#burning fcols

[hcppyhotel]

dragon writing back on my dash... the world is healing.

[brokendreamscreation]

😍

Shout Out of Awesomeness!

😍 ― admiring from afar

//Oh goodness I feel like there are so many incredible writers I follow and admire from afar. I’ll name 4 peeps I see regularly on my dash that I love to read their threads and headcanons~

@xluciifer is one of the first HH blogs I followed when I joined this rp fandom and has welcomed me with the open arms and so much love and kindness ;w; She writes beautifully and captures Lucifer’s personality, all the while adding excellent humor! Not only does she rp Lucifer, but also Pomni and Jax in TADC fandom! I have not rp’d Lucid with Lucifer yet and very little with my other Nephilim OC, Silver. Her writing and musing is such a delight to see on my dash always~

@burning-fcols is another person I’ve followed since the early days on my previous rp sideblog and continue to watch and admire from this newer one. Lots of lovely muses and descriptive writing, puts a great amount of detail and thought into them.

@peppy-jester rp’s an amazing and fun Fizzy! I love the take of Fizzy being like Lucifer’s personal therapist~ Also after meeting them in the Unholy Crusade event I’ve seen their Mammon and capture that character’s personality to a T!! Always fun to read the threads appearing on my dash~

@shattered-divinity a newer blog I’ve begun following and adore reading the threads of Lucifer on my dash. Long threads with descriptions of the scene and emotions/thoughts are a huge delight and it’s like reading a good fanfic on my dash.

All of these folks I highly recommend, may it be interacting with them directly or appreciating their writing from afar 💖

[hells-fvry]

💬 + "I heard that I'm your favorite kid. :3 " - (( Darby @ Alastor - it He. he heard the 'rumor' from Himself fdjgndfg ))

Send 💬 + a rumor and my muse will react to it. (X)

"Seeing as you are my only child, that would be correct!"

[hcppyhotel]

❝ hey,  i  don't  normally  call  me  a  switch,  but  if  the  king  of  HELL  wants  t'a  be  filled...  well,  who  am  i  t'a  say  no  ?  ❞

[salutcle]

"oh look, an ask from dragon ! "

"oh god, it's an ask from dragon"

[brokendreamscreation]

"… Get away from me." — (( Lucifer - for a first meeting :3c )) - @burning-fcols

Standing in the middle of the hallway, the blue seraph froze at the sight of other facing him, both seemingly rattled by each others appearance. Lucid had stormed out of the Citadel just ten minutes ago, having gotten into yet another heated argument with the Archangel Michael. Tired of being kept like Heaven’s dirty secret (which he inevitably was) the angel demanded he be allowed out more among the citizens of Heaven, namely the Winners. Of course this was met with stead firm rebuttal against this “ludicrous endeavor”, and when both sides would not back down the younger finally left. Soaring out to a further more desolate area of Heaven, the fed up Lucid teleported himself, intending to go to Eden to cool off.

Instead, his frustration and unstable power brought the naive seraph straight to his predecessors palace: The King of Hell.

Lucid’s demeanor shifted from frustration to shock, staring in tense silence at the fallen angel. Even he felt this must be a hallucination, a dream at best. But it did not calm any rampant worry that now flared in his gut like a flock of trapped birds in a cage. Six blue wings twitched, the seraph taking a step back and holding up his hands defensively as though to keep Lucifer back.

“Wh-whoa! Hey! What’s going on here? Please, Be Not Afraid. I-I really have no idea what is happening. O-or where I am!”

Trying to soothe the edges of the tense situation, Lucid offered a timid smile, placing his hands over his chest. “M-my name is Lucid Eveningstar. I do not know how I got here but I-I assure you I mean you no harm, sir!” In the midsts of his confusion and flustering, Lucid had not quite realized that this figure was in fact Heaven’s sworn enemy and the one he was crafted in the image of.

[hells-fvry]

“I-I don’t think I can hold anymore-” — (( Vox @ Alastor because fuck it, imma be Mean™ to my tv boi UwU ))

@burning-fcols smut on main? #blame dragon smh

Alastor would never admit it, but this little arrangement vox and him had, the chance to fry the ꞩⱦᵾꝑīđ television's circuts until all the could show on his screen was error codes until inevitably shutting down, the chance to have all of Vox's attention on him and him alone-

It almost made these ruts worth bearing.

Not that he had a choice in the matter, Alastor forced to succumb to the most primal of instincts come the same time each year. It had been far worse in those handful of years when he'd first manifested, he would admit, the rush of desire so foriegn to the sinner he assumed it as nothing but bloodlust. He had become the cannibal he was now after coming to hell, Rosie simply too much of a dear to say no to.

They did call it 'the hunger' on earth, when nothing but the ӻłēꞩħ of your fellow man would be able to sate you, but that had been a faslehood he'd merely hoped to be true. Eventually, the feelings would fade after a week or so, the massacres he would go on around that time simply a way to keep him distracted, lest he lose himself entirely.

And then Vox just had to manifest when Alastor finally was getting things under control. Liar. Curse him falling for that doe-eyed confusion the first the tangle of wires learned that his more shark based attributes were more than simple show. If asked, he would say it was a way to ensure Vox stayed his, to further enamore his ꞩⱦⱥⱦīȼɏ little shadow to him. To make him feel special. In reality? He remembered what it had been like when he'd first gone into his rut, how scared he was of losing himself to it. Vox was...he was smart, but all too easy to mold (at least in Alastor's experience), and he would be damned AGAIN if he let anyone take away what was ĦĪꞨ.

That had been...Satan, a good handful of decades ago. Time didn't mean much to him anymore, Alastor only really knowing the year 'upstairs' whenever a new sinner would fall. He always asked out of pure curiosity, the deer all too often losing his sense of reality, with how time passed in Hell.

Time meant nothing, but Vox did.

Vox, who changed with the times, slowly but surely leaving Alastor in what he'd deemed a dusty old attic of antiquities. Did Alastor ħⱥⱦē modern technology because he saw it as what took the TV from him? Yes. Hardly, Vox could do as he wished, it wasn't as if they were bound in any way that mattered.

Unless one counted their heat cycles, which had stayed synced even after all this time, even in those seven years Alastor had been gone.

He'd sought Vox out by pure instinct, the familiar ƀᵾƶƶ of his frequency a siren's call from the far side of the city. Was his the same, he wondered, or had all the man's upgrades left them permanently out of tune?

The answer, as Al was oh so happy to learn, was that even now, Vox was still Ⱨł₴ ₮ØɎ.

And what was a toy for, if not to be played with? They had lost time to make up for, after all. So very many couplings lost to the wind, so many lost oppertunities to ɃꞦɆɆĐ as if it would give them what their instincts desired each year.

Alastor had always been....well, unsympathetic was perhaps the wrong word, but it was hard to muster up any worry for Vox's wellbeing when his fellow overlord could easily escape Alastor's grasp, no matter how đēēꝑłɏ his claws dug into pliable flesh.

"Is that so?" Despite the lack of a fliter to his voice (there was no need for that, not now, not with Vox), nothing but cruel mockery dripped from each syllable as Al draped his body across his partner's back, only just able to cover up the gasp that choked at his lungs when the movement jostled where his knot was still buried in Vox. "Have you grown ⱳēⱥҟ since I've been gone, old friend? Don't tell me I'm going to have to ƀɍēⱥҟ ɏꝋᵾ in again. Mold you to my liking and mine ⱥłꝋꞥē."

[wrinkled-sheets-and-sunlight]

❛  i’ve always wanted to do this.  ❜ — (( fuck it, I’m embarrassing Vox *yeets him at Alastor* ))

Having died once already, one would think it would have affected Alastor far less than it had after his fight with Adam, only he'd been dead in an instant when back on earth. A shot right through the head, and then he was in hell. He didn't like to think about it, how scared he had been. How it was kill or be killed from the very moment he smelled brimstone. After Adam...he'd had time to think while he bled, unsure if it was even possible for such a wound to heal. And it more than likely wouldn't have, had Lucifer not pulled the lingering angelic essence from his body.

He...had done a lot of thinking after that, about the people he unfortunately cared for; Charlie, Angel, Husk, Niffty, Vox-

The thought of that television meaning something to him again near reignited his spiral where he lay in the rubble of his radio tower, chest heaving through the pain of poorly done stitches. He couldn't do this again, go through the pain of betrayal. He wasn't good enough for Vox anymore, it was why he was with Val, with the Vees. Still he...had been the only one to notice he'd been gone for years, aside from Rosie of course. But Vox...

He'd manifested outside the Vee's tower before he could so much as blink, those heavy memories of laying helplesss and alone in the ruins that short time ago leaving him standing there wide eyed in the surrounding lights. Vox knew he was there from the moment he'd appreaed, he was sure, seeing as it hadn't taken him long to buzz down himself. Al didn't remember what he'd said, something about paying a visit to an old friend coming out of the static that surrounded them, it born of his panic. Why Vox had let him in, he didn't know, but here he was in the middle of his rivals bedroom, eyes near blinded from the sheer amount of blue.

So out of his element, he'd almost missed when Vox asked about his injury, leaving him one of the few that knew of it's existence. Maybe that was why he'd told him about what Lucifer had done, how close he had come to death again, and how for whatever reason, it had made him want to see Vox again.

A hard swallow, the question of if Vox wanted to see his near afterlife ending injury, and now his fellow sinner was slowly undoing the buttons of his shirt, the sound Al had made upon trying to lift his arms apparently warrenting a helping hand.

It was funny, looking up so very far up at his old rival, how instead of fear clawing at his chest, there..was a sort of warmth. Just how much had he tricked himself into thinking he hadn't missed this? He and Vox would always have their bickerments, but Al had forgotten what the tender moments in between had felt like.

Vox voice had him snapping out of his thoughts, the Radio Demon giving a chuckle through teasing grin. "Are you refering to undressing me, or killing me? If it's that later, then you're succeeding with how slow you are. Feeling like an antique old friend?" Hurt him. Hurt him. Vox wouldn't kill him, not now. It wasn't a fair fight, that wasn't what they were about.

He needed to remember that he was alive, that not all the pain in his body was from Adam's blade. After all, it was all he knew with Vox, really. He didn't have a reason to expect anything else.