DONE WITH THE INBOX. Did It! All Of It! Won't Be Answering Any More Tonight, My Brain Is Fried, At Least

DONE WITH THE INBOX. Did it! All of it! Won't be answering any more tonight, my brain is fried, at least for now, and I think this has been a little too much sitting up, so am going to curl up in bed and get on Discord, at least until this wave of dizziness passes <3 Thank you guys for sticking around as I just poured all of those asks all over the dash!

"Damn right!" Blitz couldn't stop smiling at how cute all of them were. "Hey, do any of them like scritches? These little fuckers are adorable. Yes you are, look at you! You're gonna grow into those big feet, and you're gonna get biiiiiiig chompers, and everyone's gonna live in terror, yes they will, oh yes they will."

The little dinosaur Blitz had scooped up blinked in confusion, but didn't really object to the affection. The imp was scratching it and rubbing its horned head on it, and that felt homelike enough to settle the dinosaur halfway to sleep.

Blitz looked up at Lucid before reluctantly offering it back out. "You tell me if anyone ever tries to hurt these fuckers. Oh, I will end a bitch!"

I mean Blitz brought Audrey II home. How bad could it be if dinosaurs come to Hell too? Lucid should definitely bring them all! What could go wrong? - @doublejango

Context xxx)

“You know what? You’re right! I will bring them all home. I bet Luci would be thrilled to have dinosaurs back too!”

Unless he absolutely could not take the time away from work, Vox had a personal policy: he always accepted invitations to business meetings, especially when they came from fellow Overlords. Whether the Overlord in question owned one soul or a thousand, or a hundred thousand, didn't matter to Vox. He always sent a hand-written thank-you card -- his desk pen was a sharp stub nib, the cardstock rich and creamy, the ink a deep oxblood -- along with his response.

Usually, the meetings were a snooze, some sad little lost soul pitching terrible ideas, or just wanting to ramble off bizarrely violent fantasies and fetishes in the hopes that he would put a show together for that specific thing. Vox always tried to stay polite and upbeat, cheerful and engaging; whenever he was in the public eye, he assumed he was being watched. It was never just the eyes of whoever he was meeting with on him. It was all eyes on him. That was the only way to keep himslef sharp enough to never show his disappointment or frustration. He treated each and every one of them like a valued companion, even when it killed him a little inside, even when he struggled to find a friendly, upbeat way to say No. And all too often, it was a No. Not always--Vox loved to try new things, loved to be innovative--but most of the time, because most of the time, it felt like someone would need to suffer to make a certain pitch a reality. Val might play fast and loose with his employees' happiness and wellbeing, but Vox valued his--

And considered everyone a potential subscriber, a rich and bountiful vein to be mined for gems and gold.

Besides, most people in Pride--in all of Hell, for that matter--were already his customers whether they knew it or not. He was in damn near all of their modern technology, he could see out of any camera that connected to any of his many, mny networks at any time, he watched every credit card transaction, he paid attention to surges in the movement of souls-as-currency. Vox violated everyone's privacy to sone degree, and it was absolutely glorious. So, they were all his customers, and he would always, always make time for customers.

Still, walking into Visage's club? He was fairly certain he had made a mistake--or that she had. Given that the invitation was to her own establishment, he'd brought a bottle of decent wine with a nice ribbon on it as a gift, but the moment he set foot in here? He felt drastically out of place. He was tired, the ports in the back of his head ached from overuse that day, and he wanted to go home and unwind. Why was he here? This place was thriving, the flow of cash certainly noteworthy, and the dancers looked...

"Excuse me," he said, reaching out to stop one who was dancing nearby.

"You're supposed to go to the VIP booth, sweetie, keep going to the back," she told him, without missing a beat.

"Oh, no, I'm--yes. Thank you. May I ask you something?" At a nod from her, he frowned, hesitating briefly, studying her face intently. If she was going to lie, he wanted to know it. "Are you safe here?" Because that was it, wasn't it? That was why this place didn't feel as sticky and seedy as the haunts Val liked to drag him to? The employees here didn't look furtive, didn't look frightened or harassed.

The sparkle in her eyes before she smiled said it all. Stunned, Vox hurried on to go meet this strange new Overlord.

-

When he saw Visage, he was sure of it. He wasn't supposed to be here. She must have gotten him mixed up in her mind, and intended to invite Valentino. The woman was stunningly beautiful, enough that Vox actually noticed, despite so rarely letting himself notice. There was a sultry energy to her, but a sharp intelligence to her eyes.

Confused, he nonetheless offered her the wine--French, smuggled in from the living world, worth a few thousand souls or nothing at all, depending on one's tastes.

"Visage!" Vox's smile was bright and professional, and he stood with his customary poise and confidence, as if none of-- of this was happening around him. "I hope you'll accept this, a token of my gratitude. Thank you for thinking of me, and inviting me here." He offered his hand. "It looks like the night is going well? Profitable, anyway!"

(For @doublejango's Vox, because I have no impulse control. WHOOP! WHOOP! -- Visage despised politics. It was one of the many reasons she had never been all too thrilled at her 'promotion', but that ship had long since set sail. It was what it was, and she had done her best to make the most of it. Indeed, to make more of the position than many of those that were her peers. Where most of them saw fit to jealously covet their power and collect the souls of the downtrodden, Visage had instead seen an opportunity for change. There was a better way--she would prove it to them. Unfortunately ... going against the grain, especially in an industry so near and dear to another Overlord's heart, didn't come without its fair share of risks. Valentino was not a rival to take lightly, by any means. And while she lacked to power, experience and resources to face her opposition directly ... if she was clever, maybe she didn't have to.

Setting up a meeting with any of the Vees, for someone in her position, probably seemed like suicide on the surface ... but Visage felt confident all the same. Misplaced confidence based on inexperience? Perhaps. There was only one way to find out. Having deliberately chosen one of the busiest nights at the club as an opportunity to show how her business was thriving, the hellhound waited patiently in her personal VIP booth near the rear of the club. The invitation she had extended to the Television Demon had been accepted, but would he actually show...? Time would tell. Normally, the lupine Overlord preferred more casual attire or a 'business chique' sort of look when she was on the clock, but not this time. This was a night of making lasting impressions, and so she had taken the task to heart, dressed in a figure-hugging black glittering leotard with several large sections of missing material ... with just enough in just the right places to keep her breasts covered. These were paired with black metallic cargo pants with a low enough waistline to show that she was not, in fact, wearing any undergarments beneath that leotard. Just enough to make it seem that she just so happened to be caught on a night where she was wearing more revealing attire. Pure coincidence, really.

Has Blitzø ever been tracked down by one of the humans he killed? Vengeful sinners out for revenge? 

He absolutely has, and it usually doesn't go well. Thankfully, most of them don't seem to remember him, or seem particularly inclined to come down to Imp City unless they have a damn good reason. Which, one could argue, revenge against the imp that slaughtered you is... but the traffic's a nightmare, there's nowhere to park, and it's not like he can un-deadify you.

But despite all of that, some of them absolutely come and find him. Blitz does his best to make sure they know it was him, that he is the boss, that Moxxie and Millie were just doing their job. Since they almost never see Loona, she doesn't tend to catch much flak, but Blitz will do whatever it takes to draw attention off of his employees and onto himself, hoping to give them time to get the fuck away. And then? He will fight. Hard. Blitz may not have any powers, but he has experience and the will to fight, and I can tell you from my own real life experience that just having the will and the confidence? Can make all the difference. If you're up against a huge opponent, but that person doesn't really have what it takes to dive in and go hard? You actually stand a pretty good chance if you do. I've been in a few fights irl--previous occupation, had hazards, glad to be long since quit of it--and remember always being struck by that. Going in with a hefty serving of confidence matters so much more than being the bigger one sometimes... Not always, but sometimes.

and Blitzx absoultely has that confidence. He fights hard, with everything he has, and even if he can't permanently put a Sinner down without the right kind of weapon, he can hurt them. He can kill them for a while. He can be the torment they thought they escaped when they realized 'oh Pentagram City is kinda nice!' Blitz will turn absolutely vicious, no holds barred, when he needs to.

Most of the time though, some smooth-talking (or nonsensical babbling with a confident smile) helps to cool their temper--especially when he reminds them that hey, you can hunt down the person who took a hit out on you and keep on killing each other and respawning for all eternity! Have fun! Byyyyeee!

In EXES AND OOHS, Blitz mentioned that killing other demons in Hell "ain't exactly our business no more." So...what's the story behind that? What kind of hits did Blitz do before getting his [gremlin] hands on the Stolas' grimoire?

Anything and everything he could. He had to make ends meet and was fucking determined to do it purely with hits--honest day's work, honest day's pay, etc. Taking contracts for people in Hell wasn't his first choice, it always felt a little more sleazy, but he would do it.

He actually got into a lot more trouble, more dangerous situations, doing that than he has on Earth yet, even including the penguins, because Blitz had absolutely no problem taking on highly powerful targets. Blitz was getting hurt all the time, sometimes pretty badly, but it paid the bills. He did what needed to be done and set money aside, knowing that once he adopted a kid--which was part of his plan for a long time, wanting to do what little he kid to make help someone--his expenses would go up. But eventually, he started making enough money--and gaining enough notoriety--that starting up a new venture didn't feel out of the question anymore, and he couldn't have been happier.

He had to be a much more vicious person then, but he did it and did it well. Now, though, Blitz feels more like a person, more like who he wants to be--less like a monster. Which, you know. Still a murderer. But hey at least he's... not killing his own kind? That's a win, right?

❝Blitz, ❞ Stolas coos, enveloping the imp in his hold. He receives a peppering of kisses and the press of the prince's cheek against his own. ❝ You are SUCH a handsome little devil.~  ❞

Blitz wanted to melt, but he also wanted to keep his eye on the target. Take Your Boyfriend to Work Day was way more fun than it had any right to be, and the real Earth sunlight felt so nice. The temptation to just roll Stolas over into the deep grass and forget about the hit was so strong...

Fuck it.

Blitz melted into him, loving the kisses and the nuzzling. Purring, he wrapped all of his limbs around Stolas, clinging like the thoroughly contented gremlin he was. A moment later though, he pushed Stolas down on his back, where Blitz had been a moment ago. Pinning him, he looked down with a smile--fuck he loved this bird--before kissing him quickly... and fetching his rifle back up.

Stretching out atop him, Blitz got comfortably into position, reacquiring his target.

"Cover your ears, babe," he said, his voice soft and low, but very much an order for once. Blitz gave Stolas a moment to do so, while assessing the shot--trying to use tips from Moxxie, who was a hell of a lot better at long-range work than Blitz was. Letting out a breath, slow and even and smooth, he squeezed the trigger--

And the job was done.

"Whooo!" Up on his knees now, he thrust a fist into the sky with a ridiculous cheer--then remembered where he was and who he was currently straddling. Blitz looked down, expression fucking melting into sappy adoration. Setting the rifle aside, he nuzzled his beautiful, beautiful Stolas again.

"You make work so much harder," he murmured, cupping his face in both hands, blissfully unaware that the way he said those words, they sounded like something else. They sounded like I Love You.

Blitz leaned in and kissed him with all the worship and adoration his fucked up little heart could manage, as if he could press a lifetime of love into a single moment--as if a single moment was all they would ever have.