m a big talker. just not with you,” you said bluntly, your voice playful and smug as you flashed him a mischievous smile.

luke liked it when you smiled. he liked to imagine that all the stars in the sky got together on the night you were born, and decided to use their stardust to construct ever feature on your face. your dainty freckles, the shining bright whites of your eyes- the pure magic of your little smile.

‘the fuck is wrong with you? stop being weird.’

you quickly took back the sword, your fingers grazing against his during the little exchange.

“i can tell,” luke commented breathily, raising an eyebrow. his eyes narrowed slightly, before he raised his sword as well.

“you ready? or are you just gonna keep standing there looking pretty?”

“i’m always ready, castellan,” you hummed, taking a few steps towards the middle of the training grounds, and getting into position.

“whatever,” he rolled his shoulders and followed suite. “on three?”

you nodded, and let your body tense up as he started counting down.

“one, two, three-“

Luke lunged forward, stabbing his sword towards your chest. He made good use of the length of his blade, keeping as much distance between you and him as possible.

despite this, you managed to quickly dodge him, your sword clanging against his as you bit down on your lip. you quickly attempted a shot at his waist, your eyes locked on his sword as you shuffled around.

Luke smirked as the two blades clashed together, you going for his legs and him going for your chest. he attempted another stab at your chest, and when you evaded, he kicked out to try and trip you- something he figured would throw you off, or at the very least, off-balance.

you seemed to not fall for such cheap tricks. as he backed away to create some distance between you and him, he smiled. this was exactly what he wanted.

a challenge.

he heard you groan, offering a sly smirk before watching you attempt a sneaky stab at his arm.

your hair bounced with every movement, your technique airy and light- almost unpredictable enough to make him second guess his own strategy.

you speed caught luke off-guard, taken aback by the sudden stab. he definitely wasn’t expecting that.

your fast and swift movements, paired with the excellent control of your blade made him sweat a bit. he had no choice but to back away, before lunging forward with his sword once more.

you quickly dodged his attack, the sound of blades clanging echoing throughout the area as your breaths got heavier and heavier.

you moved forwards, attempting another attack at his chest.

he quickly blocked your sword, moving in with a stab at your neck- but you were too quick. you resisted the attack, hitting his sword with yours. you shuffled around again, attacking his other arm as you took a second to study him and his movements.

you attacked him yet again, moving his blade to block. the same sounds of metal clashing against each other continuing.

your attack at his arm was successful. he’d taken a little step back at the sudden pain.

luke raised his sword for a stab at your side, attempting to catch you right in the gut—this would put you on the defensive for sure… right?

you quickly blocked his attack on my side, left with a little cut on your forearm.

luke was shocked at how easily you were able to defend yourself against him. you had been training and sparring and competing against him for years- obviously you were a talented fighter.

but luke had grown accustomed to winning. now? he felt intimidated.

like knew his arms were his weak spot, but he hadn’t expected you to realize this yourself. your counterattacks came quicker now that you’d discovered the most effective way to get him out of commission.

the two of you were now evenly-matched in the sense that neither of you could land an attack at the other, and this was starting to get exciting.

you started trying to take cheap shots at his arms and legs, pissing luke off further. it was like you cracked the code.

you were winning.

He grunted, breathing heavily. he was struggling to move against each of your quick attacks, trying to match the sheer speed and agility of your balde.

and to his surprise; he was starting to get tired.

as soon as he tried attacking you, you blocked it- hard. this caused the sword to fly out of his hand.

disarming him was much easier after he was tired and distracted.

then, you lunged at him.

you held your blade against luke’s neck as you pushed him to the ground, straddling his hips as you looked down at him.

“do i win?” you asked smugly, restraining his movements.

you had giving luke a run for his money. the best swordsman at camp was now at the mercy of your sword.

while you two were similar in skill across all aspects of fighting, you had rarely ever beaten him in a sword fight.

“yeah, sure, sure you win,” he growled, attempting to shove you off of his lap.

“now get off me.”

he looked up at you, noticing the proud smile plastered across your face. it wasn’t cocky, or smug- it was proud.

and as much as he’d hate to admit it, he was genuinely impressed with you.

you finally lifted your body off his, standing up as you twirled your sword around.

“huh. i didn’t know i was this good with a sword…” you mumbled, looking down at the blade.

luke stared up at you, rolling his eyes as he got up.

“still obnoxious as ever, though,” he mumbled dryly.

luke glanced at your sword for a moment before turning his gaze away. he walked over to his sword, picking it up off the ground and sheathing it as he turned back around to face you.

“you’re not bad. obviously,” he said bluntly, his cheeks red and his face sweaty from the challenging sparring match as he walked back over to you.

“your attacks are unpredictable. quick, agile. you have a good technique.”

you furrowed your brows, a little confused by his kind comments and praises.

“technique? i just kept my eyes on your sword and tried to get you tired enough to disarm you,” you explained, sheathing your sword.

“i’d hardly call that technique. you’re much better than i am,” you added.

that was unexpected. a compliment? or… was that sarcastic? what the fuck is going on?

you were probably just tired; that’s why you were downplaying your achievements. that’s why you were offering him praise despite his shortcomings.

“i’m probably stronger than you, but you’re much faster. agility is just as important as strength,” luke replied, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

you shrugged your shoulders, smiling smugly as you took out your ponytail.

“well, i gotta make up for my lack of raw muscles somehow,” you retorted breathily, your tone playful and your voice light as you smiled at him.

you were a child of dionysus- you weren’t supposed to be a fighter, you were supposed to be an actress. but it made sense for you to go against the grain like that. you were an unpredictable, hotheaded, arrogant, theatrical girl… who could also somehow take him in a fight.

luke tried not to gawk at how your hair fell over your shoulder as you shook your head.

as much as he hated noticing it, your hair was really pretty.

it was probably one of his favourite things about you.

luke stared into your eyes as you spoke, his gaze unwavering as he admired your sheer confidence- even when downplaying yourself.

and there it was. the same feeling that had been fucking him over everyday for the past 2 months. a feeling that he was starting to get uncomfortably familiar with recently; fondness. admiration. adoration.

you were the moon. constant, yet always changing. bright, yet most comfortable surrounded by the confines of the dark.

you were his moon.

and you were beautiful.

‘ew, stop.’

luke didn’t appreciate the new soft spot he was harbouring for a certain dionysus girl. he hated how his heart was constantly making space for her. and he hated that his brain was just as complicit.

“i mean, you don’t need to ‘make up’ for anything. muscle isn’t really that important in a sword fight,” he said, crossing his arms as he finally pulled his eyes away from yours.

you nodded lightheartedly, idly running your hand through your hair as you turned your head away from his.

gods, he could watch you play with your hair all day if he could. of course, he’d prefer to play with it himself, but watching you do it was almost as good.

“hm. i guess you’re right,” you sighed, stuffing your hands into the pockets of your shorts lazily.

“anyways, sword fighting is way too much effort. i prefer throwing axes at people.”

luke smirked, rolling his eyes playfully and he looked over at you.

“i still can’t believe you’d choose an axe over a sword.” he couldn’t help but laugh a bit, “you’re so… eccentric.”

“what do you expect? mr. d is my dad,” you said playfully, earning a reluctant chuckle from luke.

“i guess i shouldn’t be surprised,” he replied. “but seriously, who chooses an axe as their primary weapon? why not a bow or something?”

you rolled you eyes, shaking your head at the boy in disagreement.

“the arrows are too flimsy. i prefer wielding something with a bit more weight,” you explained. luke shook his head in disbelief, chuckling dryly.

“you’re so weird… who else uses an axe for their weapon of choice?” he asked out of genuine curiosity, a hint of sarcasm laced in his tone.

“and don’t say something like ‘oh, tons of people’ or something.”

“oh, tons of people,” you repeated, mocking him playfully as you took your hands out of your pockets. you tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, letting out a smug chuckle.

“shut up,” luke scoffed, his usual smirk plastered on his face.

gods, it felt like his feelings were becoming more evident by the minute. he was going insane.

‘you like her, don’t you?’

the thought popped into his head again.

‘shut it out, or else it’ll get awkward.’

he wasn’t about to ruin the fun you were having.

and besides, he didn’t like you. he couldn’t like you.

you were literally the daughter of the camp director. and you were insufferable. or… well- that’s a lie. you used to be insufferable.

it seemed as though age had provided you two with a new sense of maturity; letting your rivalry calm down and allowing you two to finally get along.

and as much as luke hated to admit it, he kinda liked getting to know you. he liked spending time with you. but he always did- that’s why you two spend so much time fighting, right?

luke was suddenly snapped out of his head by the sound of footsteps hitting the floor of the training grounds. he looked up to see your back as you walked away, his eyebrows furrowing at your silent departure.

“where are you going?” he called out.

you turned around quickly, quirking your head to the side.

“the campfire, obviously?” your said, your hands stuffed in your pockets again.

“aren’t you coming?” you asked, staring him down playfully with a friendly smile.

luke’s eyebrows rose, his body freezing as he thought it over.

‘she’s mocking you.’

‘no she isn’t- you’re the leader of the hermes cabin. you have to come to the campfires, dickhead.’

‘can’t be bothered, nah.’

“i have better things to do, thanks.”

He scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest as he stood in the middle of the training grounds.

you raised your eyebrows, a little smirk emerging on your face.

“you sure? because as soon as the younger campers head back to their cabins, us older demigods are going down to the lake,” you said, crossing your arms to mirror his defensive stance.

“… and i’ve got a bottle of wine and half a bottle of vodka hidden under my bed,” you whispered as you took a step forwards, shooting him a mischievous wink.

vodka? that was enough to pull him in, even if they were supposed to have a little rivalry going. but then again, they were barley rivals anymore.

it’s not like he was big on drinking, but he was big on discarding his responsibilities- even if it was just for a few hours.

he paused for a moment, staring at you as he contemplated whether or not he should come to the campfire.

luke didn’t even care if you guys didn’t like each other that much, he still wanted to spend more time with you. besides, he didn’t see the problem in exploiting the way you guys were being a lot more civil to each other recently in order to get a little tipsy.

“yeah fine,” he mumbled, “i’ll come.”

[embarrasingmf]

taking a sick day

PAIRING: Steve Rogers x reader

SUMMARY: when cap gets sick, you volunteer to be his personal nurse for the day.

WARNINGS: not proofread, might be OOC steve☹️

WORD COUNT: 1k

A/N: this is now my longest fic yay! also, I know steve can’t rlly get sick bc of the serum but I see a lot of fics where reader is sick so I wanted to swap the roles🫠

Steve thought he was immune to all Earthly diseases, disorders, and infections after taking the Super-Soldier serum.

But he was recently proven wrong after getting struck with a bad case of the flu.

He always stayed in bed, not that he was necessarily bedridden, per se, he was just too lazy to walk around his private quarters.

Really, the only time Steve got out of bed was to make himself some food or go to the bathroom. Other than that, he stayed curled up under the covers.

When the other Avengers learned about his recent misfortune, they quickly formed a little meeting to discuss who would keep watch to make sure he recovers fine.

As if his immune system wouldn’t fight it off by the next morning.

At this revelation, you immediately volunteered. Maybe a little too quickly considering the smirk you got from Tony.

In truth, you liked spending time with Steve. He was fun to hang out with considering he’s been around for well over a hundred years.

In your excitement, you almost missed Steve’s room, quickly backtracking a few steps before knocking and waiting for his reply.

You heard a muffled “come in,” from the other side, and it sounded nasally, too.

Opening the door to Steve’s private quarters, you were met with him in the kitchen, a simple white shirt and sweatpants on. He was standing in front of the toaster, leaning against the counter.

You walked over, taking a moment to look at his facial expression. It was mostly blank, but his eyebrows were furrowed a bit from how shitty he probably felt right now.

“Making some toast?” You questioned, awkwardly trying to make some conversation.

Steve nodded wordlessly in response, grabbing the toast and throwing it on the plate after the toaster dinged annoyingly.

He grabbed a butter knife and started spreading some jam onto the darkened bread.

You watched intently before speaking up after clearing your throat to get his attention.

“After you finish that, I can make you some soup?” You offered with a smile, and Steve looked over.

“Sure. That sounds good.” Steve matched your smile.

You nodded as Steve took a bite of the toast, closing his eyes for a brief moment.

—————————————————————————

Soon after Steve finished his toast, he trudged back into the bedroom and left it cracked open for you.

You were making some chicken noodle soup for him, except you didn’t really know how to cook homemade chicken middle soup so you used the stuff in a can.

Steve was staring up at the ceiling when he heard the microwave beep from afar, signaling that his soup was ready.

He craned his head just enough to see you walk in, sitting next to his legs as you placed the soup onto the bedside table.

“Here, let me help you.” You mumbled, gently grabbing his hand and putting your free hand on his upper back to help him situate into a sitting position against the headboard.

After Steve was comfortable enough, you grabbed the soup and carefully placed the warm bowl onto his lap — which thankfully wouldn’t burn him since he had a thick comforter.

Steve took a spoonful of the soup, letting out a small groan of satisfaction as the warm broth hit his tastebuds.

While he was off in his own personal heaven switching from eating the noodles and pieces of chicken to drinking the broth, you placed your hand on his forehead to check his temperature.

You fought the urge to immediately take your hand away from the burning skin.

Yeah, you knew he always ran warm, but he was never this warm. And it freaked you out a little bit.

“Jesus,” You cursed, pulling your hand back after keeping it there for a few moments.

Steve looked up, letting out an oblivious: “Hm?”

“You’re burning up, Steve.” You quickly got up to go grab a washcloth from the connected bathroom.

Steve watched your fleeting figure for a moment before going back to his soup, eventually finishing it and placing it on the bedside table.

You came back after a few seconds and placed the washcloth on Steve’s forehead before laying him back down.

“You done with the soup?” You asked quietly, pointing to the now empty bowl with a few remnants of carrots and celery along with some seasoning.

Steve nodded and you grabbed the bowl, walking back into the kitchen to wash it out.

“Why are you even in here?” Steve inquired once you returned. “You don’t need to be taking care of me like this.”

If Steve was being honest, this moment of vulnerability reminded him of when he was young. When he had a number of medical issues and his mother was working multiple jobs to help him simply live.

He was shaken out of his somber trance when you spoke up.

“Well we had a small meeting of who was going to watch you to make sure you recovered fine.” You explained with a breath.

“And I volunteered to do it.”

Steve let out a low hum of acknowledgement, his head lulling back against the pillow as he weakly readjusted the damp cloth on his forehead.

“You didn’t need to, I’m sure I’ll be fine by tomorrow.” Steve mumbled.

“But I appreciate the gesture,” He added as an afterthought, not wanting to sound rude.

You chuckled, getting up once you noticed the time.

8:06 P.M.

It wasn’t necessarily late, but you wanted Steve to get a lot of rest so you got up anyway.

“I’m gonna sleep on the couch, if you don’t mind,” You paused for a moment to see if Steve would tell you to just go back into your quarters and come back in the morning.

But he didn’t. He didn’t have any sort of reaction so you took that as a good sign and continued speaking.

“So just call me if you need anything.” You flashed Steve another smile before turning and walking out of his bedroom, dimming the lights and leaving the door cracked open.

Just in case.

—————————————————————————

tags! : @ryvkkr (pls let me know if you don’t want to be tagged for marvel fics🙏)

[whateverisbeautiful]

♥️Reveling in Richonne - TOWL

#26: The Crazy (1.03)

gif cred: @nerd4music

So there was no doubt in my mind what I’d label the final post of episode 3. It had to be called ‘The Crazy’ because…Pearl lost her damn mind aiming a gun at Michonne. Like is she insane? 🤨

Lol, no but for real this is called ‘The Crazy’ because my sweet sweet Richonne are a couple that can always match each other's shine, match each other's freak, and especially match each other's crazy.

And their crazy was on full display in the final moments of this thrill of an episode 👌🏽...

But first, we do actually have to talk about Pearl being crazy enough to consider taking out Michonne in cold blood. 😑

After Richonne miraculously doesn’t get caught hungrily making out behind a thin tree they return to take down walkers like only Richonne can. We love to see it. 😊 But Pearl apparently hates to see it. 😬

gif cred: @coolpartytimefan

She watches as Rick and Michonne kill these walkers and starts really paying attention to Michonne taking out walkers and being the A Pearl pretends to be.

Pearl appears consumed with what I interpreted as a feeling of being threatened by Michonne, not because Pearl wants Rick, but rather because Michonne is a natural leader who clearly has an influence on people like Sergeant Major Grimes and she’s terrified that somehow Michonne being a clear A will have major ramifications on herself - both as a solider who argued for her and personally considering Dana’s effect on Pearl’s one family member Rick.

So Pearl raises her gun at Michonne and even starts to pull the trigger which was Pearl's certified death sentence. Seeing this, I was like welp this scene is a spoiler now lol. I knew Pearl wasn't gonna make it out of TOWL alive because again, anyone who threatens Michonne swiftly ends up in the afterlife.

gif cred: @coolpartytimefan

Luckily, Rick notices Pearl aiming a gun at his wife and none of what Pearl thinks she’s about to do is ever happening on Rick’s watch so without question he grabs a walker and gets in front of her gun to shield Michonne. How sweet. 🥰

gif cred: @coolpartytimefan

Rick reminds Pearl of why they’re out here when he yells they have 10 delts left and Pearl snaps back to reality to finish the job. I'll say it over an over again - I love that Rick takes his role as Michonne’s protector so seriously. He never hesitates to literally put his life on the line for her. 

gif cred: @coolpartytimefan

So then it’s nighttime as the soldiers are packing up and Rick and Michonne share a quick little look before he walks in the opposite direction as Pearl approaches to reprimand him.

Pearl says, “She broke protocol which made you break protocol” And Pearl, babe, he’d do it again. Cuz that 'she' Pearl's talking about is Rick's longtime leader so of course he followed Michonne and broke protocol with her.

Also, I was like Pearl the task wasn’t gonna get done if they followed your lead so...🤷🏽‍♀️. Rick responds by saying, “She needed help. You needed help.” And Pearl most certainly did. She seems to have forgotten that.

Pearl is still ticked off as she says there needs to be order and again emphasizes, “She went rogue and you followed, how many others are gonna do that?” I admit I liked seeing someone be so shook over the influence Michonne has lol. 🤭

gif cred: @coolpartytimefan

Pearl says, “I trusted her, I put my neck out for her. For you. I regret it.” I like how Rick replies by saying, “Don’t.” cuz he’s like 'you have regrets? well, how about don't have regrets' lol.

Then Rick, who has had to be an actor all episode with Pearl, is ready to dish out more lies to protect Michonne when he says, “That’s why I did what I did. Listen, maybe it was too early for her. I’ll send her back, give her more time at the Harvest Point.”

Pearl is done defending Dana as she sternly says, “Yeah, for now. We need to take care of this - us.” And hearing that made me feel like Pearl in the first episode of TOWL cuz I was looking at her like “uh, uh don’t say ‘us’, Thorne.” Cuz they’re not an ‘us’, plain and simple.

Pearl is in her hater energy telling Rick to take Michonne back cuz she doesn’t want to see her again. And Pearl, that's because you know deep down if Michonne does show you up again...

Pearl also says she’ll give Rick a pass this time since he did help majorly. Then Pearl reveals that Beale wants to brief Rick and that he’s moving up which is news to Rick, especially after Beale had previously said he still doesn’t know if he trusts him earlier in this ep. Pearl says, “Rick, you better understand.” before walking away. And Rick seems shaken by all this.

I think for Rick there’s this sense of one; knowing he has to get his wife out of here by any means necessary and he can’t rely on Pearl at all anymore since she’s done with Dana. And also two; for years, Rick's been told that his life’s purpose should be changing the CRM from the inside, and learning he’s moving up could present an opportunity to do so. But also getting the briefing could be something that just further enslaves him as it seems to have changed and enslaved Pearl to the CRM now, even if she doesn't view it like that.

So then, if this day wasn’t stressful enough, Rick is walking and sees the Garbage Queen walking around. 😒

Watching it back it made me laugh because Rick sees Jadis first and he has a stank face but isn’t intending to talk to her. He was just gonna walk on by with an expression like 'look what the trash brought in.' But then Jadis speaks to him saying she’s headquartered here now so she’ll be around often. Again, just more bad news for Rick. 😩

And then like I said before, Jadis will combust if she doesn’t harass somebody every two seconds so she tries it once again when she attempts flirtation and touches Rick saying, “You should come take a look at my quarters.” 🤢 I love the way Rick pulls away in absolute disgust at the mere notion of what Jadis is implying. Like he’s wholly offended by the offer and so am I.

I appreciate how Rick, like Michonne, never even considered anyone else neither sexually or romantically. It’s true to their characters to stay so loyally in love with each other even after being apart longer than they were together. Again, you don’t move on from a love like theirs.

I just know when Rick first got to the CRM he wanted to take a page from Toy Story and have Michonne’s name written on the bottom of his tattered cowboy boot just to make it clear who he belongs to lol. No other woman stood a chance at being with him, especially not that serpent Jadis.

That’s why every time Rick gets to kiss Michonne and hold her and be tenderly held by her after they reunited it makes my heart happy because he’s getting to experience and express this love with the only woman on the planet he wants to experience and express this love with.

And when Jadis comes on to Rick and he pulls away that was a ‘heifer, I’m a married man’ pull away. Like I know the direct quote from his mind was ‘Even tho I’m about to try and break things off with my wife, I’m still an eternally married man because I’m trying to get Michonne to leave me but I’m still not leaving her ever.’ 

gif cred@andy-clutterbuck

As Rick looks at Jadis with loathing in his eyes, she says, “Beautiful view of the cascades,” somehow not picking up on the fact that Rick has gone several years without his wife and still never once looked her way.

And then Jadis just casually looks right over at Michonne almost tickled by this whole situation as she says, “She hasn’t seen me.” The audacity of this woman to be coming on to Rick at all, but especially when she knows his wife was right there. Jadis has been irking my spirit since 2017 y’all, for real. 😪

And she irks me even more when Michonne looks over and sees Jadis for the first time, leading the snake to just smugly be like, “Oh. There it is. She saw me.” She’s getting off on this stuff and it’s annoying. 🙄

And it’s in this moment where you see Rick have a system shutdown experience. 😞 Like there’s just one too many threats pointed his wife’s way and he can’t take it anymore.

Rick is a man whose heart lives outside of his chest because his heart is his family. You can’t truly debilitate him until you come for them. And so when his wife’s life was threatened like eight different times in the span of a few hours you see him just be overcome with overwhelm at the danger his wife is in.

Like y'all, he’s just a boy in love with a girl whose life is at risk at every turn and that’s intolerable to him since he feels made to protect her. And he wants Michonne safe by any means necessary cuz for Rick, something bad happening to her is 1000x worse than anything they could do to him. Plus, he knows if anything happens to Michonne he won't ever bounce back from that loss.

gif cred: @nat111love

So with Pearl no longer helping them, Jadis' insufferable self, and even Beale noting Michonne among thousands…it’s too much for a man who feels wholly devoted to keeping Michonne out of harm's way and who quite literally needs her to live in order for him to live at all. So we see Rick snap, ready to do anything to get Michonne out of here asap. Including breaking her heart. 😓

Rick sees Michonne seeing Jadis and immediately walks to her, not wanting this to escalate between the two ladies. But then things escalate between him and Michonne because he grabs Michonne’s arm and pulls her to the side...even tho not far enough to the side if you ask me lol. I was like surely a soldier is going to be able to look over and be like 'Why are Grimes and Consignee Bethune arguing like a married couple over there? 🧐'

As Rick grabs Michonne, who is clearly taken by surprise and understandably confused as to what the heck Jadis is doing here, Rick just says, “It doesn’t matter.” But I was like Rick, what? 🤔 It matters a ton because it’s Jadis's threats that are why Rick switched up on thinking they could escape together in the first place and it would be very helpful for Michonne to know the role Jadis plays in all this. 

gif cred: @nat111love

Michonne says a bewildered, “Jadis?” And she has every right to want answers and be perplexed seeing her. Like there’s clearly a story here that Rick hasn’t mentioned to her yet. Also, I like how, despite last knowing her as 'Anne', when Michonne sees Jadis with the CRM she calls her 'Jadis' because she’s like 'I know this can’t be the reformed version of that heifer, this has got to be the snake Judas version.'

Since Rick has become quite one-track-minded in trying to get Michonne home, he doesn’t seem to get why explaining Jadis' involvement would be a big missing piece in helping Michonne understand what the heck is going on. So he more sternly tells her, “It doesn’t matter!” And I notice once Michonne realizes the testy energy Rick has that's when she yanks her arm from out of his grasp.

And then y’all, this next part is where we get introduced to a new character. 😪👌🏽

See, the Rick we know and love is called The Brave Man. But this new guy at the end of episode three, who happens to look a lot like the Brave Man, is actually a character I like to call The Bold As Hell Talking To His Wife Like That Man.

And The Bold As Hell Talking To His Wife Like That Man, or TBAHTTHWLT Man for short lol, says, “You’re going back to base right now then I’m getting you the hell out of here”

gif cred: @nat111love

And can I just say, I usually pause the scenes throughout to write out my thoughts but the way he’s behaving in this particular scene had me so heated I had to just stop and let the scene play while I stared silently like…🤨😒.

And Rick continues to be TBAHTTHWLT Man when he angrily tells Michonne he’s getting her out of here even if he has to knock her out and put her on the boat himself which…not knock her out??? 🤨 This healthy relationship only gets one knockout and Michonne already cashed in on it when she knocked Rick out in season 5 so...no more of that. That's not how these two knock each other out anymore, okay?😇

gif cred: @chonesmint

And also nawt him doing a little firm hand movement for emphasis. 🙃 He lost his mind.

gif cred: @nat111love

Michonne is listening to this with her eyes wide in utter shock that her man is speaking to her like this. Plus, he's the one who told her multiple times that they'd get away together and now he’s on ten acting like she’s crazy for thinking they were ever going to go home together.

Rick really was putting her on a roller coaster since she’s been in the CRM. One minute they’re breathlessly making out with all the passion in the world and the next he’s telling her “I belong here, you don’t, and you will never change that.” 

It’s sad that he’s convinced himself he belongs here. He knows strong people don’t belong here but he’s convinced himself he’s not strong anymore. 😢 When he decided to die he felt he died a failure and he’s lost his confidence that he can be more than that.

gif cred: @nat111love

Saying 'you will never change that' is also wild because Michonne can always change Rick’s mind. He’s been aware of that since years ago, like when he told Michonne she could’ve talked him out of his hidden guns ploy in ASZ in season 5.

Also, this tone he's using...I hadn’t heard Rick speak to Michonne in this tone since the season 3 “we patch you up and then you’re gone” days. And just like that line in season 3, Rick does not truly mean the things he's saying here in TOWL episode 3 either.

Then TBAHTTHWLT Man wants to get extra hurtful when he tries to announce the end of Richonne, saying, “It’s over. Everything we had is broken. You hear me?”

gif cred: @nat111love

Ok first; it was bad enough hearing him say that but then the truculent 'you hear me?' on top of it…TBAHTTHWLT Man and I had beef in this scene, I must say.

But also I’m a big fan of paying attention to wording. And the wording here is very telling. Notice, he doesn’t say we’re over. But it’s over.

'We’re over' would feel a lot more break-up-y but 'it’s over 'feels like saying whatever hope we had of being together is over more than saying there’s nothing between us. After all those kisses he knows that lie would never be bought. So he says 'it’s over.'

gif cred: @nat111love

And then saying 'everything we had is broken,' still leaves room for the fact that something outside of themselves broke what they had.

Still, hearing 'everything we had is broken; is just such a crushing thing to hear tho. 🥺

Like fortunately Rick is not nearly as good of an actor as Andrew Lincoln and so you know right here and now that he doesn’t mean any of this and it’s a bold-faced lie, but still that it was said at all is painful. Especially when you see Michonne’s face reacting to these hurtful untruths. 😞

gif cred: @nat111love

She’s been through hell trying to save Rick and now he’s being so uncharacteristically cold to her and becoming the biggest obstacle to her mission of saving him and getting them home to their kids.

But I love it when you see the subtle shift in her expression. Like at first as she’s listening to Rick essentially try to break up with her (which is just crazy to even type out) she seems really flabbergasted and hurt and also like she can sense an underlying subtext to what’s going on. Like she looks concerned not for her but for him. He’s clearly reacting from a place of trauma and anxiety and she’s like okay what’s really going on with you cuz this is a cry for help.

At this moment I almost thought Michonne might look around wondering who the heck he was talking to and then with concern be like...

I mean, Michonne started talking to her 'dead' lover again in season 9 so maybe Rick started seeing people who aren't actually there again. It happens lol.

But for real, when Rick says that stern “You hear me?” you can see Michonne realize something else - she realizes that her husband has introduced a game for the two of them to play called the Crazy-Off. 😋

And right now Rick is in the lead by talking to her cash crazy. But as a true blue winner, Michonne is ready to come in at the buzzer and win this Crazy-Off that her husband has started. 😜

But for real I do think Michonne blinks and stares at him at the end hearing more of the subtext of what he’s saying. She looks like she’s thinking, ‘Rick, that’s a strange way to say ‘hey I’m stressed and scared for us, so can you take over?’ but okay I translated it, and don’t worry...

It's interesting because no man has ever loved a woman more than Rick loves Michonne and no woman has ever loved a man more than Michonne loves Rick. And once they reunited in TOWL, for Michonne her love for him manifests itself as fuel that makes her fight harder, and for Rick his love for her manifests itself as fear that makes him try so hard to protect her even from himself because he’s terrified of something happening to her. 

But Michonne knows that this breakup talk is BS and so now she’s ready to take matters into her own hands because, as Danai said, she can’t have this man in her presence like this any longer. 👌🏽

gif cred: @ricksmarlene

And it’s funny because at first glance it might appear like Michonne's silent reaction is her reacting equanimously to all this. But the way her eyes are moving and twitching while looking at Rick, she's definitely communicating if you want to get crazy, we can get crazy.

Now don’t get me wrong, I can comprehend what Rick was doing in this scene. I get that this behavior is all actually coming from how much he loves her and is terrified of something happening to her. While he's presenting as angry, what he really feels is fear. And he knows she won’t leave without him because she loves him and so he’s trying to break her heart so that she’ll be more willing to leave him behind and make it home alive.

...But I still think it’s not okay and absolutely crazy that he thought this approach would work. 

And again, if Rick wants to get crazy…well Michonne had to remind him...

So now, they’re sitting across from each other on the helicopter during a raging storm. Rick is staring at Michonne and Michonne is staring right back at him with crazy all up in her eyes.

Since season 3, Michonne has never backed down from a steely stare-down with Rick Grimes and she’s not about to do so now.

gif cred: @nat111love

The way she’s staring and smiling without blinking in this helicopter, I’d be more scared of whatever is going through her head than this helicopter rocking about. 🫣 And Rick is more uneasy about her too lol. They’re definitely expressing things without words here.

Also, whoever is piloting this helicopter during this storm has no idea that the real storm a-brewing is between the married couple in the back.

I love the way Michonne just stayed looking at him with that smize being like you seem to have forgotten who I am but it’s all good cuz I’m going to quickly remind you. I could just feel the way she’s probably thinking - I’ve been through too much, you’ve been through too much, we’ve been through too much to end it this way. So if we’re gonna go out, baby it’s gonna be with a bang. 💥

gif cred: @nat111love

I love how you can visibly see Michonne concocting an unhinged plan in her mind too. 🤭

So the helicopter shakes and Rick is already anxious because he probably has helicopter crash PTSD but then he looks back up at Michonne and tries to maintain his grumpy little face at her but he also is nervous cuz he can tell she’s up to something.

Then Rick starts getting legit panicked from the violent shaking of the helicopter. But Michonne is so locked in about what she’s about to do that she’s completely unfazed by the helicopter. Let it rock. 😌

gif cred: @nat111love

Michonne just calmly looks out the window at the water below as she again speaks to her daughter in an unforgettable episode ender.

gif cred: @nat111love

Michonne says, “Shoto, it’s Daito. I’m sorry…” And then Michonne stares right at Rick, unstraps herself, and swiftly grabs Rick, plunging both of them out of the helicopter and into the thundering storm as Rick lets out a panicked yell. Michonne's voiceover then just says with chilling calm, “I don’t know if we’ll be back.”

Wild. 🤯

gif cred: @nat111love

And also what an icon Michonne is. 👑😌 I loved this moment. 👏🏽 I know up to this point Rick probably thought he had tried every method in the book to get home but Michonne was like have you tried plummeting out of a moving helicopter?...let's try that.

Rick didn’t realize of all the people to be nervous about it was actually Michonne, not the others he should have most been on high alert for. 😋

Michonne really said oh you’ll do anything to save me? Guess what? I’ll do anything to save you, so off this helicopter we go. And her pulling this move was her letting Rick Grimes, the CRM, and Gravity itself know she's that girl and nothing is stopping her. 💅🏽

gif cred: @nat111love

I love how Michonne will both literally and figuratively do what needs to be done. Like figuratively and literally knocking some sense into Rick in season 5 or literally and figuratively yanking Rick out of his stormy state in TOWL.

The way she told Shoto 'I don’t know if we’ll be back' - Michonne basically was like your daddy is tripping, Shoto, so I don't know if this story ends with us going home to Alexandria or me sending him to the heavenly home above.

And honestly, if Judith had heard Rick talking cash crazy to Michonne like that she would have had some words cuz she does not play about her mama. Idk if her parents would ever tell her this part of the story one day but if they do, I personally think Judith would be in full support of what Michonne did. 😅

But also I really like the wording of 'I don't know if we’ll be back' because it poses the question to be beautifully and expertly explored in the next episode. Can Rick and Michonne find their way back to each other in a more internal sense? Right now Michonne doesn’t know for certain. But as a true Get Things Done Grimes she’s gonna try to find out during an incredibly riveting Richonne 'timeout.'

So the exciting episode 3 ends with an empty helicopter and rain pouring as we’re set up for what comes next.

And what comes next is an experience that transcends television.

An experience that profoundly explores the depths of Richonne and takes the characters to their highest heights.

An experience that features some of Andy and Danai's absolute best performances.

An experience so great and addicting that every single scene had rewind buttons around the world looking like...

"What We" is a true standout within the TWD franchise, and most of all it's an experience that was exceptionally written by the illustrious Danai Gurira herself. 👑👏🏽

So now, my fellow Richonne fans, stans, & friends...

We have got to talk about every fine detail in the masterpiece that is Episode 4. 😇🎉👌🏽

[all-mirth-no-matter]

Time After Time | Chapter Fourteen

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader, Tommy Shelby x Original Female Character

Summary: Startling revelations ensue after drinking the tea. While you wait for Tommy to return, Benji comes in search for another date. Ada takes you shopping for a new dress to wear to the races.

Warning: language, slight supernatural (kinda?), harassment (not anything explicit but not fun), less tommy in this one but promise next chapter will make up for it!

ao3 link | catch up on tumblr here

Chapter 14: Raise Hell

I found myself an omen, and I tattooed on a sign. I set my mind to wandering, and I walk a broken line. You have a mind to keep me quiet, and although you can try. Better men have hit their knees, and bigger men have died. 

It came upon a lightning strike, and eyes of bright clear blue. I took that tie from around my neck, and gave my heart to you. I sent my love across the sea, and though I didn’t cry. That voice will haunt my every dream, until the day I die.

— Raise Hell, Brandi Carlile 

The tea cup landed on the rug with a soft thud, the hot liquid spilling at your feet — though you couldn’t feel a degree of it. 

Your mouth gapped open at the sight before you — your mother, sitting on the rug across from you, her legs crossed same as yours, as she smiled at you. 

“This isn’t real,” you whispered, still too surprised to move, your heart racing. 

Your eyes searched over your mother’s features, looking for some hint of something fake to indicate the trick that was being played here. 

But there was your mother — as plain as day. There was no otherworldly glow or translucent quality. She looked solid, wearing the same kind of modern shirt and jeans that she would have been wearing back when she was alive, looking very out of place against the 20th century backdrop. 

The only difference between the person in front of you and the memory of your mother was the smile on her face. 

“Real is quite relative, don’t you think, Y/N?”

Her voice sounded the same as well, if not maybe stronger than it had in her last handful of years. 

Instinct to combat your mother reared its ugly head as you scoffed and responded involuntarily, “Quite relative to whether I’m hallucinating or dreaming, sure.” 

Your mother chuckled, “I’ve missed you, my darling. We have so much to talk about.” 

Swallowing, you accepted that whether dream, hallucination, ghost, or indeed real, you’d done this for a reason. You’d been given this opportunity by the Delphi for a reason. It was now or never, and you couldn’t let a little thing like freaking out over talking to your dead mother stand in your way. 

“Do you know what’s happened to me?” you asked, feeling yourself sit up a little straighter. 

Her smile fell, eyes moving around the bedroom before landing back on you, running down the clothes you were wearing. “The curse. It finally came for you, too.” 

“Too? Are you saying—“

“Yes. I too was pulled from my present and into the past. As was my mother, and her mother, and her mother before that.” 

You couldn’t believe it. Of all the things you had expected, this hadn’t even crossed your mind. “How far back?” you wondered aloud.

She shrugged, “Centuries, I suppose. All the first born daughters of this cursed lineage. Cursed to know the future, because it’s our past.” 

So that was the schtick, you realized. You couldn’t predict the future, but you could recall it from a past that hadn’t happened yet — as long as you’d been paying attention. Your mother’s insistence of learning history now made more sense. 

And yet, there was still a big question, one you asked aloud, “Why?”

“I don’t know. That is still a mystery.” Your mother dropped her head slightly out of shame, “Even in death, I’m still searching for answers.” 

I curse you, Cassandra! The voice from your dreams echoed through your head and a crazy realization hit you. “Who was the first?”

Your mother swallowed. “When you were born, I saw a vision of my daughter. A woman who would know the future, just like I did. I heard the whisper of a name. It should have been a warning, but I was under a lot of drugs and hormones and thought the name was pretty. So did your father. We already had your first name picked out so on the spot agreed to name you Cassandra. I had no idea it was the name of our matriarch — of the first to be cursed.” 

“So it’s true, we come from the original Cassandra of Troy?” Your mother nodded and you shook your head. “But that doesn’t make any sense. Say the stories are true — say the Greek Gods really existed — she could actually tell the future and she’s from the ancient past.” 

“Another mystery.” 

You huffed, so sick of the ambiguity. 

“I’m sorry,” your mother said softly, causing you to meet her eyes again. “For lying to you all those years, for confusing you. For causing you grief and madness.” 

You felt a lump in your throat, your chest tight at hearing the acknowledgment you’d wished for your whole childhood. Your brain wanted to comfort her, tell her it was alright, but your heart was more wounded than you’d ever realized.

You swallowed down the rise of tears that were threatening to build and changed the subject. “When were you born?” 

She blinked, aware of your deflection method, and answered. “The early 2020s.” 

“But that’s so—“

“Close?” your mother sighed. “Yes. I grew up blissful — my mother never mentioned her own displacement. So when I was stripped from my loved ones in 2040 to 1990, I was distraught. I was lucky to meet your father, though regretfully I was never able to open myself up completely to him, still mourning the loss of my first love. I would jump from fits of madness to total denial. After we had you, I thought things would be different. But as you grew, I became more suspicious that you would also be stripped away from me, or I you, and the fear drove me mad. So I tried to prepare you. But the closer I got to my own birth date, the madder I became and more desperate for answers I grew. Eventually, I became convinced that I’d made the whole thing up. The line between reality and delusion became nonexistent.”

You felt the tears begin to pool again as you thought about your own struggles with reality since arriving here. Madam Despoina had told you that you were stronger than your mother. But that wasn’t fair. None of this was fair. 

“I’m sorry for your father, as well,” she went on. You opened your mouth to protest, but she stopped you. “I was able to warn him about certain events — terrorism, the housing bubble, natural disasters — but I couldn’t save him, not in the end.”

“Did you ever tell him? Properly, that is?” You found yourself asking, thinking about Tommy.

Your mother shook her head. “Not directly. The best I could come up with was the gift of prophecy. After a while of telling that story, a part of me began to believe it. Believe it for you.”

“I’m sorry,” you found yourself saying, “for being so hard on you. I didn’t understand—“

“And now you do,” she said with a soft smile, “more now than ever. And unfortunately, darling, I’m going to have to put pressure on you one final time.” 

“What do you mean?”

“The curse — it must be broken. You have to find a way to break it.” 

“Me? Why—“ your words stopped as you thought about Madam Despoina’s prophecy. “‘You have a chance to mend ancient mistakes. Break the cursed chain, end the line of travel.’ A woman from the Delphi family who said she was a descendent of the Pythia told me that.” 

She smiled knowingly again, “Your tattoo, ya?”

Your mouth dropped slightly, “You knew?” 

“I have the same one. I had the same impulse before I was pulled away. I didn’t even know you had it until I—“ she cut herself off, looking somber again before clearing her throat. “It’s the tree of knowledge, of balance. But how were you able to find them?”

“I’ve met some people since arriving here. A Romani family that I’ve grown quite close to. One of the brothers specifically, he— he helped me find them.” 

Your mother hummed as she listened, her eyes moving again to the space around you. “What year is this exactly?” 

“January 1919.��� Your mother’s eyes widened. “I’ve been here a few months now.” 

“And I thought fifty years was a shock,” she murmured. “Remarkable. Although the interwar period has it’s merits I suppose. Roaring 20s, jazz, rise of automotives, electricity, women’s suffrage. Though suppose it also has it’s negatives: Great Depression, prohibition, facisism, gangsters—“ You must have had a reaction, because your mother paused. “This man, is he a nice man?”

You swallowed at that, your eyes shifting. “I think he wants to be. But the circumstances are a little more complicated.” 

“Complicated like organized crime complicated?” She retorted, and you were surprised at her humor in the situation. “Oh sweetheart, you didn’t—“ 

You scrunched your face, “I didn’t mean to. There’s been odd coincidences between us since even before we met. I had a vision of him the night I woke up here. He had one of me as well. And then there’s the other dreams—“

“What dreams?”

You took a deep breath, feeling once again like you were in a room filled with puzzle pieces trying to figure out which was the right piece to pick up and share with your mother. “I’ve had dreams. Very real feeling dreams of myself as Cassandra in ancient Troy. They’ve just been pieces though, it still feels incomplete.” 

“You’ve got a strong connection to her,” your mother mused. “There has to be something in those dreams, that story, that can help you?” 

Shifting in your place, she rose her brow at you. A wave of nostalgia hit you as you recalled the look many times from your childhood. She knew you had more. 

“The Delphi woman, Madam Despoina, she— she called him Apollo. It’s his face I see in my dreams when I, as Cassandra, am with him, as Apollo. But I— I don’t know what that means.”

Her eyes narrowed as the muscle in her cheek flinched, “And does he mean something to you?” 

Her question caused your brow to furrow. “What does that have to do with this?” 

“Mother’s intuition, I suppose,” she smiled. “It’s been good to see you, my darling.” 

“What do you—“ 

You blinked. 

She was gone. 

——-

You woke up the next morning on the cold floor of your apartment, the empty tea cup still laying on the rug. 

“Mum!” you exclaimed with a jolt upward, looking to the spot in front of you. 

But of course, no one was there. You were as alone in your apartment as you’d been when you arrived last night.

You reached for the tea cup and knew that it didn’t matter. Yesterday you might have tried to argue with yourself that you’d simply been dreaming or hallucinating, but the time for denial was over. 

Whatever this stuff had been that Madam Despoina gave you had given you the ability to talk with your mother last night. 

As you got ready for your shift at the Garrison, you tried to go through everything your mother had said to you, trying to commit it to memory, afraid that any little bit of it could slip away. 

You were going through it for about the twentieth time when a patron cleared his throat at the bar. 

“Apologies, I was—“ you turned and your customer service smile fell, “Oh, Benji, hello.” 

“I was just coming by to see when you were available next,” he said, offering you his most handsome smile. “No deaths or births or any other excuses this time, eh?”

Your brow lifted, finding that statement slightly rude. It’s not as if you’d blown him off for a headache or something minor — someone had died. 

But you knew what you had to do. Benji had been nothing but nice, if not a little forward, with you since you’d meet. It’d been wrong of you to accept his invitation when you were feeling alone and rejected. You couldn’t allow him to continue to believe he had a shot, but there was no reason to be rude about it. 

“I’ve been thinking about that, Benji, and I just— I don’t think it’s such a great idea.” His smile slowly began to fall as you talked, his brow creasing. “I shouldn’t have accepted in the first place,” you continued, feeling awkward and guilty. 

“Come on, love, you haven’t even given me a chance,” he tried to defend, pulling another smile on his face, though it didn’t reach his eyes. 

“I wasn’t ready to start anything. I’m still— I’m still adjusting and I—“

“Hmm,” Benji shoved his fists in his pocket. “And this wouldn’t have anything to do with the rumors going around of you and Tommy, would it?”

Your mouth opened slightly at the allegation, but you couldn’t form any kind of defense. Instead you crossed your arms, “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” 

“Liar,” he hissed, slamming his fist to the bar top. The handful of patrons in the pub looked toward them, curious by the commotion. Benji noticed the eyes and cleared his throat, lowering his voice as he lifted his finger. “You’re making a big mistake, Y/N. Tommy-boy can’t sit on the throne forever, I’ll make sure of that.” 

He gave you a wicked smile as he turned and left the pub, slamming the door on his way out. 

You contemplated whether you should tell anyone about your interaction with Benji. Unsure if his threats were real or brought on simply by rejection and jealously, you decided to stay quiet for now. 

Things had been quiet for a few days afterwards, but slowly you began to notice some major irregularities in the books. Benji’s numbers were showing signs of stealing again. It started off small, similar to what it’d been when you originally became suspicious of him. But now it was quite obvious.

Finally, you came to the conclusion that you had no choice but to bring this to Polly’s attention. It was early in the morning before the shop opened. Polly was helping with John’s kids while Ada was MIA (though if you were a betting woman, you’d say she was with Freddie), and you found yourself sitting alone at the kitchen table, book open in front of you as you felt weirdly conflicted over Benji’s malfeasance.

In the past, you hadn’t been aware of what happened to the people you reported. But now, you knew that there were physical repercussions for stealing from the Shelbys, even as extreme as death. And whether it was guilt for leading him on or some piece of you that still believed that deep down he was a good guy — you began to contemplate whether he deserved a fair warning before you officially reported him. If he knew that he wasn’t as sneaky as he thought he was, that someone was paying attention to him, maybe he’d realize his mistake and end it before something bad happened to him.

You got up to get some tea, trying to think through how exactly you were going to warn him without giving yourself away, when the front door opened.

“How were the kids?” You asked over your shoulder as you poured, assuming Polly had returned.

“Y/N?”

A deeper voice than you expected came from behind you. Spinning around, you were surprised to find the man himself standing in the kitchen doorway.

Your heart rate surged when his eyes moved curiously from you to the table, the open diary and pencil next to it.

“You–” he started, the gears in his head turning to process the scene in front of him. “It’s been you all along.”

“What are you–” you tried to discreetly walk toward the other set of doors, but Benji rounded the table quicker than you, cutting off your escape routes.

What was the saying about good intentions?

“Benji you shouldn’t—“ you tried to lift up your arms between you.

His eyes narrowed and he took a step toward you. Your back hit the counter behind you as he caged you in. “It’s you isn’t it? I kept trying to figure out how it was Lenny and Jackson got stitched. And there you were all along — the little mouse hiding in plain sight.”

“Get off me!” You shouted as you tried to push him away, but he grabbed your arms. You tried to use some of the self defense moves you’d learned, but Benji was stronger than you’d anticipated, and much more sober than the last man you had to fight off of you in the pub. He spun you around and pinned your arms behind your back, pressing his weight onto you so you were pinned even tighter against the shelves and counter. You tried to kick, but he had your legs locked between his.

You were completely defenseless.

“You think you can fuck with me—“

“I wasn’t— I haven’t said anything–,” you gasped out, your face against the shelves as you tried to catch your breath while still struggling to get him off you. You felt the tears begin to fall down your face as you felt helpless.

“And you fucking won’t! You killed my mates. I’m gonna make you wish you’d never met Tommy—“

“Oi!”

Polly’s voice shouting from the doorway finally caused Benji to release you. At the slightly feel of freedom, you pushed him off and ran for the other other end of the kitchen. You grabbed a near empty bottle near you and threw it at him. He ducked as it broke against the wall behind him.

“Out!” Polly shouted, grabbing his arm and pushing him out the door. “And don’t you dare come back!”

Benji was shouting as well, raving that he was a Peaky Blinder dammit, and no one could stop him from getting what he wanted.

He looked back at you as he said that and you shivered.

Sure, you were shaken by being manhandled like that by someone you thought was a good enough man. But more than that, you were angry. This had been the second time since you’d been here that a man thought he could toss you around like you were some kind of doll.

Polly turned back toward you, and immediately got busy pouring you a cup of tea. She let you take your time as you finally launched into explanation. At the end, she calmly rose from her seat and found Scudboat in the betting den, who’d shown up at some point in all your distraction. You watched as she whispered in his ear and then calmly again walked back toward the kitchen. She reached into a drawer and pulled out a small handgun.

“You know how to use this?” 

Nodding, she handed it to you and told you to keep it on you from now on. 

“Go back to work, Y/N. Benji won’t be bothering you again.” 

——-

Polly had been right. Another week went by and you hadn’t seen or heard a peep from Benji. Part of you wondered if the bastard was dead, and you weren’t sure how exactly you felt when you realized that you didn’t really care. 

You also wondered if Tommy knew now about what happened with Benji. You hadn’t heard from him since he left again, but knew from Polly and Ada that they’d be back by the following weekend. 

In all the excitement, you’d forgotten about Tommy’s invitation to the races. When Ada burst into your apartment to announce that they were going shopping, you’d been surprised. It’d been a while since you’d been to the shops, but you weren’t going to deny the opportunity to find something nice to wear to your first race. 

“I’ve been crying nonstop for weeks,” Ada explained as you both walked around, looking at different fabrics as she pointed out some options. “Every little thing sets me off, I tell ya. I thought it was because of the funeral, but Martha and I weren’t really that close. Suppose it’s sympathy for the kids. Dunno. It’s been making me so tired though. I think I may be ill or something.” 

“Maybe,” you mused, grabbing the dress she handed you. 

A woman caught the corner of your eye. At your gaze, she dropped her head and turned. 

You ignored her, used to people staring when she was out with Ada. You hadn’t understood it when you’d first become friends, but now you realized. 

When you saw her again at the next shop, you began to feel less like it was accidental. 

“Hi,” you greeted when you met her eyes again. She looked away and tried to leave, but you spoke again, “Can I help you?” 

The woman stopped finally and turned, her head down slightly sheepishly. She wore a small hat and trendy dress, her hair was cut short like most women of the day, and you could tell she was quite tall, though she seemed to slouch slightly. Her facial features were sharp, complimenting her slim body shape. She was quite beautiful, and in your day could see her being the ideal supermodel. But the bags under her eyes and wornness of her skin led you to believe that her story probably wasn’t that simple. Not here, in Small Heath. 

“Pardon?” She finally said innocently, trying to subtly give you a once over as well. 

You shrugged, “It just seemed like you were needing something from me. My mistake.” 

You turned to leave but she spoke again. “This is incredibly improper of me, but I saw you and I just— you and Tommy, ya?” 

As you turned back to her, your brow creased. Instinct had you looking around for Ada. Ever since your encounter with Benji, you’d been edgier than you’d ever been, always looking for the exits and for familiar faces to run toward. It made you feel incredibly vulnerable and you absolutely hated it. You felt your fingers grip the strings of your handbag, knowing the gun Polly had given you was safely tucked away inside.

Swallowing, you resounded yourself to shake it off, to toughen up, and you straightened your shoulders as you addressed the stranger once again. “Excuse me?” 

“My sister saw you both walking home often late at night. I suppose he’s moved on, I shouldn’t be surprised.” She was rambling now, her cheeks blushed as if she were embarrassed by her own words. “I know we shouldn’t be speaking of this, not in public at least. It’s just hard, y’know, losing a customer. Especially one like him.” 

Customer. You looked over the stranger in front of you again and tried to think of any other instance where her phrasing would make sense aside from the very clear one that came to mind. 

Ada called for you, reaching you with a handful of dresses. You turned back to the woman who nodded and made her leave. 

“Ada, who was that?” 

She craned her neck and clicked her teeth. “Ah, that was Lizzie Stark. Surprised you haven’t seen her around town. Though why would you, less you were payin’ I suppose. Here, try these on.” 

——-

It’d been a while since you’d been on a real date. Even before you’d been sent to this place, dates had started to dwindle as you got older and got more choosy. For a while, starting in college, you’d easily been able to flirt with someone new, get to know them, and then start a fling for a while until one or both of you got bored. The couple serious relationships you’d had were harder for you. Being vulnerable hadn’t come easy for you, and it created commitment and trust issues. Dates became more complicated than they were worth. 

Tommy had greeted you at your place, and you surprised yourself with how much you missed him in the few weeks he’d been away. There was something about his presence, knowing that he was here, in the city, gave you a wave of some kind of safety and security that you hadn’t realized you’d been missing. 

He looked tired, though he smiled at you warmly as he walked you toward the family car, and offered you a hand in as you climbed in. 

This had been the first time you’d actually been excited for a date since possibly high school. 

And of course, Harry had to go and buzz kill your mood the day before the races. He hadn’t meant to, of course. After the Benji incident, he’d been extra protective and cautious. You’d explained the situation (without the stealing money from the Shelbys part) and he’d been surprisingly sensitive. But he believed his recent pub decision would make you feel better instead of make you sour.

“Somethin’ the matter?” He asked when you were quieter than he expected. “If this is about Hancock—“

“No,” you answered, already knowing from Polly that Tommy and the brothers had learned of Benji’s malfeasance, but he’d disappeared before Scudboat and Lovelock could find him. You’d cursed your previous self for trying to be sympathetic toward the man — it seemed like you’d just made everything worse. “It’s nothing honestly, just something silly.” 

“Go on, then. I can handle silly.” 

Your cheek flinched as you looked over toward Tommy, humored by him even saying the word ‘silly’. He rose his eye brow as he looked over to you, offering you a smirk before pulling his eyes back to the road. 

“Harry’s putting in an advertisement in the paper for another barmaid.” 

Tommy’s smirk turned into a frown, “Is he mad? The place wouldn’t be standin’ without you — I’ve seen the numbers, I know. I’ll have a word with Harry—“

“He’s not replacing me,” you quickly corrected. “I thought the same thing, but he wants me to concentrate more on the books and said he’d rather bring someone in part time to fill in behind the bar.” 

“Ah,” his brow creased as he gave you a short look. “The problem, then?” 

You sighed, knowing that you were being childish. “I’m just feeling territorial, is all. I know I’m not technically being replaced, but part of it feels that way. Did I mention I have a small case of control issues? I blame it on being an only child.” 

Tommy chuckled softly and shook his head. “You have nothing to worry about. If anything it’ll leave more time for you to do your real job.” 

“My real job?” You asked him curiously. 

“The Shelby business, ‘course. Wheels are already in motion, and today we’re going to enact the second part of my plan.” 

“And that is?” 

Tommy smiled, “Gonna buy a horse.”

>> next chapter << chapter masterlist

Tag list: @cillixn @sidefanficaccounttohidemyshame @cillmequick @swordofawriter @sweetmilkshakeluminary @nataliewalker93 @ttae-yong @topstory21 @cole-silas @moral-terpitude @optimisticsandwichgladiator @reallysparklychaos @enrapturedbythemoon @bat-shark-repellant @kpopslur @skxawngs @musicsweetie21 @invisiblexcth @whoisf4yryl0v3r @laylasbunbunny @lordofthunderthr @luvstylesz @roseanimelover @lostgirl219 @berarenado @akemiixx01 @mulletmcghee @jasminxts @oneboygenius @piceous21 @xoprincessmel @the-blueatlas @regatoni1 @goblinjnr @gentyleman @xxbeckybeexx-blog @tanyaherondale @sometimes-i-sing @littlewhiterose @ja-4-leyvam @rubyxx16 @allie131313 @pet1t3 @globetrotter28 @woofgocows @radrouda @wildernessflora @jeysbae @lilianashomaresparza @himikotoga101 @a-asterias @sourholland @samywhale @thecityofspareparts @ponyboys-sunsets @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @vastseamind @optimisticsandwichgladiator @booktvmoviefangirl @drquinnzel0217qqqqqqqqqqq @zodiyack @ofkilljoysandslytherins @bluevenus19 @ce1iat @mgajdaaa @babyotileeblog @arcanebabe @iamtrashsry @snowtargaryen @mottergirl99 @sinarainbows @belledawnidk @laneyspaulding19 @warrior-of-justice @kkrenae @ryswritingrecord @qtkat @monifaagha @avidread3r

[zkaus]

I need to tell you all that I FUCKING CALLED IT over FIFTEEN MONTHS AGO!! And now I don't know whether to celebrate or sob.

Probably both because 😭🫣😂😫 Episode 12 was a revelation!!

But also HOLY SHIT Armand?!?!! You brutal, conniving, sinister, murderous fuck! Way to be book accurate in the WORST possible way 🫣😬

But also... I was so damn close!!

As Armand says in the episode: "Did I catch you in a fantasy, where the boy somehow fumbles his way to publication? Where Lestat strolls past a bookstore, your book displayed in the shop window, where he buys himself a copy, reads your nasty embellishments and comes chasing after you again?"

This literally maps perfectly to how the events of the original novels play out.

Louis impulsively gives an interview (a clear provocation) to Daniel, who then publishes it as IWTV. Lestat wakes, reads Louis' book, and decides to write his own book in response and publicly announce his vampirism to protect Louis (by diverting the other vampires rage towards himself) and to both communicate with and ensure Louis can find him. He is so desperate to find and save Louis, he pulls a gigantic spotlight onto himself this causing the spiral of events in Queen of the Damned and all the rest...

The original interview is the metaphorical spark that the lit the fire (IWTV), and set the house on alight (TVL), that burned the entire neighbourhood to the ground (Akasha). And we all know Louis loves starting fires.

But it never happened so... now we know.

Its ONLY because Armand is still there with Louis in San Francisco that the original IWTV was never published, therefore the events of TVL and QOTD never played out like they did in the novels.

So now we have some confirmation... If Lestat woke up in 1984, he never came out as a vampire, and therefore Akasha never woke up. She's somewhere, sleeping still...

Also here's my (also 15 months old) theory on Dubai....

So in celebration of my apparent predictive accuracy, I have a few more theories to share about season 2, lets see if I'm right...

Or completely off 🫣🤔😂

Season 2 theories:

1. In the books, for years Armand stalked and psychologically tortured Daniel. He was 'fascinated' by him, just like in the show. I think we're going to see that although Armand convinced Louis that Daniel was only involved in 1973, he actually stalked the shit out of Daniel for the next decade (at least!) and probably never truly stopped*

*I'm fairly confident Daniel's apartment is in Trinity Gate (check out those ceilings!), and now we know Armand is into real estate it's even more likely.

2. I think we'll see that Armand moved from obsession with Louis, to obsessively amd sadistically fucking with (and actually fucking) Daniel for years and years. But when Armand eventually genuinely fell in love with Daniel (and it's reciprocated) he freaked the fuck out, and wiped/doctored Daniel's memories. Forced him to forget Armand was ever in his life at all, even manipulated Daniel by transferring his love from himself towards a woman (maybe Alice, maybe his second wife).

Then Armand went back to Louis.

3. I'm about 90% sure that in 1973, Lestat was either locked up (probably locked inside one of Armands horrible drawers in the rubble under the theatre) or horribly incapacitated. Very likely, Armand locked him away after the trial, and kept him there all this time.

In the books, Lestat was sleeping while healing during the events of 1973, so it's possible that he will be in the ground in the show. But by 1984, Lestat able to revive himself (as seen in the opening of TVL). However, in the show Lestat was awake enough in 1973 to speak with Armand. So when Armand told him that Louis was gravely injured (very much like in Merrick) we all know that Lestat would have done everything he could to get to Louis, tried anything to save Louis. So we can only assume that he can't. He's weak, malnourished and most likely imprisoned. And probably reamains so in 2022...

So now, the question becomes where the hell is Lestat right now? He would be with Louis if he could be? What the Fuck did you do Armand?!?

I'll be thinking hard on this one...

What do you think? What are your theories?

.

[ragnarokhound]

Hi wife. Staring at the green dot on your profile like my boy Gatsby and sending increasingly ridiculous asks in the hope of winning your heart.

not to bring up chapell roan, but have we considered the lyric “You could kiss a hundred boys in bars” for recently broken up jaytim?

I’m thinking Tim freaks out about love and affection™️ and totally ghosts Jason after their first kiss/near death experience. Jason runs into him at a club a few weeks later and sees that Tim is potentially kissing boys that ARE NOT JASON — cue angsty drama, maybe another near death experience where they save each other, and jason figuring out Tim ghosted because he’s a big chicken. Then (important for plot and character development) they have dirty dirty sex

Hi wife. You're yearning for something you already hold. Now come inside off the dock, the only thing you'll catch is your death of cold out here 💖 (I swear one of these days I'll find you dramatically floating face down in the swimming pool and it's gonna give me a goddamn heart attack /affectionate)

I'm so glad you know exactly what I like because a) good luck babe plays in my head 24/7 it was absolutely in the rotation when I was writing Secretary fic so how dare you and b) this is so up my alley for jaytim like you don't even know skdjfjks

In fact it's so up my alley that I'm gonna have to slap my response to this one under a cut cause it spiralled out of control:

Idk if you've noticed but I am deeply obsessed with Tim figuring out his own feelings re: Jason first and having a mcfreaking meltdown about them lmao.

Between the two of them, imo, he is much more of an anxious overthinker who will think he's making the most tactically sound decision because he really has thought it through with all the information he has access to -- but he always fails to give full weight to considering the best case scenario when it's something he wants. When it's something he feels selfish about. And boy, does he consider Jason Todd a best case scenario.

And mmmm I am so very here for jealous! and possessive!Jason. Especially when Jason didn't realize what he was feeling until after he's already acted on it. It is the bread and butter. Bonus points if he's not even trying to show it to Tim. Tim isn't the problem.

For instance: Tim's in the club, looking to see if he's just horny and needs to get it out of his system, come on, I cannot muck up the good thing I have just because I want some fuck-- and his prospective dance partners just start to dry up.

Because the big guy who looks like he's done time and a half keeps glaring daggers, keeps shoving his old partners off the dancefloor or knocking into them when they've come back with drinks for the cute twink they were totally gonna score with. Not anymore.

Jason thinks he's doing it because he's looking out for Tim. Because anyone with eyes can tell they just want Tim for one thing, and he deserves so much better than that.

When Tim realizes what's going on, he's already been grinding on this hot buff guy who came up behind him for two songs in a row. Tall, dark and silent keeps stopping Tim from turning around, and he doesn't slip a hand any lower despite all of Tim's silent offerings. Weird, but the anonymous gentleman act is kinda hot, so--

And then he glances at the round, silvered mirror in the corner. He clocks the white streak in the head of black hair dipped low over his, the gun callouses running rough over his bare stomach. He stiffens up in Jason's arms just long enough that he knows Jason knows he's been made. He drags him off to the bathrooms ("come on, handsome") and the second the doors shut and they're alone, he whirls on him.

They argue. Tim is embarrassed and it's coming out as anger, Jason is annoyed (and still processing the revelation he'd been having on the dancefloor, the one where Tim was lithe and warm in his arms, his long fingers twining through what hair he could reach at Jason's nape, where he smelled like sweat and musk and Tim and Jason found himself wanting to know if the gleaming patch of skin in the bare crook of his neck would taste the same--)

Jason is annoyed and has no explanation that will satisfy Tim. He wants to know why Tim ghosted him when the last mission they worked ended in bloody, near-disaster, and the case it was tied to still hasn't fully wrapped. He gets taking a few days off to recover, but it's been longer than that. Way longer, with no contact, no explanation, no 'I got shot so I'm gonna need a week or maybe three'. Wasn't Tim going to finish the job? He told Jason he would help. Did he lie?

It yanks the rug out from under Tim. Makes him feel small, and selfish. He promises Jason he'll come back to the case, he just had some things to figure out. But that's done now.

Jason loses the thread on his irritation as Tim deflates, hates the hunched, defensive hug he's giving himself, looking vulnerable and tired in his scanty clubbing fit under the cold LEDs flickering above the bathroom sink. He catches sight of the fresh pink scar, the one he'd just felt out under his palms not ten minutes ago with something bordering on relief. (And hunger.)

He wants to reach out, "Tim--?"

But Tim brushes past him, fleeing out the door and disappearing through the crowd before Jason can stop him.

-

Everything is fine. Totally 100% fine and dandy--

--is what they both are telling themselves.

Tim is doing his best to stifle his feelings, stomps down on them ruthlessly every time he catches them flaring up, and is counting the seconds until this is finally over and he can get to work dousing the massive fucking torch he's been holding in peace.

Tim comes back to help Jason with the rest of the case, but he's palpably distant, brittle when they banter-- and Jason hates it. He still remembers how Tim felt against him, how he'd melted into Jason, silently begging to be touched. For Jason to touch him.

It's been quietly rearranging some things in Jason's head. He's replayed their argument in the bathroom over and over. He thinks about Tim, about the timing of his disappearance--

(About the bullet he'd dug out of Tim's body, silver and red, and the desperate flow of his blood over Jason's wrists. About the night spent monitoring Tim's condition in a rundown safehouse, feeding him ice chips and brushing the hair out of his eyes, brushing off every bullshit attempt he made to tell Jason he was fine.)

--about figuring things out and avoiding Jason's eyes. And Jason wonders.

They have one last big bust to make, after days of stewing in their own unresolved tension. It goes down textbook; easy. In and out.

Except, at the last minute, during extraction, Jason gets shot. And Tim freaks.

He puts their plane on autopilot the moment they're clear (maybe a few moments before they're clear, actually) and dashes to where Jason is groaning just inside the bay doors. He's tight-lipped and grim-faced; his hands are fast and efficient, but shaking.

"Tim," Jason tries to say, but he gets shushed with a glare.

"Don't talk," Tim clips out. He undoes straps and disarms panels Jason thought were secret, and then he pulls out a pair of medical scissors.

"Tim--" Jason tries again, more urgently, but Tim doesn't even glance at him, just cuts through Jason's undershirt to expose--

"Oh," he breathes.

"Yeah. I'm okay," Jason sighs.

The crunched up bullet is caught in Jason's last layer of kevlar. The round they'd fired on him had been dramatically big, but Jason gets in firefights basically 24/7. He's padded to hell and back, even more than your average Bat. He'll have a wicked bruise and his rib might be sore for a week, but that's about it.

That's it.

Tim is still for an achingly long ten seconds, breathing shallow as he stares at Jason's armor. The proof that it's effective. And then he collapses.

He sits back heavily, elbows on his bent knees as he rubs his pale face. Jason watches as he visibly tries to pull himself back together, but relief keeps shaking him apart. Jason sits up.

Tim startles, tries to stand; Jason doesn't let him.

"Come here," he entreats, tugging Tim closer, firmly by the knees, to sit between Jason's legs with his thighs around Jason's waist, trembling under Jason's hands. "Don't go."

Tim twists his fists in Jason's jacket collar, eyes squeezing shut as Jason tips their foreheads together. Like he can't stand it. Caught in fight or flight-- but flight has been denied him.

"I know," Jason murmurs. "But don't go this time. Don't."

Tim drags in gasping breaths, and Jason runs soothing palms over his thighs, his waist, his arm, his neck. He thinks he understands. This feeling is too big. And if Tim is feeling half of what Jason feels, he gets why he'd want to run from it.

"Don't," he begs against Tim's mouth anyway. He kisses Tim until he moans into Jason, until he's sunk his fingers into Jason's hair; until he's sure he'll stay.

--AND THEN THEY HAVE DIRTY DIRTY SEX ON THE FLOOR OF THE PLANE AMEN

[waltwhitmansbeard]

3, 8, or 10 with dorym please? Whichever sparks your creativity more!

8. letting them collapse against your chest the second they make it through the door after a hellish day i didn't know which ask meme you were referring to so i guessed lol. setting this in a hypothetical post-c3

Zephrah makes Dorian nervous. It's not the people—every person he's met here has been the nicest person he's ever met in his life, and they've all gone out of their way to make him feel at home. It's not the culture, either, which is much quieter and more peaceful than the Silken Squall, just the way Dorian likes it. It's not not the rift to the Elemental Plane, but he's pretty sure that the Ashari have that covered, so he's not too worried.

It's Orym. He's a hero of them realm, a Very Important Person, not just to the Voice of the Tempest, but to all of Exandria. So is Dorian, who is technically—not technically, Orym would say, you're a big damn hero—but here, it's all Orym, all the time. And Dorian is not complaining; it's about time the world gave Orym his flowers, and besides, despite being a performer, Dorian's never reveled in the attention of others.

But all eyes being on Orym means that Dorian's actions reflect on him, and he's terrified of fucking things up for him. Orym has a big position with the Tempest Blades now—Dorian's definitely been told what it is, and he definitely can't remember—and the last thing Dorian wants to do is embarrass him or make the other Blades wonder where he found this blue dork he brought hom.

So mostly he stays home, the little cottage Orym once shared with Will and now shares with Dorian. There are echoes of Will all over the home—his winter clothes in storage, his training sword leaning against the fireplace, his aftershave beneath the bathroom sink—and Dorian is still figuring out how to settle in without erasing his memory. He's learned a lot about Will through the things he left behind, and he's bummed that he's never going to get to meet him. He's pretty sure they would have gotten along.

Like now, when the door to the cottage swings open and a haggard, exhausted Orym limps in, his Sentinel Shield dragging behind him. Dorian leaps off the sofa, where he had been noodling on his lute, a love song he now feels more qualified to sing. "Orym! Is everything okay? You look..." Better to let that though trail off than sound like a dick.

Instead of answering, Orym crashes headfirst into Dorian, who drops to his knees to hug him properly. He can feel every tense muscle in Orym's back loosen as he sighs into Dorian's chest. Dorian cups the back of his head, the other hand splayed across his back to keep him close. "Oh boy, you've had a day, haven't you?"

Orym tips his head to the side just enough to murmur, "I've been through worse, but gods, it doesn't feel like it."

Dorian presses a kiss to the top of Orym's head. "I'm sorry." Then he says something so wholly out of character that he catches himself by surprise. "Need me to crack some skulls?"

Orym stiffens, and Dorian could kick himself. Crack some skulls? Dorian has never said such a thing in his life, and now he's freaked Orym out, because he's a moron who doesn't know what he's doing—

Orym snorts out a laugh, straightening up to smile wryly at Dorian. "Y'know, Will used to say the exact same thing to me, whenever I was cranky."

Oh. "I...didn't know that."

"It's nice to hear it again." Orym kisses his cheek. "I think I'll take a rain check on the skull-cracking. Want to join me for a bath?"

Dorian's face instantly goes hot at the suggestion and warmth in Orym's voice. "Um, yeah, of course. You go run the water, I'll grab us some wine."

"Sounds good." And Orym kisses him again, on the lips this time, tired but smiling. As he trudges off toward the bathroom, Dorian stands and walks shell-shocked to the kitchen. Pulling wine glasses down from their cabinet, he finds himself thinking of Will—or maybe to Will, as if he were praying. Thanks for showing me what to say.

"You comin'?" comes the call from the bathroom.

"On my way!" Dorian pops the cork on a bottle of red, breathes in the fragrant bouquet. I just want to take care of him. I think we both know how much he deserves it. He heads toward the sound of running water, and he swears for a moment he feels a strong, broad hand rest on his shoulder. Dorian smiles, and he thinks that maybe he'll be able to do right by Orym after all.

[obaewankenope]

Hey @writer-in-theory your answer to this ask inspired me! Rip my life and brain because wow I haven't written in ages!!

@kedreeva enjoy some Steddie lol

[Ao3]

.

Steve Harrington isn't gay. That's one thing Eddie Munson knows for a fact. It's like a the earth is round, the sun is the centre of the solar system, kind of fact.

At least, Eddie thought it had been one of those kinds of facts.

Steve Harrington asking him, Eddie, freak, outcast, exonerated-by-Hopper-suspected-serial-killer, Munson to the movies on fucking Valentines Day blows that entire Fact Of Existence out of the fucking water.

"You mean as friends?" Eddie asks, maybe a little desperately to change what he's thinking Steve might actually mean. A lot desperately. Because surely, surely Steve Harrington isn't gay and into Eddie.

Eddie is not that lucky.

"If you want," Harrington replies with such a casual fucking shrug of his shoulders that Eddie wants to scream. He's seen that move from Harrington before. Harrington is humouring Eddie in that too-nice-to-be-selfish way Steve has that Eddie didn't realise he did have until recently.

It's the way Harrington doesn't push any of their party about things even if Harrington really wants to.

It's the way Steve offers his home to all of them, no matter the time of day, if they need a safe space and quiet.

It's the way Eddie has watched Harrington never push or ask for anything for himself beyond the initial, vague comment that no one else seems to realise is Steve Harrington's cry for attention.

And here it is now, with Eddie, offering him a way out of something Steve wants because Steve Harrington won't be selfish and will let Eddie reject him if it makes Eddie more comfortable.

Fucking fuck. 

Eddie suddenly understands how really smart scientists in history felt when they realised one of their Facts Of Existence turned out wrong. And, like those scientists, Eddie isn't going to let himself keep on going with a wrong fact.

He's not a coward anymore. Eddie Munson isn't going to run away from something ever again. 

"No, we can go together," Eddie says, watching Harri- Steve's face. He sees the moment Steve understands that Eddie doesn't mean go together as friends. He sees it when Steve actually realises Eddie understands what Steve wants and is agreeing to it. 

That smile Steve supported from the beginning of their conversation changes then-and-there. "Cool. I'll pick you up at 7:30, yeah?"

"Yeah, Steve." Eddie nods and watches Steve realise he's late for work, Robin is gonna be opening alone and is going to murder him for it, and that this really is happening. "It's a date," he calls out to Steve's rapidly retreating back as Steve rushes to his car.

Steve freezes mid-step and turns to stare at Eddie. There's that shocked sort of delight on his face that Eddie's only seen the kids bring out when they surprised Steve on his birthday with some truly awful singing.

Eddie gives him a smirk. "Right, Harrington?"

"Right, Munson," Steve says after a moment, face turning bright with a grin that Eddie has never seen on his face. Not directed at Eddie, anyway.

Wheeler got it several times when they dated in high school. Now it's Eddie's to receive.

"Robin's gonna kill you for being late," Eddie comments and Steve snorts.

"Not when I tell her you actually said yes to me," Steve replies, "she's been at me to ask you out for months."

Eddie blinks. "Months?"

Steve blushes. "Yeah, uh, I wasn't sure how you'd react do I kept putting it off," he admits. "Didn't want to put it off any longer though. You're too good to let someone else ask you first."

Eddie snorts, thinking Steve is being snarky before he realises, Harrington actually believes that. Steve Harrington thinks he had competition for Eddie's hand. Holy shit.

"Good thing you did then," Eddie shoots back, entire being amazed at this revelation that Steve Harrington wants him enough to not let someone else ask Eddie out for Valentine's. Jesus Christ, Steve likes Eddie, the freak, Munson. 

"7:30 Harrington," Eddie reminds him, putting this earth-shattering revelation to the side for the moment.

Steve nods. "7:30, yeah."

They stare at each other, a distance between them that means nothing now Eddie sees Steve properly for the first time. He understands the expression on Steve's face for what it is: longing and affection and desire. Eddie isn't too sure his own face isn't reflecting the same right back for Steve to see.

"You're gonna be so late," Eddie says eventually and the moment breaks. Steve blinks, curses, and dives at his car. "Good luck, Harrington."

Steve groans as he starts his car. "Pray for me," he shouts at Eddie as he reverses away.

Eddie laughs and gives Steve's car a salute. "No promises," he shouts back as Steve drives off, leaving Eddie at his trailer with his whole world tilted on a new axis of reality.

Because Eddie Munson knows now, Steve Harrington isn't straight, is the real fact. And after their date, he discovers another to go with this new Fact Of Existence:

Steve Harrington loves Eddie, the freak, Munson.

Of course, that one has its own Fact Of Existence accompanying it that Steve Harrington gets to discover too:

Eddie Munson loves Steve, the hair, Harrington.

[drop a tip, like, reblog, message, whatever, at me if you liked this and maybe want more fic from me in the future]

[echooefrost]

HERE WE GO - Last Minute Thoughts about the Upcoming Chapter 

These are some Things Sage has stated about Chapter 15: 

We are heading towards the climax of the story, (it’s going to be a lot)

A lot of Frankenstein and Jekyll stuff 

The Background (and possibly the lighthouse) reflects an important moment in the chapter 

The foreshadowing [on the chapter cover] is heavy 

Personal predictions and Final Theory time: 

We are getting a Frankenstein Character (redemption of sorts) arc. Frankie was never a direct morally wrong character but she was an antagonist to Jekyll, and that’s what counts. With this new found ‘revelation’ I think we'll be getting lots of Frnakenstein and Jekyll having to work together. I don’t think that they’ll be “best friends! Let’s bury the hatchet, all good, no problems.” But more of a comfortable and slightly awkward acceptance for one another, where Frankenstein isn’t such a hypocrite and directly against Jeykll who is just trying to keep everything going, and for Jekyll to not care so much about others opinions and his own reputation, hopefully delving back into more arcane sciences himself. (not immediately change but the start of it at least) 

We are still yet to deal with the protestors out the front of the building so I think that’s the problem that Jekyll/Hyde and Frankenstein are going to have to tackle together because neither of them benefit from this rowdy and conservative victorian mob. I’m hoping we’ll get to see Jasper and possibly some other Lodgers come into play here, in trying to also help and stop the mob, to show Jekyll that he doesn’t have to try and fix everything himself. 

NOW, More onto the topic of the Chapter cover, As I have previously stated (on other mediums) Jekyll will go off the rails, this man is not okay, he is not mentally stable and he is about to absolutely snap. Though I would have already predicted this as we are heading towards the climax of the story and that Jekyll’s Character arc seemed to be heading in that general direction, the Chapter Cover really just confirms all of this (Just look at that guy's face! Evil!!!) 

To add onto the cover, we are yet to decipher exactly what the Shoreline/cliff and Lighthouse represent: 

a.) This could be a flashback or some sort of memory within the mindscape. I can see this happening in terms of everything (both Jekyll/hyde’s physical and shared body membrane) starting to collapse and as a desperate attempt to gain control the mind/body starts to freak out and start relaying old memories/places from the past as it tries to make sense of everything.

b.) This is an Actual Location that some of the Cast will go and visit within the Chapter. I’m not too sure about this one as the entirety of the comic has been set in London so far but it’s always a possibility! It looks as if the shoreline is somewhere in the U.K. I’m more inclined to believe it’s in Scotland, as Jekyll/Hyde are Scottish and would relate to their past etc. I’m not sure why they would go outside of London, but maybe it’s a frankenstein-related decision… 

c.) IT’S ALL A BIG METAPHOR!!! (so this is what I personally believe it to be.)  Knowing Sage’s Tendencies, they love to foreshadow shit in the Chapter covers. They even said so themselves: The Background reflects an important moment in the chapter AND The foreshadowing [on the chapter cover] is heavy. Ok but, What is it foreshadowing exactly? I think the Cliff is symbolic of falling, Jekyll’s fall from sanity, security of self and control. And because he’s falling Hyde has to go down too (because this is all his fault! - says Jekyll probably) The lighthouse I’m not exactly sure of yet but I think that it’s probably a person (either Jasper or Lanyon) Lighthouses symbolise, guidance, hope and safety. I think this person will help pull Jekyll/Hyde out of their spiral and help ground them back to reality (when we get an inevitable breakdown of sorts) The other possibility is that the lighthouse symbolsies an event (kind of what sage stated) but I like the person theory a bit more,,, Lastly the outfits, I don’t think they are really symbolic of anything but purely there to serve aesthetic purposes (similar to Jekyll and Lanyon’s outfits from Chapter 13) BUT If we are theorising, it could show the difference of how Hyde is is turing less ‘Hyde’ opposed to Jekyll because he’s wearing a fancier outfit than normal. But Jekyll does look slightly like a sailor here, adding to the theory that we will go to the ocean (and or) a Lighthouse. 

Alright this is getting kind of big so I’ll leave it here. Before the Page drops I think it’ll pick up where we left off (with Frankestien and Hyde) ALSO First Hyde/Frankenstein interaction incoming!!! Suffice to say I am extremely excited and worried at the same time. Oh boy here comes the Angst… Anyway, This is just me rambling, Let me know what you think! I love theorising and this Chapter has got me all types of pumped : O