theheartfelthunter

Jo laughs at the thought of all the hunters she knows sitting around knitting together. “You can only have so many scarves ya know,” she joked lightly before deciding that it would be smarter to just be honest, who knew what situation she would end up in. “I grew up around hunting, and it runs in the family… it just made sense.” 

“Now?” Jo cocked an eyebrow curiously, “hasn’t it been for awhile?” Stark seemed like the kind of guy to break the rules, but she couldn’t help asking.While he writes on the walls, she makes sure her gun is loaded with the safety on, and makes sure her knife is strapped securely into her belt. She’s searching for an extra knife to hand to Stark when she hears the gravel outside the bar crunch under the weight of a coming vehicle. Her head snaps up to look at her companion, and holds her breath while waiting to see who or what is about to walk through the door.

Stark gives a brief laugh for that first comment, half-distracted by the protection spells he's drawing on the floor.  He almost says that's a weird goddamn family trade - despite how tactless it is, he would have said it anyway - were his attention not drawn by something else.  There.  On the edge of his senses, like a high-pitched klaxon at the very extent of hearing, something is coming.  It's not magical, doesn't disturb the aether, and Stark wouldn't have noticed it before.

He's not sure why he notices it now.  Knowing things without knowing how he knows them is just one more joy of returning to the land of the living.

Trying to place whatever it is, he straightens up and catches the last of Jo's response.  "Huh?  Oh...yeah, probably.  I've been away.  It's here, I think."  A split second later the girl seems to notice the same thing, hearing the car outside.  He meets her look and gives a shrug, because he has nothing of use to tell her.  It's not human nor Hellion and that's about all he can tell for now.  Backing away from the center of the room where he was sketching those unfinished spells, he edges into a darker corner.  Whatever it is may see Jo first and assume she's alone, though it doesn't come barrelling heedlessly inside, seems to be lingering out front casing the place.  Without even thinking about it he's got the .45 in one hand and the black blade taken from Azazel in in the other.

you look like i need a drink/stark + jo

  ʀᴀɴсɪԁ ✖ υρ тɵ ɴɵ ɢɵɵԁ ♪

  » best intentions get misunderstood        but that motherfucker is up to no good «

ʟυсє

Lucifer brought the corners of his mouth down as he considered Stark’s words. Come to think of it he hadn’t seen an elephant trip over. “Ballerinas come in flocks now? what are they sheep? Tell you what you bring me a  ‘flock’ of ballerinas and prove that shit, okay?”

”I don’t sleep, but our neighbours are good people. We’re actually doing them a service here,taking out the neighbourhood nuisance. Ooh we could be neighbourhood vigilantes, dressing up in little outfits and protect the people. That could be fun.” He shrugs, taking the pistol and aiming it at the chihuahua across the street. “Oh those guys are assholes, pray hard enough and they just might come back.” He grins, firing the pistol. “This is strangely therapeutic…”

Pouring himself a drink (this little house they've borrowed for the time being has a decent liquor selection, not to mention fun toys like paintball guns), Stark shrugs dismissively.  "Whatever they're called.  Flock, herd, drove...hey, you know what a group of tigers is called?"

"Good people."  Stark snorts derisively.  Then he snorts again, more derisively, just for emphasis. He drops into an overstuffed armchair.  "Good people are boring.  This demon you're tracking could't'a found a more mundane street to pick a vessel from.  Excellent camouflage for the cowardly shit - none of them do anything. We'd have more luck finding it if we went door-to-door selling fucking Avon products."  He grins as Lucifer starts shooting, takes a drink (and decides to ignore this preoccupation with putting Stark in little outfits).  "Told you so.  You need to learn to relax, Screwtape.  Enjoy the finer things in life.  Maybe later we'll go steal a couple cars and play demolition derby at the end of the cul-de-sac."  Fuck knows Stark needs some way to alleviate the boredom.

if karma doesn’t hit you, I gladly will.

Chattiest (via sorxlla)

There's a crescent moon out.

              Does that mean it's a good night to let Alice go or              a bad one?  If I was better at magic than murder,              I'm sure I'd know.

  The water is cold and calm.  Low tide.  I have to walk out a good ten or twenty yards to feel the waves on my legs, boots sinking into the wet sand all the way out.  I wade into the sluggish waves until I'm in waist deep.

  Pop the top of Alice's plastic sarcophagus.  Her ashes are in a plastic bag, like something you'd put your lunch in.  I hold out the bag so that the bottom is about an inch underwater.  Pull the black knife and slit the side. The waves lap at the bag, washing out her ashes.  Alice floats on the surface of the ocean, a white cloud spreading out in all directions.  When the bag is empty I drop it and the box into the water.  I wade out, following the ash cloud as it's drawn away with the tide.

               I want to follow her all the way out, over my head,             and keep on going. But she wouldn't like that, either.

I stop when the water is up to my chest and watch Alice spread out into the black Pacific.  Scoop up a handful of her ashes but they wash away when the water runs between my fingers.  That damn song is stuck in my head again...

My legs are good and numb when the last of her drifts out of sight.  I'm not even cold anymore, but I can't stop shaking.

                         Good-bye, Alice.  I know you probably don't like                          the idea of me killing, but it's all I have let to give                          you.   And I've gone too far to stop now.  When                          I'm sure about Mason, this thing is done.   I'll go                          back down where I belong and dream about you                          in Hell.  

                                     Till then, sleep tight.

archangel-lucifer-morning-star

“Well you got me.” He shrugs. “I just worry about them they work so hard. And you are full of shit. Grace of a ballerina? Pfft more like a herd of elephants.”

“ I refuse to be a part of this. That poor little furball works as wonderful alarm clock. Can’t sleep in if you can’t get any sleep. Screw it let’s do this. Tie-dye the shit out of the annoying little fucker”

“Hey, ballerinas are damn loud, too.  Get a flock of ‘em together on toe shoes and they’ll outdo a herd of elephants - speaking of, when’s the last time you saw an elephant trip over anything?”  This is merely pointless bickering, of course; killing time until it’s time to kill something else.

“Sleep?  What happened to No Rest For the Wicked?” Giving a quick flash of untrustworthy grin, the magician steps aside from the window and hands over the oversized cotton-candy-pink paintball pistol.  “I keep hoping those Jehovah’s Witnesses will make another round, but no luck yet.”

"Judge if you want, we are all going to die. I intend to deserve it." (via bullshxtuberalles)

“Well I can’t just sit idly by while you torment our poor neighbours…Actually I can,carry on.”

▻ɪ ѡᴀѕ мᴀᴆϵ ғʀѳм ʀϵϵʟѕ ʟϵғτ ѳυτ ѳғ τʜϵ ғϵᴀτυʀϵ

ѕѳ ɪғ ʏѳυ ʟɪκϵ ʙᴀᴆ ѕϲϵɴϵѕ, ɪ'м ʏѳυʀ ϲʀϵᴀτυʀϵ◅

Anti-honesty hour. Ask me anything and I will respond with blatant lies.

This actually sounds hilarious

Luce

Lucifer chuckled at Stark’s wit, every wince and scream  he drew from the demon made was so very satisfying to him. “Oh I don’t doubt Jimmy,it’s still fun listening to him whimper like a little kicked puppy” He smirked. So he’s responsive,just not responding with anything the archangel wants to hear. The corners of his mouth turn down as he observes the demon with mock pity “Awww he’s making such cute widdle noises” he coos.  “Not quite the noises I want though” He adds,with a hint of danger in his tone. Lucifer watches the demon closely when Stark addresses him again,the motion of wiping the blade on the demon’s shirt makes him chuckle.Starks retort makes him chuckle more. “Oh honestly Jimmy that’s just rude,that will never come out now” He says in a mockingly effeminate manner. he offers no other encouragement because well,Jimmy’s got this covered. Lucifer watches him curiously as he takes out the small items,a sly grin spreads across his face when he realises what they are. Oh Jimmy,you never disappoint. Then the demon finally pipes up,but it’s not good enough to save him.  

Lucifer was grinning ear to ear now,eyes fluttered shut as he revelled in the sweet symphony of the demon’s cries. “There you go! See,I knew you could do it.” When he’s done praising the demon for hitting that octave he adopts a look of mock sympathy. “I did warn you though,Jimmy doesn’t like liars.” He begins pacing again as he talks,all part of the show. “Now I know you’re a little slow on the uptake,but I really don’t see how you managed to follow me for a whole week and not get one little bit of useful information. That doesn’t sound possible right?” He stops briefly to address that question directly before pacing again. “I mean I can be a pretty chatty guy,so you must have heard something useful for you boss.A word,a phrase,a name.” He stops again to glance back at the demon,a thought coming to mind. “Aw Jimmy,I think you went a bit overboard with the salt there. Don’t worry though,I have plenty of water to wash it away for you” he grins,making his threat clear. An indication that this was not going to end anytime soon.

Stark would have to admit that Lucifer has, hands-down, the best sense of humor of any angel he's ever met.  Granted, there haven't been many of them; the last one stabbed him through the heart with a flaming sword, even if she was an extreme example.  But none of the other holier-than-thou bitches would've cracked even a tiny smile at any of his lines.  This is the most fun he's had in weeks.  He can't even be too upset about being made to spill his drink earlier.

A smirk slants up one side of his face, dimpling a pair of scars just beneath a cheekbone, at Lucifer's eventual enjoyment of that higher octave.  But the magician forces the expression away to look up at the interogee.  "Especially shitty liars.  I've met four year-olds who can dissemble better than you."  The demon is taking this brief respite as a chance to suck in air, apparently having forgotten he doesn't truly need it.  Stark can smell the fear on him, he'll be crumbling soon.  It's almost a disappointment, so he takes his time tearing open a few more salt packets.

But Lucifer's threatening words - incomprehensible to Jimmy - have the demon freezing, either forgetting to breathe or remembering it isn't necessary.  Then he's babbling.  "No, no, we didn't hear anything there was nothing to report - just a hotel, a hotel around Kips Bay that you went to a few times.  The wards on the first room, we couldn't get close enough to hear..."  

The blather devolves into something even less cogent, and Stark turns to Lucifer.  A slight nod - the weasel's telling the truth about the hotel, at least - and an arch of eyebrow - he's probably not telling everything.  Adding a minute tilt to his head, Stark clearly wonders if he should go on - and he's also curious about the reason water was so effective a spur.  Almost absently, hardly even glancing in the demon's direction, he dusts a little more salt over the raw flesh of his hand.

cult status/stark + lucifer

archangel-lucifer-morning-star

“Oh those? I put them in the closet so no one could trip on them” he says,folding his arms. “Honestly someone could break their neck.”

  “You are so full of shit.  Who’s gonna break their neck around here?  Not you, and it’s technically not even your neck - not me, I’ve got vertebrae of titanium and the grace of a damn ballerina.  You were maybe worried about the cleaning staff?”

  “You really ought to give this a try.  It’s great stress-relief.  Look, I got the pot dealers across the street’s chihuahua - it’s blue now.  I was thinking add some green, do a tie-dye sorta effect...”

"Judge if you want, we are all going to die. I intend to deserve it." (via bullshxtuberalles)

“Well I can’t just sit idly by while you torment our poor neighbours…Actually I can,carry on.”

“you're a traitor & a whore...

”that's a compliment. all my best friends are traitorous whores!”

             - not Stark, but it fits.

“See, this is the sorta support I need in a relationship.  Where the hell did that other box of paintballs go?”

"Judge if you want, we are all going to die. I intend to deserve it." (via bullshxtuberalles)

“Well I can’t just sit idly by while you torment our poor neighbours…Actually I can,carry on.”

“We learn as much from our failures as our success.”

   "Then I'm a goddamn Rhodes scholar.”

- Killing Pretty, Richard Kadrey

archangel-lucifer-morning-star

Lucifer grins a very sadistic grin. “Oh I’ll take that bet.” Lucifer continues to watch Stark work with such maniacal glee. It was clear that he was skilled in his work,an he was obviously enjoying himself. Azazel had spoken much of Stark’s skill in the arena,but interrogation and torture never came up. Still,Lucifer was very pleased with Stark’s efforts so far. His eyes flicked to the demon,watching his reactions carefully. He perks up when the demon screams again,a little louder this time “Ooh,that’s more like it. Not quite an octave though,come on you know you can do better.” He glances back over to Stark now “Please,continue” Stark quickly gets back to work and it is glorious to witness. Not only was he a master of torture,but a master of interrogation too.His wit was as sharp as his tools,and he really had a way with words. ‘First Masterpiece’? Did Alistair train him a little too? 

  No, he's never had much opportunity to strap someone down and take them apart piece by piece.  But he was on the other side of that equation more than a couple times, and he spent his time on those various racks concocting unrealized plans for what he'd do if the situation were reversed.  Aside from that, you don't last long in Hell's very own coliseum without a good grasp of showmanship.  Luckily he had that in the bag - he's from LA, where everyone puts on a show every damn day.

Stark gives a lazy shrug in response to Lucifer's words.  "We'll get there.  Little while longer and only dogs and bats will be able to hear him."  Returning to his work to let Lucifer take over the interrogation, the magician finishes skinning the pinky finger, as well.  

The poor damned fucker pinned against the wall keeps making noise, but not noise that means anything, no words, no information.  Stark's focused on his job, but not unflattered by the praise peppered through Lucifer's speech.  Proud of impressing Satan with his viciousness - maybe a serious character defect.  Maybe he needs a shrink, if only he could find one who wouldn't be driven crazy themselves from the fucked up mess inside his head.  Stepping away, once the Devil falls silent again, he looks up at his victim with an eyebrow arched in faked solicitation.  "You need a minute to consider?  Having trouble finding the words?  Go ahead, breathe, search your memory."

While Stark unnecessarily cleans the blood from his knife with the hem of the demon's shirt, the creature gasps and shudders and finally manages a wincingly weak, "Nothing.  I don't know...anything."

"Don't be so modest.  Yeah, ya seem like a fucking moron, but I'm sure there's something you know."  Blade clean, Stark moves to stow it in his coat, rifling through the other pockets for a moment until he finds what he wants.  He glances curiously at Lucifer.  "I think this one might be a little retarded, maybe one question at a time.  The first one was...how long he's been following you, and what he found out?"  Like most everything else, this banter and by-play is for the demon's benefit, so Stark looks up at him expectantly as he approaches.  The pitiful creature is already shaking his head, as if he doesn't know how long he's been following Lucifer.  "Well?"  The inquiry is merely conversational, and afterwards Stark lifts the small items in his hand - a bunch of tiny, single-serving salt packets like you get in fast food restaurants - and casually tears a couple of them open with his teeth.

Before the fucking psychopath can get any closer with that salt, the demon screeches, straining impossibly to get away.  "A week!  It was only a week I don't know anything pleeeease."  Stark pauses, squinting suspiciously as he considers the answer, then shakes his head in disappointment.  Snatching the partially flayed hand, he begins delicately sprinkling the salt over the raw flesh, like seasoning a steak.  The demon promptly loses the capacity for speech, finally hitting that octave they were looking for, which makes the magician grin.

cult status/stark + lucifer

The universe hates happy people, that much I'm sure of.  You need to cultivate a taste for colorful misery.

James Stark

“Some people say you saved the world and that it wasn't the first time. Other people say you lost your mind and killed God, which is a big surprise to some of us.”

   "You're an atheist.”

"I guess you're not.”

   "I wish I had the luxury.”

 - Killing Pretty, Richard Kadrey

                    тʜεү sᴀү ενεʀүтʜɪɴɢ cᴀɴ ʙε ʀεᴩʟᴀcεᴅ                       тʜεү sᴀү εvεʀү ᴅɪsтᴀɴcε ɪs ɴот ɴεᴀʀ                         sо ɪ ʀεмεмʙεr εvεʀү ғᴀcε                           оғ εvεʀү мᴀɴ wʜо ᴩuт mε ʜεʀε

                         тʜεү sᴀү εvεʀү мᴀɴ ɴεεᴅs ᴩʀотεcтɪoɴ                         тʜεү sᴀү тʜᴀт εvεʀү мᴀɴ мυsт ғaʟʟ                        үεт ɪ sωεᴀʀ ɪ sεε мү ʀεғʟεcтɪоɴ                      sомεωʜεʀε sо ʜɪɢʜ ᴀʙovε тʜɪs ωᴀʟʟ

                     ɪ sεε мү ʟɪɢʜт coмε sʜɪɴɪɴ'                      ғʀoм тʜε ωεsт ᴅоωɴ тo тʜε εᴀsт                        ᴀɴү ᴅᴀү ɴоω,   ᴀɴү ᴅᴀү ɴоω...

                                   ɪ ѕʜᴀʟʟ ʙε ʀεʟεᴀѕεᴅ.