#§radioiaci§

[the-devil-less-known]

"Oho, if you do, remind me to bring the golf clubs," he’s joking. Mostly. Kinda. Though, who knows if he'll follow through or not when the ring does come, if it does. Or mention a certain bowling alley in Greed. Lucifer isn’t exactly squeamish when it comes to this, and the heads in question were always compensated fairly for the day’s labor. One could even pay extra to rent ones that screamed especially for you or remained silent for the time being.

Though, it likely wasn’t going to be a matter of ‘renting’ another’s time if this did occur. Oops.

With the talk about the radio, Lucifer very much tries to follow along to the impromptu lecture about the machine in question and its inner workings. Unfortunately, his know-how about machinery was quite limited, most of the terms running together into a very complicated sounding word. So, what he ends up needing to do, is ask clairifying questions, and see if Alastor might like the subject enough to continue. Though, given some of the tells that the fallen could spot, it seemed like this topic was a safe one to ask when there was time to humor conversation.

Hesitant, but hoping to place a name to the parts so he might know what was being looked at, Lucifer pointed at a clear tube that he could espy in the casing and leaned over to tentitively guess what the other parts might be, “…Is that the vaccum tube? I never actually looked inside one of these or other machines, but they really do have a lot of wiring inside them, don’t they? Complex little things. Did you have a book on how to make repairs or did you simply take radios apart and reconstruct them until you learned how?”

It would have had to have been painstaking, if it was the latter case. Hours and days spent, easily.

With another studying glance at the radio and its innards, the King steps away with a balanced tray in hand, and sets up the table, tail placing the milk canister with the rest that he rearranges neatly with practiced hands. It isn’t quite the same, this isn’t a visit to some of the younger goetia or one of his sins, or him having a couple of his older staff spend an hour with him, just for company….

But it’s strangely nostaglic to be sharing a cup of a hot drink with someone, even if that someone was Alastor with muddled history between the two of them. It makes the fluffy end of his tail flick from side-to-side, absently tracing figure eights in the air until he finally settles down in one of the chairs, one leg crossed over the other at the knee.

Resting his face in his hands and elbows on a thigh, Lucifer watches the man busy himself, and it feels a little strange, seeing him just…. move as he always did before the other times when Lucifer had watched him, though the difference now being he was aware of it. Nothing much changed. Nothing, except perhaps that he wasn’t looking for excuses to justify his feelings now. He’d never voice it, on pains of sounding and looking more foolish than he felt he already appeared to be.

“I wonder if you need all the components inside to operate one with your abilities as you do, or if even a hollow one would work so long as it is a radio in spirit?”

"Aha! Sounds as though the last time you were there was near the course of the French revolution. The country is moderately more civilized since then, I would imagine, though they have their fair share of protest and calamity, just as any other. But I rarely invested myself in the politics of my own country of origin, let alone any others. I'm sure there are books that could give you a better rundown as to how that whole ordeal went."

Something something about a coup d'état and the start of the Napoleanic era. It is not really worth expounding upon at the moment.

"I've not participated in a good beheading in a long time, though I'm sure I can give you a ring when I do."

Is he joking? He'll never tell. One is always left to guess with the radio demon.

As he prepares the coffee, the mention of the radio is something that perks him up visibly - if he were not already in a fairly decent mood which Lucifer will need to take advantage of, rare as it is. Subtle though it is, his tail gives a pleased sway from one side to the next - always eager to speak of the work he does with the little machines.

"There are some that are products of Hell's absorption of technology from above, but there are others that I custom-make myself. That one is a hold over from my era of living - It is an Atwater Kent 165. A cathedral style, small 5-tube AC superhet circuit radio. It's in need of some wiring and tube replacements, though it's been difficult to find something that functions as intended. If I can get it working again, it will hopefully be quite the addition to one of my shelves."

He takes a moment to gesture to the open casing - exposed innards which deem the thing obviously in-service, but that does not seem to undermine his enthusiasm for it.

"This radio is among the earliest to include all of the improvements that define a modern radio, including a superheterodyne architecture for excellent sensitivity and selectivity, an automatic volume control to equalize the volume of strong vs weak stations, a good-sounding electrodynamic speaker with cloth surround, and a vacuum tube diode detector for low distortion. Not a cheap radio by any means for the time."

He could yammer on. But there is coffee to be had.

When Lucifer seems to appear with the tray out of thin air, Alastor takes the magic at hand in stride. Because it is simple enough for he himself to snap fingers and manifest a metal table with two chairs - white, though the painting is a bit rusted and worn in some areas of the complex lattice work on it, it is a nice little thing that nestles itself right at the edge of the seemingly vast blue bayou that lay beyond. Though they are fewer tonight, the little faint glows of fireflies bring together a bit of appropriate evening ambience that Alastor has come to enjoy.

"Over there will do," he instructs.

[videokilled]

@radioiaci

[txt] I bet you’re fucking pleased with that deal you skank.

[heliacalxrising]

@radioiaci

Lucifer thinks perhaps that maybe his...encounter with Alastor had been the wrong way to go. It's another to confess developing feelings for someone who most likely does not return those feelings; it's entirely another to end up having sex with that person, and then end up feeling worse than confessing.

They don't really speak to each other again for almost two weeks, and that's mainly due to Lucifer feeling so embarrassed that he avoids Alastor like the plague. No one seems to think anything's off, which is a minor relief, because he doesn't have the words to explain, or the energy to try.

It's better to try and be busy, so that he can be too tired to do anything else when the days are over. But his brain's reverted back to insomnia, haunted by all of his mistakes and racing thoughts and wondering why he's always been the anomaly. Why he's the one that's on the outside looking in, despite how desperate he is to be included. He's just...too much.

It gets to the point where Lucifer spends three days in his room simply because he doesn't want to leave it. He assures Charlie he is fine, he just needs some time alone, and then he's laying on the floor staring up at the ceiling in silence for hours.

The third day finds him plucking at his violin just for something to do before a knock comes to the door. When he doesn't answer, the knock comes again, so he sighs, putting the violin aside and pushing himself to his feet, going to unlock and open the door, only to freeze when he sees Alastor standing there.

"Oh!" His face immediately flushes. "Hi..."

[sirserpentine]

Plotted starter for @radioiaci

"My love, humour me for a moment," Pentious begged from his upside-down recline over the other demon's lap. He had pretended that their Stay in the bedroom all night to read books and snuggle while sipping tea-date was exactly that. Simple and lovely and entirely ordinary. But it was a brilliant ruse, all to hide the secret vacation plans Pentious had in store for later. Ones he had been working on for quite a long time by now.

His tail joyfully whisked as he hoisted himself around to poke Alastor's chest with his book of choice; Jules Verne's Around the World in Eighty Days.

On the nose. He always was.

"If you were able to spend... ssssay, two days back on Earth, where would you want to go? What would you want to do?"

[the-devil-less-known]

Lucifer tilted his head, thinking. In technicalities, he did have a couple harpsichords… and The Organ, but the thought of bringing the first two out of storage or going out on a long walk just to see an old decrepit massive piece… Did not appeal for the casual air going on here, so he earmarked it for a later time. Though, maybe he could simply share music of The Organ being played and recorded later? Then mention it was still around, and if wanted later, they could go see it~!

The King grins to himself, so very pleased. He is the social manipulator (or so he tells himself).

“Oh? Why, certainly…. Let’s see. Mmm…” Lucifer eyes the collection, from horns to woodwind to stringed instruments, there were so many. He takes a long gulp of his whiskey, clearing his throat of the burn, and placed his drink into the care of his elongated tail. The safest measure would be to stick with what he knew would be a crowd pleaser, especially for a crowd this particular in mind.

“It would be fitting to play the same one you remember before, but without the vineer I usually put on for it right? Since we are seeing each other without airs, and all. You should see and hear my favorite as she is.” With a pointed flick of his wrist, the container opens and the little red violin turns golden in complexion, wrapped in his magic as it floats the short distance over into Lucifer’s awaiting hand. “Usually, I make a copy of her, to avoid any hard wear or accidents occuring when I’m out in public. I doubt I would get another as finely made as this.”

Delicately, a claw traces the engraving, la tromba di Gabriele, along the edge; and holds it up for examination, slowly spinning it in his careful hands, the rich red color gleaming in the light as the gold leeches away, disappearing silently. “Stradivari, unfortunately, no longer remains in Hell. Heaven targetted our craftsmen that year, found what should have been a private location… After that, well, no point in continuing that program. When he was here, there were a great many more performances created, just for the opportunity to play his instruments. Actually, that includes the one that was playing in LuLu World when we visited.”

The violin is raised up and carefully put in place, chin resting on the wood as he grinned at Alastor boyishly, dimple peeking out. The record player behind them grows quiet, a golden tendril turning it off. “Want me to play you the Goetia’s Lament with a history lesson, or do you have a special request in mind? Don’t think it’ll spare you from my gabbing, either~”

Rolling his eyes at Lucifer's quick defense of his apparent agedness (is he not hundreds of thousands of years old, Alastor wondered?) the radio demon decided against making an 'old man' joke of any kind. Too enthralled, for the time being, in observation of the instruments laid out before him. Though Alastor could not consider himself a jack of all trades when it came to playing music - his specialty being the piano and perhaps an occasional twang of a banjo - he could appreciate the craftsmanship of a finely tuned violin or some other string instrument of similar caliber.

For the time being, Alastor had no interest in telling Lucifer to quit talking. It filled the silence, anyway. And while he himself could ramble and rave on about any number of subjects, none of those particular subjects were the conversational topic of the moment.

The Devil's words were never tiresome, in any case. Even if they sometimes delved into slightly more emotional territory than Alastor was always equipped to handle.

Lucifer's tidbit about the instruments being used as collateral for summoning was an interesting one. And somewhere in the back of his mind, he found a dull sort of realization - it figured that the singular thing he'd forgotten to include when he'd made an attempt at summoning the Devil all those years ago in his living years was something like that. Instead, he'd summoned Lilith instead.

The irony was not lost on him.

Alastor's attention was pulled to the offered drink, reaching out to take it and give it a brief sniff. A tiny bit too sweet for what he normally preferred, but he would not balk at it. Though the ice was an interesting touch.

"I do not play much except for piano," he answered honestly with the slightest of shrugs before he took a swig from the glass in hand. "I might be able to pluck out a little ditty on a stringed instrument or two, but it's certainly not my forte."

But he knew that Lucifer was quite proficient at it. And the thought piqued some genuine interest, eyebrows raised just a touch at the other.

"I recall you having quite the skill, however. Why don't you show me a bit of that instead?"

It was an invitation, and a little bit of a smug one that said he'd not forgotten their little duel when Lucifer had first arrived at the hotel. Amusing as it had been, though he did not think the other harbored as much appreciation for the theatrics of it all. Alastor had simply thought it was fun.

But so too was he curious to hear the other's proficiency outside of such a heated encounter.

[alteregozowie]

The radio tower's somber silence is interrupted by a spatial rip, a jagged green portal sears across the wall. Many eyes were behind the tear's darkness, glowing, itching to climb out and onto the tower's floors.

But only one pair of reddish pink orbs walked through, with a hum of a tune and a twirling crackle of his microphone cane. The portal sealed itself behind him almost like a zipper, as they heard the disappointing shrieks of those who couldn't join him being swallowed up as it closed.

"A little tidier than my own, how utterly boring," as the very familiar figure gazed over his surroundings. "Where's the character? Where's the pizazz!?"

With a flick of his ear, he turned to look at his soon to be opponents, that signature yellowed grin widening.

"Well, well! At least my opponent has some class, if only in a physical sense," he said, looking over his striking resemblance. He gave him a sneer, then changed that tune once he saw Rosie.

"My dear, how unfortunate for you to be caught up in all of this. It breaks my heart," and he puts his hand over his chest in his theatrics. "And how truly unfortunate that I be the one that could end it all."

Then he laughed, the radio feedback more apparent now.

"I must admit, even I didn't know what would become of our 'happy' couple. I was getting worried that I'd be left out in all the fun!"

He tapped on his microphone, and they watched as his antlers grow double in size, followed by sickening cracking sounds as he twisted and contorted into the eldritch horror that they saw before them.

"So let's not waste any more time and get started...."

.̷̨̣̟̲̳̑̓̏̓.̸̗̳̝̫̮̼̫͐̈́̿̌͠.̸̨̱̜̼͖̫̻͖́̀͛͜͠.̷̳̓́̓̏̈̓̌̐͋̚.̵̱͓̈́̉̃̀̑̈̏͜͝s̴̪̠̀̎͂̊͊̊͛̑h̸̨̤̰͎̘̥̫̓̉̿͗̍̓̑̄ą̸̝̖̹̭̥̜͖̭͕̆͒̍̄̀l̸͚͕̼̹̟͖̰̦̕l̴̘̀̏̎̽̈́̃́̈ ̸̹̫̪̺͌̓ẉ̶̊e̵̠̺̱͌͋̎́̏̈̕͠?̵̜̩̣̈́͆́

@radioiaci @cannibalxroses

[infernal-blaze]

Starter for @radioiaci

It had been almost a full day since Fizzarolli last made an appearance. He was tucked away behind the door of his hotel room, unwilling to come out. He couldn't be around prying eyes- not when he was in such a pathetic state.

The imp was curled up into a tight ball on his bed, jester hat thrown haphazardly beside him. Tears dripped from his face as shaking, metal claws gripped tightly at broken horns. His tail was wrapped stiffly around his legs as his body shook with a sob. Fuck, he was a mess.

There was a nasty gash in his left prosthetic limb- one that would spark and glitch any time he went to move the arm. It hurt, but he refused to take it off. His jester outfit was covered in rips, dirt, and splatters of blood, though he had yet to decide if that blood was his or not.

It had been a pretty shitty day. At the request of Mammon, Fizzarolli had put on a show in the Greed Ring. The show itself had gone well enough, but the crazed fans of Greed decided to play with him afterwards. Fizzarolli could still picture the moment a sudden shock hit him, temporarily disabling his prosthetics. Then, out of the shadows, came his assailants.

Fizz screwed his eyes shut, curling more tightly into himself. The sudden knock on his door, then twisting of the door knob had him lurching forward, snagging his jester had with a sudden sense of panic. The hat was only just barely pulled over tattered horns before his visitor entered the room.

[circus-frog]

Starter for @radioiaci

Fizzarolli's connections to the Sins could be incredibly useful from time to time. His main employer was Mammon, but he also technically worked for Asmodeus. Sort of. He would do performances for the Sin of Lust's clubs from time to time. He didn't know the specifics, but Mammon had made some sort of deal with the other Sin in order to get Fizzarolli custom prosthetics. All he knew was that he was under contract to work in Lust whenever Asmodeus asked- which, surprisingly, wasn't very often. Kindness and understanding were always offered to him when he worked with Ozzie, which was a stark contrast to Mammon. He didn't understand it.

Long story short, Fizzarolli was technically employed under Asmodeus, which meant that he could legally request an Asmodean Crystal.

Claws tapped lightly at the blue crystal within in grasp, eyes bright with excitement. It was a smaller crystal in the shape of a heart, which happened to fit perfectly into the little heart-shaped crest on the front of his jester hat. He pressed it into place with ease, the crystal shifting its form to fit snuggly with no concern that it would fall out.

Fizzarolli was in a bubbly mood when he finally made it back to the hotel. With his tail held high, he searched all of Alastor's usual spots until he managed to find the man in question. The imp lit up, skipping over to Alastor's side with an excited grin. He was practically vibrating by the time he made it there, tail wagging at high speeds.

"Al! Clear the rest of your day! We have something to go do!" Fizz grabbed at the deer's hand, already busy trying to tug Alastor towards the direction of his room.

[penanceisthecure]

@radioiaci

Falcata was seated in the lobby, as they like anytime the lobby is empty or close to it. Gave the illusion of being less of a recluse without actually having to socialize.

There was an ornate sign that was newly placed that said "No portals in the lobby!" Pretty clearly Lucifer's style. Had the apple iconography and everything.

Despite that, Falcata was stretched out on the couch, shoes on the cushions, a rift open above their head, eating a bag of popcorn while they watched whatever was on the other side. Chillin. Figured they'd hear Lucifer coming if he was around, that guy was NOT sneaky. He burst into every door like he was making an entrance.

Alastor was trickier, but after a few weeks here, Falcata was starting to think that if he was going to get on Fal's ass for anything, he would have by now. As long as they don't fuck up his breakfast again.

[duckduckluce]

@radioiaci

Lucifer had a long day smiling at sinners and pretending to ca- attempting to care, and actually engage with them and their problems. He should care more about his people the way Charlie does.

But they're so....eugh. Exhausting. What a mess.

But hey, he's done for the day! Back to the hotel, now he can do something much more his speed. Walking the halls and finding little things here or there to upgrade. This hallway could use a little love! Conjure a quick pedestal with a nice flower arrangement here, do a little repair on the carpet there(how'd it get torn up?? It was JUST installed), relocate this junky old radio... Ah, yes. This is his true calling. Charlie will be so proud. Hells Greatest Dad, 10/10.

[the-devil-less-known]

For someone who was supposed to be the King of Hell, Lord of Unholy Legions, Demon of Demons, Strongest of All in Hellfire... Lucifer appeared mildly out of place in the hotel foyer, still trying to decide how he wanted to approach this. Approach that thorn in his side the size of a prong on an antler.

Saying that he was grateful would be a step too far, not for someone so.... dubious at best. How could Lucifer be anything but suspicious of this sinner?

Maybe if Alastor was a little more stupid, maybe if he did anything but wear that mask of a smile, maybe if he made mistakes Lucifer could pick at, then the King wouldn't feel so uneasy having someone like that so close to his heart: Charlie.

His little light could preach a real convincing argument, a good story that made you want to sit up and listen. Once she stopped speaking at you but to you personally, that is. A gift of the mind and heart nurtured by her mother, taught by the very best on compelling performances... Except to the Princess, it was all in truth, sincere vulnerability and hope for all on display.

With Charlie, it was everything but the very soul itself, leaving the likes of Alastor the Radio Demon to attach themselves to that.

Lucifer had shared his reservations in the past with her life's mission; his deep unease, about all the implications and truths involving their "people". Both before and after Lilith stopped touring. Even finally explained the unique circumstances of the Pride Ring sinners and the Exterminations... All for naught.

It's easy to be "supportive", to buoy her up and bolster that red-hot passionate fire to give out good to the world, encourage her to continue breaking out into song and showmanship flare, make the soul thump and feet stamp in tune... all to the beat of unsustainable naïvety. Get the Princess attached to gain her implicit trust and gain that "love" that makes a person do anything for their "friend". Their enabler.

Lucifer knows well the precarious position he stands in, how easily he could be sidelined as a distant observer in her self destructive life again... and be replaced from being father and guidance to follow. Left only in formality, the King of Hell she could always call on and bend the ear to. That was all.

So, here he was, in the midst of this lion's pit, with only his wits about Himself, knowing very well how he must tread in Charlie's "territory" with one of her "people". No killing, no maiming, no real overt "threats"; Alastor untouchable — for the moment.

But just like anything in this life, including Lucifer Himself, this sinner was replaceable. And in battles of words and riddles, threading the thin line between truth and misdirection, he could maintain the veneer of polite civility with the best of them. Heaven knew well the path unspoken and the smiles that hid strife underneath...

Alastor wouldn't be making any deals anytime soon with that ghastly chain around his neck, but Lucifer didn't need that. Only a few chats, a few answers, a few insights on Charlie's left hand man, and how his... indispensable assistance could be outshown and made redundant.

“Ah, look, it's our local neighborhood friendly hotelier ! You look unoccupied. And it seems you now have a guest... You'll indulge me, of course?”

@radioiaci

[the-devil-less-known]

As if he would do anything else but match that stare with one of his own. He would win, he was determined. As surprisingly a charmingly conversationalist this sinner was, Lucifer was fairly certain this other man wouldn't allow him to live a loss down. So, winning it was.

He fills the two red solo cups with multiple glow sticks and the grim expression of a man making cyanide cocktails, and offers out both cups for Alastor to choose one.... Neither mixture looks particularly appetizing, and the smell alone enough to remind a person of the taste.

With a light tap of his cup against Alastor's, Lucifer reluctantly intones, "Bottom's up," before pinching his nose and going for it, struggling not to gag.

Hearing Lucifer fumble through his words was almost as terrible as it was trying to get through such a thing himself. Normally, he might have delighted in the other's struggle - at the moment, all he could do was empathize, his stomach churning.

He did not refuse the water passed his way, bringing it up to his mouth to try and take several swig to clear his throat of the sticky sensation to no real avail.

"...I am no quitter. Have at you."

Voice devoid of its normal enthusiasm, his expression was fixated in a challenging stare at the other.

He was all in.

[mysteriouslyhopefulstranger]

Closed Starter with @radioiaci from here.

Alice and the Mystery Skulls Inc. were fighting a jubokko, a Japanese vampire tree. Apparently, the Mystery Skulls gang had encountered her before. Their kitsune mascot, Mystery, had created her eons ago, and she needed blood, thanks to him. She was back once again, but she had another face to fight.

Unfortunately for Alice, the tree managed to catch the red head in a spot that she couldn't see. She gave Alice a deep cut in the torso. The team had to wrap it up and take her to a hospital, despite her fearful protests.

Alice laid in the emergency room, drifting in and out of consciousness. The faces of the doctors and nurses were blurry. Living doctors and nurses whose intentions she couldn't sense.

"Nng...Huh?!" Well, she did sense something, and it wasn't Lewis or Mystery. It was malicious. It was powerful. It was looming over her.

"N-no...!" She clenched her bed sheets.

[videokilled]

@radioiaci

At some point when Alastor made his way back to the hotel, he would be made aware of a small package. It didn't have anything written on it but the hotel crew said a fish looking character delivered it to the front door and said it needed to reach the radio demon.

If it was opened, it was an iPhone. With one contact in it.

[dark-ambition]

@radioiaci continued from X.

As the playful taunt from Alastor’s voice came, Pentious felt himself seethe with anger, with nothing short of sheer rage. The wrecked remains of his airship laid scattered around him in a pile of glass and warped metal, months of work down the drain in an instant all thanks to the insipid deer’s foul magic, and Alastor’s mocking taunts did nothing but goad his own already stewing ire. His hood bristles hard, his pupils shrink as his teeth grit in a visceral snarl, pulling himself from the ground in which he had crawled out of the wreck of the ship, and in one swift movement, he’s dug his hand into his inner coat pocket, pulls free a fancy gilded revolver, cocks the hammer, and aims the barrel down toward where Alastor stood, firing a shot without a single word.

If the damned deer wouldn’t take him seriously, he simply would have to prove how much of a grave error that would be.

[sirserpentine]

@radioiaci asked:

It's been some considerable time since their... rendezvous. And he would be lying if he said he was not actively thinking about the bite more often than he really should be. The thought alone - coupled with the fact that he knows there are stitches yet to be removed - carries him towards where he figures Pentious to be, peering from over the other Sinner's shoulder. Prime real estate, he thinks, chasing the briefest of urges (though likely the most foolish) to lean and give that shoulder just - A test bite. Catching himself, however, before he goes too deep with it, offering his usual easy grin once he is noticed and leaning upright once again. "Just testing your level of awareness in your surroundings.~" 🦌🔪

A loud yelp betrays the serpent's surprise as a hot breath grazes his neck. The tiny screwdriver he has been using to pick apart his pocketwatch raises to the air in defense of the intruder who Pentious clambers up to face.

Oh?

How unexpected it was to be surprised while working at his desk in the airship, in his shirtsleeves and goggles upon his eyes. Surprised with the threat of teeth upon his shoulder, nevertheless.

Though, since it was Alastor, maybe it should have been expected.

"Ah-, it's you. Hello," Pentious stutters, raising his goggles to his forehead and lowering the inaffective weapon as he gawks at the other Demon, illuminated by the light of the sunset shining through the ship's painted glass windows. It takes a short moment for Pentious to think of a good reason why The Radio Demon would ambush him all of a sudden. Then he remembers.

Though he's never forgotten that meeting they had shared. Quite the opposite. It's been plaguing Pentious' thoughts a bit more than is proper. An uncertain smile widens on his fanged mouth. The mouth that had...

"Has it already been two weeks?" he asks, before the thought can entirely carry him away. "Blimey, time certainly fliesss,"