cantankerous-cunts

[cantankerous-cunts]

BDSM test

"Sounds correct to me. Though, I can be convinced to try something now."

[cantankerous-cunts]

[cantankerous-cunts]

Oh, that’s cute. Consider her endeered by the gesture. ‘Wylder’ was right to be on guard to some extent, he wasn’t the only predator here and if he wasn’t careful, the dual concept of ‘maneater’ might just be introduced to him personally.

“The pleasure may just be all mine; don’t look so worried, Mr. Wylder, I only bite in the right situations.” Her hand holding onto the cane absently twirls it, forward and back, making a small groove into the dirt. There’s no approach, yet, but her eyes behind the half-moon glasses don’t leave his form for an instant. “I do a roving radio show through out the Pentagram, and when I espy something just too interesting to let go — I like to give them a taste of fame. You’re just too cute to turn into a scream, but I can’t say I wouldn’t mind to hear yours.”

Wylder soon realized that he's in the presence of a real lady, a doe. To which instinctively he does straighten up just a bit to look more presentable. However he's still on guard. "Interview?" He didn't know he'll be interrogated today, but he supposed since he put out this bingo card that he would draw in some interesting characters. "Wylder. It's a pleasure to meet you Alastora." He keeps some distance but remains straight and polite.

[cantankerous-cunts]

“That would be the goal,” she purrs, tone coy as she snaps open her fan and lightly waves it, covering her smile. “Alastora Reinhardt, my dear. I saw your bingo flyer and just had to see for myself. Care for an interview, my dear? It’s not often a lady gets to interview herself from another time and another life.”

And she did come prepared, in case that one square about being prey was more a forewarning of what was to come if the flyer had been filled out and turned in. Instead of one of her many dresses, it’s a riding outfit a woman might wear to go fox hunting in. Though, she wears no helmet and has no steed, the crop replaced with a slim cane with a microphone on the end, watching Wylder closely.

“Do you prefer Wylder or Alastor? I’m not so uncouth as to use the wrong name when there’s a right answer.”

@cantankerous-cunts {Alastora} This seemed like a fun venture to try with the local buck

Wylder wasn't expecting another alternate out of the blue. How interesting. Though he remains on guard, it's been awhile since he's run into another version of himself---if he can call it that, he doesn't even think he can be considered an alternate anymore since he's so different. "Well, perhaps we should get to know each other better hm?" He tilts his head. "Who do I owe the pleasure?"

@cantankerous-cunts

[cantankerous-cunts]

It had all been a disastrous first impression on both their ends — though it was Alastor's own usual baseline politeness had been curtailed by his disappointment, making his words barbed with prickling implication. The words by themselves hadn’t initially been insulting...

Well, at least until Alastor had actually felt insulted, then the gloves were off. This was likely why people often warned not to meet heroes or celebrities; they could only ever fall short to expectation…

And, well, there had only ever been a fifty-fifty chance that ‘Lucifer’, as Alastor knew him in life, even existed. If the actual Lucifer had even an inkling, he might had been surprised to find out that the man he envied cared a great deal more than he would ever let on — and held his own struggles carefully tucked away out of sight. Such as a disdain of being casually touched, people growning too friendly with him, or even a certain injury that had yet to be rectified…

An ear swivels back at the shuffling of the duck pile, and it’s then that Alastor realized where the King had been hiding. Clever.

He maintains his forward stare watching the hallway, giving the other man a vineer of privacy. “Lights… and sound, hm?” The words roll around his head to think upon, though his mouth works faster, “And you are coincidentally speaking with perhaps the one person in control of both things to a certain level. How fortunate for you, your highness.”

The second part, however, is not something he can ‘fix’ or ‘adjust’ so easily.

Perhaps Lucifer was correct that Alastor couldn’t understand, not fully. The concept of triggers and meltdowns foreign, though he knew his own quite well and tended to shutdown instead. Smiling and staring in silence until the threat left, as it inevitably did.

Further parsing on how that sentence might end is stopped by the soft not-quite plea. It nettles, making his fur bristle. Alastor’s smile does not wane, incapable of doing so, but it does grow thin, crinkling at the edges as his eyes narrow. “I am. In the future, it may help you to remember that there is such a thing as room service, sire, instead of going hungry while… feeling unwell. Wait here, if you please.”

There’s a brief pause for acknowledgement, if any, before shadows reach up and swallow Alastor from the other man's sight, vanishing him back down to the lower floors. Lucifer might hear an uptic in volume down below, a couple shouts of surprise and some questioning, the scuffling of chairs, but that, too, settles after a beat with some laughter that marks Alastor’s reappearance. The sinner darkens his king’s doorstep but does not enter, holding a tray made of shadows. Food is pre-cut and arranged on the plate to how Lucifer normally places it himself… perhaps giving away that a certain Radio Demon pays him more mind than is let on.

“Will you be dining on your own, sire, or with the humble company of a lowly sinner?”

Hm…that was a decent point that he supposed he didn’t know how to respond to. He didn’t know Alastor, nothing outside surface level insults and the mask the deer himself seemed to portray. Not that he knew it was one anyhow. The devil would never admit on his own death bed, being envious of the deer. Of how easily he seemed to be social with others, how unbothered by it all around him. He didn’t have to abruptly excuse himself in the middle of a gathering because if he masqueraded any longer he was going to pull his own fur.

How little Lucifer actually knew. Two sides of the same coin…

The duck pile shifts as Lucifer seems to be listening, and rolling those words around his psyche for a while. Yes, that did make sense, he supposed. If he was playing the role of host, duties would see to it that even he was cared for as well. Alright, that was a bit easier of an explanation to swallow.

It might be cathartic…to talk to someone he doesn’t have to worry about burdening. Charlie would be fretting trying to make him feel better, and feeling bad that she’d have missed the signs. Just about anyone here would be but Alastor. Maybe someone that didn’t care on a personal level was what he needed right now.

So his head poked out of the duck pile slightly. “…Yeah, sometimes. Sometimes certain things can help make being around people and, you know unexpected…lights and sound and…situations easier.”

Yes, it would be better if he came out wearing his duck headphones and sunglasses. No, he wasn’t about to do either.

“But then…well, the old social battery is too low for even that to help, and being around people…. “ Would risk a melt down, a shut down, something so disgraceful to see from Hell’s big boss. It was a horrifying thought.

He swiped his sleeve over his eyes and looked imploringly at the deer. “I…haven’t,” he admitted. “You offering to feed me?” He must be feeling awful, or maybe grateful for this, since no mean nickname followed it.

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A light snort, “A bold claim, your highness, when you do not know me.”

Guesses could be made, assumptions could be given, but this was the hand dealt for opening conversation, and so he had asked. How much Alastor actually understood remained to be seen without an answer that wasn’t a diversion to his questioning. Instead, he approaches another angle, and offers up a reason that might satisfy any silent wondering about his motives… It is truthful, though the rest are not listed with his excuse.

“As you likely remember, even if you do like to constantly jest with calling me a bellhop, I am the hotelier for this establishment…” Alastor turns and rests his back against the wall next to the cracked open door. Looking a bit like a guard as he stood there, hands resting on his cane and thumbing the smooth side of it. “…and how this is relevant to you, your majesty, is that you are a resident of this place as much as any other. Therefore, it is not a stretch for me to say that it is my duty to provide to your needs, regardless of any personal feelings on the matter on your or my side.”

However, it wouldn’t be inaccurate to say that Alastor was inspired by his own rationale concerning ‘the devil’ in offering his assistance. Or that he might be biased to offer his help so freely to this one man, as much as he goaded and taunted with his dismissal.

Carefully, he takes in a breath and exapnds futher, “So, when you mention being ‘unable’ this time… there is the possibility that you might be, if given the proper tools or means to, depending on the circumstances… and if not, well, have you eaten yet, your highness? I don’t recall you being present for lunch, either.”

Lucifer wasn’t always so in tune to his surroundings, not when he was just…dissociating, which seemed more often than not. When he was, when it all hit him at once, he could recognize some sounds a mile away. And they all pierced him when his nerves were at their height.

He heard the static before he felt it, the prick’s presence on him. He never thought he would. Alastor never sought him out, and he knew it wasn’t for any benevolent reason. It couldn’t be, not from him. He was here to mock him, the king rigid when he realized that he would be unable to defend himself right now. Not emotionally.

Physically of course he’d always have any sinner beat and cowering if he wanted to. Even now he wondered how easy that would be when his muscles felt like they’d atrophied. His mind screamed to stand up straight, not to show his enemy any weakness. His body didn’t obey.

Tears continued to streak down, thankfully hidden under the mound of ducks. What prevented him from being out with everyone? How was he supposed to explain that to the asshole? He barely understood it himself. He’d only recently learned there might be a name for what was broken inside.

“…Something…. you would never understand,” he said, fighting to keep the stutter out of his voice. He hoped that’d be enough to banish the deer. He knew it wouldn’t be.

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Lucifer could likely hear his approach — or perhaps his misphonia made him believe that Alastor’s static thrum could be heard at great distance constantly. White noise to push back the silence, a hum to a tune for himself to subtly soothe himself with. The King’s absence had been notable to the demon, an eye constantly kept following him whenever he was occupying the same room. And for a shared dinner, when Lucifer would normally be present during some point in the set-up…

Well. It makes Alastor fade into the shadows and set to prowling down their shared corridor on the topmost floor, hum lowering to a barely audible purr as his ears perk, swiveling and listening to any minute sounds in his approach. Soft sharp inhales, tumbling of small objects falling over each other, strained squeaks of a toy (correction, several) having weight pressed upon it, wet words spoken in self-pity. Reclused away once more.

Polished shoes come to a stop at the threshold of Lucifer’s door, the pad of a finger gliding down the laquered frame. The soft gloom does not deter Alastor any, easily seeing into the space even with so little light provided by the open door — an outline of a swing, scattered objects, the duck pile — all taken account of.

He does not knock, not even for the King, merely speaks in a measured tone as he stands sentinel outside the doorway, “What prevents you, Sire, that makes you unable to this eve?”

He wants to be around everyone down in the dining room, having such a good time. Everyone chatting, everyone bonding. He wants to be there for Charlie, to bond more with those he’s made connections with…

But his social battery is running low, and his tolerance for simple things more so. The clanging of the dishes sounds sharp and shrill, their voices are probably quieter than they actually sound. Alastor’s damn static that follows him everywhere he goes doesn’t help. It all permeates his senses in a wave of nausea.

Lucifer slides to the ground slowly, sinking more into his piles of ducks, which thankfully hide his tears. He”a left the door open though, not noticing he has….

“Just wanna be able to be with everyone else.”

[cantankerous-cunts]

Hi there. Your dividers are really nice.

Could I request some fox inspired mini mood boards and/or dividers, if it’s not too much trouble?

hello! thank you - I would love to make some 🦊 ones! these were so fun, thank you for the request! 💖

[Free] Masterlist Headers & Dividers!

Please consider liking or reblogging if you use 💕

[cantankerous-cunts]

"You shouldn't be here!! Naughtyyy," Knifty giggles, fluttering her lashes. Her one eye didn't leave him though, following his pathway up into the air. The fact that he wasn't dressed like an Exorcist wasn't particularly important to her at this time. Lucid was an angel, and therefore free game according to her lady!

"I like bad boys, but angels like you aren't bad — just awful! And murder-y. I can stab too, you know!"

Tiny ephemeral lady bug wings open from her back, just enough to flutter up, grab the poor seraphim's foot, and start crawling up his leg. "Ooh, blood! It's pretty!"

@cantankerous-cunts (Knifty) 🔪🔪🔪

Fortunately for Lucid it isn't very serious with a sewing needle, but the tiny sinner is RELENTLESS!!

Send me 🔪 to stab my muse.

“YEEOUCH!!”

All six of Lucid’s blue wings flared wide, taking to the air a few feet off the ground. In his leg he could make out the thin sewing needle embedded through the fabric. Several small stains of gold began to form, the cheeky creature successfully drawing blood. Yeah, staying airborne right now seemed the most ideal.

Plucking the sewing needle out, he frowns down at the tiny Sinner lady. “H-hey! What’s the big deal?! What was that for?!”

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Alastor emits a soft snort, bending down to rest his forearms on the back of the couch, getting a better look at the bored Morningstar contemplating an... interesting manner of chaos.

"Oh, I could propose you a challenge, maybe even set up the main event for you, so long as you don't find it overwhelming... One target, several targets, or many? We do have options to play with... and then, the stakes, of course."

"Mmmm...possibly. I've been far too behaved recently. Now. Shall I get into trouble all on my own? Or are you volunteering to caused trouble for me, darling?"

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"Is that a challenge, Jackal? I would certainly pay to see it for myself."

"Don't underestimate how much trouble I can fuck myself out of."

[cantankerous-cunts]

Welcome to —

Tying Up Loose Ends

— where you can have it all come together.

Inbox: 0 // Drafts: 1 // Threads: 3

penned by: @our-brightest-stars

ALASTORA: Owner of a quaint little shop, seamstress in both life and death, with a penchant for making even the most reticent client sing like a canary. Her other work includes a roving radio show, where she prowls the city streets and interviews the common sinner and hellborn about the topic of the day (occasional screams included with a compelling music selection).

HUSKE: Business Partner of Alastora, lost a betting game but did not lose his soul. Instead, he manages the political scene with Alastora's guidance and allows her to remain hidden in the shadows to pull her finely woven strings. He is not a toothless lion by any means, simply learned a few more tricks and gained some new connections in his arsenal against the odds.

KNIFTY: Lives and works in the shop, a bit scattered mentally but a very capable personnel. The scariest out of the three and the most unpredictable. Best to sleep with one eye open around her if under the same roof, bad boys and girls. She's a bit stabby.

THE SHOP IN QUESTION: Located at the junction between the Inner City, Cannibal Town, and the Doomsday District in Pentagram City. You can get clothes repaired or a new set entirely, information broker, and place requests to make people disappear.

All loose ends neatly snipped and tied away.

BLOG STILL UNDER CONSTRUCTION ! (additional muses upon request under the cut)

ALASTOR: The classical Radio Demon that all know and adore (or dispise…); polite to the point of a knife’s edge, he is a dignified man and prickles at his disrespect and ill-mannered individuals. He doesn’t get angry — he gets even and will make his victim look weaker by making them blow their top off first. Sly, charming, and selective with whom and what he kills for his own reasons. Often times the threat of death itself isn’t enough, and in Hell there are far worse and more unpleasant things than death alone… Lucifer-type muses will be in for a surprise to know he used to be the “devil’s” biggest fan, and THAT is why he joined Charlie’s Hotel.

AIAS: 2p!Alastor — extremely canon divergent and has his own unique backstory from Alastor-type muses, though he had originally started in early childhood with the same backgroung. He is NOT a radio host. He does NOT have a shadow. While he is a crybaby, he is NOT weak or a pushover if properly spooked or upsetted… people will likely find a nasty surprise. He will sometimes have his soul and sometimes won’t — this is verse dependant and upon request with mutuals, we can discuss further with him fun routes or iterations. He’s very adaptable to the lore of other blogs/muses!

MERRI BITTERSTAR: Cherub muse with deep-seated anger issues — especially concerning his adorable appearance. He resents being called cute and patronized over it, and will fuck a bitch up. Official duties is as an express courier for the archangels and the guardian angels on Earth as the fastest flyer amongst the cherubs and being good at defending himself… However, Merri also moonlights as a smuggler between Hell and Heaven, exchanging contraband for luxuries. He has his own thoughts and feelings that greatly differ from what might be expected of a heavenborn, and isn’t afraid to face criticism head on as much as dish it back out.

RAPHAEL GUIDINGSTAR: Archangel of Untapped Potential, and the Ear of God — they are selectively mute and a bit of a crybaby. Strangely, tends to seek out those that delight in making them cry; and fear in well-being isn’t enough by itself to deter them, depending on the individual. Getting Raph to speak is rare these days, since the last time they had, it resulted in Lucifer being condemned and trapped in Hell because the wrong person overheard them speaking with God about concerns and things witnessed. They regret what had happened and have since then clammed up entirely. Has been longing to find Lucifer again and make a formal apology, as well as constantly looking for a way to rectify everything.

MORE TO COME!

[cantankerous-cunts]

Alastora tilts her head, soft ears perking up at his purring tone, frisson gliding down her spine and making her fur fluff up. Now she understands the game being played here with him entering her store, just to chat her up so brazenly.

He's charming enough that she might just let him continue — so long as he can keep it up.

"Oh, I can think of at least one thing that could... you stealing my breath away, of course." Her fan moves, caressing along the line of his jaw, hooking under his chin and encouraging him to come yet closer, examining him from underneath her lashes. "And I had been a nun, for a time, but that simply melts away, who we were, when we fall all the way down here in Hell."

The demoness set the fan down between them with a pronounced clack! and closes the distance between them a little more, breath brushing against his skin. Her fangs flash in the low light as her smile grows, and ear flicking, "Doesn't it, your highness?"

A moment is taken to gaze between his eyes, holding that dark stare just brimming with desire, before she straightens, standing up from her stool. Hooves on the hardwood can be heard as Alastora all but prowls around the counter, like a predator on the hunt. However, instead of coming to stand in front of him, she gestures to the side at her showroom, dipping in a partial curtsey.

"Fortunately, we are all strangers here, and our pasts are our own. I hardly need to know your name or occupation when I dress you handsomely, do I?" She winks back, unapologetic with her next request. "Mind stripping down for me, your highness, so I can get your measure and provide true royal treatment, hm? A gentleman, princely or otherwise, never keeps a lady waiting, yes?"

"Now there's an image," He replied, running his eyes up and down the demoness.

"I could hardly think of something that'll cause you to faint, but I would very much catch you. Personal reasons aside, I am more than a gentleman. I'm a king, darling." His eyes darkened with desire at the last bit, "Oh, now all I'm hearing is one hell of a ride ahead for both of us."

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Alastor slowly tilts his head at the question, unblinking red stare darkening as his pupils constricted, like a predator catching sight of prey before striking. “Would you like a summation, sire? In detail? Before or after I learned of your nature and understood what I was given?”

Playing with fire was a game the demon knew well, certain that he was not the only one that enjoyed flirting between the line of thrill and folly. Not only was Lucifer’s unshaken stance and pipil size giving him away, but the nature of his scent — thickening in the air. It lessens the surprise of Lucifer’s next challenge upping the stakes, though not he feelings on the matter. A creature of pride, even more so around the one Alastor aspired to make eat his own words… admitting that he didn’t know how to do something was non-option.

He’d much rather stall and redirect, make the King think it was his own idea and not Alastor’s manipulation. Though, his ears had given him away by pinning back and conveying his misgivings for him without a word said, blasted things.

“Why not make this more entertaining for the both of us, you majesty?” The hand resting at Lucifer’s neck slipped away, and began a slow trail downward, claws teasing against the fabric. “A bet, if you will.” Lower, lower it went, cupping him in its palm and gently fondling the King’s bulge, squeezing and needing in the hopes of distraction… If he was going to both doing this, it would not be without some satisfaction of his own in having an answer he most craved.

“I will ask you a question, and take you in my mouth as you asked while you answer me. If I am satisfied with your answer, not only will I give you your happy ending… I will do something else in turn for another question.”

"Have you?" Lucifer asked. It wasn't something he liked to ask often. Because more often than not...many misused the gift of free will. Though the tension between them shifted and with the other knelt to his knees, though with the words chosen Lucifer let out a scoff. It allowed him to feel Alastor's hands around his neck a smidge more.

He didn't look away from the other's stare, didn't shy away, didn't hide how dilated his eyes became with the potential of danger and arousal mixed together.

"Show me, Sinner...if you truly are capable of satisfying your King. Blow me."

[cantankerous-cunts]

Alastor tilted his head, eyes studying him as that hand drifted lower, claws ghosting the skin. For Alastor, this was yet more dangerous, a housecat threatening a lion… and yet… He was enticed to press further.

“Should I kneel instead, your highness? So we might see eye-to-eye?” One knee touched the ground, and then the other, but far from humbled, Alastor seemed… coy, knowing. Watchful, always, as he pressed the devil’s buttons. But not without some purpose. “I will gladly take my chances, sire, but perhaps, not without thanking you first, for your gift to humanity… and me.”

The demon might have kneeling, however the two of them are close enough in height now for Alastor to lean in close, until all either could see was the eyes of the other. Close enough Lucifer could almost feel the words as they’re spoken. “I’ve used my gift well; I am satisfied with my choices.”

The hand around Luce’s neck tightens. “Are you, sire? Or… might I assist you in finding satisfaction in your own choice here?”

Dangerous.

Something that would scare most sane individuals. Yet, he hasn't been sane, not completely, since his Fall. Constantly surrounded by the chaos of Hell herself and having to dive deep into his primal nature in order to survive and thrive, Lucifer's dance with danger has been eternally long.

Mixed with desire, danger didn't scare him anymore as much as it aroused him.

Someone so bold as to dare to threaten him with a good time...how appealing.

"And here you stand before your king...the one who gifted humanity choice. Is that choice something you dare take a chance on?"

[cantankerous-cunts]

Close enough, perhaps, at a glance; save a set of half moon glasses in place of a monocle, hair long enough to put in a bun, and a dress Rosie might be inclined to wear, of course. Leaning down, she takes his hand in her claws, and brings it to her mouth to lightly smooch the knuckles — after miming like she was about to take a bite out of his damn hand. Alastor seemed easy to mess with like this, and she wasn't about to pass up the opportunity to tease.

"Alastora, local seamstress and cannibalistic commentator; a pleasure to meet you, the amusement is all mine." With not much care to his personal space, she took a seat on the arm of his chair. "You're endeering enough to overlook the lack, no need to fret."

@cantankerous-cunts "Aw, poor deer, looks like you are having a hard time handling your substances. Can you even stand up straight?" Alastora hides her smile behind a blood red fan. Poor Zowie looks prime for the teasing.

"I cannot, thanks for asking, my dear," he truly didn't understand what he was saying, per se, as the drugs numbed his brain. Alastor stared at her for a moment, unsure if it was his foggy brain or this woman really did looked similar to him. "Forgive me, darling. My manners are a little lacking today. Pleasure to be meeting you, quite the pleasure! Alastor is the name, Radio Demon is the game"

He held out his hand to shake it, although he....didn't get up to do so.

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“Oho, so you want me to bend you over my knee, is what you’re saying? Cute.” The demoness had to admit, he was quite the charmer, if a bit of a rapscallion. She opens and closes her fan, considering, before snapping it shut and reaching out to lightly tap it against the cheekbone of the winking eye.

“Then, if I fainted, you wouldn’t catch me? Truly, it is difficult to find a gentleman these days. How fortunate that I am no stranger to breaking in broncos… I wouldd like to see you try and buck me off.”

@cantankerous-cunts "Is this like a technique of yours? You know, where you insult the girl so she'll want you even more?" Alastora looks amused still, leaning across the counter and resting her chin on her hand, so he must be more endearing than he is actually offensive.

"Oh, no, darling. The technique is to start trouble, pick a fight, see who's crazy enough to go toe to toe with me. I love a woman whose form of foreplay happens to also be sparring."

"I'm not for the faint of heart, because I'm one hell of a ride," He said with a wink.

@cantankerous-cunts