A Legend Is Born (It's not all about Fiore)

[notahorseindisguise]

the "came back wrong" trope except like... they didnt. like this mad scientists wife died, and so he studied necromancy, brought her back, and she came back and it all worked. like she came back exactly the same as she was before with literally no difference. but the scientist guy is like "oh no... what have i done.... shes Different now!!!! she came back Wrong!!!!" and shes just like. chilling. reading a book. cooking dinner. shes just so so normal but in the guys mind hes like "oh shes soooo weird" but shes just normal

[mysticorset]

Peer reviewed tags from @somanyofthekids

[notahorseindisguise]

NO its a JOKE and YOU DONT GET IT. ITS NOT THAT DEEP

[hiveswap]

While she was dead he put his memory of her on such a high pedestal that she could never live up to it alive

[midnight-revolucion]

alternatively‚ she came back perfectly fine but he thinks she came back wrong‚ because the tragic reality is that he never actually knew his wife

[notahorseindisguise]

im going INSANE thats MY POST.

[marlinspirkhall]

It's your post but the journey to posting it changed it to such a degree that even its closest intimacies are now foreign to you. Sorry dude.

[pertoasted]

OC ASKS FROM MY PHONE IDK

4: Would your OC want to involve themselves in humanitarian work ? If yes, then for what? If not, then why not? 6: Does your OC have a realistic image of their own intelligence? 7: Does your OC have any irrational phobias? 12: What is one of the most primary things your OC feels that is missing from their life? 13: What kind of situations does your OC avoid the most? 19: What boosts your OC’s confidence the most? 25: How would your OC process the grief caused by the death of a loved one? 30: What makes your OC defensive quickest? What outfit or style of clothing is your character most often seen wearing? What would be an average shopping list for your character? Does your character have a dream job or life path for themselves? What’s your character’s preferred method of self-care? When does your character feel truly at peace? What’s one thought, idea, goal, dream, or desire that your character is most ashamed of having? How does alcohol affect your character? What words would your character use to define themselves?

[paperwick]

Questions to ask your OC

How would they solve the trolley problem?

When does human life begin?

Are the police a force of good?

Is it okay to lie to protect yourself?

What political party do they most closely align with?

Does the government have the right to override bodily autonomy?

Do they support the draft? Would they draft dodge?

Is it okay to use human experimentation to further science? Animal experimentation?

Is being rich a moral failing?

Is it the responsibility of the minority to advocate for themselves?

Can the majority ever be appropriate allies or is the presence inherently distracting from the cause?

Are governments inherently corrupt?

If there are no rules are law, will people inherently do good?

Do morals exist outside the influence of religion?

Is violence against a corrupt state justified?

Can people with differing world views coexist peacefully while still being able to express those views?

Is a person responsible for violence (either physical or mental) done to them if they are aware their actions might lead to it?

Is there such a thing as the greater good or should individual liberties be prioritized? (ex, gun debate)

Are all humans capable of change?

Is neutrality complicity?

Should evil be forgiven?

Do you feel obligated to help someone if you know it will put you at risk of harm or death?

Should people be forced to keep another person alive if they have the ability to do so? (ex, forced pregnancy, forced organ donation)

Should you be able to forgive yourself for past misdeeds or is it up to the wronged to forgive you?

Is there such thing as a soul mate? If so, is it only one person?

Would you sacrifice yourself for the greater good? Would you sacrifice another for the greater good?

Is it morally right to kill as a mercy?

[pertoasted]

Art Prompts

Pasha nervously hitting on Lottie over a dead body in the morgue; Jamie's reaction when Archer hugs him for the first time, out of the blue; Clement doting on Picolli during a quiet moment; Mikhail looking on in amusement as Cain encourages Pasha to make the snowball bigger for their snowman; Cain taking a nap in a field and happy to soak in the sunlight; Fiore trying to hold a brave face but actually terrified as Ennis whisks her away into the catacombs; Roderick admiring Babs as they work on a project together; Roderick in a fit of rage and panic as he realizes everything is falling apart; Fiore's fear/ anger as Sr. lays into Cain (or vise versa with Cain to Fiore); Pasha's face in AU when he's out to dinner with Lottie and realizes he's in too deep; Harry after Archer helps him defeat the book. Cain and Pasha watching a movie for the first time cuz Cain went out a purposely bought a TV just for him lol; Babs crying into Clements shoulder either during the revolution or when Ennis is fucking shit up and Jacob's not there; Bristol screaming at Tristan; Vanja in a RAGE; Harry and Waverly terrified by a sound in the dark during their first night in OW; Coco and Koko having girl time drinking tea on their porch. Freddy and piccoli staying up one night to finish something for the paper and having generally a good time with each other. Tristan struggling in Purg as the twins help/look out for him

[pertoasted]

Lottie could still hear Cain’s warning ringing in her ears.

“Don’t let him out of your sight. Not for the first month, not for the second month, and not even for the third. You keep your eyes on him like a hawk… or whatever kind of bird you are.”

She could feel the feathers at the back of her neck begin to rise in frustration at her father-in-law’s ignorance. With a deep breath they settled back down, only to spring up again as a loud crash sounded from the kitchen.

“Pasha?” she yelped. She practically flew from the sitting room down the hall, her mind racing as fast as her feet. It was a window. He’s gotten out. He’s decided to go on a killing spree. She stopped at the doorway, eyes wide at the sight of her husband balancing precariously on the marble island.

“Hey, Pidge!” He turned to her, a mixing bowl tucked in the crook of his arm as he whisked away at the batter with blinding speed. “I accidentally broke one of our bowls. Grabbed it too hard. Guess I don’t know my own strength!” He laughed while still pacing the counter top.

Lottie smiled. “It’ll take some time,” she said evenly, stepping forward and holding her hand out to him. He clamped the whisk between his teeth, took her hand, and jumped easily to the floor. He was beaming with pride, showing off the still intact bowl. Lottie was just happy she no longer shuddered when he touched her.  He began patrolling the entirety of the kitchen, all the while mixing.

“What are you making?” she asked, her eyes following him. He had a new walk now. It was steady and quiet. It reminded her of a cat. Something deep inside her screamed for her to run. She suffocated it.

“Brownies,” he replied. They both looked at the bowl which was a muddy yellow color. Pasha pivoted on his heels and began walking backwards, navigating around the table and chairs without any effort at all.  "Well, it was brownies before I decided to make cake instead." He hit the back wall and held up the bowl. "Crownies. Brake? Who the hell cares, I’m sure it’ll be good.”

Lottie laughed. “You know you can’t eat that,” she said, still grinning as she leaned against the counter. Her smile fell as she caught Pasha’s gaze. His eyes were just beginning to turn from bright orange to a burnt umber. Not as terrifying as the red they had once been, but disarming none the less. This time though, it wasn’t the color that was disturbing her. It was the context.

“Why not?” he said disconnectedly. He had stopped mixing.

Rage. His vice is rage, isn't it. She stood frozen, unable to move. It was as if some primal instinct told her to stay still. She fought against it, first by forcing a smile, then by pushing herself from the counter.

“I don’t think cake batter and brownie mix go well together,” she said, trying to sound as casual as possible. She began picking up the bigger shards of glass that were still on the floor, tossing them into the sink. “And besides, you’ve stirred it into a soup–”

Her words cut off as she realized Pasha was standing right behind her. She had just turned around to talk in his general direction and there he was. It nearly scared a scream right out of her throat but she bit it back.

“You’re quiet,” she breathed, slowly standing up. She felt so small underneath his gaze. “I think your dad was right. We should invest in a bell.”

“I want you,” he said. It was so blunt that Lottie hardly knew what to say back. She stuttered out a few syllables before looking around the kitchen as if something would give her a clue.

“Pasha,” she began. She stopped and tossed the last bit of glass into the sink. She could feel his eyes burning into her. “That’s probably not a good idea. We still don’t know what your vice is and–”

“I want you,” he pressed. He set the bowl down on the counter with such finality that it made her stomach flip. She took a step back. He didn’t move.

The woman smiled, speaking her words as calmly as she could. “We explained this to you, Dove. You could die if you drink my…” Her words trailed off before she picked up again. “I  could die if you bite me.”

“Lottie.”

Her heart nearly stopped at the sound of his voice.

Oh god, say it again.

She blinked and he was on her, pressing into her as his breath grazed her neck.

Oh god, what have I done?

He pressed his mouth against her skin, right where her pulse was. Every nightmarish story she had ever heard about vampires rushed through her mind at once. The vampires who steal away little demons, using their bones to pick their teeth. The uncontrollable and wild rage that would randomly overcome them, causing them to decimate entire cities in one night. It was all swirling madly in her head until his lips were at her ear.

“Lottie,” he whispered. “Don’t be afraid.”

He pulled away so that he could look at her. She turned her face away, not wanting him to see the fear in her eyes. He turned it back.

“You’re my vice,” he said softly. “I need you. God, do I need you.”

Lottie took in a deep breath, trying to calm her shaking nerves. “You’re certain?” she asked, reaching up to wipe the corners of her eyes. “It’s not rage, or some weird envy of me, or a gluttonous desire for cake batter?”

They both laughed and the tension between them was released. Pasha leaned forward and pressed his lips to her forehead. He took in a deep breath and Lottie closed her eyes. She remembered why she had done this in the first place, why she had made the decision to damn his soul. She needed him too.

“Do you trust me?”

She opened her eyes and looked up at him. His features were gentle, but there was no hiding the lust in his eyes. Lottie smiled coyly. “There’s no stopping you, is there?”

He almost looked childlike as he shook his head no. Then he stopped and suddenly said, “Unless you’re really uncomfortable. I don’t want to force you into anything.”

She laughed again, moving her arms to rest on his shoulders as she pulled him in closer. The fear was still their, the anxiety that this could all go wrong with just one knick of a vein, but she couldn’t deny that she wanted what he wanted.

“It has been a long time,” the woman muttered. Pasha gave an animated nod. “And you aren’t nearly as dangerous as you were…”

She glanced up at him. His grip on her waist tightened. Lottie let him stew for a moment longer before an almost dark smile alighted upon her lips.

“Wait until mother finds out about this,” she taunted before squeaking out, “Charlotte Rose have you lost your mind? I can’t believe you would have the audacity–”

“Lottie,” Pasha whined pathetically before suddenly being cut off with a kiss.

“Goodness, you talk too much,” Lottie teased, barely managing to pull away. She was practically breathless with excitement. “Shut up and kiss me already.”

“Oh, I’m going to do much more than that,” he growled with a devilish grin. He hoisted her squealing into his arms.

They made it as far as the kitchen table before he could resist her no longer and together they both collapsed on top of it. Hands peeled at clothes, lips pressed against skin, and finally, for the first time in months, it all felt worth it.

(P.S.: The kitchen table did not survive this ordeal… RIP kitchen table…)

[pertoasted]

Cain tucked the cell phone into the crook of his shoulder while he shuffled through the mail. He didn’t know how he managed to get so much junk but somehow he did. “Yea?”

“Dad?” Cain looked up from the ads and catalogs, pressing the phone harder to his ear. “What’s wrong?” he said, voice low like distant thunder. “Is Keira there with you? Piper hasn’t seen her since last night. I’d come by and check myself but they need me in the office--” “She’s here,” he said, setting the mail down and switching the phone to the other ear. It was a lie but he could tell Pasha wasn’t handling the thought of his missing daughter well, just barely holding himself together. “Oh thank god,” Pasha breathed. Cain could practically hear his son unwinding on the other end. The divorce and now this? Give him a break.

“Yea, you can come by and get her tonight,” he said making his way down the hall towards the guest room. He tried the handle. It was locked. “We’ll be here.”

“Thank you so much. I’m sorry to put this on you--” “Nah,” Cain shrugged as if Pasha could see. He reached up and felt on top of the doorway. His fingers only found dust and a small slip of paper. He pulled it down to see ‘Think again, Pops!’ written in terrible handwriting. Damn those boys, he thought as he crushed the paper in his fist. “I haven’t seen the monkey in awhile anyway. Take your time.” He hung up before Pasha could continue his profuse apologies, his mind on other things... Like how the hell he was going to get into that room without breaking the door. He took a few steps down the hall to his doorway, feeling on top of the mantle. His key was still there.

“Dumb sons of a bitch,” he muttered, pleased with how short sighted Dimi and Felix had been when they were younger. With a couple of wiggles, the bolt in the door was released. Cain pushed it open only to find it jammed by an old dresser. “For Christ’s sake!” the old man hissed, pushing the dresser away enough to allow him to look into the room. “Keira?” “Go away.” Cain swiveled his head toward the closet. He was just barely able to see his grand-daughter hunched inside. “What in hell’s name are you doing here?” Cain grunted as he gave another mighty shove. The dresser slid away just enough for him to squeeze through. “And how the hell did you even move this?”

Keira didn’t answer. She just buried her face deeper into her folded arms and pulled her knees tighter to her chest.

Cain examined her for a moment before letting out a heavy sigh. He lowered himself down next to her, cramming both of their bodies into the tiny closet. She let out a disgusted sound and made to get up but his arm wrapped around her shoulders and kept her in place.

“I said go away!” she spat, struggling against Cain’s grip. He could see now that she had been crying, and from the looks of it it had lasted all night.

“Not until you tell me what you’re doing here,” he said. He kept true to his word, his grip tightening as she continued to try and free herself. Finally she let out a frustrated sigh and threw her hands down on to her lap.

“I don’t know,” she said, her voice cracking as she held back more tears. She didn’t want to cry. Not in front of Pops. “Mom and I got into a fight and--” Keira’s face twisted, as if holding in the tears was causing more pain than it was worth. Finally she spat out a vapid, “I hate her!” before folding back into herself. Cain rubbed her shoulder, watching as she quietly sobbed. “Why is she doing this?” Keira groaned, her words heavy. “Why would she do this to Dad? He didn’t do anything!” She continued to cry and Cain continued to watch. He pulled his hand away from her shoulder, running it through his hair instead.

“I don’t know,” he finally said. “People do shitty things sometimes.” “Yea, well, she’s shitty for doing this,” the girl spat, yanking her head up so she could wipe her nose clean. “I hate her. I’m not going back.” “Where ya gonna go?” Cain asked, leaning his face into his hand now as he watched her try to pull herself together. “You can’t stay here and you can’t go to your Dad’s.” “Then I’ll leave. I’ll go live in the woods. It’s not like I haven’t before,” she said with determination.

Slowly the man nodded. “So I guess you’re all packed then?” He looked around the room dramatically, as if searching for a go-bag. Keira’s face paled. She shook her head. “No. I left too quickly. I didn’t think...” Her voice trailed off as she realized her plan wasn’t panning out as nicely as she had wanted it to.

“Come on,” Cain grunted. He pushed himself to his feet then held out his hand for her to take. “Let’s clean you up and eat. Then you can be on your way.” “I’m not going back there!” the girl said, her hand half way in his. She had a sort of crazy look about her. Cain frowned. He was all too familiar with that feeling of desperation. “Who said anything about you going back?” He pulled her up then worked the dresser out from behind the door. “You’re going to go live in the woods, remember? You should have at least one good meal before you go.” Keira glared at him warily as he held the door open for her. She readjusted her ponytail, wiped her face one more time, then marched out into the hall with her head held high. Cain looked down at the floor and shook his head before following her to kitchen.

[pertoasted]

From Tristan’s Perspective

(Note: I didn’t edit this, too tired. Also, I’ve tried to communicate how Tristan feels towards Waverly before with only limited success; this probably gets closer to the mark than I have in the past.)

It was the first time either of them had seen each other so naked. Compared to Waverly, Tristan couldn’t help but feel like a corpse. Skin stretched over his bones, hardly enough muscle to make him noticeably different from a skeleton. In a small way, it made him self-conscious. If Waverly hadn’t seen his bare chest and arms before, Tristan was sure that’s what she’d be focusing on now, as most women did the first time the clothes came off. But she focused hard on his eyes, then with a heavy blush she turned to look anywhere else. He traced a finger up her side, up to her armpit. The prickle of gooseflesh rising under his fingertip sent shivers down his own spine.

Waverly squirmed away from his touch, laughing nervously. Ticklish. But under it, he could sense her unease. He petted her outer thigh with the back of his knuckles. Tristan worked off her underwear slowly, his lips tracing along her inner thigh to her knee before he let the kiss go. He’d always admired the sculpt of her body, the softness of it, the hard places. It had be a while since she’d shaved, and the soft hair on her thighs tickled his lips as he made his way back down. Waverly shuddered. Resisting the urge to meet her eyes, Tristan took her by the waist and began to kiss her.

She had a clean taste to her. There was familiarity in it, like the smell of her sweat and pheromones. He kissed her gently at first, the way he’d kiss a cut or a bruise, but when he started in with his tongue, Tristan could smell her giving in. Her body began to arch beneath him but Waverly resisted. After a moment she stopped fighting and pressed into him with an uncharacteristicly needy sound. Tristan smiled to himself and pulled one of her legs over his shoulder.

He didn’t start teasing magic into her until she started begging for more, less, anything. It sustained that feeling of need in her, and with every second he forced the magic on her, the more desperate Waverly became. She panted, arched her back more sharply, spread her legs, grabbed his hair—he’d never seen her like this. It was hard to resist climbing on her and having her now.

Tristan pulled the magic between them taught, feeling it thrum against his lips and inside of her. She fought hard against him now, her hips bucking and straining as much as they could at this angle. Tristan held her up, splaying his fingers across her lower back, holding her hip hard with his other. He felt the magic snap and Waverly orgasm simultaneously. The sounds she made drove that small primal part of him that wanted her mad.

Once her body relaxed, he untangled from her legs and set her back down on the bed. In the half-light, her skin shone with sweat. Tristan climbed over her, kissed her neck, then lowered himself beside her, grimacing at the discomfort in his loins.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered into her ear. She smiled, almost huffing at him, but she was too tired to chide or goad. He touched her face, then her breast, before adding, “I love you.”

He hadn’t planned to say it now. He’d been saving it. He wasn’t even surprised that it wasn’t a lie, not entirely. She wasn’t Mona. She wasn’t within a thousand miles of Mona. But she was a thousand miles closer than any other women he’d known and been with.

Waverly didn’t answer. Tristan sensed her tension and unease from before, but he knew she was too exhausted to really feel it herself. He kissed her arm and pulled back begrudgingly. His own need was making him clingy, and she was already more than half asleep.

Tristan climbed out of bed, cracked a window, and left to take care of himself.

[pertoasted]

“I always want to look under that thing,” Jack mused as they watched Death leave. He let out a small yelp as Marie smacked his arm.

“Don’t be so insensitive,” she hissed, glaring up at him. “That head wrap is part of her religion.”

“Religion?” Jack was laughing now while rubbing the spot where Marie had hit him. “Religion is for humans. Everyone else believes in knowledge.”

Marie rolled her eyes. Jack could be so uncouth sometimes that it was a wonder she ever put up with him. “Well, if I’m ever to be God like you suggested, then I need to be respectful of all circles of thought.”

She jumped as Jack suddenly pivoted in front of her, his tall form blocking out the sun. His voice was patronizing but his eyes were gentle.

“Do you know what it means to be a god?” His hands slipped into his pockets as he tilted his head to the side and said a little quieter, “You used to, but I’m curious to see how much of that knowledge is left behind.”

Marie stared up at him for a moment at a loss for words. Finally she took a step to the side, the sun washing over her and bathing her with a little confidence.

“Of course I do,” she said haughtily, trying to match his arrogant nature with one of her own. “It means you’re all powerful, and through that power you are all loving.”

“Wrong.”

Marie whirled around but of course Jack was gone. She hated when he did this, but it always happened when he felt he had an especially important point to be made.

“How?” She called out to no one, still turning in circles. “God is supposed to be loving and merciful to all His creations.”

Suddenly Jack was in front of her, casting her into shadow once more.

“Wrong,” he repeated. He lapsed into silence, staring intensely down at her. Marie put her hands on her hips and stared intensely back. Neither of them budged until a bright smile broke across Jack’s face. “Damn, I love you.”

He was gone in an echo of laughter, leaving Marie to breath a sigh of relief. Jack was certainly something very old and something very powerful. She couldn’t help but feel that one hint of weakness on her part and he would eat her alive.

“God is powerful, this is true,” Jack said, appearing behind her and wrapping his arms around her waste. She screeched as he snickered, tipping them backwards on to the ground. Marie struggled in his arms but he only relented enough to allow her to sit up on top of him. “But he is not entirely made of love,” he continued, smirking.

“If you’re referring to the Old Testament God,” Marie’s voice trailed off as Jack shook his head.

“I’m referring to the God that was, the God that is, and the God that will be.”

Marie waited but Jack didn’t say anymore. Instead his fingers trailed across her thighs and traced the outline of her hips, a mesmerized glaze filling his eyes.

“Jack,” Marie said firmly. She made to get off him but he clung to her tighter, keeping her in place. She sighed. “What do you mean?”

Jack smiled. “You know I refer to the big 3 western religions when I talk about this stuff–”

“Yes.

”–only because you aren’t able to handle the knowledge of any of the others and how they relate–“

“Yes, yes I know,” she growled, his tone and that damn snicker of his riling her up again. “Get on with it.”

“Alright. Just making sure. I have to be careful not to break your little human brain.” He teasingly tapped her forehead only to be swatted away. Jack took a moment to collect himself before starting.

“God is everything and because of that God is powerful. But that is where the human knowledge of It ends. You see, we are all apart of God. Not in that frilly, ‘he made us’ way of thinking. I mean, together as a whole, we make God.”

He paused, staring at Marie as if to gauge her interest and understanding. She didn’t react so he continued.

“That’s why the conception that God is all loving and merciful is wrong. Humans are inherently killers because we were inherently killers. We tried to make the best of it, but it turned out that the nature of yourself is more powerful than any higher being.”

“So,” Marie interrupted, sensing an impending tangent coming on. She collected her thoughts and said, “what you’re saying is that God is all of us, and because we can not love each other, God can’t be this all-loving entity?”

She grunted as Jack rolled them over to their sides and began to hug her tightly.

“You’re so smart!” he cooed. Marie struggled with him and was finally able to pull away enough to end the excessive lavishing.

“Thank you,” she said. “But it’s still all very confusing.”

The two went quiet again, this time because Marie was deep in thought and Jack had decided to just watch and see where it took her. After a moment she finally said, “So God isn’t a ‘he’ or a 'she’ and more like a 'they’ than an 'it’.”

She ignored Jack’s shrug, collecting her thoughts again, “God is like a body, and we are all the cells within it. Together we make one being that exists on a much higher level than we can possibly know. But we trust that they’re there. We trust we have a purpose. And just like we can hate ourselves and war with our thoughts and decisions, so too does God. But it is us that is warring, in the very literal sense. And until we can all live in a sort of harmony, God won’t be an entity of pure love.”

Marie looked up at Jack, as if seeing him for the first time since their conversation had started. “Is that possible?” she asked quietly.

Jack lifted his hand and swept a strand of hair from her face. He smiled but there was something off about it. Marie’s blood ran cold.

The answer was no.

[pertoasted]

Actors for characters; characters for actors

Harry: Lee Pace / Daniel Radcliffe Jack Harper: Colin O’Donoghue Pasha: J.J. Fields/Anton Velchin  Fredrich: Joseph Gordan Levitt Lottie: Keri Russell Bee: (face) Elena Santamatilde  Rorik: Brock O’Hurn Isaac/Gamma: Roo Pane (”Lullaby Love”) Tristan: Adrian Brody Delta: Philippe Koo Epsilon/Omega: Andre Douglas Hugh: Jared Harris Jaime : Daniel Henney Kaito : Minoru Hikino 

[pertoasted]

"The way the Universe is set up, math has no true bearing on it. It, like art, like religion, is superfluous in the grand scheme of things." 

Pasha nodded slowly, still mesmerized by what was taking place. He couldn't believe that he was at a banquet in Hell, drinking some sort of demon wine which even he could somehow taste, while holding a casual conversation with Satan himself. 

Stranger things have happened, he tried to convince himself, taking another sip of his wine. He was vaguely aware of Lottie sitting beside him. She had hooked her arm with his and had progressively been tightening the grip as the conversation went on. 

"I don't know about that," Pasha said, oddly confident regardless of the nature of his guest. Lucifer seemed to enjoy Pasha's courage and smiled. It was a warming sight and as genuine as genuine could get. It made a part of Pasha nervous but it was quickly tamped out by the thrill of it all. "They're used to explain the creation of things, of us. So how can they be useless?" 

"Yes, that's right," Lucifer mused. His smile grew larger as he leaned back in his chair. "What are your thoughts on other Universes? Surely, not everyone is concerned with their beginnings." 

"Do you mean other planets with life on them?" Pasha asked.

"No. Those planets in other galaxies are probably just as obsessed with their creation as we are with our own. That is the narrative of our Universe." Lucifer steepled his fingers between his knees, tapping his thumbs together rapidly. "I mean other Universes entirely." 

They were not alone in the room they had retired to, or rather, the room Lottie had dragged Pasha into shortly after Lucifer's arrival. The Devil had caught them before they could sneak their way out and now the couple were entangled in a philosophical conversation that obviously excited Lucifer greatly. The other occupants in the room, demon men and women of varying races, could care less. They were high as a kite, riding the wave of some opiate that left a smokey haze hanging in the air. It was all very romantic, like some black and white film shot in the harems of Morocco. Pasha just wished the company were a little different. 

"This is turning into a conversation that is entirely out of our league, my Lord," Lottie said. She was using that regal tone of hers, the one that really showed what class she was from. It made something stir inside of Pasha, a hunger to take her right then and there. He took another sip of his wine instead. 

"Nonsense," Lucifer chirped. He scooted to the edge of his seat, getting as close to the couple as he could. "Here, let me explain. You see, we have the Universe we live in, with our known time line existing within it. But there are other versions of this Universe just behind the veil, varying timelines of their own." 

Pasha swallowed. Already this was getting to be a bit over his head. Or maybe it was a combination of the smoke, alcohol, and lust that was making his thoughts corkscrew. The Devil could see he was losing his audience so he began again with new enthusiasm. 

"In our timeline in this Universe, there is us. There is a timeline in the same Universe where, Pasha, you were never turned into a vampire," Pasha's eyebrows rose at this, which seemed to fuel Lucifer's excitement, "and you don't meet our dear Charlotte here until later in your life, after some very harrowing experiences." 

Pasha could feel the burn of questions as they formed on his tongue, but Lucifer wasn't finished just yet. 

"These are known commonly as Alternate Universes, but really that is a false name. They are just alternate timelines of the same Universe, in which we all exist and always will. What I am talking about are the Universes where we don't exist at all. A Universe where "angels" and "demons" are just a concept. Essentially, we are all pointless little thoughts in the imaginations of these other beings in these other Universes. We could be fiction to these beings, characters that they set up on a stage and play with for amusement. They aren't concerned about their creation, but with our own." 

"That is truly," Lottie paused, searching for a moment before saying stiffly, "comforting, my Lord." 

Lucifer laughed, causing the couple to jump. It stirred something in Pasha, the same something that had just stirred in him moments before when Lottie spoke. He blushed deeply and found himself wanting to be removed from the situation, to leave Hell entirely. He decided that might be the best idea and mustered up his most endearing smile. 

"Lottie, are you ready to go?" he asked politely. He didn't need to, her iron grip an obvious invite to leave. "You're looking a little tired." 

Her eyes darted up to him as she nodded."Ah, is it that obvious?" she breathed, leaning into him demurely. "I suppose the wine from earlier has left me as less than desirable company." 

Pasha smiled and stood. Just as he reached out to help her to her feet, Lucifer clapped his hands and shouted, "Nonsense!" The couple looked up to see the man standing as well, hands folding behind his back as a well placed smile spread across his face. 

"Charlotte, my darling, your company has been absolutely splendid, just splendid indeed." 

"Oh," the woman muttered in surprise, partly by the compliment and partly by how quickly and smoothly Pasha's hand had been replaced by Lucifer's. "Oh no, my Lord, it's been my pleasure. I'm sorry that I'm unable to stay longer. It's quite unforgivable for me to have drank so much, really." 

The Devil's smile remained as he tilted forward and kissed the top of her hand. Pasha clenched his fists and bit the inside of his cheek. It was as if the motion had flipped a switch inside of him, causing rage and jealousy to spread through his veins like wildfire. But as Lucifer pulled away, the tinder was gone and Pasha was back to normal, if not more eager to leave. 

"Nonsense," Lucifer said again, but this time the word held weight. The temperature seemed to drop and a shudder ran through Lottie and Pasha both for very different reasons. "What better place to enjoy yourself than in Hell?" 

His hands were folded behind his back again as he glanced astutely between the two. Then his smile broke, revealing his gleaming teeth. "I hope you don't mind me borrowing your husband for a few minutes. It's embarrassing to admit, but I came all this way for him after all." 

"Me?" Pasha said dumbly. He almost lifted his hand to take a drink but realized that he had set it down at some point. 

"Entirely," Lucifer responded. He reached out a guiding hand, eyeing Pasha expectantly. The vampire stared at Lucifer for a moment before looking down at his wife. The sheer terror on her face nearly froze him to the spot, but her nod of approval made him move. 

"Sure," he said slowly, ripping his eyes away from Lottie to meet Lucifer's. "Yes, of course. My pleasure." 

Pasha gave Lottie a smile, trying hard to reassure her without actually looking at her. "I'll be back before you know it," he said, kissing her on the forehead before pulling away entirely and going to the door. He could hear Lucifer behind him sigh and mutter wistfully, "Precious. Absolutely precious."

[pertoasted]

"Tell me why I shouldn't stick this knife down your throat," she growled. 

 "Woah, Abigail," Archer muttered, ignoring Harry's disapproving frown. The woman didn't seem to hear him. In fact, it was as if the two young men weren't even in the room at all. Roderrick's tongue twitched against the blade as she slowly pushed it in further, to the point where just a simple swallow would make him bleed. His breath came out in a ragged wheeze, which seemed to fuel Abigail's lust for his demise. "Beg," she said menacingly. She yanked Roderrick's head back, clinging tight to his greying hair. His Adam's apple bobbed desperately against his skin as he fought the urge to gag. Abigail was determined to make him choke on her knife. "Beg /me/ for your life!" Her grandson could take it no longer and made to lunge forward, but Harry had a firm grip on him by then. "Archer, calm down," Harry hissed. "This isn't your problem." "I can't let her do this!" Archer snapped, hitting Harry's hand away and giving him a stern look before turning back. "BABS, STOP!!" The woman wheeled around, slicing through the connective tissue at the corner of Roderrick's mouth. He screamed, which only tore it more. With great effort he clamped his mouth shut and doubled over as far as his restraints would allow him, yanking wildly at them as he moaned in pain. Abigail ignored all of this, her knife poised to skewer Archer who was advancing slowly towards her. "Don't call me that," she whispered, eyes wide and burning with a fury that was unlike any other Archer had seen. "Don't you ever call me that." "Why?" Archer asked, making sure his hands were visible to her as he took a step forward, then another. "Because /he/ used to call you that?" "Don't," Abigail warned, holding the knife even more threateningly. But Archer didn't stop, his gaze focused and his voice steady. "Because /Alistair/ used to call you Babs? /His/ Babs?" "Stop," the woman choked, trying hard to control her emotions. The blade shook in her hand, so she gripped it with both. "Why are you doing this?" "Why are /you/ doing this?" Archer countered quietly. "Because he killed Alistair!" Abigail screeched, jumping behind Roderrick and grabbing hold a fistful of hair again. Archer stopped as he watched the blade, its tip now digging into the soft skin of the man's neck as Abigail continued to scream. "He tortured him, made him suffer. He tied the noose around Alistair's neck and he watched him hang." Roderrick let out a grunt as the blade pierced his skin. It wasn't deadly, but it was certainly getting there. Archer stood frozen, bright eyes gaging the situation before he let his hands fall to his side and his shoulders slope in defeat. But Abigail was a statue, she didn't budge. Archer sucked in his cheeks before letting out a puff of hot air. "You know, you once told me that your biggest regret was having the blood of this guy on your hands. You said it turned you into a person that you had never wanted to be, that you didn't even recognize yourself half of the time." Archer gestured to Roderrick and took a step forward. Abigail still didn't move, her eyes glued to his face. "You don't want to do this, Abigail," the young man said, his words firm and gentle. "I've seen what it does to you. And that's with Alistair still alive. Imagine the destruction it'll cause now." Archer's words trailed off as his warm fingers wrapped around hers. They were as cold as the blade still pressing against Roderrick's neck. "He wouldn't want this for you," Archer whispered, coaxing Abigail to remove her knife. "Not then, not now, not ever." The sound of the blade hitting the floor seemed to snap Abigail from her stunned reverie. She jerked back, trying to create distance between Archer and herself, but his grip on her hand was ironclad. "I hate you," she whispered, blinking furiously in an attempt to stop the tears. "And I hate him. I will kill him someday--" "No you won't," the young man said firmly. She yanked her arm free, glaring at him with a queen like expression that made his stomach flip. "You're a fool," she finally spat, her eyes darting over him. "And one day it'll get you killed." "No better way to die, ma'am," Archer said brightly. Abigail turned on her heels and marched out of the room while Harry came up behind Archer. "So are you gonna let him live?" Harry asked, glancing down at Roderrick who was staring up at them with enough venom to take down a bull elephant. "Me? Yes," Archer said before giving out a low whistle. The door at the back of the room which had previously gone unnoticed opened. The young man smiled as their accomplice strolled casually in. "Clement on the other hand...." Archer met Clement half way then handed him the knife. The two exchanged a few words in a low whisper before Archer squeezed his friend's arm, smiled, and turned back to Roderrick and Harry. "Let's go," he said, not giving Roderrick the time of day as he breezed past him. Harry's frown deepened as he looked between Clement and the detained man before he sighed and followed Archer out of the room.

[bravebirdart]

she makes the sound the sea makes knee deep in the north

[pertoasted]

thats a lute.

[pertoasted]

[pertoasted]

[pertoasted]

Jack, you douchebag. You knew exactly who he was talking about too.

[pertoasted]

This Doesn't Have A Title SOOO Deal: Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Marie’s fingertips were beginning to tingle uncomfortably from the heat of the mug in her hands, but she wouldn’t put it down. There was something comforting about the heat of it, no matter how much it was beginning to hurt, and as she blew at the billows of steam rolling up from the liquid she wondered idly if she was a masochist. 

“It would explain a lot,” she muttered, pressing her lips to the mug and wincing as the scalding coffee hit her tongue. 

“What?” her brother Elias said, looking up from the rough draft of Marie’s newest book. He had been sitting with his hand fisted tangled in his hair and now the jet black strands were mused up wildly, giving him a sort of crazed scientist look. “Are you drinking that already? Jeez, Marie, I can’t even touch mine.” He glanced at his cup warily, tapping at the ceramic with his fingers before pulling his hand away. 

“I am tougher than you,” Marie joked, finally setting her mug down on the table. She drew her knees up to her chest and hugged them, watching with a distant gaze as Elias worked. Her pages, which had been a beautifully clean black and white, were slowly being covered in red. “Hey, can I ask you something?” 

“Mmhm,” Elias hummed, distracted by a particularly jumbled paragraph. “Did you write this while you were drunk?” 

Marie leaned in, glanced at the paragraph, then turned away stubbornly. 

“Write drunk and edit sober,” she said, to which Elias grumbled something about how she should only do that if she were the one editing it. She just smirked and shook her head. “Anyway, do you think I should keep writing? I mean, not in general, but Thomas and Tiffany’s story. Or do you think I should move on to something more... mature?” 

Elias looked up from the paper and stared at Marie. She wouldn’t meet his gaze, her finger outlining the rim of her cup as she watched the steam continue to roll up from it. Slowly he set his pen down. 

“You don’t like writing for young adults?” he asked. Marie scoffed, rolling her eyes. 

“You can hardly call ten year olds young adults,” she said. She pursed her lips stubbornly as Elias gave her a 'you know what I mean' glare. “Yeah. I don’t know. It’s just that,” Marie sighed, letting one of her legs swing down, her foot sweeping against the floor, “I met this guy the other day. He was kind of a douche, but he said something that sort of got me thinking. I mean, I’ve been writing the Time Traveler's Kids for the past three years, and it’s ten books in, but they’re not satisfying me. It’s nice hearing people say how much they like my characters, how they seem like real people, but there’s something missing.” 

“Like what?” Elias asked. He was cautiously trying to pick up his mug while still listening to his sister intently. 

“I don’t know,” Marie groaned, setting both feet on to the floor. She was tugging at her bangs, running her fingers obsessively through the hair and Elias knew she was upset. “It just doesn’t feel complete. It’s like my writing has no depth, or that Thomas and Tiffany are just a shadow of who they really are.” She squinted at Elias, tilting her head to the side. “Does that make any sense?” she asked. “Or do I just sound crazy?” 

Elias chuckled as he chanced a sip of his drink. “You are crazy, but we’ve already established that,” he teased. He gave her an apologetically crooked grin, the dimple on his right cheek showing. Marie had always teased him about having only one dimple and it had made him shy about smiling fully. No one could deny that the half grin didn't worked for him though. 

“Seriously,” she goaded. “Do you think I should move on to the more adult content? I could make a genuine young adult novel series.” 

“If you want to,” Elias said, meeting her blue eyes with his own. “You’ll have some very upset fans, and you’ll have to think about how to wrap up Thomas and Tiffany’s story. You can’t really leave them in the middle of the Dark Ages. Maybe have them both get the plague and end it like that. Nothing like a little death to make a children’s story more adult.” 

The two of them laughed and Marie seemed to relax after that. 

“Yeah, that's a tough one,” she said, taking up her drink again. 

She sipped at it, musing over her current series while grinding away at a plot for the new one when Elias asked, “What did that guy say to you exactly? You’re not usually one to let people get underneath your skin.”

Marie snorted, nearly sending scalding coffee bubbling up on to her face. 

“Oh you should have met him,” she said. “He was a character unto himself. He comes in to my book signing, without a book--” 

“No,” Elias said in mock surprise. 

Marie played into it and replied with a scandalous, “Yes.” before continuing. 

“So I gave him one of my own and signed it, thinking it was for his kid. Turns out, it was actually for him. Apparently he really enjoys my stories but, here’s the best part,” Elias leaned in, clearly amused by her story, “He thought that I was wasting my talent by writing for kids.” 

“He said that?” Elias said, genuinely shocked now. 

“More or less,” Marie replied nonchalantly, shrugging as if the the situation hadn’t really affected her at all. “I told him that if he didn’t like my stories, then he doesn’t have to read them. He kept on insisting that he loved them, but there was something missing.” 

“Did he reveal his secret formula to the perfect book?” 

A dark grin passed over Marie’s face as she said cynically, “It’s love.” 

The two of them laughed, more from the ridiculously dramatic retelling of the events then from the actual encounter before Marie shook her head.

“Even though the guy was an idiot, I can’t deny that I have been itching to try something new.” 

“Maybe a love story is what you need,” Elias suggested, taking up his red pen again and giving her one more once over before turning back to the page. “Make sure it’s an erotic one too.” 

“Oh yeah, I’m sure dad would love that,” Marie scoffed, rolling her eyes as Elias smiled down at the page. The two of them lapsed into silence before she asked, “So, how is he?” 

“Oh you know,” the young man flipped to the next page, glancing up at Marie as he did so. “He’s about as good as a drunk vampire can be.” He circled a word and crossed out a line before saying nonchalantly, “He really misses you though.” 

“I’m sure he does,” Marie grumbled, flicking her finger against the ceramic before clutching the cup tightly. “He’s just so...” Her voice trailed off as she glared into the swirling liquid in her mug. 

“Yea,” Elias agreed. “But he’s like that because he cares. You two just don’t have personalities that jive together well.” He gave her a look as she snorted at him, warning her not to tease him about his vocabulary. 

Marie let it slide, shrugging instead. “Maybe I’ll come visit this weekend. The suburban air might do me some good.” 

“That’s the spirit,” Elias said cheerfully, grinning at her. “I should have this done by then anyway. As long as Ace doesn’t try to rope me into one of his schemes again.” 

“Why didn’t he come with you?” Marie asked. It was rare that her brothers, twins who were usually attached at the hip, would be seen apart. “Afraid that I’d beat him at another card game?” 

Elias’ grin had waned to a smirk. 

“Probably,” he muttered. 

He went quiet and Marie couldn’t tell if he was just focused in on his work or just reluctant to talk on the subject. She let it slide anyway, drinking most of her coffee as she watched Elias mark her pages. 

“Maybe I’ll write about our lives,” she finally said. Elias looked up at that, a curious gleam in his eyes. “We’re a pretty strange bunch.” 

“We’re a family,” he corrected. “But we are pretty strange. Especially you.” 

Marie laughed and stood from the table. 

“You’re not wrong,” she muttered as she walked to the kitchen. “I’m gonna make some lunch. You want something?” 

Elias didn’t answer, sucked back into his work. Marie didn’t push, knowing that if she presented food to him he would eat it without question. She flicked on the faucet and watched the water wash away the coffee stain from her mug. Out of her family, she felt like the most normal. Her father was a vampire and her brothers were aliens from a different dimension. What did that make her? 

Boring, she thought as she turned the faucet off. She had done her best to make a name for herself, but every slot she tried to fill in the world just didn’t feel right. She felt awkward and out of place, even more so than her weird motley crew of a family. At least they all know where they belong. Marie wondered if she was the normal one after all. 

[pertoasted]

Birthdays

Pasha (Canon): August 9th, 1981 Pasha (Council AU): August 9th, 1979 Pasha (Vampire): December 18th, 2031 Cain: November 23, 1961 Fiore (Canon): October 18th, 1506  Fiore (Council AU): October 18th, 1961 Bristol: April 18th, 1487 Gamma: May 12th, 1710 Marie {Present}: November 9th, 1989 Jack {Present}: June 22nd, 1987 Ace/Elijah: June 7th, 1990 Babs: November 21st, 1917 Clement: March 15th, 1442 Jon: October 31st (unknown) Jacob: November 1st, 1969

Lottie: August 27th, 1981

Bee: May 3rd, 2019 Archer: November 23rd, 2021

Rorik: January 12th, 2016 Petra, Pippi, and Coco: March 11th ,2016 William: May 23rd, 2018 Kokoro: February 2nd, 1818 Alistair: September 2nd, 1442 Felix: July 17th  Dimi: September 28th Waverly: February 4th Harry: January 31st Keira: July 10th  Vanja: January 1st  Death: December 31st  Lucifer: whenever the fuck he wants it 

Jamie: April 28th Andrei: December 2nd Darcy: December 2nd