#;isawrites

    He looks up from the paper in his hands, some toilet-paper tabloid that's been left on the coffee table, and shrugs his shoulders. Shoulders that happen to be wearing the other man's coat. In the mechanic's defense, it does look make him look pretty damn good.

♖ My character will protect yours

He hit the floor painfully, scraping the better part of his cheek off against the floor. It had been the vampire’s idea to tag along, and reluctantly—with the aid of a quivering pout—Isaiah had conceded. Whether it’d been a wise decision to let the man join him was a question Isaiah would have to consider when he’d finished the source of danger off.

Preferably with a 12-gauge shotgun and clip of silver bullets.

"Fuck, Hec," he groaned, pushing himself and by extension, the vampire off the ground. "I can handle myself. Why’d you go jumpin’ in front of a goddamned werewolf for?"

"It was a good idea at the time?"

Isaiah raised an eyebrow, stooping to inspect the gashes left by the creature’s claws. “Really. The whole ‘lethal to vampires' part suddenly escape you?”

Secret: My character tells your character a secret.

He was a knight, and knights did not shy away from fear. They faced it head on, lances set and courage steeled for the inevitable. Yet, here he was, unable to explain away the flutter of what could only be panic in the pit of his stomach as he paced the hallway.

A low voice interrupted him. "Isa. What're you doin' here?"

Revenge: My character will get revenge on yours.

He was disciplined and he didn't kill without reason. Morality then, however grey, was what separated him from the monsters that he hunted. Monsters were what lurked in the dark, and what ripped families living normal lives apart; monsters had to be destroyed so that everyone could sleep safe at night.

A normal life.

He snorted, emptying the chamber of the shotgun with a metallic clink of shells against the floor. The only thing normal was the brief glimpse of domesticity he'd had, and that had been so rudely staked through the heart.

It was only fair then, that Isaiah returned the favour when the smoke cleared from the . What couldn't an angel blade, and a couple rounds of the right shotgun ammunition kill? Nothing.

The soles of his boots were sticky, squeaking scarlet on the floor. It'd been a pity that the shapeshifter had been alone, but perhaps it'd been for the better.

Super Angst Meme [x]

Rapture’s fall was kind to nobody.

In the moments that lay between him motivating those that haven’t yet turned against Atlas to stay the course, and his own refusal to dwell on anything that might send doubt into his own mind, he remembered this. That he was not the only one to have lost friends, nor was he the only one whose family had been taken.

It was dangerous to think like that. Rebels were not to be sympathized with. Not when the slightest bit of uncertainty would show through. There was too much on the line to risk such errant thoughts.

"you were the only one who offered to help me move in" au

The boxes have been packed, every cardboard cube sealed shut with tape and labelled—Phil’s idea, the marker gripped in his tiny hands. The floors are swept, every counter-top scrubbed, and as Hector runs his finger down the list tacked to the fridge, all that hasn’t been checked off is the actual moving out.

Which is what everyone else was supposed to be here for. Supposed being the keyword, seeing as there’s a distinct lack of anybody else here besides himself, his son, and Isaiah.

The man of the hour leans on the door-frame, looking about the rest of the apartment. "So," Isaiah starts, pausing awkwardly. "Wasn't Anna supposed to be here too?"

Hector shakes his head, shrugging. "She pulled a hamstring at the gym. Poor woman'll be out for weeks." Complaining to him too, no doubt.

"Harrison?"

"France."

"Adele?" Isaiah offers, as if he can't quite imagine the pretty blonde staggering down flights of stairs with boxes in her arms.

Another shake of his head, still in the negatory. Somehow, Hector's not really surprised that Isaiah's the only one standing at his apartment doorstep. Of all the people, it would be him. "M'obliged to you for showing up today."

Thread starters fic: Kink meme [x]

He leans back on the sheets, a grin touching his lips at the disciple’s question. It’s definitely not the first time that topic’s crossed his mind, but it’s the first time it’s come up in conversation.

Taking over the world

"Do you want to make a deal?" And with that, there fell the chips.

There were a hundred reasons why he shouldn’t trust Lin. Better to make it a hundred thousand reasons why this was a supremely bad idea, he thought when the man extended a slim hand to him.

There was a saying about the enemy of one’s enemy being a friend, but somehow it seemed not to apply when the potential friend was also a thrice-damnable crossroad demon. Contracting one’s soul out to eternal torment tended to put a damper on friendly relations, anyway. And it wasn’t as if Isaiah didn’t know exactly how badly this would end for him.

When it came to playing with hellfire, the house would always win. But when his goal was destruction and revenge, there was no better place to turn to than those well-versed in it. Besides, there was something beautiful in watching the world burn when he had nothing left to lose.

Shaking away the memory of the first rule written in the leather-bound journal his mother left to him, he took the demon’s hand. “Why the fuck not. You got yourself a soul.”

Isaiah was only halfway surprised when Lin twisted his arm, pulling him in to press a kiss against his lips. He hissed at the flare of heat racing through him, the script seared over every inch of his skin fading when the man stepped back.