#charredreminder

[killerpigfarmer]

Riley or Vincent?

@charredreminder & @rileyhallow | Make my muse chose between two people. ANY TWO PEOPLE. | Accepting

ooc:

Alright but REAL TALK. This is so effing hard. On one hand, there’s Vincent. Vincent, who Lucius initially took pride in because he created that little fuck. After that, they fluctuated between friends and enemies. Lucius trusts Vincent and will 100% defend any of his actions against Vincent by claiming that it was all for the other man’s own good. There is, undoubtedly, a very complex but special place in his heart for Vincent and he would do everything within his power to protect Vincent, even if it makes him look like the bad guy.

And then there’s Riley. Even though they’ve gone their separate ways from time to time and he certainly does not approve of her affiliations with certain angels, Lucius would begrudgingly consider Riley one of his closest friends (even if the feeling isn’t mutual). Not only did they have a good chemistry when they were working together, fighting together, and most importantly, drinking together, she was one of the few demons that was able to ground him and give him life advice that he’d actually listen to. More than that, she’s the only one who has met Charlotte, helped him with the kid, and seen a softer side to the demon. She’s the only one who has seen Lucius vulnerable and grow to care about the human child (casual reminder that not even Mal, who knew Lucius forever, knew about Charlotte). Were Lucius to go through a genuine emotional, spiritual crisis, Riley would be the one he’d turn to for advice, because she’s the only one who’s seen him when he’s not a bloodthirsty, merciless monster. 

Then there’s the fact that, if he lets Vincent die, he’s letting Mal down, but if he lets Riley die, he’s letting Charlotte down. And now Lucius has to chose between Mal and Charlotte. So, if they were both hanging off a cliff, it’d be a masochistic act either way. I know it’s 100% a cop-out, but it’d depend on the circumstance and the time frame (since Lucius has both loved and loathed them equally at one point or another).

[killerpigfarmer]

@charredreminder gets a starter!

It’s not hard to find Vincent. It should be. If Lucius had failed their Boss in the way that Vincent had, Lucius would go underground, hide, wrap a noose around his neck and tug.

But Vincent is just here. Lingering in a bar topside. Not a care in the fucking world. While Marcella buries herself in the warm pits of hell, silent, scared, weak. Weak, for the first time in ages.

And Lucius can’t get the thought out of his head. You should’ve been there.

Lucius doesn’t bother with introductions. He snatches up Vincent, grabs him by the throat, and shoves him against the wall, pinning him there. He gets in the other demon’s face and hisses, “You cowardly, useless, piece of SHIT.”

[killerpigfarmer]

“He just...laughed.”

The demon recounting the incident to Lucius is pale, wide-eyed, and looks like he’d throw himself into the fiery pits if only to avoid Lucius’s wrath. Lucius has reached a high enough status where he has lower-ranking demons to do his bitch work. After all, he can’t torture everyone all at once. The demons warm the victim up with whatever methods Lucius assigns for that particular tortured soul--knives, water, chains. Lucius is the coup de grâce. The kill shot. Automatic demon status.

Except with this one. “Laughed,” Lucius reiterates. “What’re you using--a feather tickler?”

He grabs the demon by the throat and it squeaks out a frantic response. Finally, he lets the thing go. “I’ll deal with it,” Lucius mutters as he steps down to the the torture level. What does Boss call it? Recycling?

He’s deaf to the screams. He walks straight to the troublemaker’s room and steps inside--all of these doors open for Lucius. The souls hangs from the rack. Lucius has been in and out of this room for twenty-seven years and, in all that time, he hasn’t said a word to the soul. He wants it isolated. Stripped of its humanity. Cold. The demon that came before him already tore some ribbons into the soul and Lucius just quietly, methodically, steps around it to assess the damage.

[astcroth-archive-blog]

          ❝ Oh, monsters are scared. That’s why they’re monsters. ❞

[kriiger]

@charredreminder

Meg had kept an eye on the other demon for about a week now, just to make sure this wasn’t another trap that would send her down on the food chain once again. Their paths had crossed a few times in the past of course, and she had heard of him, but they hadn’t exactly shared any lengthy conversations-- not that demons usually did if it was strictly work.  

But if the rumors were true, then maybe...just maybe. 

Meg got out a pack of cigarettes and lit one, making sure to stare at the other demon and knowing that he was bound to spot her soon. Her brown eyes was engulfed in black for a few short seconds before they returned to normal, would he get the sign that she was there on friendly terms? Her demeanor was relaxed and far from threatening. 

[killerpigfarmer]

@charredreminder gets a started bc feelings

“Five souls? That’s cute. Try fifteen.” Not that they were counting their CONQUESTS or anything.

[crossroadcaesar-blog]

[Continued from X]

@charredreminder

Lazily, fingers stroke through the other demon’s hair, as if compulsed by bared instinct rather than a conscious, human affinity. something was wrong, Vincent could sense it, but said nothing, only adjusted his position to allow Malcolm access to his lap. The T.V. playing, muted in the background only served as a minor distraction. noise, something to keep a shattered mind even keel in such trying times as these.  

“I bought some new paint today. I’m considering, trying to sell some of my older pieces.”

There’s the faint sound of cartoonish antics emanating from the television, though Malcolm is staring right through it; all but entranced by the rhythmic stroke of his lover’s fingers as they comb through chestnut curls.  Something is wrong.  Everything is wrong.  Vincent’s words barely register--Mal isn’t thinking about the other demon’s paintings right now; too crushed beneath the debris of his whole world in ruins around him to notice the bare spaces on the walls where Vince has already pulled some of the older pieces down.  

He shifts, pulling the edge of the blanket up under his chin as he breathes in Vincent’s familiar scent and murmurs unsurely, barely more than a whisper,  “Do you love me?” 

[crossroadcaesar-blog]

It’s become something of a routine for Malcolm at this point; to wait until Vincent has drifted off to sleep before stealing away into the night to attend to business.  The crossroads down by the bayous are always lucrative--he should know, they belonged to him for more than a century and a half--but they are his no longer; contested along with the rest of his former territory by the ambitious rivals who had not even waited until his chair had gone cold before laying claim.  Mal knows they’re too busy going at one another’s throats to notice the fact that the crossroads are being poached dry.  Not so long ago it was his problem.  Now, he’s the one doing the poaching.  And business is good.  The crossroads demon has two fresh contracts and a vial of human blood to show for a hard night’s work--the latter to feed the growing habit he’s found himself turning to in desperate times.  It’s still mostly dark outside when he makes it back to the Garden District of New Orleans; the first tendrils of dawn on just beginning to snake their way through the sky.  As usual when he walks through the front door Malcolm expects to find his lover still fast asleep, none the wiser.

He is mistaken.

“--Vince?  What are ya’ doin’ up?”

@charredreminder