open rp

[passimclamoribus]

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OPEN RP

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I said that I would make this much cleaner and neater and now here we are.

Let me say thank you for stopping by and giving this journal a look over. This is a space to unwind and have a little bit of fun. If you want to thread something out, well then let's do just that. You can throw something my way and I'll just roll with what you give me. Or you can drop me a message if you want to plot something out.

Let's RP!

❤

Comments

[voxfidei]

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[lamentapple]

[ It's been a perfectly lovely day in Hell. Birds aren't singing, the sun isn't shining (because that only happens on Earth), there's no sweet breeze on the brimstone air. But there's also no Alastor! Not a single sign of him, neither hide nor hair for the entire wonderful morning. For the first time since becoming a resident at the hotel, Lucifer was able to enjoy his breakfast in peace.

Relative, because the crop of demonic guests had been in a tizzy over something, but Lucifer had sipped his tea, pet Keekee, and enjoyed a blissful hour without Alastor's infuriatingly smug smile popping up even once. Truly, a happy day in Hell.

So lovely that Lucifer is thrilled to volunteer for Razzle and Dazzle (the second)'s daily walk. He's walking along, watching his daughter's guardian beasts float through the air and take turns divebombing an unfortunate demon who'd decided to try his luck with stabbing the ruler of Hell in a surprise attack, when he hears it:

A familiar staticky crackle.

Lucifer turns. Down the alley he sees it. A vivid pool of spreading blood and a body, its chest torn open. The white gleam of bone where the body — body, because it's not a corpse yet, limbs still twitching — has its ribs cracked open and peeled back like blooming leaves. Now that he's listening, he can hear the wet wheezing breaths of fluid-filled lungs dragging in desperate breaths.

And perched over the corpse, one hand coated with gore, Alastor. Of course. Of course, even without being around, Alastor finds a way to rain all over his dragon-walking parade!

Lucifer grumbles and takes a few steps into the alley. ]

This is what you've been up to all morning?

[ His glorious, Alastor-free morning! ]

[lamentapple]

[ Charlie, dear, sweet, wonderful Charlie, is overreacting. Sure, the angels have finally wisened up to the fact that if they want to make headway in their battle against Hell, first target the Hazbin Hotel, they need to take out Lucifer. He's the big guns, the go-to guy, the stalwart angelic ass-kicker. Six wings of pure, concentrated protective dad power. Even if he let an inconvenient thing like mercy get in the way of offing Adam, Niffty's little stabfest was only possible after he took the original dick himself out.

Sure, maybe Heaven's started sending gank squads instead of an army. And sure, the few times they do send larger numbers, it's all in the hopes of overwhelming Lucifer with sheer body count. And okay, the attempts to shiv him have been ramping up with nastier and nastier little tools in the hands of the angels stalking through Hell's streets. Maybe even some of the demons, with the way Heaven's put out a price on his head. They really don't get subtlety. But none of that matters, because Lucifer's still the hottest of hot shit in the sphere. It'll take significantly more than that for him to even break a sweat swatting away the flies buzzing around.

Charlie's worrying over nothing. There's absolutely no reason, as sweet as it is, for her to think he needs someone keeping an eye out for him. And definitely no reason for her to ask Alastor of all people to do it! Anyone else! Anyone would have been better.

When she asked Alastor out there for all and sundry to witness, all big, earnest eyes and wringing hands, her voice soft with worry — Lucifer couldn't even put up more than a halfhearted protest in the face of her concern.

(His daughter! His daughter cares if he's around! Charlie doesn't want him to die or be stabbed! His daughter also has terribly misplaced faith and, much as he hates to see any imperfection in her, taste in friends.)

And Alastor's delighted, sneering grin— well, that's not the worst of it. No, the worst of it is how thoroughly, infuriatingly dedicated Alastor's devoted himself to the cause.

Take now, for example. It's just the hotel staff and residents at an informal dinner, the motley group gathered on the couches in the lobby as they chat. Lucifer is having a perfectly nice time. Of course it's a little awkward, but he's mostly settled in and only feels the occasional urge to flee back to his workshop for some alone time tinkering with his ducks. Or, it was perfectly nice before Alastor situated himself directly to Lucifer's right (why), bent his head down over Lucifer's bowl of soup (why??), and, catching up to the current actions of the stain upon Lucifer's very existence, starts gently blowing across the steaming surface (WHY). ]

Hey! [ He flails his arms, then starts trying to elbow Alastor away. ] Did you catch something? Are you trying to give me the plague?

for @ technicaldifficulties

[passimclamoribus]

[ Seven years gone is seven years too long. Alastor loathes the fact that he has returned and so many things have changed. Well. Truthfully, Hell is still Hell. That part never changes. Sinners never change. That's just the way of things. However the development of Hell's culture certainly has and Alastor can't think that it is for the better. There's little doubt in his mind that there had been something of a vacuum that his absence had created and that a particular group had taken advantage of that.

It makes him sick to his stomach.

Now there is much for Alastor to learn, to catch up on. That's how he has found himself watching one of those picture boxes. They are growing rather thin now, aren't they? Barely anything but a screen! And on it is the news, which is rather advantageous to Alastor. It means that he can at least get a broadcast about the latest.

Which happens to be this hilarious segment about Lucifer's daughter. Redeeming Sinners? Laughable. Entirely and completely ludicrous. The girl is clearly misguided, isn't she? But the naive ones, such as this one, can be made of use. Alastor is already tapping on the tip of his cane, thinking about how he might be able to sway this child. Use her to meet his own ends.

The first of which, of course, is to get himself back to where he ought to be. Then make the ones responsible for putting him in such a state where making a deal had been necessary pay. Dearly. Oh Alastor can already think about how that will go down and who knows? Maybe he will be the one to make this child sing and dance to his tune.

All the while, of course, he hasn't quite caught onto the fact that he maybe could be watched from afar. What are drones? He doesn't know! ]