Alastair here, resident demon of Hell. I'd spend more time talking, lovelies, but I have racks to turn and blood to spill.

 

I Shall Fear No Evil

imfacingwhatyouwont:

picassowithaknife:

imfacingwhatyouwont:

picassowithaknife:

He hissed faintly at the holy water, flinching and closing his eyes, turning his head away. Of course it hurt, it was meant to, but honestly, did the boy think that some holy water was going to do more than sting? He was the torture master of Hell, after all, and he certainly wasn’t going to react all that much. He turned back to Luc with a smirk. “Oh, I missed that. Those funny little words aren’t going to do anything, boy.”

With a mere flicker of demonic might, the boy was pinned against the wall. “You know, things are happening, Luc. Important things that affect the whooooooole world. Now…” He stood and wiped the water from his chin, flicking it away casually. “I’ve been looking for a certain somebody. See… Hell is missing it’s number one boss. It’s been twenty years on the dot, to be precise.”

His smile grew. “Lucifer went missing twenty years ago… Almost to the hour, too,” he mused, noticing the time. “Oh, and Luc?” He faced the boy head on. “Happy birthday.”

Luc was struggling against the pinning, but he knew it was futile. He was stuck. He listened to the demon and spat at him, the face of utter hate on him. “I am going to kill you,” he said, struggling. “Let me go. I’m not who you think I am. Now let me go. Now. I’m warning you.” He couldn’t do this, he couldn’t get out, and he wanted to strangle the man before him. 

“Yeah. Nice. You know my birthday. Now let me go.”

The hungover boy’s spittle completely missed Alastair, making him chuckle. “You’re exactly who I think you are, boy, but without your grace, I’d advise you to shut your pretty lips. I might sew them shut later, but for now, listen and learn.” His calm, measured tone was straining against his irritation, but remained stable. “Doesn’t Angel Radio ever get a bit loud for you? Maybe you can see my face… Those aren’t normal traits, Luc.”

“How do you know about that?” he demanded, glaring roughly at him. “I don’t see why that would make you think I’m Lucifer. Sure, it’s not normal- its pretty far from normal. but so is my entire life.” He kept his eyes on the demon. “If you’re going to kill me, why drag it out? Just do it.” 

He wagged a finger warningly. “Hush, hush. I wasn’t done talking. See, those traits are known for a reason. How are you a fallen angel? Let me count the ways. When you’re hit, the other person ends up hurt. You should die during most of your little…” Alastair’s lip curled. “Hunts, but you don’t. Those are the abilities, the given gifts of a fallen angel turned human when he falls so far that his grace takes leave.”

I Shall Fear No Evil

imfacingwhatyouwont:

picassowithaknife:

He hissed faintly at the holy water, flinching and closing his eyes, turning his head away. Of course it hurt, it was meant to, but honestly, did the boy think that some holy water was going to do more than sting? He was the torture master of Hell, after all, and he certainly wasn’t going to react all that much. He turned back to Luc with a smirk. “Oh, I missed that. Those funny little words aren’t going to do anything, boy.”

With a mere flicker of demonic might, the boy was pinned against the wall. “You know, things are happening, Luc. Important things that affect the whooooooole world. Now…” He stood and wiped the water from his chin, flicking it away casually. “I’ve been looking for a certain somebody. See… Hell is missing it’s number one boss. It’s been twenty years on the dot, to be precise.”

His smile grew. “Lucifer went missing twenty years ago… Almost to the hour, too,” he mused, noticing the time. “Oh, and Luc?” He faced the boy head on. “Happy birthday.”

Luc was struggling against the pinning, but he knew it was futile. He was stuck. He listened to the demon and spat at him, the face of utter hate on him. “I am going to kill you,” he said, struggling. “Let me go. I’m not who you think I am. Now let me go. Now. I’m warning you.” He couldn’t do this, he couldn’t get out, and he wanted to strangle the man before him. 

“Yeah. Nice. You know my birthday. Now let me go.”

The hungover boy’s spittle completely missed Alastair, making him chuckle. “You’re exactly who I think you are, boy, but without your grace, I’d advise you to shut your pretty lips. I might sew them shut later, but for now, listen and learn.” His calm, measured tone was straining against his irritation, but remained stable. “Doesn’t Angel Radio ever get a bit loud for you? Maybe you can see my face… Those aren’t normal traits, Luc.”

I Shall Fear No Evil

imfacingwhatyouwont:

picassowithaknife:

Alastair was sitting in the chair that he had been all night, smirking. He crossed his legs and tilted his head. “How are you feeling, Lucy?” He asked curiously. “Headache? Pain in the ass, maybe?” His smile held mockery, as though he knew something that Lucifer did not. Of course, he hadn’t done anything to the boy when he was passed out— a unresponsive victim was a boring victim.

Luc jumped from the bed, grabbing the flash of holy water on his bedside and splashed it at Alastair, backing away as far as he could. “Get away from me,” he demanded, shaking. He had a splitting head ache and was not in any shape to deal with this demon. “Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica.” He started, speaking the words of an exorcism. 

He hissed faintly at the holy water, flinching and closing his eyes, turning his head away. Of course it hurt, it was meant to, but honestly, did the boy think that some holy water was going to do more than sting? He was the torture master of Hell, after all, and he certainly wasn’t going to react all that much. He turned back to Luc with a smirk. “Oh, I missed that. Those funny little words aren’t going to do anything, boy.”

With a mere flicker of demonic might, the boy was pinned against the wall. “You know, things are happening, Luc. Important things that affect the whooooooole world. Now…” He stood and wiped the water from his chin, flicking it away casually. “I’ve been looking for a certain somebody. See… Hell is missing it’s number one boss. It’s been twenty years on the dot, to be precise.”

His smile grew. “Lucifer went missing twenty years ago… Almost to the hour, too,” he mused, noticing the time. “Oh, and Luc?” He faced the boy head on. “Happy birthday.”

Trust the Unseen [Open Roleplay]

imfacingwhatyouwont:

picassowithaknife:

imfacingwhatyouwont:

Luc was stumbling through the motel, his face red from drinking. He always had a bad habit of drinking too much when hunts would go wrong. He leaned against the hallway, closing his eyes, but that just made it worse. Much, much worse. The world was spinning, and he was sure that this would be a night that he would be talking about in confession next week. He opened his eyes, getting finally to his room. He fumbled with the keys a bit before getting it unlocked, and he fell through the door, landing on the floor with an oomph. He moaned, unhappily. He debated just laying there, sleeping on the floor, but decided against it. 

He pushed himself up, then froze when he heard a voice. He spun, rather too quickly, and fell on his ass on the floor, looking up at the demon. “Demon,” he said, and groaned. “Really? Right now? You’re a fucking dick, you know that?” 

Alastair frowned slightly, amused, and rose an eyebrow. “Is that all you’re going to do, Lucy?” He stood up and walked over, scooping the boy up without a hint of effort, chuckling. “It’s no fun to talk to a drunkard.”

He set the boy in bed and threw the covers over him, and a pillow for good measure. “I’m a patient man, so tell you what. I’ll wait for you to sober up, mm?”

He groaned, too intoxicated to fight against the demon. “Le’me go,” he whined. “An’ my name’s Luc- no’ Lucy. ‘m no’ a chick.” He smacked Alastair pathetically as he hit the bed, and glared. “I hate you. Go away. Now.” He rolled over, wanting him to leave. “Stupid demon.” He couldn’t help it, and drifted off to sleep.

A couple of hours later, he awoke, moaning, holding his head. “Ugh…”

Alastair was sitting in the chair that he had been all night, smirking. He crossed his legs and tilted his head. “How are you feeling, Lucy?” He asked curiously. “Headache? Pain in the ass, maybe?” His smile held mockery, as though he knew something that Lucifer did not. Of course, he hadn’t done anything to the boy when he was passed out— a unresponsive victim was a boring victim.

Trust the Unseen [Open Roleplay]

imfacingwhatyouwont:

Luc was stumbling through the motel, his face red from drinking. He always had a bad habit of drinking too much when hunts would go wrong. He leaned against the hallway, closing his eyes, but that just made it worse. Much, much worse. The world was spinning, and he was sure that this would be a night that he would be talking about in confession next week. He opened his eyes, getting finally to his room. He fumbled with the keys a bit before getting it unlocked, and he fell through the door, landing on the floor with an oomph. He moaned, unhappily. He debated just laying there, sleeping on the floor, but decided against it. 

He pushed himself up, then froze when he heard a voice. He spun, rather too quickly, and fell on his ass on the floor, looking up at the demon. “Demon,” he said, and groaned. “Really? Right now? You’re a fucking dick, you know that?” 

Alastair frowned slightly, amused, and rose an eyebrow. “Is that all you’re going to do, Lucy?” He stood up and walked over, scooping the boy up without a hint of effort, chuckling. “It’s no fun to talk to a drunkard.”

He set the boy in bed and threw the covers over him, and a pillow for good measure. “I’m a patient man, so tell you what. I’ll wait for you to sober up, mm?”

picassowithaknife started following you

hellxbornandraised:

“N..No way” Sam called with his eyes full of fear, a gulp slipped down his throat as his hazel eyes looked towards Alastair who had appeared, he stumbled back a little not believing that it was him, it couldn’t be, after all he had been the one to kill him, he had saved his brother and Castiel from being killed.

"Miss me, Sammy?" The demon’s eyes twinkled as he took a step towards the towering male. "I’m here, hale and hearty, as you can see, and I am far from done with your brother and you."

Trust the Unseen [Open Roleplay]

imfacingwhatyouwont:

It was a simple enough job. A few demons, go in, exercise them, and get out, and save some human lives in the process  It was a family. A mother, a father, and an eight year old girl. But he couldn’t. Luc couldn’t save them, not all of them. That little girl was now an orphan, and it was all because he didn’t get there in time. She was going to live her entire life scarred by what happened, and probably not ever understand why this had to happen to her family. He hated this. Hated failing, losing- Hold on to your faith, his dad would probably say. Believe in God and all will come through. Luc shook his head, looking up to the sky. But where was his dad now? Six feet under in some grave site in Jersey. What did his faith get him, huh? A painful death at the hands of demons while trying to protect his family. 

No. It wasn’t right for him to blame God for that, he knew it, but damn it, it was just all too easy. Blame the unseen for everything wrong in your life. Did he even give a shit about them down here? Did he even care how many of his servants died at the hands of those monsters? “Where are You?!” he screamed up at the sky, kicking the dirt road he was standing on, his car parked on the side. “Huh!? Are You even here?! Do You even care!?” He tugged at his hair, looking up, closing his eyes as the rain poured down. “I need You! We all need You! I understand that I need to have faith, but haven’t I suffered enough!? I’ve done everything I can! Can’t I get a little back?!” 

He turned back to his car, getting in and slamming the door shut. He rested his head on the wheel, eyes closed, and pulled out of his pocket his rosary. He had that thing as long as he could remember. He shook his head, biting his lip, and sighed. He waited twenty minutes before nodding. “Fine. I get it. I understand. No sign. No help. Nothing. Maybe I haven’t earned it yet. I’ll have to keep trying then, won’t I?” Looking back to his rosary  he held it securely in his hand, reciting the Ave Maria. Afterwards, he shoved the rosary into his pocket, got out of his car, and headed to the bar up the road. He needed a drink. 

Alastair was aboveground, which he hated. He didn’t have his pets to play with, which he also hated. And he was in a human’s body, which he hated most of all. He was amused, though, and had a plan, a very straightforward plan.  Word traveled fast in the demon world, and the current juicy bit of gossip was that a certain Original Fallen Angel had fallen so very far that even he had to succumb to the usual pattern of the fallen— he became human. It wasn’t unheard of, to be honest, nor was it the first time that it had happened, and it likely wouldn’t be the last, but it was certainly the most noteworthy. Even Alastair was interested, and so, he had pulled himself from his engrossing (in every sense) work down under and came topside.

He detested it even more, he decided, when he saw what kind of things the apes called clothing. At least in the past there were layers to pull off; a corset string to loosen slowly, letting the magnitude of the sin slip by in silken shudders off of bare skin to reveal the cesspool beneath, performing a perfect dance against the beautiful skin to show the tainted soul underneath. There was armor to piece away, each plate clattering to the ground, a gong calling out each and every transgression against God and man for all who had ears to hear, pulling chainmail apart, link by link. By the time they were nude before Alastair, he had them quivering, weeping, and knew that even pleading could not save them, nor would God. There was nobody but the sinner, Alastair, and his toys.

When the male went into a cheap motel to sleep off his drink, Alastair was there. He had been there for an inordinately long time, trailing the fallen angel for enough time to know his basic habits. Alastair’s patience was worth it, though. He was sitting casually at what passed for a table, legs crossed and head resting in his hand, elbow on the table. His lips spread in a smile, eyes twinkling in what could only be called mischief. “Nice to see you again, pet.”