deathlessdamned

[deathlessdamned]

[deathlessdamned]

Cynical Cynical This is all I'll ever be...

[deathlessdamned]

| † |

~ @crownedinsin

Blood trickled from his lips, the wound proving fatal with every crimson drop that escaped. It wasn't truly a surprise; the shooter had aimed with lethal intent, and despite his so-called immortality, Cain was only human in the end. ( Still, he had fired back, the sound of gunfire echoing amid the frantic shouts of panic that swirled around him, a slight alarm creeping into his mind. ) The last thing he wanted was to awaken in a morgue once more, to clamber out of a cold, sterile storage unit and drag his weary body elsewhere to patch himself up. The mere thought filled him with irritation. The cycle of dying and then resurrecting was always a grating ordeal. At least in a controlled environment, he only had the aftermath of pain to contend with. 

Curse God.

Saying he despised Him was an understatement; the rage thrumming through his veins as consciousness slipped away and his heart gave its final, faltering beat. Whether attempts were made to resuscitate him, he couldn't say; instead of the anticipated blinding lights, he was met with an overwhelming suffocating heat that seemed to envelop his very being. ( A choked gasp escaped his lips as he became aware of his body, finding himself facedown in—well, he couldn't discern where he was. ) Flames flickered all around, accompanied by a cacophony of noise and haunting screams. Clasping his hands over his ears, he exhaled sharply, trying to steady himself on uncopperative legs.

When he finally dared to open his eyes, the sight before him was no better. The gunshot wound was still visible, and the acrid stench of fire assaulted his senses. Wait, what? Was he in Hell? Apparently so, for the air was filled with sounds of confusion and chaos, as what he could only assume were demons began to create an uproar. ( He supposed it wasn't every day a soul appeared unannounced, wandering freely among them. ) Was this some cosmic joke? He couldn't recall ever visiting such a place after dying, and the mark of Cain remained visible when he checked, confirming that he hadn't suddenly become mortal. 

‘I'm sorry, but what the fuck is this? Lucifer!’

[deathlessdamned]

| † |

~ @d4rkpassengerz

Living a lie had a way of gnawing at him, wearing him down to the point of exasperation. It was difficult to escape the stark truth of his existence when Lucifer made it a point to remind him at every opportunity. Gradually, he came to the painful realisation that lingering in Los Angeles was a misstep. ( Yet, he cherished the work he did there. There was a twisted satisfaction in seeing justice served, in punishing those who deserved it. ) The role also provided the ideal guise, allowing him to continue his clandestine activities as the Sinnerman, ever in pursuit of a way to end his immortality. However, when he got news of a temporary transfer, it surprisingly didn’t faze him. He had already decided that a break from LA would be the perfect chance to reassess and weigh his options.

And so he found himself in Miami, where the oppressive heat clung to him like a second skin. Earning the trust of the department proved a slow and arduous process, especially when dealing with Detective Morgan, who appeared to be suspicious of newcomers. Despite his outwardly gruff demeanor, he came to admire her sharp intellect and her knack for thinking outside the box. ( Days stretched into weeks, and it was during an investigation that he first noticed the ominous signs of his past creeping back. ) Men he had once manipulated were turning up dead, their lifeless bodies a chilling reminder. It felt like someone was intentionally trying to provoke him, and identifying the culprit wasn’t a Herculean task.

The consequence? He eliminated them in the same ruthless fashion they had used against his former associates. In retrospect, it was a blunder, particularly when he found himself working the very scene of his crime. ( Rubbing a hand down his jaw, he allowed the lab technicians to perform their duties, confident he had already erased any incriminating evidence. ) The whole affair was a significant annoyance. There was a reason he preferred to keep his personal life shrouded in secrecy.

'So, what have we got? Any theories, Lab Morgan?'

[deathlessdamned]

Chloe Decker and Marcus Pierce in Lucifer 3x09 “The Sinnerman”

[deathlessdamned]

‘Hardly surprising, is it? I’m frozen in time.’

Cursed to wander this earth for eternity, condemned to never age or evolve. ( This was his punishment from God, and he found little to be impressed about while being scrutinised by the Corinthian, who regarded him as if he were about to peel away his skin, layer by layer. ) Yet, Cain stood resolute, his grip around the Corinthian’s wrist unyielding, his piercing gaze clashing with the other’s, sharp enough to cut through the tension that hung in the air.

Distrust coursed through him, a thick, tangible barrier. He felt a creeping unease in the presence of the Corinthian; the way he looked at him was unnerving, almost predatory. ( Cain was well acquainted with the twisted sense of amusement the Corinthian derived from others discomfort but amid the unease, there was no fear. ) No longer did he harbor fear of anything—except the eternal, interminable existence that stretched endlessly before him.

With a clenched jaw, he finally released his hold, a decision wrapped in frustration. ( He knew the futility of trying to subdue the Corinthian—there was no way he could cuff him and parade him to the Precinct with a flick of his badge. ) The very idea was absurd, laughable.

‘I’m not playing anything. But tell me, don’t you worry about drawing the attention of your Master?’

His research had always been meticulous, his vigilance unwavering. ( From the moment he gained awareness of the supernatural realm, he had kept a watchful eye over all its manifestations. ) It wasn’t just angels he sought to unravel; the presence of the Corinthian signaled that Dream wouldn’t be far behind. And that was the last thing Cain needed—the endless.

Cains bemused comment earns nothing but a pleasantly intrigued smile from the Nightmare. The monsters entire attention now pinpointed on the first murderer with gruesome intrigue.

"You haven't aged a day." The Corinthian hums with mild amusement. Cain doesn't need to see behind the sunglasses to know the Corinthian's gaze is running over his body.

His gaze finally falls to the hand still wrapped around his wrist. The one that had caught him from leaving. A quirked smile catches on his expression when the First Murderer questions whether the two men left eyeless and bled out in the bathtub of a nearby motel is his handiwork.

"My handiwork?" The Corinthian sighs with raised brows as he gently pulls his wrist away from the immortal in order to coax him to let go.

"Spending your time playing cop now, are you?"

[deathlessdamned]

Anonymous threw case files : I like big butts, and I cannot lie! Do you like big butts, Pierce? Or are you more a boobs or leg man?

‘Neither. I’m a getting work done and ignoring you man.’

He didn’t have a moment to spare for such trivial distractions. Drowning in a sea of case files, he had found himself buried under an avalanche of work after half of his colleagues had succumbed to a wretched flu that had swept through the precinct like wildfire. ( So far, he had managed to dodge the illness, but the remnants of his recent efforts to unravel his own personal dilemmas clung to him like a shadow, his skin still bearing the marks of his struggles. ) Lucifer had offered little in the way of genuine assistance; his suggestions all too predictable and proving utterly fruitless. Frustration simmered within Pierce, the edges of his patience fraying. Was it too much to ask for some peace and quiet?

‘Surely you have better things to do?’

[deathlessdamned]

Anonymous threw case files : At his death bed, Achilles realized that they were going to lose the war and uttered his last words, “Defeet hurts.”

‘Really?’

The relentless pounding in his head had escalated into a relentless drumbeat of frustration. Had this person truly squandered his valuable time on such inane drivel? He crossed his arms tightly across his chest, his expression hardening into a scowl that radiated irritation and indifference. ( Childish jokes? They were utterly beneath him. ) He could almost imagine the echoed laughter of others, reveling in the dark humour he found tiresome and foolish. After a lifetime steeped in frivolity and nonsense, the last thing he craved was more of it. Each word spoken deepened his longing for an escape from this eternal existence he was trapped in.

‘Right, of course he did. Good to know.’

[deathlessdamned]

[deathlessdamned]

fortitudina threw case files : ❛  that’s  a  very ,  very  bad  idea .  do  NOT  be  yourself .  ❜ ( from Ella )

There were very few people he found tolerable in his line of work, yet over time, he had unexpectedly grown fond of Ella during their days in the LAPD. Initially, he had misjudged her and pointed remarks had called him out on it. Since that turning point, their interactions had shifted from strained to surprisingly pleasant. ( True, she still exuded a level of enthusiasm that perplexed him—her steps always light, her laughter infectious—but he had come to appreciate her quirks. ) Compared to the unbearable nature of colleagues like Espinaza and Morningstar, Ella’s vibrancy was a refreshing change. He could see beyond her eccentricities; she was more tolerable than he had initially realised.

'Lopez, a statement like that would offend anyone else. If I shouldn’t be myself, what should I be like?'

The question slipped from his lips cautiously, a knot of dread tightening in his stomach as he awaited her response. He braced himself for her undoubtedly sunny viewpoint, with suggestions of optimism and unpredictable joy. After all, romance was a realm he had long abandoned. ( Though this particular interaction was merely a ruse for an ongoing case, the pressing need to make a good impression loomed large. ) The woman they were after possessed vital intel, and despite the absurdity of using flirtation to extract it, desperation clouded judgment. She had taken an interest in him, forcing him to confront the lengths he would go to for his job.

Ugh.

[deathlessdamned]

@dtchloedecker threw case files : are you kidding me ?

‘Decker, does my face look like it's kidding?’

The words hung in the air, heavy and frustrated as Peirce reflected on the situation's absurdity. Dealing with criminals was a high-stakes game that could easily tip in one of two directions. If fortune favoured them, the sleazy drug dealers would swallow their facade and accept them as interested buyers. But if the encounter took a grim turn, they would find themselves scrambling to improvise—a reality Peirce didn’t relish. ( He couldn’t fathom why the higher-ups had deemed them suitable for this precarious mission. ) After all, he had gone to great lengths to keep his distance from Decker since she uncovered his deeper truths. It was as if he could feel the invisible wall growing between them, and he suspected she took it personally. Yet, the reason he had initially come to LA still gnawed at him, a relentless ache to find a way to escape the curse that had shackled him.

So why had he made the unconscionable choice to stay, trading his hopes for something far less desirable? The logic eluded him, slipping through his fingers. Instead, he was allowing life to unfold in its chaotic manner, losing himself in the relentless obligations of work. ( It was a cruel irony he couldn't shake, but it served as a desperately needed distraction. ) He couldn’t shake off the feeling that Chloe needed the same—especially after the harrowing truths she had unveiled not just about him but about Lucifer too. Even with the chaos settling like dust in the aftermath of revelations, he imagined it must still plague at her, how drastically their lives had shifted.

'You’re an experienced officer; you’ve handled undercover work before...'

The statement echoed between them, a reminder of their shared history in navigating the treacherous waters of undercover operations. They had both faced the shadows and arrived unscathed, but perhaps this particular assignment would carve a path for reconciliation. ( Maybe, just maybe, it would allow them a precious opportunity to find common ground and finally confront the unanswered questions lingering in the air like uninvited guests. ) As much as he hated the notion of small talk—those empty exchanges that felt meaningless—perhaps it was better to address the elephants in the room before they became insurmountable.

[deathlessdamned]

@eyeless-smiles followed from || † || 

‘Not long enough.’

The sight of the nightmare was a grotesque tableau, one that lingered far too vividly in Cain's mind. Those unnatural, predatory maws—hungry and piercing—reminded him of a dark chapter in his life, a reminder of the terrible deed he had committed against his own brother. ( For years, the Corinthian had haunted his dreams, a sinister presence that refused to allow him even a moment's peace. ) Countless nights had slipped away in a haze of sweat-soaked sheets and frantic awakenings, each pulse of adrenaline a painful echo of hidden guilt. 

As much as he wished to forget it all, the memories clung to him like shadows, inescapable and relentless. It left him questioning: why was this nightmare now manifested in daylight, masquerading as an echo of humanity? Had he somehow evolved, twisted by his own sins? ( Through his extensive research, Cain had come to realize that the Corinthian was no mere figment of his imagination. ) With grim determination, he had monitored not just celestial beings but any anomaly that brushed against the fabric of his existence. In his relentless scrutiny, it seemed he had overlooked one formidable threat.

‘Should have known you were responsible—was it your 'pretty' handiwork that the LAPD were investigating this morning?’

[deathlessdamned]

"Grab"

Send "Grab" for your muse to grab mine's wrist, preventing them from leaving.

The Nightmare stops abruptly as it feels fingers wrap around its wrist. Turning towards the souce of the vicelike grip to lock his attention upon a set of glitteringly handsome blue eyes.This well-built stranger looks familiar.

The Nightmare expression lights up as the realisation of who he is looking at strikes him. It has been thousands of years since he had first set his maws on those pretty eyes. And it has been hundreds of years since he saw them last. Only ever in dreams.

Cain. The first murderer. The first man to taste the darkness that humanity could harbour. The Corinthian was young when he began to plague Cain's dreams. He was one of the Corinthian's first.

"Cain." The Nightmare's lips form a smile around the name. His interest piqued as he steps back from the door and towards the immortal in his presence.

"My, it's been a while."

@deathlessdamned

[deathlessdamned]

Cain is already grumpy as hell about being back but is that really a surprise ?

[deathlessdamned]

@crownedinsin followed from || † ||  

‘Wh-’

Cain's eyes narrowed, the whites stark against the shadows as he exhaled sharply, a harsh breath escaping him. Blackness began to seep into his vision, and Lucifer's voice faded, tinged with an unexpected concern that stirred confusion within him. They had exchanged jabs for some time, but the idea of caring felt foreign, almost unsettling.

Unconsciousness soon enveloped him, leaving him motionless in a hushed void—until a twitch of his hand broke the stillness, accompanied by a low grumble of annoyance. Reality slammed back into his awareness, pain radiating through him.

‘Gerrof me Lucifer, I’m fine. It just takes time…’

[deathlessdamned]

~ @deathlessdamned || [ bullet ] sender takes a bullet for receiver - Lucifer ~

It happened in a flash, the shot fired and Lucifer's back hit the way, knocked out of the way by Marcus. The bullet lodged into his chest, dropping him to the ground. The "NO -" that left him reverberated around the room, Lucifer's wrist turning, sending the shooter burning up in a spiral of flames. He scrambled to Cain, hands gripping his chest to inspect the wound. "Wake up -" There was a tremor of concern that gave him away, eyes fixed on his face. "Do the immortal thing and heal up, you stubborn ox."

[deathlessdamned]

firebirby  threw case files : ❛  lies  are  like  tigers .  they  are  BAD .  ❜

‘I-’

Immortal gaze cast a puzzled look in her direction, his face reflecting a mixture of surprise and perplexity. While he grasped the general principle that dishonesty was disapproved of, he struggled to understand why exactly she had compared it to a bloody tiger. ( True, tigers were untamed and perilous, but what had they specifically done to warrant such an association in this particular situation? ) He didn't perceive Phen as someone who held animosity toward any living being... Had he completely missed the message she was trying to convey? Did he even have enough interest to care? It seemed as though she would always remain incomprehensible to him.

‘Yeah, right.’