burningfeathersx
Guess My Name
[[ Indie!Biblical OC ]]
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Random Acts of Mindlessness
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"I don't know. Home made with specific meat cuts?" About the theoretical hotdogs Rook likely kept. "Like home made sausage." Listen, his husband was very strange. Vox really aught to get that by now.
Coke still wasn't a GREAT idea for Lucifer, probably. Stimulants still seemed to make him cranky high. So he gave the baggie a skeptical look for a moment before moving on.
"Not a chance." About sobriety and jello monstrosities. "It's just mixing alcohol in instead of cold water, right?"
"Artisanal hotdogs," he repeated, as if he knew what the fuck that meant in the culinary sense. "What, is the meat all lamb or some shit? Pfft." Either way, he procured some shot glasses and the different drink options.
"We'll make some shots in the meantime, then I'll go grab the hotdogs. No way we're going to try it sober." Plopped down a baggie of cocaine too, since Lucifer clearly hadn't minded the last time they'd mixed it with alcohol. Heh. "Touche!"
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"Annoyed? Well, to be fair, that is my resting expression." He did point out. He didn't feel he'd come to annoyed yet.
"No! You aren't showing very much, just got that over keen perception of mine." He adjusted his arms some around her. "Though I think I also stumbled into one of those borderline sitcom men mistakes by calling out too soon." He sighed out some air. "May as well have called you fat." He pressed a couple apology kisses around her cheeks and temple he could still get to while her face was in hiding.
"Not much of a threat for the time being, 'Rene."
“Complain outwardly, no, seeming a bit annoyed, absolutely.” She murmurs and lets him coax her close again, nestling against his shoulder as she closes her eyes and smiles.
The comment about her belly would steal her smile through and she’d look up, giving him a whole look and a half. “I’m not..I’m not that rounded. …Am I rounded?”
She hadn’t really thought about it. She was showing a tiny bit but she didn’t think she was that noticeable yet! Although she supposes someone like Lucifer would notice any minute changes in his lover’s bodies, especially the pregnant ones. Nervous fingers run along her belly, tapping on the small hardened curve in her lower most stomach. Maybe she should try a bit harder to hide it.
She smushes her face against his neck to distract herself, giving a small grumble. “I should eat you.”
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"Heh, maybe around here. Don't know about back where you come from. They might not mean very much as just knives from some wonky Lucifer they never heard of." He was prideful and arrogant, but mostly when it was warranted only.
He gave himself another moment to stretch wings out as far as he could. It was pretty clear they only survived when other pairs didn't due to size. Changed their manifest back to organic before tucking them back in behind him and pushing them back onto the metaphysical side of existence to keep them from causing bull-in-a-china-shop problems.
"I usually get them affixed to a handle, at least. Makes them easier to handle." He advised. Even with dexterity, familiarity, skill, and durable clawed finger tips--still had to use them with the whole hand for weapons purposes especially.
Alastor was all about the prospect of control. Control of himself; control of others. It was not a perfect grasp. He did not have the benefit of being a previously holy being. But he held onto it tightly all the same.
His gaze shifted over to Lucifer as he explained the significance of the regular feathers he'd plucked. Good for summoning, hm? He could not think of a situation where he'd need to call this Lucifer to his side for any real reason, but that was an interesting little factoid.
It was only usurped by the shifting of the remainder of those feathers that Lucifer still had upon his person; the rattling of the metal that they became as he pulled free the promised three blades which Alastor took carefully in hand to filter in his grasp and between his fingers. He was no stranger to the handling of sharp objects, properly fashioned into a weapon or otherwise. Danced with blades enough in his time both living and dead that it was nearly second nature to flip them from side to side. Getting accustomed to the weight and heft.
It was an almost nostalgic sensation.
"You have my thanks," he said, eyes unwavering from his newly earned treasure.
Oh, he would find a use for them sooner or later. But for now, he would simply appreciate. They were beautiful in several ways. Dangerous, like all other blades where. But being angelic in nature too was quite the added bonus.
"I am sure they will garner some rather interesting displays of envy if anyone hears tell of my having them."
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"Artisanal hotdogs, maybe. Might have to go to the store for some plain old S Bars or Oscar Meyer." He answered about hotdogs as he took a perch on a stool to read over the recipe better.
"No one we know is living the sober life, Vox."
"This was a totally a thing rich folks were crazy about!" Vox feigned insult before he squinted at the recipe of choice before he cackled downright evilly. "Perfect. Think he keeps hotdogs in the fridge or should I go get some?"
He at least procured plenty of jello mixes he'd stored within his screen void and set them on the counter. Along with optional drinks to have fun mixing. "Mhm, I've had plenty of these at parties down in hell. Though some were certainly laced with more than alcohol. We won't go so hard, unless..." Side eyed Lucifer.
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"I was smart and wealthy in the fifties, first of all." Never mind he was still a drug thrall to Jericho at the time. "I was, and still am, a frequent hater of human things." Just...less so now, shh.
"Cocktail shots? Fancier than regular old frat boy jello shots? I'm willing to give that a go." As for subjecting Rook to culinary horror...
He stopped on a page and put the book over to Vox. Jellied Bouillon With Frankfurters. "This looks absolutely cursed."
That earned a snicker as he watched Lucifer flipping through the book. "Heey, don't knock it til you try it! Or did you try a few back in the day, yourself? People went crazy over the versatility of jello back then."
He tapped the bottom of his screen thoughtfully. "Could experiment with jello cocktail shots, even. But we've gotta make one of those hideous things and leave it in the fridge for Rook to find."
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"There is no excu--" Paused, huffed a near laugh and took the book from Vox. "Well, the US on this side of things is certainly in another Great Depression in everything other than name." So he flipped through the pages. "I'm not eating any of these."
Vox smirked back, casually pulling up a truly unholy recipe book from the 50s and waving it in his hand. "Well, I can think of something we could fuck around with for fun. Who knows, maybe you're newest hobby will be making insane jello molds."
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@voxtekoverlord
Yeah, alright, pulled a small smile. "Decided to pull on my unofficial vacation days. So, restless due to lack of work. Rook's always telling me I need hobbies."
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Getting harder and harder to live outside of his own house. Everywhere was uncomfortable. He was uncomfortable. Eugh.
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I really need to take a few computer science classes to deal with you. For now you're living on the fact I don't know much of shit that isn't functional usage.
I'll find someone to change the entries with a bunch of hard to spot errors.
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I'll find someone to change the entries with a bunch of hard to spot errors.
google is free you'll thank me later
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dont throw google back at me i swear to fuck
google is free you'll thank me later
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what the actual fuck is a 'skibidi'?
if you keep this up i'll skibidi on over
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☎
NAME: Human's Favorite Bloorbo
RINGTONE: [No ringtone, he keeps it silent but like for a handful of numbers.]
PICTURE:
LAST TEXT RECEIVED: what's the stinkiest book in the bible? ...............................................doodoonomy
LAST TEXT SENT: humanity is back to looking like a mistake
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you're not even here to make me. git good. become poggers or dont talk to me honestly
@voxtekoverlord
Think that's called a critical failure in gamer terms.
#ic#(( he doesn't really know he's just pulling terms he's heard/seen and hoping he's using it correctly
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@voxtekoverlord
Think that's called a critical failure in gamer terms.
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comfort, appreciated, desired
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tell my muse how they make your muse feel.
whether they give them a sense of COMFORT and SAFETY, or send absolute CHILLS down their spine. perhaps they make them feel TRAPPED, or FRIGHTENED. or maybe, they even feel SPECIAL. let my muse know!! anon is optional!!
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