#uorpstarter

[the-original-casanova-blog]

Only Fitting... - Open

Of course Asmodeus would find a meatsuit that was obsessed with himself. A male model, clean cut, chiseled, and wealthy. Portraits of the model’s assumed favorites - though there were so many that they couldn’t possibly all be favorites- - hung on the walls wherever the designer the man hired decided they fit best. The more... savory portraits hung in the master bedroom, and Asmodeus enjoyed admiring them. Even though some were now spattered with blood. He just thought that made them better. Even though the model was now Asmodeus in a since, he still got a thrill out of looking at the defined abs of the muscular man. Lust prefered no gender.

---

Asmodeus walked slowly and confidently out of the french doors of the study and up the stairs as if they were his - which now they rightly were. He pushed open the door to the master bedroom open to find a strawberry blond woman bent over a suitcase, hurriedly packing for their escape. It was the end of the world, and would soon be the end of hers. But she didn’t need to know that. A wolfish grin played across his lips as he wrapped his arms around the girl, even at the end of the world she smelled of flowers.

“Hello, Honey,” said Asmodeus, his voice low in her ear.

She jumped, he having startled her. “Honey? You never call me that.” Her voice was apprehensive. The two of them must have been close because she knew that there was something wrong with her partner. She slowly turned around to meet his eyes.

“Well… I do now.” Asmodeus’s eyes flitted back to the black of the demon he now was as he moved the suitcase off the bed without touching it and pushed the woman roughly onto the bed. 

----

Now that the room was half covered in the blood of the model’s assumed wife, every time Asmodeus walked into the room he couldn’t help but be overwhelmed with the urge to find another unsuspecting victim. 

So he decided to set out. He knew by some searching he’d done around the mini-mansion that he was close to Detroit. Even with the end of the world going on there had to be some people around there. Asmodeus would even deal with some caged-out freak. He didn’t know much about them. He didn’t know if they could be dangerous or not. 

Psh. 

He scoffed at the thought of some worm being dangerous to him. Sure, there were the Winchesters.... but that was a different story entirely. He did not fear them, but he certainly would not go out of his way to cross paths with them. He hoped they weren’t near so that he could go on a fun-spree without them interfering. 

After a moment more of thought he evaporated from where he stood in the bedroom and reappeared in the midst of downtown Detroit. 

Here wormy, wormy, wormy. Come let Daddy have some fun. He flashed a grin, laughing at his internal words, showing that Asmodeus had found the perfect vessel. He was just as - if not more - narcissistic as a male model who hangs at least 50 portraits of himself around his mini-mansion. 

[angel-nicodemus-blog]

in plain sight || nic & elijah

Continuation of Lawrence

He could feel the warding a mile away, a strange and ominous block that caused Nicodemus to squint and pinch the bridge of his nose in discomfort. This confused him, mostly because the rumors about the relationship between Sam and Dean Winchester and Castiel were evident and promising, and that the three of them together appeared inseparable and dangerous. Angel warding would eliminate Castiel’s ability to be by their side through all of this, right? It was suspicious, and Nicodemus believed there was something he clearly did not know about Lawrence, about Castiel, about the Winchester’s, and most importantly, about Stull.

Nicodemus banged on the hood of the truck and obediently they stopped to let him out. He was still a ways outside of the city but he’d be a damn fool to waltz up to the town without so much as a plan. If Castiel was there, he could pray to him. Or any other brother or sister that could withstand the warding. He wondered how many of his siblings were protecting the Winchester’s from all of this. Shouldn't they be out helping the world as he had done these past six months? What was so important about these boys anyway? 

Maybe because they are the chosen ones, the vessels of Lucifer and Michael. Maybe because God intended them to save the world, and all that jazz.

Nicodemus watched as the blue pickup truck drove away, leaving the angel on the side of the road like a common hitchhiker. He smelled his clothes; he stunk like human and other things. Though he didn’t need to sleep or shower, it would be nice to settle in somewhere nicely without having to worry about anything for a while. Or just for a night. Yeah, he’d appreciate just a night to himself.

It was silent and the sun was threatening to set. For a moment he stood there, wondering if this was all a good idea. Who knew what was in Lawrence or if the rumors from his other brothers had been just that, rumors. Adjusting his bag, Nicodemus set for the city. He would soon find out.

[wileofthedevil-blog]

a little dark outside | open

“Do you know what time it is? 

“Ain’t it a little late to be hanging around outside of your little, protected playpen? You don’t know how many beasts are consumed by bloodlust around this time.”

Beasts like her.

[theenvyofeden]

for your lungs only | adam + michael

(ᴀ ғᴇᴡ ᴆᴀүѕ ᴀԍᴏ...)

It's late.  Adam isn't sure how late, because he doesn't pay much attention to clocks anymore, but it's late enough that he hears no sound from the other rooms he passes as he heads for the stairs and down.  He had been reading, had dozed off, and subsequently had jolted back awake when visited by one of the all-too-real dreams he'd been experiencing for the past six months.  His hands are still shaking more than he likes to admit when he pushes open the ground floor door at the bottom of the stairwell.

Though only the walls are warded, the streets surrounding the hotel are generally reliably empty of monsters or lunatics (and when they come, you can hear it); this might be because the warding extends past the walls, or it might be because word's gotten around that most anything within rifle-shot of the windows gets taken out.  Either way it's a small blessing to be grateful for.  Adam takes in a pleasant sharp deep breath of the chill night and paces away from the door, glad to feel the open air around him instead of claustrophobic walls.  Dropping his back to the rough brick, he waits for the cold to clear the dream images seared on his retinas, before retrieving a battered pack of cigarettes from a pocket, fumbling one out and lighting it.  Smoking had been a very occasional habit before Adam died, a little teenage rebellion that he never quite outgrew even when his college biology classes showed him exactly how it would kill him.  The occasions are becoming more frequent since he started living again, due to stress and the high probability of something else killing him first (although he's waiting for Sam to catch on and give him a lecture any day now).  After a few drags, the intake of nicotine finally steadies his hands completely.

[wileofthedevil-blog]

trials + tribulations | meg & adam

When the Devil is away, His children come out to play.

Word got around quickly in Lawrence. Was it because its population was condensed into a single building, or was it because there were constant whispers in the night from the lips of inhuman beings that wished for nothing but pain and chaos? 

Both.

See, when the supposed “apocalypse” had been thwarted and inflated into something much worse, it was only logical that gossip would spread like wildfire throughout the city. 

The Winchesters, the Winchesters.

The plaid-wearing nuisances had unintentionally made themselves the “talk of the town,” so to speak, especially since they were not only hunters of the supernatural, but also the true vessels of the two of the original four archangels. The firsts: Michael and Lucifer. The brothers who were meant to fight to the death over.. personal preference? 

But there was a third Winchester. The one who had taken Dean Winchester’s place. The one who had singlehandedly become the host of Michael and escaped unscathed. 

Adam.

Really, he would’ve been nothing to Meg. She was a demon, a being far more powerful than he. But the thing about him was that he knew what she didn’t, and she was sure of it. He would know of the grand plans the archangels were following through with. He would know where her own father, her creator, had disappeared to. 

He wasn’t much to her - hell, she didn’t even know what he looked like. But she knew she’d stumble upon him somehow, somewhere. She couldn’t get into a warded building, but he sure as hell could get out. It was only a matter of time. 

* * *

And she was absolutely, 100% right in her assumptions.

It was only a day later that the Winchester triplet had caught her attention. The university was often abandoned, save for a few occasions where humans completely off their rockers would stop in for something, or even members of other species stumbled in as well for reasons unknown. And once again, it was occupied by Adam himself. It was difficult to figure out whether it was him or not, but those possessed by angelic beings always gave off a strange vibe due to the leftover Grace coursing through their bodies. He was no exception. 

Time to put the plan into action. 

“If it isn’t Michael’s walking meatsuit, right before my very eyes. Tell me, Adam, what are you doing out of your safe four walls? Surely Dean-o and the Giant don’t approve of it. Did you ditch ‘em like bad dates?” 

theenvyofeden

[theenvyofeden]

press on | adam + sam

The sun is unnaturally bright today.  Or maybe it's not that bright, but it's a while since he's seen it; when Adam steps out of the room he appropriated for himself (near his brothers, at Sam's insistence, but not too near), he blinks at the luminescence from the window at the end of the hall.  He could chide himself for not leaving his room more frequently, but no one but a legitimate nutcase would tell him 'you need to get out more' in these circumstances.

Accustoming himself to the change in light, Adam makes his way down the hall towards it before realizing he doesn't quite remember which room his brothers had taken over.  Were they in one room, or two?  One seems more likely, but which one?  Five-oh-something, but that doesn't narrow it down any.  All the rooms on this hall are five-oh-something.  Adam eyes the doors nearby before resigning himself to a tactic that's absolutely sure to work.  Clearing his throat (it's been a few hours since he's used his voice except to mutter to himself, and it has a tendency to get frog-like), he yells:  "Sam!"

[wileofthedevil-blog]

"I'm thinkin' it's time to make some new friends. And by "new friends," I mean, it's cold outside and I need someone to watch my ass occasionally. You scratch my back, I'll scratch yours, comprende?" No, it wasn't desperation driving her desire, so much as boredom. With most people holed up in the one place she was warded from - CuckoosVille, really - things got a little lonely. How else would she spend her time, anyway?