#cause its tang telling the story right? so I’m guessing he just jumps and assumes a bunch unreliable narrator type beat

[litt1e-prince]

saw a post about how DBK and PIF are bad parents and if I had less self control I’d make a whole post explaining why they are good parents cause you see-

#lays down u don’t get it #he didn’t see his dad for 500 years he doesn’t know what his dad is like or how his dad will react #so red son constantly overshoots to make his dad proud #and even tho he fails a WHOOOOLE BUNCH #his dad (who also hasn’t seen his son in 500 years and doesn’t know who he is or how he reacts to things) #constantly gives him the chance time and time again to fail and try again #cause he can tell that this is importsnt— THEY ARE BONDING #THEY DANCE AROUND EACH OTHER AWKWARDLY BUT ITS THEM BONDING #rubs eyes I gotta go back to sleep but I have lots of thoughts about the demon bull family #mainly cause I was watching this whole show with friends and they were all like #‘wow that family sucks. they all suck. why does dbk keep giving his son a chance? just tell him no and do it yourself’ #and I slowly watched the opinions turn into ‘they’re a good family. he loves his wife so much and he would do anything for his son’ #and it’s tRUE! #I think in the beginning it’s meant to be implied they’re all horrible towards each other cause they’re demons #it’s meant to warp your perspective until later episodes and you realise that was just them bonding #cause its tang telling the story right? so I’m guessing he just jumps and assumes a bunch unreliable narrator type beat #I say it’s tang telling the story cause it ends/starts with him and he’s constantly writing down in his diary the tales #LIKE WUKONG AND NEZHAS FIGHT- if he wrote it down from Nezhas perspective it would prolly be different but we only saw wukong perspective #so that’s what tang writes down (and this what the audience sees) #it’s why there’s that whole thing of seeing the bad guys version of events but not seeing wukongs- which is why people like macaque so much #oh I could analyse this show so much #me? me? I’m ill I could connect dots that don’t even exist #smudgie talk

[missbrightsky]

I didn’t know where else to go

Fics Masterlist

Chapter 4: Feyre

Prick prick prick prick prick prick prick prick prick prick prick prick prick prick prick prick prick prick prick prick prick prick prick prick prick prick prick

Only by chanting that word over and over again in my head did I manage to make it home to change and then to the precinct without grinding my teeth too hard. I was late to work, beat to hell, and oh, had just slept with the guy I was trying to arrest and am now secretly working with him. Lucien is going to have a fucking field day.

But he can’t know anything about the past 24 hours, I reminded myself, resolving to lie my ass off. My jaw instinctively tightened, pulling the sore muscles which caused me to wince and make it hurt even more. Stupid thugs.

I spared a minute back in Rhysand’s home to look over my injuries from the night before. Dark bruises covered most of my torso but no broken ribs, at least. My face was a mottled canvas of greens and blues and blacks with a laceration on my hairline. How the hell I had managed to have the best sex of my life while this injured… blame it on the alcohol. Along with all my other decisions, I guess. The hangover didn’t help my state either, but Rhys’s packed breakfast of bacon and toast soaked up some of the acid in my stomach.

Prick prick prick prick prick prick prick prick prick prick prick prick prick prick prick prick prick prick prick prick prick prick prick prick prick prick prick

Finally, the precinct came into view. Simple black letters on white background indicated the entrance.

Velaris City Police Precinct No. 12

The towering brick building housed my coworkers and I, along with countless generations before us.

Let’s get this over with. I pushed in the glass doors, shooting a small wave to the front desk, hoping they were too busy to notice my bruised face.

The rickety ride up the elevator to the third floor was a comforting familiarity, the tang of sweat and metal stinging my nose. Too soon, the door opened to the bustling room, officer buzzing about on their daily grind. A flash of red caught the sunlight from the far end. Lucien was spinning around in his chair.

Someone is bored without me.

Pushing through the gate, I avoided casting my usual hellos in a vain attempt to slip by unnoticed. It almost worked until a booming voice stopped me in my tracks.

“Detective Archeron, why are you almost two hours late?”

Shit

I slowly turned towards the source, keeping my head low. “Sorry, Captain Cartana,” I said, “I had a rough night. I’ll stay late today to make up for it.” Please let me go, please let me go, please let me—

“What happened to you face?” the words were soft, compassionate, worried. Helion Cartana could be a harsh captain but he genuinely cared for the well-being of his staff.

I braved a look up into his face, gaging the emotions there. Frustration at my tardiness was fading into a quiet rage. Not at me, but for who presumably did this to me. His amber eyes turned molten, making my fingers itch to pick up a paintbrush and capture their unholy violence.

“Ah...,” my mind scrambling. Truth or lie, lie or truth. Both. “I was on my way home from grabbing a drink and three men got the jump on me. Bunch of jackasses who got off on beating someone up. Didn’t even make it worth my while by trying to steal my phone or wallet.” The shallow attempt at humor fell flat when it failed to dispel Helion’s rage.

Most of the floor had fallen silent at this point, monitoring the captain, ready to jump into action if he ordered it.

“Do you need to go to the hospital?” his voice was still soft, his finger hovering near my shoulder.

I straightened my spine and met his eyes with quiet steel of my own. “No, it looks worse than it actually is,” only a tiny lie, I was stiffer than I wanted to admit.

“I want the report on my desk in an hour,” and that was it. He strode back to his office, barking orders to get back to work.

I didn’t meet any of the eyes that were still staring at me, I didn’t want to see the pity that might be there. I didn’t deserve it.

“I rescind my texts about the hot date,” Lucien appeared at my right, taking in my appearance. “Why didn’t you call me?”

I blew out a breath, “Because I’m a proud bitch and didn’t want to bother you. Like I said, it looks worse than it is,” I made the brush past him, but his hand lashed out and gripped my elbow. I winced at the force and then inwardly cursed at the show of pain.

“Liar,” he hissed, pissed that I would try to pull the wool over his eyes. He was always too good at telling when someone was lying. Great for being a detective but shit when you needed to hide things from your friend.

I shot a glare at him and he let my elbow go. I hadn’t fooled him, but we had other matters to attend to right now. His answering glare meant that I was going to get hell from him later.

I settled into my chair and started pulling up files. On top of the Veritas Crime Syndicate, I had my usual cases of homicide, burglaries, hit and runs, and other assorted goodies. I put the file on Veritas to the side, not even wanting to think about them at the moment, even with more information to chew on now.

Might as well fill out my attack report for the captain now. The basic form was an easy way to settle into the workday and allowed me to get my story straight before any more pressing questions came my way.

I went to a bar that was a few blocks from my house, got a drink, and when I exited, there were three men that I wasn’t able to make out that jumped me and beat me. The lie was believable enough because my apartment was in a seedier part of town, the best I could afford on a detective’s salary while also feeding my painting habit.

I could feel Lucien’s eyes burning a hole in my forehead, but I diligently ignored him, focusing on the screen in front of me.

When it was done and believably passable, I printed it off and knocked on Helion’s doorframe.

“Captain?”

He motioned for me to come in and place the paper on his desk. I remained standing, waiting for his dismissal.

He looked over the form, frowning at what was probably my lack of caution and inability to identify the men. Cases like these were becoming more common. Darkness made men bold, making it easy for them to cower behind its cover. Gang and criminal activity seemed to be on the rise, frustrating precincts all over the city and forcing the police to start pulling more overtime shifts to compensate.

Maybe this is because of Amarantha setting her eyes on my city. Icy rage began to sluice through my body at the thought. I would have to ask Rhys if her presence also encouraged more criminal activity.

The captain looked up, again taking in my injuries and how I held myself. One sleek eyebrow raised, starting to not believe my lie about not needing the hospital.

“And you’re sure you didn’t see their faces?” he asked.

“No, sir. It was too dark, and they were too quick. I…,” shit, might as well, “I may have had more than one drink, sir,” wincing at the words.

He only nodded, maybe a slight amount of judgment peeking through. “Very well, investigate as you see necessary.” He looked down at the reports on his desk, a clear dismissal.

Now to pass the next hurdle. Lucien will not be as easy to convince.

Once at my desk again, I started sifting through the new cases on my desk, sorting them by importance, and marking any that might be a lead into Veritas by pure habit. Lucien was doing the same at his desk across from me, making a point to ignore me.

“Sorry I couldn’t grab you a white mocha,” I tested out, looking for a way to break the tension. His amber eyes met mine. Cool anger regarded me for a moment, as if he was deciding to either let it go or press on.

I guess my bruised state gave him an inch of pity and a small smile slipped through his mask. “It’s tragic but I think I’ll live.” I returned his smile, glad that he wasn’t completely upset with my lie.

My phone buzzed, drawing my attention away from Lucien’s forgiveness.

Prick: Should I assume your bloody shirt is forfeit and throw it away or do you want it back?

My jaw tightened at the message that flashed on my screen, causing more pain to ripple through my face. I just wasn’t learning my lesson about that, was I?

Darling: What. The fuck.

Prick: Personally, I would like to keep it as a reminder of the time you showed up on my doorstep begging for my help.

Darling: First of all, I wasn’t begging. Second of all, how the fuck did your number end up in my phone.

Prick: I put it in when you were passed out on my couch. Thought it might be useful for instances like this.

Prick: I guess you’re right that you weren’t begging, that came later ;)

I am going to kill him the next time I see him, the thought burned through my mind. I schooled my features into forced neutrality. I was already up shit creek and didn’t need Lucien asking about who I was texting that was making me see red.

I decided to ignore his flirting, already resolved to never make that mistake again.

Darling: Burn it, I don’t need any reminders from last night.

A bit harsh but I needed to get it through his thick handsome skull that last night was never going to happen again.

Prick: I think I’ll keep it then, if you care so little for it.

Darling: Fine.

I thought that was the end of the conversation, about to toss my phone in my bag and try to salvage the rest of my workday. Another text came through just before I tucked it away.

Prick: The actual reason I’m texting is that I wanted to invite you to dinner. If you’re going to help me stop Amarantha, I need you to meet the rest of my family.

The message caused me to pause, a war igniting in my mind. He was right about me needing to meet the others, they could be useful assets. But I also didn’t want to have any contact that was more than necessary.

Prick: Feel free to say no, but I think you’ll hurt Mor’s feelings.

I typed out several messages, each longer than the last and filled with questions before settling for short and simple. The time for questions would be later.

Darling: When and where? Not public.

Prick: My place, tomorrow night, 7:30

Darling: I’ll be there.

And just because I couldn’t resist, damn him.

Darling: I’m not changing your name in my phone.

Prick: I wouldn’t have it any other way.

For a minute after that text, his bubbles popped up and down, like he was debating if he wanted to send a follow-up. I inwardly smirked at his indecision; it was nice to know that he wasn’t completely infallible.

Prick: Do you want to know what your name is in mine?

This was getting dangerously close to flirting territory, damn him twice.

Darling: Detective? Bitch? Feyre?

His response wasn’t immediate, and I had almost given up and gone back to work when it popped up.

Prick: Darling

I stifled a groan and finally tossed my phone away, done with hearing his midnight voice in my head. He can interpret my lack of response any way he wants to, I have actual work to do.

#acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #feyre #rhysand #rhys #feyre x rhysand #sarah j maas #sjm #fanfic