#demonicbroadcast

@demonicbroadcast gets a small Valentine's Day themed starter !

In hindsight, Vox was forced to admit, at least in the privacy of his mind, that he should have seen this coming. It wasn't the first time that the princess had tried to push him to engage in some of the Hotel's idiotic therapeutical activities, but until now she had accepted his refusals without making much of a fuss. She had been working really hard on "respecting boundaries" and, apparently, she was so dedicated to her self-improvement that said efforts applied even to him.

One more reason why he should have instantly seen that something was cooking when, this time around, Charlie had pestered him relentlessly until he had agreed to join in.

In his defence, these days his life was at the same time so repetitive and so chaotic that he had lost track of the date. So, he hadn't realised until it had been too late that he had been enlisted for a Valentine's themed exercise.

Thus, how he had ended up standing in front of Alastor's door, a bouquet of blood red tulips in his hand, looking like he was about to be sick because of how nervous he was.

"Look, they...I got tricked into this, alright? And bribed too, sort of," he spoke up before the Radio Demon could say a single word. No way he would give them the time to make any sort of assumption. "If I manage to spend a few hours getting along with someone, I won't have to help cleaning up the mess the guests will make fucking around. You're the only person in this stupid Hotel," and in Hell most likely, "who can stand being in my presence and you wanted to help me, right? Well, here's you chance to help me get a break from all that literal crap."

But would it be a break? How could it be when there was bile burning in his throat and a thrumming ache in his chest? Once upon a time, he would have killed to get to be Alastor's date, of any kind, but now...it all felt like a cruel joke at his expenses.

Scrubbing body fluids off the walls and floors would have probably been less unpleasant. It surely would have been less painful. Yet, here he was, choosing to willingly put himself through this absolute torture. Maybe he was truly a masochist, deep down.

@demonicbroadcast / starter call

Send me a “ 🔥 “ for an unpopular opinion.

The resistance black rpers get in the RPC when trying to educate white rpers has always been bad, but in this fandom, it has been awful. Basic research on any sort of black history is a 5 second google search away, and yet people will use the argument that "They have black friends" or "Family that worked with black people" as an excuse to dig their heels in about why they are right compared to the black person they're arguing with.

Somehow, this fandom has managed to fetishize black culture differently. It's completely bastardized here. I am so sick of hearing about fuckin' Jambyala. And that being something their depiction of Alastor focuses on

"Sup Antlers." Vaggie mused quietly, already sensing his shadow before the man could fully appear behind her as she stared out over the city from her balcony perch. Normally she came out here to get away from the hotels chaos. She vaguely wondered if Smiles was trying to do the same.

He didn't think things could escalate as much as they have. It's just a job, another kill, another client. Of course, things never truly go the way he expects, for as much as he tries to remain professional, sometimes he's pushed over the edge. This time, it wasn't a kill that had him reeling with excitement, but who'd done it. To see the very display of power that was the radio demon before him, and how easily he killed these people? Striker couldn't help the things that drifted within his mind. The very need he felt inside. This feeling only seemed to grow as Alastor seemingly managed to be a frequent client of his. He wasn't certain why he'd be needed, but he'd accept each call. Doing things he hadn't exactly done for others because he didn't need a hitman. He needed a bodyguard, a watcher, a dealer, an escort, a man who knew what he was doing, etc. What hasn't he done for this man? Satan, he should've stopped this earlier.

Now it's become more than him wanting a paycheck at the end of it all. He wanted him. Striker didn't dare admit it out loud, knowing this demon wasn't meant to be messed with, but fuck it if he didn't at least try. If he pisses him off bad enough, at least he'd be able to get that fight he's been wanting. What a way to go out with a bang, right? Still. It wasn't like he planned this all out to happen the way it did, considering they just got back from being up topside. The smell of fresh blood in the air between them since their clothes were stained with it. His heart was still pumping rapidly against his chest as the adrenaline still pumped through his veins. All that slaughter. . . and mayhem.

     eyes   looking   around   when   she   felt   a   powerful   presence   approach   her.   she   can't   be   surprised   that   she   would   attract   that   kind   of   crowd.   who   wouldn't   hesitate   to   grab   the   power   an   angel   holds.   a   SERAPHIM   to   be   exact.   the   second   strongest   in   all   of   heaven.   one   that's   weakened.   one   that's   injured.   relatively   vulnerable   to   the   more   powerful   sinners   trying   to   gain   more   POWER. 

        wings   flare   out,   flapping   in   an   attempt   to   fly   away.   an   absolute   fruitless   attempt   due   to   the   terrible   state   her   wings   were   in.   teeth   grit.   it's   too   late   to   run   now.   whomever   this   sinner   was,   they   were   here.

     head   turning   to   look   towards   the   sinner.   eyes   narrowing   immediately.   she   recognized   this   one.   the   one   normally   seen   with   charlie   at   the   hotel.   they're   dangerous,   but   not   the   worst   demon   to   find   her   first.   she's   still   cautious   when   she   finally   turned   to   face   them. 

@demonicbroadcast said: “I prayed to forget you, but even the heavens refused.”

"You and I both know there's no one listening. So why don't you direct that prayer at yours truly? I'll have some answers for you. In fact, have one ON THE HOUSE ; don't hang onto me as if I've any intention of leaving, when you know exactly how to reach me any time you wish."