ducktastic-dad

[ducktastic-dad]

its feb 14th until i say so

[ducktastic-dad]

what if we rewrite the stars?

[ducktastic-dad]

@angelichooves || lucifer & adaile.

just  as  promised,  or  at  the  very  least  alluded  to,  lucifer  has  set  upon  the  task  of  preparing  an  evening  in  for  two  ;  away  from  prying  eyes,  within  the  confines  of  his  apple  tower.  a  handwritten  note  was  left  in  particularly  neat  cursive  for  alastor  to  find,  placed  at  the  very  foot  of  the  door  to  their  room,  inviting  them  to  meet  in  his  own.  whether  or  not  the  radio  demon  actually  turns  up  is  a  bit  of  a  gamble,  though  it  is  clear  by  the  aggressive  amount  of  neon  signs  blinking  outside  lucifer's  door   (  including  but  not  limited  to  ;  movie  inside  !   now  screening  !   this  way  !   free  snacks  !   ━  )   that  he  may  be  hoping  for  his  guest  to  show  up.  such  a  small  theatre,  if  one  could  call  a  loveseat  and  cobbled  together  film  projection  such  a  thing,  might  feel  a  bit  empty  otherwise. claws  fiddle  with  a  vintage  projector,  adjusting  its  suitcase-like  form  over  a  table  balancing  on  wheels  for  ease  of  mobility.  the  film  projector  points  towards  a  white  pull-down  screen  he  has  moved  to  stand  against  one  of  his  curved  walls,  readied  for  use.  how  many  times  has  he  adjusted  the  overall  setup  ?   only  several.  or  maybe  a  dozen.  and  he  is  ready  to  do  so  again,  as  if  trying  to  find  a  sweet-spot  for  the  projection  he  has  already  clearly  captured,  but  is  stopped  by  the  knocking  on  his  door. in  an  almost  comedic  fashion  he  scrambles  towards  the  entrance,  narrowly  avoiding  the  popcorn  cart  in  his  path  and  pausing  only  to  smooth  down  the  threat  of  wrinkles  creasing  his  pinstripe  button-up.  it  has  dawned  on  him  far  too  late  that  he  should  have  gussied  himself  up  a  little  more  for  the  occasion,  but  he  supposes  the  absence  of  his  ringmaster  suit  and  crown  is  unusual  enough.  the  door  swings  open  with  a  bubbly  tone  greeting  his  neighbor,

❝    ah,  alastor  !   you  made  it  !     ❞

[ducktastic-dad]

@ducktastic-dad ⧐ the devil dons his finest satin tuxedo,  ( which is honestly not all that different from his usual ringmaster attire, obvious changes aside, )  hugging a bundle of flowers in hand when he approaches the radio demon's door. he. . . did get the right kind this time, didn't he ?  ( there are so many types of lilies, it's difficult to keep track !  he is of course partial to the golden-rayed ━ but this isn't about him. obviously. )   if he is wrong, well he's fairly sure all seven rings will refrain from exploding over a couple of spider lilies, but who's to say ? one hand briefly abandons its hold on the iridescent cellophane, which comfortably wraps the bundle, to curl into a fist and deliver a few dainty knocks. it then retreats just as quick, his gaze fixed up expectantly at the door. hell may not explode over flowers, but lucifer might if he cannot hand them over personally for such a fitting occasion.

UNPROMPTED ASKS.

Perhaps in some sort of alternate timeline, Alastor might have scoffed at the idea of such a saccharine affair - celebrating hearts and love and whatnot. Perfectly fine for others, but he often had other things to tend to. More important things. And yet here and now, he had found quite the enjoyment in the holiday itself, indulging in a few small things here or there in an effort to wait out whatever he assumed Lucifer had planned. Anything, really, might have been enough to engage him, but he was alarmingly patient, the sound of soothing piano emanating from his radio as he sipped at a coffee he'd prepared for himself (with just the smallest hint of chocolate added in for an extra something.)

The knock on the door is expected and not unwelcome, but he does not rush to answer it. Instead, he takes his time, reaching up to pull some of his hair back into a small tie before stepping over to the threshold to finally pull it open and glance down rather knowingly at the devil on the other side.

Though before he can say anything that might inadvertently bruise an ego, Alastor notices those flowers, eyebrows raised as he recognizes the blossoms with a bit of a grin.

"Hah. You remembered! Spider-lilies."

He does not know why that is such a satisfying thing. It is such a small detail, he knows, to commit to one's memory that it almost seems inconsequential entirely.

But that Lucifer recalls what he has been told is bizarrely appealing.

Enough to reach out and snag the other by his sleeve to tug him into the room and shut the door behind them. Flowers, lovely though they may be, are not quite enough to sate the radio demon's desire to further appreciate Lucifer's thoughtfulness and generosity.

Alastor will harbor his demanded attention for much longer.

[ducktastic-dad]

ok one more meme and then i'll do my asks

[ducktastic-dad]

HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY !!! sending out my love to all of you, hope the holiday treats you well ! 🦆💛

[ducktastic-dad]

yt recommendations knows what i want. finally some good fucking food

[ducktastic-dad]

new temp dash icon + banner 💛

[ducktastic-dad]

💗   𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐄'𝐒  𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐊  𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒   .   .   .    (   cupid's  bow!   )  Use  this  generator  to  send  me  a  prompt!     *Rating:  Platonic  /  Romantic  /  NSFW.   With  over  95  prompts  to  choose  from.  preview under cut

→  ∗  ⁽  !  ⁾  Sender  [  sends  the  prompt  ]  &  Receiver  [  receives  the  prompt  ]

[ducktastic-dad]

❝ 𝐀 𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐋'𝐒 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐋 . ❞

an independent & semi-selective rp blog for LUCIFER MORNINGSTAR of HAZBIN HOTEL.   ||   18+ blog, MUTUALS ONLY, penned by pixel.  ||   CARRD.

[ducktastic-dad]

Yeah, I'm sure he knows exactly what he's doing with those outfits and his tail...

Lilith, come and get your man. He gets too aggressive when he's alone.

[ducktastic-dad]

every time i make an in character lucifer post without fail

[ducktastic-dad]

x . || @diistortion said : "Why are you such a damned menace?"

❝    it's  not  my  fault  you  don't  have  an  eye  for  décor.  or  fun  in  general.    ❞

[ducktastic-dad]

x . || @radioiaci said : /Heinous./

❝    i  believe  the  word  you're  looking  for  is  ha-mazing,  actually  ━  just  look  at  those  stripes  !   shiny  and  eye-catching  !   i'm  sure  anyone  else  will  say  the  same  thing.    ❞

[ducktastic-dad]

in  celebration  of  valentine's  day,  lucifer  is  replacing  the hotel  foyer's  drapes  with  the  tackiest  possible  streamer  curtains  he  could  find.   (  all  too  amused  with  himself  )   both  his  palms  rub  together  not  unlike  a  diseased  fly  ;  his  next  victim  will  be  the  carpeting.

[ducktastic-dad]

anon  ;  I love that the title for the blog (or whatever the spot is called) is just "she took the fucking kids"   unprompted asks  ━  always accepting.

LMAO thank you anon, i'm glad y'all like my dash title as much as i do.

she took the fucking kids ...

[ducktastic-dad]

@allstag  ;  [ 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐌 ] or [ 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐂 ] ( your choice, my friend !! )   🌙  *  ―     𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐒  ━  accepting.

some  sinners  are  beyond  redemption  ;  to  lucifer,  that  is.  a  new  batch  of  guests  has  arrived,  no  doubt  curious  about  the  talk  of  the  hotel  that  single-handedly  did  in  a  day  what  has  not  been  done  since  brimstone  first  shaped  all  seven  rings.  and  if  that  was  not  spectacle  enough,  it  now  houses  hell's  most  prestigious  royal  ━  the  king  of  pride,  who  has  been  more  or  less  a  ghost  the  past  seven  years.  he  can  understand  the  infatuation,  sure.  .  .  and  he  was  ready  to  help  greet  potential  new  residents,  sinners  though  they  may  be,  if  only  for  the  sake  of  his  daughter.  that  expression  of  excitement  warms  his  heart,  even  fond  of  the  floundering  that  ensues  every  time  they  get  a  new  passerby.  if  it  is  for  her,  he  thinks.  but  this  is  just.  .  .  too  much.

the  imitation  of  golden  tresses,  flowy  and  pulled  back  in  a  style  unmistakable  ;  her  dress,  as  deep  a  purple  as  the  silk  tucked  secretively  away  in  one  of  his  drawers  back  at  home,  though  this  parroting  counterfeit  does  the  genuine  article  no  justice.  the  guest  says  something  ━  lucifer  has  to  assume  it  is  a  greeting,  barely  able  to  catch  the  words  above  the  sound  of  his  own hammering  heartbeat  ━  and  as  if  suddenly  set  on  autopilot,  he  welcomes  the  sinners  in  with  a  vacant  smile.  charlie,  his  poor  girl,  also  seems  to  be  taking  their  jarring  appearance  poorly,  but  is  far  braver  than  her  father  when  she  asks.  again,  lucifer  does  not  catch  the  words.  far  too  distant  to  discern  their  meaning,  though  he  does  catch  the  odd  buzzwords  in-between.  blog,  celebrity,  and  fashion. perhaps  it  was  an  attempt  to  garner  favor,  some  twisted  form  of  flattery  he  will  never  understand.  lucifer  finds  it  much  more  likely  to  be  overt  narcissism.  this  is  hell,  after  all. 

he  cuts  the  conversation  short  to  excuse  himself,  under  the  guise  of  fetching  some  refreshments,  and  makes  a  quick  retreat  towards  the  communal  kitchen.  even  in  the  absence  of  company  it  takes  him  a  good  minute  to  come  to  his  senses. angry,  nauseous,  and  short  of  breath,  as  if  he  has  just  lost  a  marathon  he  never  ran.  the  air  struggles  to  pass  through,  his  ribcage  rattling  like  a  worn  machine   (  and  perhaps  he  is,  )   with  every  tightening  hitch.  fragile  bone  china  shivers  in  the  pinch  between  his  forefinger  and  thumb  as  he  takes  it  from  the  open  cupboard,  a  warning  he  fails  to  take  seriously  when  the  four-of-a-kind  glass  shakes  right  out  from  his  grip.  his  opposite  hand  rushes  to  catch  it  just  in  time  ;  suddenly  it  feels  as  if  he  is  holding  onto  the  tea  cup  for  dear  life.  what  if  it  had  been  lilith  walking  through  that  door  ?   what  would  she  say,  what  would  she  think  ?   the  sight  of  lucifer,  reduced  to  playing  house,  shirking  his  duties   (  as  always  !  )   in  favor  of  prancing  around  like  some  sort  of  mascot  ━

the  crackle  of  a  radio  coming  to  life  cuts  his  thoughts  short.  every  muscle  seems  to  stiffen,  and  it  is  a  wonder  the  startle  does  not  cause  lucifer  to  crack  the  cup  still  cradled  in  his  palms.  of  course.  .  .  alastor  has  taken  it  upon  themselves  to  put  a  radio  in  just  about  every  nook  and  cranny  of  this  damn  place. the  song  begins,  airy  and  light  upon  the  backdrop  of  fuzz  pouring  from  the  speaker  like  white  noise.  despite  being  aware  of  the  presence  he  now  knows  is  in  the  room,  lucifer  cannot  find  it  in  himself  to  say  anything  right  off  the  bat.  this  distraction  is  not  entirely  unpleasant,  company  aside.  a  melody  somewhat  fitting.  not  too  somber,  and  not  too  upbeat.  he  allows  it  to  continue  uninterrupted  for  the  first  minute  or  so,  his  back  turned  and  stiffly  hunched  over  the  counter,  keen  on  hiding  the  sting  in  his  eyes.  even  knowing  that  the  radio  demon  could  be  looming  over  him  like  a  trap  ready  to  spring,  he  knows  he  must  speak  up  eventually.

❝    aren't  you  supposed  to  be  ━    ❞

━  taking  bags,  bellhop  ?   serving  that  wretch  with  a  smile  ?   patting  her  on  the  back  for  sending  lucifer  running  with  his  tail  tucked  between  his  legs  ?   any  number  of  backhanded   (  and  entirely  rhetorical  )   questions  cross  his  mind.  the  devil  takes  visible  pause,  some  semblance  of  self-control  regained  with  the  flow  of  music  that  attempts  to  outweigh  his  thoughts.  picking  a  fight  in  this  state  is  unnecessary.  .  .  a  bit  cruel,  too,  maybe.  though  he  has  no  idea  why  alastor  is  here  ━  and  it  would  be  utterly  foolish  of  him  to  think  it  is  an  act  of  kindness,  as  opposed  to  getting  a  peek  through  the  cracks  of  his  carefully  crafted  persona  ━  the  fact  remains  that  they  are  bringing  him  some  sense  of  calm,  even  if  it  isn't  with  intent.  rewarding  what  little  comfort  this  melody  brings  with  the  snapping  of  a  wild  animal  is  unbecoming.  he  is  better  than  that.

so  he  tries  again,  drawing  in  a  breath  that  is  slightly  less  jittery.  both  eyes  screw  shut,  and  the  teacup  in  his  grasp  is  lowered  onto  the  counter  with  a  glassy  click.  the  improvement  encourages  clearer  thought  when  he  resumes,

❝    .  .  .  greeting  the  guests,  or  something  ?    ❞