AntauriSigma
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VAlastor knew he wasn’t going to make it. He didn’t mind it too much, but fuck was he pissed that it was Adam of all people who killed him. Fuck, at least he was going to be consumed by the void. So why was it taking so long? He should have been consumed by now, right? Why was he still “alive”? Sure, he didn’t have a body or really anything similar; he felt like he was made of radiowaves, hellish energy, sin, and a bit of the void, but that should be impossible. After all, he should be dead-
What’s this ash? It feels nice. Why is it consuming him? What is happening?
After what felt like an eternity,
He opened his eyes.
He opened his eyes in Hell?
Was it Hell?It doesn’t look like Hell,
yet.Bookmarked by AntauriSigma
21 Dec 2025
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"Okay, so, there's really no way to get into this comfortably, so I guess I'll just-" Without further ado, Lucifer slipped his fingers into Alastor's wound. And wow, was it not pretty. The dried blood cracked when his nails cut through it, allowing him entrance to Alastor's gooey insides. He could feel the heavy thrum of angelic magic, how it clung to Alastor's sinew like an ugly wasp's nest. Overworked muscles bent and snapped to allow for Lucifer's hand, and at first contact, pieces of his ribcage crumbled.
"Is there- ah-" Alastor sputtered. "A less intrusive way to go about this?"
"Oh, I'm sorry, do you think I can snap my fingers and untether a tumor of angelic magic from you? Not how this works."
Bookmarked by AntauriSigma
20 Dec 2025
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After the battle at the hotel, Alastor is far more injured than he lets on. He is far more injured than even he realizes.
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Bookmarked by AntauriSigma
19 Dec 2025
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A hidden poem, and a love whose memory will live forever.
Bookmarked by AntauriSigma
18 Dec 2025
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No one quite tells you this about dying; it’s quite a gas. Sure, there’s the unfortunate parts, the pain and the embarrassment and the fact that one’s body doesn’t quite obey them like they wish. Alastor was always one for poise, even in his toughest moments. But there’s something about being ripped apart by nearly rabid dogs that made some…unfortunately involuntary things happen. Things he enjoyed out of others, sure, but hated in himself. Screams, begging…a frown.
Luckily, he was put out of his misery by a shot to the head.
The good parts about death happen after that last breath. It’s the sitting in one’s own cooling blood, parts of him missing in bits and pieces that make the strangers that find him vomit into the nearby bushes. It’s that even the officials didn’t want to touch him. It’s the complete and utter lack of pain as you float for a bit in…nothing. An addictive, joyful nothing.
Alastor had thought that was it. But he was wrong. Fantastically, deliciously, hilariously wrong.OR
My take on Alastor's first day in Hell.
Bookmarked by AntauriSigma
18 Dec 2025