#j-reau

ur plan is actually to take over tumblr and install your dykenda which is to make every muse a lesbian 

her eyes widen when she recognized the face. her mind blanked, her body was moving out of its own volition. addison crouched down and gingerly, she pressed her palm against the other’s face. she looked at her and her brows furrowed.  

“ what... what happened?”  her voice croaked from inutility. taking a deep breath, addison began assessing the situation at hand. 

     ❝ My mom was a cop, so the whole intimidation thing won’t work on me! ❞  The words are directed towards the mirror in the small room and truth be told, they’re more of a bluff than anything. Still, several more moments tick by and nothing. Granted, this isn’t their usual brand of beat cops bumbling their way through an interrogation. This is serious. When they were ushering her in ( for her “safety” --- but she suspects it’s more to keep her out form beneath their feet than anything )  she heard murmurs of the FBI being called in. Which means this thing? The string of bodies she’s been researching for the better part of three months? It’s not the fluke they try to play it off as. She’s on to something. And she’s stuck in an interrogation room so they can try and pull it out of her. Exhaling, Caroline goes back to pacing back and forth along the short length of the room as the minutes tick by, her fingers tapping against her folded arms. 

you wear the burden:   a charmed au

Send  ☁  for a moodboard of our muses!   /   selectively accepting   (  I know you didn’t send it but it was on my mind  )

@j-reau​ plotted starter

Glorious peace in the large foyer of the Mikaelson’s mansion is interrupted by the large, wooden double doors slamming open and the sound of several excited voices (Kol’s being the most prominent) as a group apparates in. Rebekah’s four-inch heels carry her to the entrance in a hurry with her wand held firmly in her grasp. Kol looks in her direction with a wide, open-mouthed grin. “Lookie what I wrangled up, sister. She’d be exactly your type if it weren’t for the hideously dirty blood.” With a flick of his wand, he releases the petrification spell on the prisoner in grey robes and lets her fall to the floor, face first. 

It’s a face that Rebekah thinks she recognizes, but she’s unsure. More so, she’s disbelieving. She steps closer, and closer, until she’s standing right above the woman with her wand at her side. The rest of the lackeys draw their own wands while Kol stands there with a smile like a court jester. Rebekah kneels, and uses the tip of her wand to push blonde hair away from the unfortunate soul’s face. 

Just as she thought. It’s Jennifer bloody Jareau. 

Her jaw twitches around clenched teeth. Memories of a broken heart that never quite healed itself flood her emotions like she’s sixteen again. She didn’t think she’d ever have to process those emotions while the real thing existed before her instead of old Quidditch posters whose numbers have dwindled in the common wizard household since JJ had retired from the very game that she’d left Rebekah for. But maybe this is her repayment for having to experience those emotions. This is her sweet poetic justice.

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄   𝐀𝐑𝐄   𝐀   𝐅𝐄𝐖   𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒   𝐒𝐇𝐄'𝐒   𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐃   𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄   𝐌𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆   𝐉𝐉.   being prepared for the other woman to touch down at any point during the day (  or night  )  and making herself available for her.   keeping a fully stocked first aid kit.   gaea can say both of those things have come in handy tonight as she carefully cleans the blood from the other woman’s knuckles.   if there’s a story to be told it hasn’t been shared and she’s not going to ask.   if silence is what the agent needs,   she’ll give it.   because giving of herself to someone who gives everything for strangers is the right thing to do.   and because she cares too much to make her face anything she isn’t ready for.