#lilith bathory
Randall: I never thought that Lilith was a innocent girl, but when she went on her first date with Nicole, any suspicion I had of that died.
Jack: Before she went on it she told me ‘by the end of the night I’m going to make sure I know out what my name sounds like when she’s moaning it.’
Jack: I fucking choked on my pretzels from that.
Lilith: I’m doing such a great job at keeping my crush a secret
Nicole: hey Lil;)
Lilith: I have to gay- I mean go. I have to go.
Gabrielle, wanting to be done with this game as soon as possible: Guys, I’m an Imposter vote me out.
Jack: Funny joke, but that wont help us figure out who the imposter is.
Gabrielle: I’m serious. I am voting myself out.
Lilith: Hamish is acting sus.
Alyssa: Its Hamish
(and this continued until everyone voted out everyone else and Gabrielle won without killing anyone.)
Lilith, Hamish, Randall, and Jack: *have another bad and dangerous idea*
Alyssa and Vera, waking up in cold sweat: Something is wrong.
Lilith: Hey, d'you wanna know your gay name?
Nicole: …my “gay name?”
Lilith: Yeah, do you wanna know what it is?
Nicole: This feels like a trap –
Lilith: It’s your first name.
Nicole: Oh my go –
Lilith, getting down on one knee: And my last name
Lilith, angrily: ARE YOU-
Randall: Fucking.
Lilith: -KIDDING ME?! YOU-
Randall: Fucking.
Lilith: -IDIOT-
Edward, who came back from the dead for some reason idk stay with me here: …what was that?
Randall: Vera banned Lilith from swearing when she’s talking to people who can give us info, so I volunteered to help her out.
Jack: music is just wiggling air
Gabrielle: don’t do this. Don’t do this to me today.
Hamish: and colour is just wiggling light. Thank you for coming to my tedtalk.
Gabrielle: ple-
Lilith: artists and musicians are just magicians of the wiggle.
Randall: an artists best quality: their wiggles.
Gabrielle: i’m leaving the pack
Nicole: if i got a dollar for every time i thought about you, i’d only have one dollar because you’re all i think about.
Lilith, voice cracking: have fun being broke, weirdo.
Lilith: This may shock you but not everyone here likes you.
Gabrielle, filing her nails: Sounds ridiculous but go on.
Randall: If I punch myself and it hurts, am I strong or weak?
Jack: Strong.
Alyssa: Weak.
Lilith: An idiot.
Vera: I hope you all have a verygood explanation for this.
Randall: We have four, actually.
Jack: We couldn’t decide on one.
Lilith: So you can pick your favorite.
Hamish: I’m so sorry about them.
Randall: Hey, it was your idea in all of these!
Jack ends up swearing his life to the cause.
It’s not because he thought about it over and over again and decided it is to the knights his loyalty lies and not to the strange organization his father is the head of, nor it is because he decided the knight’s goal was nobler, getting rid of those who harm his kin.
No, Jack swears his life to the cause because the knights love him. Because they look at him and see a person, not a weapon to cure grief or a nameless acolyte, because they see him,thereal him –and truthfully, they had every right not to, considering the wolve hide who claimed his body – but they do, look at him and see Jack, not Silverback, and it’s all Jack wanted but never dared to hope for.
So really, his choice was long made. The fact they condemn him murdering his ethic professor is just a bonus, a weird one, but a good new nonetheless, and Jack wonders how far he can go until they draw the line.
“My dad is Edward Coventry.” Jack blurts out, because he has never been one to half-ass anything, and considering how hesitant he is to choose his major, he seems quite dedicated to fuck his life himself. “The head of the Order.”
Lilith whistles, legs crossed on top of Jack’s. He’s still not used to the closeness, but it’s a relieving one that makes Silverback sing in his heart, so he accepts it gladly.
“You mean the one you want to kill?”
Jack nods. Lilith laughs, patting his shoulder. At least one of them finds it funny.
“I cannot wait to see that.”
Hamish has the audacity to smirk, holding a hand out in the air while Randall begrudgingly shoves a ten dollars bill in his palm.
And then it clicks.
“You guys bet?”
Randall bites his lips, shares a mischievous look with Hamish.
“I bet the reason why you wanted to kill him was related to a father figure.” Hamish shrugs, and sometimes Jack forgets he’s a TA for Professor Krowchuk’s philosophy class.
“And I bet you just thought his beard was hideous.” Randall rolls his eyes, points an accusatory finger at him. “Please tell me you’re not going to grow one because I swear I’ll shave you in your sleep.”
“What? No.”
“Okay, but can I draw one on your face?” Lilith interrupts, a marker already in hand.
If Jack was completely honest, he’d say the reason why he decided to join the Knights of Saint Christopher is also that they’re a bunch of unrestrained idiots and Hamish looked like he might need a hand.
NEXT (x)
“I’ll return it.” Jack mumbles, looking every bit as nervous as he is, surrounded by no less than three werewolves. “I just, look, I didn’t have any clothes and Lilith—”
“You can keep it.” Hamish cuts him, his words leaving his mouth before he thinks, but he’s quite alright with it. He’s not sure he could bear to have Jack’s scent all over it, were it to be returned.
Then, Hamish looks at him, really looks at him for once, sees the bloody lines on his face and down his neck, circling his mouth, and he has seen enough of these to know the meaning they bear, one of a life robbed under his teeth.
Jack should be proud. He hasn’t been a werewolf for more than a week and yet, has already turned and killed his first warlock, it’s quite a feat.
But instead of beaming with pride and relief, Hamish can’t see anything but shame and guilt on his face, creasing his brows and nose as if he was about to puke, and Saint Christopher be his guest, he’s positive the boy hasn’t killed anyone before.
Hamish doesn’t mock him. Rolls his eyes, maybe, because he didn’t plan to make cocktails so early no matter how much he loves to drink, but Jack clearly needs an après-kill, and even if he’s not quite a knight yet, he certainly won’t be the one refusing it to him.
It takes but a few moments of preparations under Lilith and Randall’s understanding gazes before he shoves the glass between Jack’s hands and orders him to drink it.
Jack, ever so wary, welcomes him with a sickened face.
“It’s alcohol.” He complains, and Hamish snorts.
“So?”
“It’s seven in the morning.”
“Fucking drink it, for God’s sake.” Lilith groans and rolls her eyes, hits her head against the back of the couch.
“You need it. Trust us.” Randall adds, and if the deadly bored glares Lilith and Hamish gave him weren’t enough to convince him, Randall’s words just might.
And the thing is, it doesn’t taste bad. Good, even, but it’s still alcohol, and it’s still seven, but at least it burns his throat enough to wash the taste of blood go away and make him a little dizzy, which is just what he needed to forget he just ate a man’s heart for breakfast.
But then Hamish sits on the couch next to him, bodies touching from hip to knee while Randall flops on top of them three grinning like a madman; and to be honest, cuddling with three people who could easily rip his throat wasn’t how Jack planned to spend his morning, but he’s not sure he really has the choice.
NEXT (x)
If it only depended on him, Hamish would have stayed in bed for the rest of the morning. The prospect of laying next to Randall and share his warmth is already alluring enough, but he fears if Randall keeps looking at him with these eyes, he might do more than that and propose a second round.
And as much as it kills him to tear his eyes away from the soft lines of his body, something else catches his attention, tickles his nose, the odd blend of his own scent intertwined with an unfamiliar one although it isn’t one of a complete stranger, Hamish remembers smelling it on Randall a few days ago, and many others before; which is the exact reason why it bothers him so much.
He’s upstairs, most definitely not in foreign company and yet he can still smell it, this weird scent Tundra picked up, and Hamish swears he can almost feel her laughing inside him, a loud rumble cursing through his whole body.
Hamish groans, grabs his clothes, ignores Randall’s pleas. He’ll catch up on it, has been a wolf long enough for that.
Barely a minute later, and as if to confirm his doubts, Randall jumps off the bed, looking at him with both wariness and a hint of amusement, and really, it doesn’t help him at all, because even if Randall figured out who it belongs to, he doesn’t seem to be willing to share it with him.
They walk down the stairs in a controlled rush, although it doesn’t prevent Randall from jumping across the stairs’ rail as soon as the height doesn’t threaten to break his bones, and as Hamish follows suit, finally walks in the living room, he catches a smile tugging at the corner of Randall’s lips, right above the lovebites Hamish left on his neck.
And then he sees it, right in front of him, the new knight who so ardently refused to join them, Jack, wearing his robe so loosely it wouldn’t be any different if he wore none at all, and as much as he loves to give his fellow knights everything he can, it’s an entirely different story if it involves a stranger, no matter how much the way their smells mix together draws him in, spreads warmth through his whole body.
“I wasn’t going to give him mine.” Lilith explains before he can ask, and Hamish doesn’t miss the way her eyes laugh louder than the emotionless facade she pretends to have. Lilith has always been able to read him too well to his liking, and sometimes he wonders if Timber isn’t the one whispering his secrets to her through their wolves, because there’s no way she thought of this herself, and considering how sly Tundra loves to be, he wouldn’t be surprised, she knows he wouldn’t be able to refuse it.
Stupid wolf.
NEXT(x)
PREVIOUS(x)
It’s not personal, really, if Lilith want Jack killed. She wants him dead because he’s a knight, because Silverback chose him and yet he refuses to commit his life to the cause, to bleed and fight by their side and call them his own just like she would call him hers. She wants him dead because the moment they offered him their help he laughed in their face and ran away, hid his nature and preferred the company of these magicians over the true call of his blood.
So yeah, Lilith wants him dead because she’s pissed, because he is a knight just like her and yet he doesn’t see the glory in it, spits in their face and doesn’t even thank them for saving his sorry ass.
But then one someone knocks on their door at the edge of dawn and Lilith groans, because she knows Hamish and Randall must be all tangled together by now and of course the duty falls on her.
Lilith opens the door, does not care to wear anything else than a loose dressing gown and how surprised must she look, to see the same puzzled face reflected in front of her.
“You?” She snarls, already feeling the doorknob unfolding between her fingers.
It’s him, it’s Jack, the idiotic mage, and if she could just stretch her arm she’s certain she could break his neck right here, right now on their doorstep but no, Hamish had to yield to Randall’s sweet, sweet face and she can’t, because they agreed to give him more time, because Randall said he’d prove himself worthy of her too, so Lilith let’s go of the door, crosses her arms over her chest.
“Why the fuck are you here?”
She sees him, Jack, dancing on his feet in pants too big for him, blood splattered on his face and chest, drying into his hairs, and she shouldn’t think it makes him look good, disheveled like this, but shit it does.
“I killed someone.” He whispers, all panicked, so shocked and oh does his voice sounds young right now, younger than they both are.
Lilith wants nothing more than clap her hands and tell him to fuck off, to say ‘congratulations, you’re a murderer’ and close the door on him because frankly, he deserves this and so, so much more, but she can’t, not with the way he looks, so weary and tired and scared of himself, with his hands trembling at his sides.
It’s not fair, the way he reminds her of herself. It’s not fair how terrified he looks, how it echoes a similar feelings in her mind, of a girl a few years ago who was just as just as terrified of her own hands and the bloody promises they could bring to the world.
“Shit,” She says instead, hears Hamish’s soft laugh from the first floor. “You’re gonna need one hell of a bath.”
She really, really shouldn’t be saying that.
Because she’s a lone wolf. Because she isn’t one for compassion and he’s one of them, one of these cursed mages who bring disasters to their home, but she still does, speaks before she can change her mind.
“Come on. I’ll take care of you.”
NEXT(x)
this is a psa but y'all really be sleeping on the knight of saint christopher being in a poly relationship with each other ain’t you
the order? good
does it need a damn revision? fuck yeah
“Can’t we wait a little longer?” Randall calls out in the middle of the beer-pong game, drunker than he ever was, and god what did he think, Hamish never lost a bet, especially when it involves alcohol; but he can’t stop, if he goes down it means Jack will die, because no matter how serious their pledge as knight they still decide life and death situation with stupid games, and he’s losing, and he hatesit.
Randall groans, holds his head between his palms and Hamish sees it. He’s pleading, Hamish, Hamish please, and Hamish doesn’t want to name it yet still does, cannot ignore what lies in Randall’s eyes.
“You took a liking to him.”
They’re knights. Jack is a liability to them at best, a threat to their cause at worst. It’s not like Randall doesn’t know about it, but Hamish knows best, more than anyone, already lost a piece of him to this battle.
And the worst thing is Randall tries to deny it, opens and closes his mouth like a fish out of the sea, rubs his neck and dances on his feet like a child caught red-handed.
“It’s not—” He says, attempts but he can’t find the words, and Hamish thinks he can hear Lilith whistling in the distance, enjoying this much more than she should.
“Please. Give him more time. I'll— I’ll vouch for him, anything— Please, Hamish—”
Hamish is their leader. That’s why when Lilith required Jack’s head and Randall so desperately argued against it, he hid his own thoughts, gave the both of them a fair chance to prove their point, because he didn’t need to hear Lilith’s nagging about him being too soft, because he actually doesn’t want the boy to die, doesn’t want to see another knight fall.
“Alright.” He says, and Lilith scoffs in the distance.
Hamish only met Jack once. Though, if he can make Randall lose his mind like this, things are going to be quite interesting indeed.
NEXT(x)
Here’s the thing about relationships in The Order (if that fandom is still alive)
They’re bad (most of them anyway)
Queerbating
It doesn’t matter that we got a half-assed 2 minutes long lesbian relationship if it got terminated immediately and sprung out of nowhere and half of that relationship literally got sent to hell; also both members are POC
You can’t make hamish and randall kiss out of nowhere and put that much feeling into it if you’re not going to go through with it even if their chemistry was off the charts (like the kiss me or the we had to had toorhe wishes??)
Overall I think The Order just has a problem with relationships (both straight and queer ones, though I do enjoy Hamish x Vera and/or Hamish x Randall, Randall x Gabrielle and Nicole x Lilith even if it was shortlived)
Exhibit A: Randall and Lilith. Why was that ever a thing? Just… just no
Exhibit B: Jack and Alyssa. They are for some reason the main couple yet they are mostly on and off and it’s not even entertaining. No one was surprised that they are each other’s love interests, but everything about them just gets so repetitive. Halfway through you’re just annoyed they’re not together. And even then you’re not enjoying it. But they are the main heterosexual white couple that got way too much screentime
Most of these problems would be resolved if we had got a season 3, but sadly we’re left with this mess.
