#infernal blaze

[radioiaci]

matching onesies for you and the bae~ 📻📺

[raveyardwalks]

Inferno, Unknown Painter

1510-1520 Portugal

I do a lot of detail shots at museums as well, I hope its ok to mix things up?

[ducktastic-dad]

@infernal-blaze  ;  A familiar shadow gestures at Lucifer to look its way. There's something hidden behind its back! A knife? A note? The shadow outstretches its hand, a bright and jagged grin on its face. It offers Lucifer a bouquet of vibrant yellow flowers. The moment those flowers leave its hands, it disappears with a silent cackle as the sound of a crackling radio grows ever closer. When Alastor rounds the corner, he is clearly in a disheveled state. His ears are pinned back and he was still in the process of pulling his coat over his shoulder. When his eyes finally land on Lucifer and the bouquet, he stops, stares, and immediately turns around to walk away with a very distinct red coloration on his face. unprompted asks  ━  always accepting.

it  is  not  often  that  alastor's  shadow  separates  from  its  host,  from  what  little  lucifer  has  seen  of  its  more  mysterious  habits.  once  before,  he  can  recall,  the  silhouette  came  to  him  seeking  some  form  of  attention  ;  much  like  it  is  now,  in  his  peripheral  view.  morningstar's  gaze  turns  at  the  encouragement,  somewhat  endeared  by  the  obviousness  of  those  gestures,  and  he  approaches  the  dark  figure  that  has  manifested  outside  its  usual  flatter  state  against  the  walls  of  the  hotel.  that  too  is  unusual. then  he  glances  down,  suddenly  aware  that  the  entity  is  holding  something  behind  its  back,  and  cocks  a  brow.  there  are  not  many  things  lucifer  would  expect  to  receive  from  alastor's  strange  extension,   (  if  at  all,  )   but  considering  how  it  has  behaved  in  the  past.  .  .  he  somehow  feels  less  inclined  to  believe  it  will  be  as  horrific  a  gift  as  alastor  himself  might  bring.  a  shiny  trinket  it  found  laying  around  ?   maybe  lucifer  dropped  something  earlier  without  noticing  ?   or  ━  flowers,  bright  and  entirely  too  vibrant  not  to  notice  against  the  contrast  of  its  dark,  spectral  body.  the  brilliant  yellow  is  eye-catching,  entrancing  lucifer  enough  to  take  the  bouquet  without  any  thought  or  hesitation,  and  it  is  only  when  alastor's  shadow  dissipates  into  wisps  that  he  is  able  to  give  the  gift  a  proper  once-over. 

it's.  .  .  sweet.  his  smile  etches  into  the  apples  of  his  cheeks,  and  creases  the  bags  under  his  eyes.  he's  not  entirely  too  sure  what  to  make  of  it  ;  whether  the  flowers  are  somehow  symbolic  of  something  unsaid,  or  if  they  were  picked  with  the  simple  association  in  mind  of  lucifer  to  the  colour.  maybe  he's  overthinking  it  entirely.  not  much  more  time  is  given  to  ruminate  over  what  or  why,  though.  not  before  the  chaotic  sputtering  of  static  draws  close  enough  that  lucifer  turns,  just  in  time  to  see  alastor  round  the  corner  looking  like  a  mess.  safe  to  assume  their  state  has  something  to  do  with  the  flowers  ━  and  he  intends  to  ask,  but  alastor's  near-immediate  turn  in  the  opposite  direction  robs  him  of  the  opportunity. a  hand  reaches  out,  and  lucifer's  amusement  can't  be  helped  when  he  calls  after  them,

❝    we-hell  hey  now  ━  pff,  hold  on  !    ❞

followed  then  by  the  devil  trying  to  catch  up  to  his  gift-giver's  pace.  not  so  easily  achievable  when  he  is  competing  with  their  lankier  legs,  but  a  light  jog  might  help  close  the  distance.

❝    ha-wait  up  !   come  on,  what  are  you  ?  ━  embarrassed  ??    ❞

[helluvahotelx]

@infernal-blaze asked: Masked eyes widen in shock; however, rather than speak in the low voice the other would recognize, Asterion lifted his hands from beneath his cloak to sign. 'Destitute? Is that truly you?'

The doctor would smile as his eyes rest upon his old colleague, carefully watching as he signed. He'd picked it up, in the living world. It helped gaining more patients, after all. He always needed more patients. He'd wait for him to finish, before signing in return, the figure seemed so familiar, yet such a stranger. [ Yes. I know it has been a while since I've been around, but I have returned. Are you a patient....? ] He raised a brow. He couldn't see the other clearly. Not yet.

[yafucknut]

@infernal-blaze // fizz liked for a starter

"So you're OFFICIAL with the SIN HIMSELF now, huh? Huuuuuh?"

[bringsin]

@infernal-blaze

"will you take me shopping?" niffty asks, looking up at him with her big eye, bouncing in place. "i'm craving ice cream!"

[radioiaci]

Finished CWISTMAS GIFTS for my very good friends, @infernal-blaze / @hypnotic-broadcast and @ducktastic-dad !!! They were some of the first friends I had here in the RPC besides the pals I came over to the fandom with and I LOVE writing with them both and smushing our little demon creatures together. May we have MANY MORE GOOD TIMES AHEAD. ♥ (Also go follow them.)

[radioiaci]

▹@infernal-blaze

Bursts of creative energy tickle along the points of his clawed digits, invested solely in the piece that echoes throughout his room and well beyond into the illusory bayou that he looks out to. Somewhere within, the shadowy visages of his two gators bellow as if joining the loud, sonorous song that emanates from the piano he's sat himself at. Atop it, the liquid that remains in a well-tended-to bottle of whiskey sloshes with the vibration of each key that is pressed, Alastor's ears giving similar little tremors as he indulges in the concentration needed to ensure that even in his very inebriated state, he does not miss a single note.

It is strange how he can fixate on one thing and not another. His mind is blissfully empty, for the time being. Filled entirely with the steady warmth of the alcohol he's imbibed and the memorized melody that he hammers out with relative abandon. It is a good thing he does not have any neighbors in the immediate hall which he's found his room.

Otherwise, they might not appreciate Symphony No. 3 in F Major by Brahms as much as he presently is, his eyes slid shut to further slip away into the music with lack of awareness to the fact that his radio - devoid of any present music being played - is crackling with his own energy; feeding off of how his own soul swells with each lift and fall of the tune.

He is not in a poor mood, though he is not intending to stop drinking any time soon. Not if he can get away with playing away at his piano for several more hours yet. With shirt unbuttoned, tie undone entirely, and sleeves rolled up to the elbows, he is in no state for present company.

Though that typically does not stop the thing from happening anyway.