#pennedby

god your way with words is so concise, and clear, and enlightening as to how Jace is feeling at any point in time and god the amount of aus you have with jace in general just gives you so much room to be able to stretch your muscles with him and build up your grip on his character and you know what ? it SHOWS. no matter what world you throw him in, no matter what time period, I can read up on your verse and see your posts about it and nod to myself like ‘ yep, a perfectly jacaerys thing to say and do’ . no matter where you take him, no matter what circumstances change you give his character the respect it deserves and it shows in the choices you have him make, and it makes every new au you make so genuinely intriguing to watch and see how you develop it because I know you’re always going to do that boy the justice he deserves regardless of how far you stray from his main canon in the process and I’m always sat ready to perceive it

“tonight was nice  —  really. it’s just...” she paused, taking a far too long sip of her drink. christ, it was empty now and willow was all out of options for stalling her own response. “i mean.... i didn’t even want to go on a date tonight. it’s nothing personal! i just haven’t exactly been looking to date but then jess hit me with the whole guilt tripping thing and i really just don’t think that’s healthy grounds to grow a relationship on, y’know? because a mutual friend forced us into it?”

oh, there she is. “you did great today. in the --- your cheering thing. you couldn’t even tell you were injured, you were like ------ fuckin’ iron man.” is it obvious he’s drunk ?? 

betty’s been standing outside for a while, trying to work up the courage to do what she wants to do - bang on the door until whoever owns the speakers playing the obnoxiously loud techno answers, so she can give them a piece of her mind. what happens is more of a gentle rap on the door. make no mistake, though, she may not be used to yelling but she may just start when the door finally swings open. “hi. i live on the floor below you and --- just, has it ever occurred to you that people living in college accommodation might need to actually, i don’t know, study ??” she’s being too harsh; she’ll reel it in. “can you just turn it down a little ??”   

so, alex has taking up running. he’s not good at it and he’s not sure if he even enjoys it -- he hasn’t enjoyed a sport since he was seventeen and the angriest player on the rugby pitch, before he learned that he was good at repressing rage - but maybe that’s the point, maybe he feels like he needs punishment; there’s a massive andrew porter-shaped hole gnawing at his chest and he has no one to blame but himself. he thinks it’s mostly fear that’s making him avoid each and every one of andrew’s calls since that dinner a few weeks ago. then again, he’s never been good at examining his own emotions, so ANYWAY. he’s just finished a breezy 5k, wheezing and gasping all over the drinks aisle while he tries to find a sports drink that’s not so full of caffeine it’ll send him into spontaneous cardiac arrest. it almost feels typical, like fate, when he finally grabs a gatorade and straightens up just to come face to face with his ex. is he an ex ?? whatever, he definitely will be after this, because somehow the only thing alex can think to say is, “are you following me ???”  

“two things,” alex starts as he finally lets himself fall onto the sofa, dropping the thick contract he’s spent most of the saturday poring through onto his lap. “red or purple flowers for the wedding reception, because people keep insisting that it’s important,” his face indicates that he thinks it’s anything but important, “and do you want take-out for dinner ??” 

it isn’t like it’s wise to be chasing eva’s company at the best of times - the best of times being when he hasn’t killed in over 48 hours - but it’s definitely not wise now, when he’s just stashed his blade and mask, still marked with specks of oliver beatty’s blood, deep in the woods. he can’t keep away, though he’ll tell himself it’s an alibi, and that’s why he clings onto the roof tile below her window with one hand and raps on the glass with the other, adrenaline pumping enough to make him shake.  

it’s not like inez expected a barn dance in their tiny town to be anything except tragic but in all sincerity - she never expected it to be this fucking tragic. it doesn’t help that casey, becca, tony OR valkyrie ( her name is victoria, she’s been at art college for, like, one fucking term and decided to demand everyone call her that, god ) aren’t back for the holidays yet, so it’s just her, her phone and a dead group chat to keep her company. she’s keeping one eye lazily on her little sister to make sure she doesn’t get a splinter or what the fuck ever when a shadow falls across her form. she squints up with a ready-to-please smile that quickly freezes when she realizes who it is. “oh.” there’s far too many beats. “hey !!”  // @pennedby​