(no subject)
Character Information
Name: Daimon Hellstrom
Livejournal Username: sonouttahell
Fandom: Marvel
Image: Please allow me to introduce myself.
Character Information II
Age/Appearance: Daimon is 6'1'' and 180 lbs. He has the moderate build of a man in his late twenties who exercises regularly. He likes wearing loose shirts showing off his chest~ and really right, constrict pants--mostly in leather. His hair is flaming red and usually spiked up to look like flames. His eyes are yellow and slitted like a cats. When he's annoyed, smoke blows out his pointed ears (it's precious). His nails are kept long and filed into claws. Sometimes he paints them black when he's in the mood. His teeth are likewise sharp. He has a pentagram shaped birthmark on his chest. It contains his Darksoul (his Hell soul, whatever that means).
Billy Idol is his doppelganger.
History: I'm the Son of Satan, baby.
Personality: One quick look at Daimon and most women (and men) can agree on two things. One, he's fucking sexy. Two, he looks like a complete dick. This is partially true. Attraction may vary from person to person and he's not a complete dick ALL the time. He's like half a dick and the other half is a woobie hidden under layers of toughened and weathered skin. The thing is, that Daimon did not have an easy life. His mom dead, his father a demon, his sister a succubus, and it's obvious stuff like that can really affect a man and his outlook on the world. It's easy to mistake Daimon for an evil son of a bitch, BECAUSE of his past and physical appearance. He also doesn't help with his usual attitude which is by default pissy or broody depending on the day.
But that is just the outer surface. There is a lot more to Daimon than the smoldering self-professed Son of Satan. He was actually a good kid. He grew up in foster care and was studying to become a priest which hints that he had a relatively positive or at least very pious outlook on life. He was peaceful. He IS intelligent. He is very well-versed in history and literature, but then his world got turned upside down by the reveal of his demon heritage.
Then Daimon became Hellstorm and literally blazed a trail of fire all the way to daddy's doorsteps. Instead of joining his father in his terror (much like his sister for most of her life), he decided to fight against him. He was a priest after all. He knows of the horrors of Hell, demons, and how to fucking kick their asses. So, he used his 'powers' of demon heritage for the good of mankind and especially to overthrow or at least really tick off his dad. To say he has daddy issues is an understatement. His father is one of his major weaknesses and though he cannot really kill him, they go through a power struggle day in and day out. It's Daimon's curse to forever deal with the looming shadow of his dad no matter what he does to him.
So, this makes Daimon a really mad guy. Bad stuff has happened to him and his dad is a demon who calls himself Satan. Therefore, Daimon has limited patience for bullshit. He wants everything quick and to the point. He does not waste time, because time is absolutely precious especially when you are well-versed in the realms of Hell where a short time on our plane can feel like eternity down below. He is violent especially towards demonic entities (reminders of who he is and cannot change). This unfortunately can translate to his every day social life. He can flip out on close friends that anger him and has verbally abused Patsy (mostly post-break up, the guy is hurting). He also abuses his knowledge of how to manipulate demons to manipulate people to do things his way (again, Patsy), because if you ruled a realm of Hell, you'd want everything to go your way from now on too.
But despite all this, Daimon IS a good guy. He is well-respected among the magical folk of the Marvel universe though they all mutually agree that he is an asshole. Daimon fights for the forces of good and for his own soul. He deeply feels immense guilt for driving Patsy, the love of his life, to madness resulting in her suicide. He hates his demon half, but must embrace it in order to fight another day. He's simultaneously self-loathing and full of himself. He's a mess of contradictions and layers of complications. "I too have poisoned what was once beautiful," quotes Daimon even though the situation was out of his control, he cannot let it go.
ON HIS DEMON HERITAGE
Daimon is really a character that has to struggle between his demon and human halves. This is touched upon particularly in the 80s/90s where his demonic side really fucks him over a few times. The series Hellstorm: Prince of Lies really touches on the subject of Daimon's duality and how he reconciles the two parts of himself.
In one particular instance, a nameless demon escapes Hell and takes on Daimon's name and finds a wife. Daimon lets him live (as his father points out, he is weak), but when the demon leads sacrifices in an underground Satanic cult for his father, Daimon sends him back to Hell. The demon's wife calls Daimon out on his hypocricy. Daimon sent the demon away, because he's a demon (or so says his reasoning) whereas his wife retorts, "AND WHAT ARE YOU?" Thus, there is the thin line Daimon walks on. As a half-demon, what gives him the right to condemn and send other demons to Hell?
He's self-loathing. There's no doubt that he blames a lot of what happened to his mother and Patsy on himself, because his father cursed him by just being his father. He doesn't deny his demon heritage anymore, because it's wholly a part of him and he cannot change that. He tried going down the holy path, but as he told Strange--his father made sure of ruining that for him. So, he doesn't deny what he is, but he doesn't necessarily like it.
Ironically, it is his Darksoul that helps him live. As Dr. Strange put it, he needs that cosmic balance brewing within him. The Darksoul needs to be confined by his pesky mortal flesh and with that, Daimon can contain it and continue fighting. With the Darksoul gone, so is his power and so is his life line.
Prior to discovering what he was, he was just a regular man who had to face hard trauma. He saw his mother crazy and writhing on the floor and he was passed through various foster families. To make up for everything he had seen, he tried leading a pious lifestyle and tried to be ordained as a priest before his birthmark ignited everything in its path. From then on, he questions God. He loses his undeniable faith in God and constantly brings up the question of why God would allow Hell to exist, why God would condemn people, why do people choose evil when they have a choice between good and bad--Daimon is confused by humans yet walks among them as part of them.
He condemns Heaven as he condemns Hell. He condemns himself. He condemns others. And yet he fights for them. He's a walking contradiction and he knows it.
He also partially relishes in being of Hell royalty (again with the contradictions), because then he can go over the edge that other magicians and exorcists won't. He will cast demons out, kill, curse, and live a relatively guilt-free life (or at least he tries to). He's tried to combine both human and demon sides and in the process made up his own ethics code and sense of morality and yet is still respected by many other super heroes.
Sexual Preferences/Orientation: Daimon has only had one serious relationship--Patsy Walker (Hellcat). As far as he is concerned, she is his true love and he refuses to let go of her even after death did them part. He constantly tries to find ways of making amends and getting back together, but to no avail. In the mean time, he's no saint. He will be sleeping around, most likely dating around, because face it--he's not married anymore and he's half-demon. The girl who tied him down doesn't want anything to do with him, so why not throw himself around until she's willing to take him back?
Besides, sex is good. He cannot deny that sex with Patsy was amazing and despite being the Son of Satan, sex with Patsy was probably very gentle and loving with some rough sessions in between. He lets go with other people though. He completely shreds them. I mean, it's hard to control himself when he's all sharp teeth, nails, everything. It's also worth nothing that he's most likely a sadist/dominant and into BDSM. The guy runs around in leather pants and chains as a super hero costume... He also ruled Hell for a while. He knows the difference between torture and fun. I imagine he likes to be able to be in control and remind himself of that difference between his demon half and his human half in S&M sessions. It's like taking a smoke break to calm his nerves. When he's lost in his own thoughts and wondering about his allegiances, he has this sinful kinky hobby that can snap him out of it and remind him what's what.
Powers:
[x] Daimon is a master occulter.
[x] Having almost been a priest, he has an extended knowledge on Biblical mythology, demonology, and exorcism.
[x] He can sense supernatural entities.
[x] With possession of a Darksoul (a demon soul), Daimon can lift up to 750 lbs. and summon 'soulfire' from the pentagram birth mark on his chest. He can also change into his demonic robes with a simple hand gesture in the shape of a trident.
Reason for playing: Daimon is the son of a high-level demon who posed as Satan in order to make babies in the mortal realm. Now, it just gets more awesome. Daimon decides to use his demon ancestry to fight the forces of evil and give a big middle finger to his daddy. He's a walking oxymoron who summons the flames of Hell in order to kick major demon ass. He even ruled a realm of Hell once and yet he's still considered one of the good guys.
Thing is, he's not a normal good guy by any means. He curses a LOT. He's possessive of his ex-wife, Patsy to the point of bribing her into remarrying him. He's jealous, prone to bursts of anger, impatient, bitchy--he's everything a hero should not be and yet he's respected and considered to be an occult bad ass by all the magical folk of the Marvel universe. I like him, because he has flaws and good points about him and his relationship with everyone else is just fascinating whether they downright hate him or begrudgingly respect him for what he is and what he does.
And why wouldn't a throw a half-demon, half-human into betenoire_rp? I want him to struggle with his inner demons (pun). I want to see him writhe and come to an understanding about his ancestry and what it means. Some days, I want to see him embrace his bad side. Some days, I want to see him fight against it.
Also, as displayed in my sample, I'd like to have Daimon do an ongoing investigation as to what the fuck is going on and who is doing all this. That is, until someone can provide him with answers, Daimon is going to be a pain in the ass about returning to his home dimension and it would be interesting if he actually makes enough connections in betenoire_rp to change his opinion somewhat on that.
That and all the kinky sex he could be having.
Samples
First-Person: Whoever the fuck pulled this off, I'm not even going to give you the satisfaction of an applause. No, because this downright pisses me off. I don't fucking care how many tits you're throwing in my face, asshole. This ain't Mardi Gras. I want a fucking face to put a fist into and I want it right the fuck now.
DO YOU KNOW WHO YOU'RE DEALING WITH? THE FUCKING SON OF SATAN, BITCH! SO YOU CAN TAKE YOUR LOW-LEVEL DEMON ASS AND INTRODUCE IT TO MY FUCKING FLAMING PITCH FORK, BECAUSE THAT'S WHAT'S GONNA HAPPEN WHEN YOU FINALLY REVEAL YOURSELF.
YOU WANT SEX? YOU REALLY WANT SEX? HOW ABOUT BEING SODOMIZED WITH AN IRON HOT TRIDENT. NOW THAT'S FUCKING SINFUL.
[ BREATHES ]
Dick thinks he can pull me around.
Third-Person: This was not Hell.
Daimon fucking knew Hell. He ruled a realm of it for what felt like for-fucking-ever. He even had the stupid three point trident and horns. He knew what it was like to burn and be burned. He knew the screams of the anguished. He knew what souls looked like and what true pain was. Hell was so much a part of him that he could not shake it off even if he went to Catholic church seven days a week and did his rosaries twice as much as that.
No, this was some son of a bitch's idea of a practical joke. Not his dad though. He would have been more obvious than this with cryptic phone messages (har, har Sympathy for the Devil. Try harder next time.) and little demon slaves licking Daimon's heels.
This was another demon--an entity unknown to Daimon and he knew them all. He had not seen this work before. He had seen New Orleans turned inside out and gigantic fucking fireballs in the middle of the French Quarter and painful exorcisms, but this was new. This was complete transdimensional teleportation, but for what purpose? Why bring Daimon here? To get his jollies off? He swore he counted like twenty fucking hookers on his walk around the block.
Maybe it was the demon Rosier, but he was a pussy most days. He couldn't pull off something this large scale.
Daimon stopped in the middle of the street, spread out his arms, and shouted to the Heavens; "ALRIGHT! I GIVE THE FUCK UP! TELL ME WHO YOU ARE, ASSHOLE!"
He was met with silence.
"I'M NOT FUCKING IN THE MOOD FOR THIS."
More silence.
"ARGH" He wailed, punching the air and wishing it was an ugly-ass demon face being crippled under his fist.
He'll figure it out. Give him time.
Third-Person #2: It was the middle of summer in good ol' New Orleans. Daimon had acquired an apartment in the French Quarter overlooking a relatively quiet street. When he originally moved in, it was decorated lavishly with luxurious trappings and wondrous architecture. Now it was a pile of papers: manuscripts, religious texts, phone numbers, books he read a few pages from and ripped to shreds. Candle wax and red paint coated the hardwood floors. His bed was a mess of linens and feathers from pillows he shredded in the middle of the night.
At least the view was still good.
Daimon sat on the window sill, finishing off his cigarette as the humid air filled his pores and soul. It was no worse than Hell, but it was close. Maybe that was why he settled here aside from all the supernatural that went down just around the quarters. It was his own personal hell den.
He flicked the cigarette butt out onto the street below and retreated back into his room. Along the way to bed, he kicked aside shattered glass from a picture frame. The picture itself was burnt around the edges with only the slightest hint of a bright smile and bright orange hair. Daimon's bloody feet hanged off the edges of his bed, toes lightly caressing the glass fragments around the foot of his bed skirts.
Humming the Doors, Daimon's claws scraped down his chest, nicking old wounds, and feeling the rising shape of his pentagram on his chest. He grimaced at the memories associated with it and ventured past, hand lightly palming his crotch through his tight leather pants he had grown accustomed to wearing.
Patsy said he looked ridiculous. Daimon knew she thought he was smoking hot.
He chuckled lightly as he grabbed himself tighter, feeling himself harden at the touch, feel, and thought of Patsy's disapproving face and yet the wetness unmistakably forming between her smooth thighs. She would rub her thighs together, trying not to make it noticeable, but Daimon had known her long enough to tell when she was horny and when she just needed a piss break or maybe both.
Before the divorce, before her death--he did not linger too much on those memories--he would just grab her and shove her against any hard surface nearby. It could be a wall, a kitchen counter, this bed, and he would part her legs and go down on her, licking and sucking until she was a vibrating, pulsing mess of a woman. Then he would continue even when she couldn't take it anymore and he'd wring out every little orgasm out of her pretty pussy until she almost passed out.
In the present, he groaned at the tightness forming under his pants and he undid the buttons, pulling himself free to stroke dry and roughly juxtaposed with the flash of images of Patsy dripping and glistening with sweat.
They were opposites. The sweet, innocent girl calling herself Hellcat and the fucking Son of Satan corrupting and seducing her and making her beg on her knees, but he wasn't a bad guy. They'd make love at least Daimon always thought it was making love. He didn't know what Patsy thought of it now. Probably making war.
He threw his head back with a frustrated moan. Stop thinking about that bitch. And focused his thoughts on mundane images of tits, pussy, legs, plump lips, anonymous faces that didn't mean fucking shit to him until he came with such dissatisfaction that he simply pulled up his pants and went to the window for another cigarette.
Name: Daimon Hellstrom
Livejournal Username: sonouttahell
Fandom: Marvel
Image: Please allow me to introduce myself.
Character Information II
Age/Appearance: Daimon is 6'1'' and 180 lbs. He has the moderate build of a man in his late twenties who exercises regularly. He likes wearing loose shirts showing off his chest~ and really right, constrict pants--mostly in leather. His hair is flaming red and usually spiked up to look like flames. His eyes are yellow and slitted like a cats. When he's annoyed, smoke blows out his pointed ears (it's precious). His nails are kept long and filed into claws. Sometimes he paints them black when he's in the mood. His teeth are likewise sharp. He has a pentagram shaped birthmark on his chest. It contains his Darksoul (his Hell soul, whatever that means).
Billy Idol is his doppelganger.
History: I'm the Son of Satan, baby.
Personality: One quick look at Daimon and most women (and men) can agree on two things. One, he's fucking sexy. Two, he looks like a complete dick. This is partially true. Attraction may vary from person to person and he's not a complete dick ALL the time. He's like half a dick and the other half is a woobie hidden under layers of toughened and weathered skin. The thing is, that Daimon did not have an easy life. His mom dead, his father a demon, his sister a succubus, and it's obvious stuff like that can really affect a man and his outlook on the world. It's easy to mistake Daimon for an evil son of a bitch, BECAUSE of his past and physical appearance. He also doesn't help with his usual attitude which is by default pissy or broody depending on the day.
But that is just the outer surface. There is a lot more to Daimon than the smoldering self-professed Son of Satan. He was actually a good kid. He grew up in foster care and was studying to become a priest which hints that he had a relatively positive or at least very pious outlook on life. He was peaceful. He IS intelligent. He is very well-versed in history and literature, but then his world got turned upside down by the reveal of his demon heritage.
Then Daimon became Hellstorm and literally blazed a trail of fire all the way to daddy's doorsteps. Instead of joining his father in his terror (much like his sister for most of her life), he decided to fight against him. He was a priest after all. He knows of the horrors of Hell, demons, and how to fucking kick their asses. So, he used his 'powers' of demon heritage for the good of mankind and especially to overthrow or at least really tick off his dad. To say he has daddy issues is an understatement. His father is one of his major weaknesses and though he cannot really kill him, they go through a power struggle day in and day out. It's Daimon's curse to forever deal with the looming shadow of his dad no matter what he does to him.
So, this makes Daimon a really mad guy. Bad stuff has happened to him and his dad is a demon who calls himself Satan. Therefore, Daimon has limited patience for bullshit. He wants everything quick and to the point. He does not waste time, because time is absolutely precious especially when you are well-versed in the realms of Hell where a short time on our plane can feel like eternity down below. He is violent especially towards demonic entities (reminders of who he is and cannot change). This unfortunately can translate to his every day social life. He can flip out on close friends that anger him and has verbally abused Patsy (mostly post-break up, the guy is hurting). He also abuses his knowledge of how to manipulate demons to manipulate people to do things his way (again, Patsy), because if you ruled a realm of Hell, you'd want everything to go your way from now on too.
But despite all this, Daimon IS a good guy. He is well-respected among the magical folk of the Marvel universe though they all mutually agree that he is an asshole. Daimon fights for the forces of good and for his own soul. He deeply feels immense guilt for driving Patsy, the love of his life, to madness resulting in her suicide. He hates his demon half, but must embrace it in order to fight another day. He's simultaneously self-loathing and full of himself. He's a mess of contradictions and layers of complications. "I too have poisoned what was once beautiful," quotes Daimon even though the situation was out of his control, he cannot let it go.
ON HIS DEMON HERITAGE
Daimon is really a character that has to struggle between his demon and human halves. This is touched upon particularly in the 80s/90s where his demonic side really fucks him over a few times. The series Hellstorm: Prince of Lies really touches on the subject of Daimon's duality and how he reconciles the two parts of himself.
In one particular instance, a nameless demon escapes Hell and takes on Daimon's name and finds a wife. Daimon lets him live (as his father points out, he is weak), but when the demon leads sacrifices in an underground Satanic cult for his father, Daimon sends him back to Hell. The demon's wife calls Daimon out on his hypocricy. Daimon sent the demon away, because he's a demon (or so says his reasoning) whereas his wife retorts, "AND WHAT ARE YOU?" Thus, there is the thin line Daimon walks on. As a half-demon, what gives him the right to condemn and send other demons to Hell?
He's self-loathing. There's no doubt that he blames a lot of what happened to his mother and Patsy on himself, because his father cursed him by just being his father. He doesn't deny his demon heritage anymore, because it's wholly a part of him and he cannot change that. He tried going down the holy path, but as he told Strange--his father made sure of ruining that for him. So, he doesn't deny what he is, but he doesn't necessarily like it.
Ironically, it is his Darksoul that helps him live. As Dr. Strange put it, he needs that cosmic balance brewing within him. The Darksoul needs to be confined by his pesky mortal flesh and with that, Daimon can contain it and continue fighting. With the Darksoul gone, so is his power and so is his life line.
Prior to discovering what he was, he was just a regular man who had to face hard trauma. He saw his mother crazy and writhing on the floor and he was passed through various foster families. To make up for everything he had seen, he tried leading a pious lifestyle and tried to be ordained as a priest before his birthmark ignited everything in its path. From then on, he questions God. He loses his undeniable faith in God and constantly brings up the question of why God would allow Hell to exist, why God would condemn people, why do people choose evil when they have a choice between good and bad--Daimon is confused by humans yet walks among them as part of them.
He condemns Heaven as he condemns Hell. He condemns himself. He condemns others. And yet he fights for them. He's a walking contradiction and he knows it.
He also partially relishes in being of Hell royalty (again with the contradictions), because then he can go over the edge that other magicians and exorcists won't. He will cast demons out, kill, curse, and live a relatively guilt-free life (or at least he tries to). He's tried to combine both human and demon sides and in the process made up his own ethics code and sense of morality and yet is still respected by many other super heroes.
Sexual Preferences/Orientation: Daimon has only had one serious relationship--Patsy Walker (Hellcat). As far as he is concerned, she is his true love and he refuses to let go of her even after death did them part. He constantly tries to find ways of making amends and getting back together, but to no avail. In the mean time, he's no saint. He will be sleeping around, most likely dating around, because face it--he's not married anymore and he's half-demon. The girl who tied him down doesn't want anything to do with him, so why not throw himself around until she's willing to take him back?
Besides, sex is good. He cannot deny that sex with Patsy was amazing and despite being the Son of Satan, sex with Patsy was probably very gentle and loving with some rough sessions in between. He lets go with other people though. He completely shreds them. I mean, it's hard to control himself when he's all sharp teeth, nails, everything. It's also worth nothing that he's most likely a sadist/dominant and into BDSM. The guy runs around in leather pants and chains as a super hero costume... He also ruled Hell for a while. He knows the difference between torture and fun. I imagine he likes to be able to be in control and remind himself of that difference between his demon half and his human half in S&M sessions. It's like taking a smoke break to calm his nerves. When he's lost in his own thoughts and wondering about his allegiances, he has this sinful kinky hobby that can snap him out of it and remind him what's what.
Powers:
[x] Daimon is a master occulter.
[x] Having almost been a priest, he has an extended knowledge on Biblical mythology, demonology, and exorcism.
[x] He can sense supernatural entities.
[x] With possession of a Darksoul (a demon soul), Daimon can lift up to 750 lbs. and summon 'soulfire' from the pentagram birth mark on his chest. He can also change into his demonic robes with a simple hand gesture in the shape of a trident.
Reason for playing: Daimon is the son of a high-level demon who posed as Satan in order to make babies in the mortal realm. Now, it just gets more awesome. Daimon decides to use his demon ancestry to fight the forces of evil and give a big middle finger to his daddy. He's a walking oxymoron who summons the flames of Hell in order to kick major demon ass. He even ruled a realm of Hell once and yet he's still considered one of the good guys.
Thing is, he's not a normal good guy by any means. He curses a LOT. He's possessive of his ex-wife, Patsy to the point of bribing her into remarrying him. He's jealous, prone to bursts of anger, impatient, bitchy--he's everything a hero should not be and yet he's respected and considered to be an occult bad ass by all the magical folk of the Marvel universe. I like him, because he has flaws and good points about him and his relationship with everyone else is just fascinating whether they downright hate him or begrudgingly respect him for what he is and what he does.
And why wouldn't a throw a half-demon, half-human into betenoire_rp? I want him to struggle with his inner demons (pun). I want to see him writhe and come to an understanding about his ancestry and what it means. Some days, I want to see him embrace his bad side. Some days, I want to see him fight against it.
Also, as displayed in my sample, I'd like to have Daimon do an ongoing investigation as to what the fuck is going on and who is doing all this. That is, until someone can provide him with answers, Daimon is going to be a pain in the ass about returning to his home dimension and it would be interesting if he actually makes enough connections in betenoire_rp to change his opinion somewhat on that.
That and all the kinky sex he could be having.
Samples
First-Person: Whoever the fuck pulled this off, I'm not even going to give you the satisfaction of an applause. No, because this downright pisses me off. I don't fucking care how many tits you're throwing in my face, asshole. This ain't Mardi Gras. I want a fucking face to put a fist into and I want it right the fuck now.
DO YOU KNOW WHO YOU'RE DEALING WITH? THE FUCKING SON OF SATAN, BITCH! SO YOU CAN TAKE YOUR LOW-LEVEL DEMON ASS AND INTRODUCE IT TO MY FUCKING FLAMING PITCH FORK, BECAUSE THAT'S WHAT'S GONNA HAPPEN WHEN YOU FINALLY REVEAL YOURSELF.
YOU WANT SEX? YOU REALLY WANT SEX? HOW ABOUT BEING SODOMIZED WITH AN IRON HOT TRIDENT. NOW THAT'S FUCKING SINFUL.
[ BREATHES ]
Dick thinks he can pull me around.
Third-Person: This was not Hell.
Daimon fucking knew Hell. He ruled a realm of it for what felt like for-fucking-ever. He even had the stupid three point trident and horns. He knew what it was like to burn and be burned. He knew the screams of the anguished. He knew what souls looked like and what true pain was. Hell was so much a part of him that he could not shake it off even if he went to Catholic church seven days a week and did his rosaries twice as much as that.
No, this was some son of a bitch's idea of a practical joke. Not his dad though. He would have been more obvious than this with cryptic phone messages (har, har Sympathy for the Devil. Try harder next time.) and little demon slaves licking Daimon's heels.
This was another demon--an entity unknown to Daimon and he knew them all. He had not seen this work before. He had seen New Orleans turned inside out and gigantic fucking fireballs in the middle of the French Quarter and painful exorcisms, but this was new. This was complete transdimensional teleportation, but for what purpose? Why bring Daimon here? To get his jollies off? He swore he counted like twenty fucking hookers on his walk around the block.
Maybe it was the demon Rosier, but he was a pussy most days. He couldn't pull off something this large scale.
Daimon stopped in the middle of the street, spread out his arms, and shouted to the Heavens; "ALRIGHT! I GIVE THE FUCK UP! TELL ME WHO YOU ARE, ASSHOLE!"
He was met with silence.
"I'M NOT FUCKING IN THE MOOD FOR THIS."
More silence.
"ARGH" He wailed, punching the air and wishing it was an ugly-ass demon face being crippled under his fist.
He'll figure it out. Give him time.
Third-Person #2: It was the middle of summer in good ol' New Orleans. Daimon had acquired an apartment in the French Quarter overlooking a relatively quiet street. When he originally moved in, it was decorated lavishly with luxurious trappings and wondrous architecture. Now it was a pile of papers: manuscripts, religious texts, phone numbers, books he read a few pages from and ripped to shreds. Candle wax and red paint coated the hardwood floors. His bed was a mess of linens and feathers from pillows he shredded in the middle of the night.
At least the view was still good.
Daimon sat on the window sill, finishing off his cigarette as the humid air filled his pores and soul. It was no worse than Hell, but it was close. Maybe that was why he settled here aside from all the supernatural that went down just around the quarters. It was his own personal hell den.
He flicked the cigarette butt out onto the street below and retreated back into his room. Along the way to bed, he kicked aside shattered glass from a picture frame. The picture itself was burnt around the edges with only the slightest hint of a bright smile and bright orange hair. Daimon's bloody feet hanged off the edges of his bed, toes lightly caressing the glass fragments around the foot of his bed skirts.
Humming the Doors, Daimon's claws scraped down his chest, nicking old wounds, and feeling the rising shape of his pentagram on his chest. He grimaced at the memories associated with it and ventured past, hand lightly palming his crotch through his tight leather pants he had grown accustomed to wearing.
Patsy said he looked ridiculous. Daimon knew she thought he was smoking hot.
He chuckled lightly as he grabbed himself tighter, feeling himself harden at the touch, feel, and thought of Patsy's disapproving face and yet the wetness unmistakably forming between her smooth thighs. She would rub her thighs together, trying not to make it noticeable, but Daimon had known her long enough to tell when she was horny and when she just needed a piss break or maybe both.
Before the divorce, before her death--he did not linger too much on those memories--he would just grab her and shove her against any hard surface nearby. It could be a wall, a kitchen counter, this bed, and he would part her legs and go down on her, licking and sucking until she was a vibrating, pulsing mess of a woman. Then he would continue even when she couldn't take it anymore and he'd wring out every little orgasm out of her pretty pussy until she almost passed out.
In the present, he groaned at the tightness forming under his pants and he undid the buttons, pulling himself free to stroke dry and roughly juxtaposed with the flash of images of Patsy dripping and glistening with sweat.
They were opposites. The sweet, innocent girl calling herself Hellcat and the fucking Son of Satan corrupting and seducing her and making her beg on her knees, but he wasn't a bad guy. They'd make love at least Daimon always thought it was making love. He didn't know what Patsy thought of it now. Probably making war.
He threw his head back with a frustrated moan. Stop thinking about that bitch. And focused his thoughts on mundane images of tits, pussy, legs, plump lips, anonymous faces that didn't mean fucking shit to him until he came with such dissatisfaction that he simply pulled up his pants and went to the window for another cigarette.