iolation

[iolation]

slxrpindust​:

Angel rolled his eyes at Alastor’s showman persona. You could dress it up in all the roses and lace you wanted to, a dick was still a dick. And Alastor was a BIG FAT ONE. 

Watching his shoe get scuffed made Angel gasp in PURE offense, turning to the deer demon with vitriolic death murder in his eyes.

“Bisogna avere i coglioni quadrati, testa di cazzo. Had it not been for the laws of this land (said laws being Charlie), I would FUCK you up-” 

Angel stormed forward, no clear goal in mind, until he decided to kick the mic out from under Alastor’s arm. It was too much to ask to have the deer demon fall over after being unbalanced, he knew, BUT! A guy could dream. 

“GO BACK TO SLEEP. AND S T A R V E.”

Angel was three seconds away from taking his other shoe off and BEATING Al until he was comatose with it.

     An awful, awkward angle is taken in poor substitution of full-on falling, but he was displaced, wasn’t he? Arms fold behind his back, mic seamlessly disappearing in the motion as he tuts. “Oh-ho-ho, if you truly wish to bring our princess into the equation, I’m sure she would also be interested in where you’re going with these—” A mere mirage, a cute little boot more suited to be footwear for an ant shows, right above his shoulder, “tiny, torturous stilts!” A disgrace to heels, if you asked him.

     “Suspicious-ly sneaky activity for a demon recovering from the condition of being, don’t you think? Simply tell me already, doll; what’s your hurry?” A boop is delivered to the (lack of) a snoot, angle maintained rigidly. as the hand softly retreats.

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     With a sudden twist of his wrist, a spoon emerges from his mouth looking more like a very shitty and fucked-up tong, pointing down at the demon, silent. Critical.

     “I don’t know, how do you feel goin-g-g home from a date with dry bones from a date every other night, Vel?” The angst, the useless scrap of metal is pinched between his teeth again, a low, upset buzz sounding from his chest. Extremely snippy comment out, Vox shrinks a little, speaking quickly to try and avoid any impromptu disassembly from Velvet. “Sorry, dollin’.” He grumbles, none-too convincing.      “Just another shx-sh-shitty little chucklefuck fest, nothin’ at all progressive on the front of that limpdick. I’m too busy to be playing these g-games with him. ‘S all sz-sz-szo uninspired.”

@iolation​ liked for a starter!  💔  

Curled up in the corner of the couch, legs held close to her person as her eyes are focused on the illuminated screen in front of her. Fingers pressing an assortment of buttons like they were programmed to.

“So,” she’d begin with a curling of her lips, “how’d ya date with Alastor go?” Snort.

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.!

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.!

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deuxstar​:

He lowers his input volume at that jarring dissonance that just assaulted his poor sensors.  This bastard couldn’t even cordial just once, could he?  ❝ Yeah, yeah, just shut the fuck up, good god. ❞  Arm raises to push the other a few inches away rather than getting on his face for once.  It was a change for sure, but not one he was brazenly content with.

❝ I want to go on a hunt with ya. ❞  Blunt, sharp, leaving no curiosities as to what he might want, he would usually play it coy in that obnoxious manner of his, but he was somehow managing to get on his nerves.  ❝ Now I know you’re going to be all like ahuhuhuhu fUnNy TiNkEr MaN wAnTs To HuNt?  WiTh mE? gOd?  Oh, haha!  Ahahaha!!  Quip, quip, demeaning insult, mocking comment, quip, agreement.  So let’s cut to the meat, why don’t we?. ❞

     Alastor bounced on his heels at the push, the quietest of giggles present before the Overlord spoke again. A momentary look of interest is quickly reigned in, the intrigue merely dulled by the natural evolutionary path of Vox’s conversational skills.      Which isn’t to say he wasn’t willing to bite, maybe just a tad!

     “Oh, not to worry, Mighty-Overlord Vox, I wouldn’t dare challenge your wise direction! We won’t be cutting anything, not just yet. Merely because I have a question; what with the change of artificial-parts?” Alastor’s microphone is held out to him, soft sounds of feedback making its proximity all the more jarring, “It seems awful quaint of ya’ to simply outgrow your interests of rotting in your fancy world of pictures and want to uptake something with such a profound, classic air of je ne sais quoi. Spin a little tale for me, why don’t you?” 

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deuxstar​:

A gigglish cackle is given as he retracts his hand, marred with hitching sounds akin to glitches.  ❝ Right. ❞  Glee curls at the sight of his patience thinning ever so slightly, it was a win on his part, no matter how meager it might be.  ❝ No surprise it’s another backhanded compliment, but you’re a lost cause in the decent people department, so it would be pathetic as hell to expect anythin’ more.  It’d be like goin’ to McDonald’s, ‘nd bein’ shocked they don’t have caviar. ❞

It is then he flicks the man’s nose with a sharp electric zap to it, almost as crash, though he did not bruise.  ❝ So yeah, I wanted to scheme a lil’ thing with ya. ❞

    A dry, closed-mouth little courtesy laugh is given in a forced response, posture straightening as he fluttered his eyelashes mockingly. “I am all ears! Though, do be careful, old sport,”     In a quick motion, he steps to the side of Vox just to speak to him, the voice used just as loud as if he were speaking to a crowd, though the hand he employed to direct his speech illustrated some sentiment of discretion.

    “That cutesy notion of a decent person is a bit naïve, no? Now, were it anyone else, I wouldn’t have the gall to smear your button in it, but what is a moment of circus-level-foolery between companions?” Cue the more natural laugh of his, accented by muted and oddly-distant audience laughter.

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     Dainty fingers press against his own collarbone, as if Angel Dust’s poor manners (though, justified, in the face of what Alastor could recognize as an annoyance[him]) came as any sort of surprise. “Now-now-now, Angel-ic Dust, I’m confident it wouldn’t surprise you at all to hear that those sorts of threats simply won’t fly with me! Unlike your faulty footwear-up-there.”      There’s a rhythm as he speaks this, as though he’s imitating the prose of a slam poet. An innocent little flick of his index finger and it slides across the ceiling, rubbing against the shoe in a manner likely to scuff! Oh no!

     “Just give a fella’ a bit of insight, would you?” Alastor’s mic simply pops into being in front of him, an arm resting across it as he leans over it, “While you have such a grasp on my ravenous repertoire, I’m not as clear on your own! There has to be more than this...” The fingers of his free hand wiggle, musing with a narrowed eye that portrayed a minute dose of confusion, “free real estate, shall I call it?”

@iolation​ // x

Angel was looking all sorts of out of sorts and frustrated, leaping after his boots. And as a goddamn mother fucking JUMPING SPIDER, his jump was no joke. Al just kept yanking the shoes out of his reach the INSTANT he was close enough to grab them.

Watching his boot hit the ceiling actually made him feel a bit of homicidal rage and he wondered what would be faster: Climbing the fucking walls, or just straight up k i l l i n g Alastor. 

“Well I’ll tell ya’ where the fires at! It’s gonna be HERE if you don’t stop bein’ such a cad and GIVE ME MY BOOT.” He turned to face Alastor, yelling right at him with his hands on his hips. Angel was not kidding around. He was an arsonist and by god he would do it. This whole bitch would go up in flames.

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LIL NAS....

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                  hey, BIG SPENDER !                   spend a little time with ME.

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     “Remember Rowley Jefferson, kids? This is him now. Do ya’ feel old yet?”

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@serialxsocial this is all i could think about

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me: today you’re going to write something fUcKIng down about vox me, seconds later: i bet when vox learned abt my little pony he started using mlp memes to make fun of val’s love motif

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Alternate Title for this is, “Hello Voxx.”

Art cred.

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me: today you’re going to write something fUcKIng down about vox me, seconds later: i bet when vox learned abt my little pony he started using mlp memes to make fun of val’s love motif

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deuxstar​:

“It’s like you’re a cat or somethin’.  Can you be any more transparent, muffintop?  Always prancin’ on about how you’re not humored by my funky propositions ‘nd then turnin’ around ‘nd being like ‘oh guess since I’ve got nothin’ better to do…’“  He returns the pinch with one of his own, considering endowing the man’s skin with a little acid to spice things up, but such a venture would quickly turn things sour, so he abstains for now.

“It could benefit us both, t-bone, so why don’tya try again ‘nd hit me with a ‘sure, you handsome Voxie, regale me with your spicy creative ideas’ instead of ‘it’s not like I want to listen to you, b-baka.’“

     Alastor uses a light slap to fully disengage the contact, shadows creeping in to fiddle with his bow and undo Vox’s touchiness. His smile grows thinner, cinched and reinforced at the threat to his excellent mood. His right hand snaps out, a loud “ah!” being exclaimed in the same instance that he’s pulling it close to his chest.

     “How very right you are, old friend!” The bottom of the cane is driven down to the ground with blatant property damage, the only reaction from the instrument used being an offended glare of the single eye. “Let me see—ahem ahem,” Alastor pointedly says, making no effort to add any mimic of fatigue, “Indulge me with your very singular and unique notions of an upgrade to our cat-and-brute feud, would you?” Fingers steepled against the spine of his microphone, stare giving the impression that he expected this to be good enough for a moment.      “Yeah? Does that work, hm?” Is added, head tilting slightly.

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“ 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐬 𝐢𝐟 𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧’𝐭 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐰𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝? ” - pxppinmolly @ alastor

     “Well, my dear, I suppose you would simply stay lost forever!” A drink is poured as he drops this nugget of knowledge on her, bottle placed down as he wiggles his fingers. He grabs a glass with long fingers hooked just below the rim, offering it to her as his other one is held to his own side. 

     “Chin up, though. You’re not merely some chippy dame lazing around one fine summer day, are you? No! You’re a Ragno, one of the loudest bloodlines I have observed to-date.”

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