#ariyah thomas

Kris had no trouble making friends when she was younger, but after the divorce, she’d become more guarded. Moving to Paris with her kid had brought a few friendships, but none really felt substantial. Since returning to Northknot, she’d focused on her career, being there for Parker, and mending family bonds. She wasn’t looking for new friends but was grateful for the ones she had. A few months back, Parker had gotten lost at the hospital trying to find her, and Ariyah, a reserved detective, had helped them find her office and sat with Parker until Kris was out of surgery. It meant a lot to her, and since then, they've become friends; both still kind of reserved but friends nonetheless. Returning to the living room, Kris placed a refilled tray of snacks beside their Monopoly board. She eyed the board thoughtfully before giving Parker a look. “Alright…” she started, watching them break into laughter. “One of you moved my piece.” She returned her token to its spot and reached to tickle Parker. “I should’ve known it was you, silly goose.” Glancing at Ariyah, she grinned. “I thought you’d at least have my back against this gremlin!” Kris shook her head, laughing, before looking back up at Ariyah. “Let me know if you need a refill on your wine or anything,” she offered, settling back down to start her turn. @hxrricvnes

Isa swam gracefully toward the surface, her mermaid tail shimmering beneath the water before shifting seamlessly into human legs. She broke through the waves, reaching the shore in no time, and grabbed the towel she’d left there earlier that day, fresh from visiting her parents in the kingdom. Being the princess, first in line to be Queen, came with its challenges, and keeping her relationship with Clary a secret was one of them. For months, Isa had been working on a plan to make their love story possible, somehow living life on both land and sea. She just needed a few more weeks to make it happen. Now dried off and dressed, Isa made her way off the beach, heading toward the small restaurant along the shore. But before she could get there, she literally bumped into Ariyah. They’d been friends once... until Isa ended things and the guilt still hung in the air. Eyes glued to her phone, Isa hadn’t noticed her until it was too late. "Oh, Ari, hi," she blurted out, startled. "Sorry about that. I really need to stop texting and walking. It's a dangerous game." @hxrricvnes

The bullpen had finally quieted after the announcement. Not silent, never silent, but that particular hum had shifted. Different. Charged. Word traveled fast in a station like this, and Waverly could feel it in the way eyes tracked them just a second longer than usual. They didn’t knock on Ariyah’s office door. They never did. Instead, Waverly leaned against the frame, arms folded, suit jacket still crisp from the impromptu congratulations gauntlet they’d endured all morning. “You look disappointed,” they said dryly. “What, were you hoping they’d give it to O’Brien?” A beat. The faintest smirk. They pushed off the frame and stepped inside, shutting the door behind them with a quiet click. The humor didn’t vanish, but it shifted. Settled. “I won’t drag this out,” they said, moving to stand in front of her desk. No folder this time. No theatrics. Just intent. “The city doesn’t know yet. They’ll make it official next week. But before that circus starts, I need my house in order.” Their gaze locked with Ariyah’s. Steady. Measuring. Proud. “I need a captain I trust.” A pause, deliberate. “Someone who doesn’t flinch when things get ugly. Someone who understands this department, this town, and the line between instinct and impulse.” Another step closer. “I want you to step into my old job.” Silence stretched, but it wasn’t heavy. It was electric. “You’ve already been doing half of it anyway,” Waverly added, quieter now. “This just makes it official.” Then, because they couldn’t help themselves, “And before you answer, understand something. I don’t hand out promotions because I like someone.” A brow arched. “I hand them out because I believe in them.” A beat. “So. Detective.” @hxrricvnes

The station was quieter than usual, save for the distant hum of the vending machine and the low crackle of a police scanner. The kind of lull that never lasted long in Northknot. Waverly stood in the doorway of Ariyah’s office; no knock, just presence, sharp and sure like always. A cup of coffee in one hand, a folder in the other, and that look that said get ready, something’s coming. "Hope you didn’t plan on coasting through the afternoon, Detective," they said dryly, setting the folder down on the desk with a practiced thud. "We've got a body out by the old rail yard. Weird setup, no clear cause, and enough red flags to start a parade." She stepped back, sipping her coffee, eyes never leaving Ariyah’s. "You’re taking point. Time to earn that badge I practically wrestled outta the Commissioner's cold hands for you." Then, softer, almost like an afterthought, but not really, they added, "I wouldn’t hand it to you if I didn’t think you were ready. So don’t prove me wrong." And with that, Waverly turned, already walking. "Let’s move." @hxrricvnes

The cafe was quiet, just the way Theo liked it; no one asking questions, no one expecting answers. The hum of the espresso machine dulled into background noise as he nursed a lukewarm cup of black coffee, one hand cradling the mug while the other held open a book he wasn’t really reading. Words blurred on the page, but he kept his eyes on them anyway. Safer that way. Until the door chimed. He heard her before he saw her; felt her, really. Like the room shifted, just slightly, to make space for the ghost in his chest. Ariyah. Of course she would show up here, today, of all days. They hadn’t spoken since New Year’s. That... scene. The awkward glances, the too-long silences. The way she smiled like she didn’t mean it and he laughed like it didn’t hurt. Now here she was. And because fate had a flair for cruelty, of course she noticed him. Of course she started walking toward his table. Theo straightened, closing his book with the slow precision of someone preparing for impact. He looked up, tried to will some version of neutral into his features. Not cold. Not vulnerable. Just—“Ariyah,” he said, his voice catching somewhere between breath and thought. And then, just as he opened his mouth to say something more, something careful, something not careful at all, she started talking. @hxrricvnes