Neutered Huh? No Balls Then?

Neutered huh? No balls then?

Blitz snorted and shook his head, taking a moment to sip and sip and sip on his straw. This stupid Strawberry Valentine drink was so good. Supposedly, supposedly it was some fancy new thing based on how Valentino and Angel Dust smelled together--which, weird, but whatever, this was Hell, people capitalized on everything--but it was the freshest thing he'd had in weeks. Blitz wasn't usually one for anything sweet, but this shit was addictive.

Once he'd had enough for now, he settled, eyes half-closed. "Oh, I got balls. Vasectomies don't remove all of that. Daddy's got plenty for you to play with--I just ain't gonna become a daddy. Again. So." More sipping on that stupid damn drink for a while, then he huffed and set it aside. Christ on a stick, he could act like an adult and not a sugar-addicted child, right? Maybe? Fuck.

"If you want to know more, go down the street to the corner store and get me an order of Fries Quatro Quesos Dos Fritos, stat. Whatever the fuck stat actually means, just--go, go. I ain't answering any more questions 'bout my gear til I have something to..." He side-eyed the smoothie again. Fuck, no. Nope. No more. "To eat."

But it was so good.

Happy as could be, Blitz went back to enjoying his smoothie.

The fucking what now, Blitz wondered? Whatever a Lie Brary was, he was pretty sure he didn't want any part of that. Some kind of weird fuckin' kink. Shit, he didn't even know this woman--although he did have a vague memory of drunkenly scrawling on her wall, he admitted to himself, so he should probably make up for that... Yeah. Shit. Yeah. Time to go to the Library. Or Lie Brary. Whatever. Fuck.

It was a few days before Blitz actually got his shit together. Sore from a job gone south, he was feeling too off his game to work--which made for a perfect excuse to go look for some stranger he had apparently harassed. Dressed casually, in black slacks and a comfortable black t-shirt, he had a backpack over one shoulder, a splint on his left arm, and bandages wrapped around his head. Still, despite not feeling or looking like himself, Blitz was in good spirits as he tromped on down to--

Oh.

Oh.

Yeah. This was a book building.

The shit in his backpack--it sure as shit wasn't for this.

He walked in, eyes slowly widening, and looked around with--doubt. A lot of doubt. Whoever this woman was that he had bothered, she was probably educated, which meant she would use words he would never understand and the second she saw him try to spell anything significant--yeah. Yeah. Nope. Time to go.

Blitz turned to hurry out--and almost knocked someone over when he did.

"Shit, fuck. I'm sorry! You good? I'm sorry."

“…thank you??? I mean that genuinely, I’m very flattered, I’m just also confused. Lil’ forward of ya to add X’s and O’s to a letta first thing, but I can’ pretend it’s not a fun lil’ surprise. Sure, uh…Blitzø, is it? Come by the library sometime, and I’m sure we could set somethin’ up.”

for @keenie-bopper continued from here

Listening to her, it struck Blitz just how resilient this little cherub was. She was here, talking to him, had taken the time to be kind to him, to come and ask him something when she didn't need to. She had lost her home, been kicked out of fucking Heaven, and one could argue that he absolutely had some responsibility for that--yet here she was. Talking to him. Being polite. Being kind. The imp's expression softened, and his eyes took on a genuinely friendly light.

"Keenie, if you don't have anywhere to go for Helloween... You wanna come with me? I mean, definitely go tag along with your friends," he said, using her phrasing, "if that's what you wanna do. But if you end up wanting more, and the idea doesn't freak you out, come with me on the club crawl. It's--basically going to be a lot of filth, but nobody will touch you without permission. And if they try, I'll cut their fucking hands off. There'll be a lot of dancing though, plenty of music, weird mixed drinks, lots of costumes... proobably most of them pretty inappropriate," he admitted, picturing his own outfit. "But it's usually a blast and a half.

"And even if you don't want to come, hey. I appreciate that you came to ask about it. How um--how are you doing these days? You good? I should have... fuck, I should have checked in on you guys, ever. You have a place to stay, right? You're safe?"

If you will have me. Blitz didn't know what that meant, didn't understand what exactly Stolas wanted from him, and the impulse to assume something, to panic and just run with something, was strong. He quashed it, refusing--consciously refusing--to fall back into the old habits, to keep making the old mistakes, and forced himself to keep listening. When Stolas had hugged himself, it left Blitz's heart aching, because he could imagine, he could fucking imagine, how many times Stolas must have done that--how many times Stolas must have been the only one to hug him, the only pair of arms that wanted to hold him, always left to comfort himself alone.

Blitz shoved his hands into his pockets--then thought better of it and stepped over to wrap his arms around Stolas. Screw the height difference, he hugged what he could get, and he held on. Stolas needed that. He needed to be loved. He needed to be cared for. And Blitz needed to care. He couldn't pretend not to anymore, he couldn't pretend--fuck. He just couldn't pretend.

"I want whatever you'll give me, Stols. If that's... if you just want us to be friends, I'll take it. But what I really want is you. I want to be yours. Your stupid, lovesick, idiotic, unculture imp. And I want you to be mine. I want to--to find ways to convince you, somefuckinghow, that you are mine. That I want you. That I'm not gonna, not gonna just let go?" He tightened his arms. "Until you tell me to. I want to be together. Not just for fancy fucking, either. I mean together, together. Romantically. And I don't--fuck. I don't know how. But I want to learn. With you." He closed his eyes and rubbed his face against Stolas, having heard his own damn voice break. Fuck, Blitz, keep your shit together. Blitz hugged tighter, still.

"I don't wanna lose you. And I know I already did. But I just. I don't wanna lie anymore, either. I wanna tell you everything. And never be the reason you're unhappy anymore.

"I wanna be the partner who holds your hand proudly in public, and never cuts you down, never leaves you feeling unseen in your own life, or just... fuck. Fuck. I wanna be together--and I want to be good for you. Fuck, I want to be good for you." He didn't know if he ever could be, but Blitz would give his entire being to just trying, if Stolas wanted that.

A selfish wave of relief flooded him, and some of the tension leaved Stolas' frame. It wasn't fair to have wanted Blitz to himself during their separation, or maybe at all, and yet, he did. Still does, but that was a conversation for another time if they ever got it.

Stolas listens intently, giving Blitz a reprieve from the constant weight of his gaze by watching the path ahead. Though he stole glances any chance he could, unwilling to blink too often or let the imp out of his sight for a prolonged time. Everything between them felt suspended on a wire fit to snap at any moment. And if it didn't, they each held a pair of scissors, ready to cut it and each other loose.

It took so much willpower not to speak and interject, to correct Blitz or overlap his apologies with his own. Messy didn't begin to cover what any of this — of what they were.

He could fill the gaps between the stars and planets with everything he wanted to say. But would it be too much? Would he be too much? His hands link together, fingers grasping at each other with nervous excitement and uncertainty. At long last, the prince moves to step into Blitz's path, leaning down with a small smile. So much pain. There was an immeasurable amount of suppressed emotions and experiences between them both that could fill the world's oceans, he had no doubt.

❝ Blitzy — ❞ Stolas gives pause and shakes his head. One hand moves to rest on the imp's shoulder, the other to lift his chin to meet the owl's gaze. ❝ You think this is your fault, but it isn't. Not all of it. Please. . . . please do not bear the weight of it all without me. I was — I did some unfavorable things and. . . ❞ He trails off, beak clicking softly as he struggles to find the rest of his words. The problem wasn't that they weren't there; it was the struggle of unwinding them, untangling every thought and feeling from each other to form something coherent.

❝ You keep apologizing, but I could have stepped up too. I should have, sooner than I did, honestly. I hurt you too, and really I — it wasn't right of me, to bring up my feelings the way I did. Not so suddenly. Not like that. And I refused to give you a chance to properly take in what I was saying and suggesting. If I had just given you a chance to speak. . . ❞ It was his turn to withdraw, hands moving to his own arms, awkwardly hugging himself before falling to the prince's sides. He felt at odds with his existence, with the physical presence he held. It felt too small, and too much all at once.

❝ I care you for very much, Blitz. I just. . . want you to be aware of that. And to understand that I hold fault in what happened between us too. We. . . we hurt each other, unfortunately. But I — ❞ He sucks in a breath, head tipping to the sky instead, eyes closing. But when he speaks again, his gaze is back on Blitz.

❝ I still want to be a part of your life, and for you to be in mine, if you will have me. . . ❞

What if Razzle and Dazzle are actually Moxxie and Blitz?

for @toranoya continued from here, because St Peter apparently decided that today is the day to absolutely wreck Blitz's shit, and I am cackling, I love it

-

"Oh, you... um..." Blitz's eyes widened and he took a small step back as Peter approached, saying those things. What had started off as something fun and ridiculous had suddenly morphed into something the imp was in no way prepared for, as a new concept crashed down upon him like a ton of bricks.

Peter watched him? Knew him? Was paying attention--to him? Why? Wasn't his job to watch over humans, people who actually had souls, whose choices meant something? Wasn't he supposed to just gatekeep the Sinners and the Winners, and not care about anything else? Wasn't that what Heaven did? The imp's eyes had somehow managed to get wider still, because the thought that anyone, anyone up top was actually paying attention not just to imps, but to him? That was breaking open a lot of things inside, cracking walls Blitz had so carefully constructed, shining light into dark places he had tried so hard to forget.

Panicking, heart breaking in ways he didn't understand, eyes burning with tears he refused to allow to fall, Blitz nonetheless managed (finally) to put on a smarmy grin, step close, and walk his fingertips slowly up Peter's chest.

"Hey, babe, if you're into watching me... Can't say I blame you. Everybody needs a little distraction now and then, and I'm good at distracting."

This was good. This was better. Better to play at filth than to admit, even to himself, that Peter's dangerous words had just lit the fuse on a kind of yearning Blitz had never known, couldn't possibly understand, and didn't possess the tools to handle. The caring of Heaven had never once been on the table for him. Caring from anyone was relatively new to him, something he was only recently letting himself begin to learn. But that question--he had to believe Peter was lying, fucking with him, that the guy really didn't know anything about his life, and definitely didn't care. Because the alternative?

The alternative might break everything.