Doublejango - A Helluva Mess - Tumblr Blog

Aside from Diamine Writer's Blood, are there any other inks you would recommend for the more financially-challenged among us?

(I'm still researching this myself but I don't want to buy one the inks meant for dip pens that'll clog up the whole mechanism of my pen.) OH AND ALSO! What kind of fountain pen do you use?

Oh man I am very financially challenged, I feel you. I've just found that it's honestly so much cheaper for me personally to buy a bottle of ink once a year than to buy all of the disposable pens I needed before. Writer's Blood is a gorgeous one, and the reason I like it so much is that it's a very "wet" ink. It flows really well in even the cheapest pens, whiiiiich are what I use. Well, there are probably cheaper, but it's not bad. I got a Jinhao x450 like... four years ago, maybe? Maybe five now? And it's still going strong. I kind of like my Jinhao 82 more, just because it's so damn pretty and writes a little better, but they were still both super cheap, less than ten dollars each with shipping factored in. Maybe I just got lucky with a few really good cheap pens, but I love them. They both wrote nicely when I got them, but I ended up deciding to loosen the tines on the 82, and eventually put a new nib entirely into the x450 because while I liked the old one, I didn't love it. I kind of love that pens can be customized like that though. BUT! Jfc I am rambly today, I'm sorry.

Another really wet ink I like, and that I will probably get once my Writer's Blood runs out, is Platinum Carbon Black. It writes like an absolute dream--but a word of warning, it is hard to clean entirely out of a pen, as it basically leaves soot behind. That being said, I am a terrible pen owner and never clean in between inkings until I switch to a new kind of ink, so I'll go an entire year using just one color. PCB is usually about $12-$14 on Amazon, and I think I got Writer's Blood for like $9 on there? But it was on sale. I ALMOST FORGOT: Writer's Blood is NOT water resistant. If your notebook gets wet, you may lose everything. PCB is almost waterproof.

There are much cheaper inks you can get. I tried the Pelikan 4001 series and used each bottle up, but will never get them again. They're way too dry for me, but if you like dry inks or have a firehose of a pen, they can be fantastic. They also worked really well on crappy paper, but I felt like the flow was just... bad. Personal preference though! If you already have a pen though and can swing it, just try a handful of inks. You can get ink samples from pen retailers (although that's not super cheap lbr), or if there's a pen club near you, there will almost always be someone happy to give you samples of whatever inks they have. Finding the right ink for your pen can make all the difference in how useful the pen is for you, how long the ink lasts, all of that.

WOW I am sorry this has been way too much rambling about pens for a blog about gay demon shenanigans! Thank you for not disowning me!

[I have to tag @toranoya in on this dash commentary, because their Peter is absolutely amazing, like??? he reduced Blitz to tears in seconds in the most warm, uplifting way]

"I thought I knew what angels were like, about and shit. They're a bunch of highbrow assholes who just like to look down on people and shit. Show up in Hell, kill off your Sinner friends, fuck everything up. And then I met Peter and.... uuuuughhhh." Blitz waved both hands emphatically at the sky. "He's so fucking good and kind and it fucks me up and I want him to have good shit--like blowjobs and cuddles and shit."

@doublejango said:

Blitz just flings himself down with an arm over his forehead. "Fuck me dead, right? He's so fucking CUTE! And he's got that voice, and he's so NICE! Like??"

"How can so much ADORABLE be stuffed into one being?" she sighs and looks at Blitz with a smitten smile. "I would let him do unchaste things to me."

If Blitz loves you? He loves you. I think this might be one of the most Blitz songs I know.

stolas tugging the disguise down to hide blitz better. blitz holding stolas in his lap. stolas peering up at blitz from the couch looking so fucking sad. blitz's little "go on" wave when stolas automatically looks to him for permission to go dance. it's about the familiarity despite the hurt. it's about loving someone and being angry with them but being unwilling to let either overrule the other. it's about being unable to stop caring even if it might be easier on both of you. i am sobbing facedown on the floor

“I want you to stay with me, because you want to. Only if you want to”

also a version with strings:

OG:

Everybody raving about the “I didn’t realize you think sow low of me” while I’m still obsessing abt this

edit: forgot to add the second ver. so adding it in now

A detail I don't see mentioned about the confrontation between Blitzø and Stolas is that while Blitzø is understandably angry and lashing out, he also ends his rant with an invitation to Stolas, imploring, no, demanding he meet him at his level, to get as angry as he is, to FIGHT HIM, right then and there.

We've seen frequently that imps are violent in general, they're originally native to Wrath, and we see that most of their bonding rituals often involve violence and/or bodily harm (just look at how much Millie and Sallie May messed each other up at the end and while being able to laugh about it; a broken bottle fight and broken bones is their version of a light-hearted pillow fight)

While Blitzø is also very self-destructive, even by Hell's standards, it should be noted that he's technically begging for Stolas to connect with him in this moment, to speak a language he understands. "At least respect me enough to fight me! If you care, why walk away? Get real with me, if we can't get physical with our genitals, then at least let us get physical with our fists!"

Unfortunately, Stolas has had the exact opposite cultural upbringing, having been taught his whole life that emotional outbursts are unseemly and improper, so his main go-to for conflicts is avoidance. He avoided confrontation with his father, he basically avoided Stella as much as he could even when she was openly shitting on him at parties; and ONLY just recently has he managed to stand up for himself and when he finally does, it's not to strike back, but simply stand his ground for once, emboldened his new-found love for Blitzø and the knowledge that his daughter isn't fooled by the act anymore and will soon be of age anyway.

It is not currently in Stolas' nature to be confrontational the way Blitzø desperately needs him to be.

Blitzø says: "Please, if you ever actually cared, you'd fight for us Get mad, show me that you care!"

What Stolas hears is just the most literal interpretation with zero subtext, because he isn't attuned to the subtleties of arguing and especially not what it looks like for imps, i.e. he focuses on the "I always hated you" interpretation.

Both gave the other an opening, but only heard dismissal, because it wasn't spoken in a language they were familiar with.

I'm not saying either handled things well here, Blitzø shouldn't immediately respond with anger and Stolas shouldn't default to walking away, that's my whole point.

I just thought it was an interesting angle that their differences aren't just societal (privilege/wealth/respect) but also cultural in how it influences how they each handle emotional confrontation, or, in the case of Stolas, how they don't.

Placing bets for the release of the new episodes:

October 19 November 16 December 21 ...but i hope they come sooner than that. Please, can we have the new episode tomorrow? Pretty please with sugar on top?

At the mention of cigars, Vox had quite noticeably brightened, his smile turning from something practiced into something relieved. That was the kind of bribe he was used to, that was safe territory. He had been just about to accept, as he settled in next to her, when he noticed the way she was looking at him...

And he looked over his shoulder.

No one there. At least, no one that seemed to be involved.

Confused, he looked back at Visage--

Still looking at him.

Like that.

Vox loosened his bowtie ever so slightly, cleared his throat, and sat up a bit straighter. He could do this. Sure, she got his name right, but she probably didn't understand which of the Vees was which. Valentino always came home with stories of how people threw themselves at him, and so far, this lined up perfectly with one of those.

"You know, I would love to take you up on a cigar, but the smoke might ruin the flavor of the wine," he said, trying to sound casual, trying to look casual despite sitting a little too stiffly, having realized he was a little too close. "So! Why don't you tell me a bit about yourself, and what we're doing here tonight? I can see that you have a highly successful operation, and your staff are clearly more satisfied than average. I'm intrigued.

"What are you doing differently--

"And what do you want from me?"

Business. This was strictly business. He wasn't going to let himself notice how her clothing seemed to barely be hanging on for dear life, because if he noticed that, he might wonder what her neck would smell like were he to lean in to place kisses along her collarbone, and that was not an appropriate response for a business meeting. He wasn't Valentino. Fuck, she--she knew he wasn't Valentino, didn't she?

"I'm surprised you didn't go to Valentino, actually. A place as--sensual as this. It would be right up his alley."

The lupine woman was all smiles as the other Overlord approached, all too eager to accept the rarefied gift. "My-my, a man of taste and culture! Ooo la la. You're too kind, Vox. Truly. Everything's going swimmingly, as you can see. Plenty of happy patrons every which way y'look." The mention by name would leave no further room for doubt--the invitation was for him and him alone. Visage motioned to the empty space beside her within the circular booth that was richly upholstered in expensive-looking deep amethyst leather. "Please, make yourself good and comfy! I can get some glasses brought for the wine and maybe some other ... 'accoutrements' to make your stay more enjoyable. You smoke? I've got a lovely lil' stash of freshly-rolled cigars imported from Greed." The she-wolf made a fine show of lounging comfortably in her seat, a sultry heat in her gaze beckoning for more than just his company beside her. Was it a foregone conclusion to assume that anyone so deeply associated with someone like Valentino, of all people, would favor a bolder approach...? As pretty and charming as she was sure the moth could be, when it suited him ... Visage was inclined to believe that whatever he could do, she could offer the Television Demon tenfold.

Blitz was not okay.

Blitz was absolutely not fucking okay.

An angel wasn't just talking to him, but was talking to him like he knew him. Touching him. Stroking his cheek, speaking kindly, acting in defiance of his own orders because he cared.

Blitz was not okay. He was not prepared for this. He couldn't think, could barely even breathe until Peter stopped touching him, and then all he wanted was for it to continue. He wanted to crawl under the man's hand and push his face up into his palm, close his eyes, and purr, to stay like that until he died, to just stay here, in the company of someone so warm, so loving, so good, that Blitz had no idea how to even begin understanding him. He thought he had known kindness and affection in Hell, but this--this was--this--

He shook himself, physically shook himself, to try and snap out of it. Exorcists. Right. Those bitches. Blitz blinked and nodded, but before he could say anything, he reached out and just grabbed a handful of Peter's robe, needing to hold it, needing to feel it, to know that it was real, that he was real, that this was actually happening.

The quality of the fabric under his hand--he wanted to scream. It felt too real somehow. Too real, too supple, too perfect. Too much a part of Peter. The imp closed his fist tighter and met Peter's eyes, silently begging him, don't make me let go. Please. He didn't care if it made him look stupid or childish. All that mattered, all that mattered, was being close to the angel. Being close to--love? Was that what Peter was?

"We can go anywhere you want," he managed to say, although he didn't sound like himself. The cocky bullshit was gone, the defiance, the trouble-making sense of fun, all of that was gone. The imp was too broken right now to protect himself with any of his walls--all he could do was hope that Saint Peter wasn't going to shatter him completely.

Saint Peter saw the shift in Blitz’ eyes—the initial shock, the wide-eyed confusion, the panic that flickered there for a brief moment. It was all so clear, like watching someone’s soul struggle between what they wanted to hide and what they didn’t even realize was hurting. The smarmy grin and slick move were a predictable defense, but Peter didn’t falter.

His hand, warm and steady, gently clasped Blitz’ fingers as they trailed up his chest. He didn’t pull away, but held them there with a soft grip, one that was neither dismissive nor mocking. There was no teasing grin on Peter’s face, no playful flirtation. Just kindness and patience, like a steady beacon in the storm.

"Blitz…" Peter’s voice was gentle, but there was something firm underneath it, an unshakable strength. "You don’t have to play this game with me." He met Blitz’s eyes directly, letting the weight of his words settle. "I’m not here to judge you, or mess with your head. I’ve seen a lot, and I know what pain looks like when someone’s trying to hide it behind a joke, or a smirk, or whatever else keeps them from having to face it."

Peter’s gaze softened even more as he spoke. "And yes, we pay attention. You have your company have your own files. You’re not invisible, Blitz. You’re not just another imp from Hell who doesn’t matter. You’ve got more to you than you think, more than what anyone down there may have told you."

He gently let go of Blitz’s hand, giving him space but not stepping back. "Please understand. I’m not saying this to mess with you, or make you feel exposed. I’m saying it because, well… you deserve to know someone sees you. Not just the you that’s putting on a show, but the real you." Peter said as he reached down to gently stroke Blitz’ cheek. "Shall we go somewhere else my friend? I’m sure you don’t want your business shown to all. Also…there is a bounty on you up here, I should have called the Exorcists by now, so we should leave."

Blitz hissed at her, tail vibrating, hunching himself back into a smaller--wait. Wait. Millie! That was Millie! With a muffled exclamation of joy, he shot out from under the desk and tackled her with a hug, nuzzling his face all over hers, tail swooshing around.

"Millie! Fuck me dead, am I happy to see you! Moxxie and I maybe watched some of Vox's Favorite Fear Fest Films, you know, the shit that's on twenty-four-seven now? And it--fuck. I watched the Ring, and there was this girl, and well, and her fingernails, and like, this bitch came out of the fucking television, and...?" Blitz had somehow ended up crouched on Millie's shoulders like a cat, tail whipping protectively around her. Yes. This was good. Much safer up here. Much, much safer.

"Where's Moxxie? He okay?"

@doublejango

"Blitz?! Are you okay? Need me to get Loona for ya?"

Who's traumatizing her boys!?

Vepar gasped in quiet delight at the first speech from his new pet. Turning, he took him in--and that delight turned to empathy. The faerie was frightened! Well, why shouldn't he be? Waking up in a strange place would do that to anyone, Vepar imagined. Still, it was a surprising pleasure to hear him speak, and something about the timbre of his voice left the Goetia feeling oddly warm towards him, more compassionate than he usually felt towards pets.

He walked over and sat on the edge of the bed, tucking a leg under himself, smiling as he looked the little one over.

"If it is too cold, I am happy to provide you with more blankets, or to move you to a more confined room. I do not know much of your people, and my research turned up little more than that you do best when in the free air. This," he gestured towards the room around them, "is the best I can offer in that regard, my pet.

"My name is Vepar." He smiled again, touching his chest and giving a little bow of his head. "And you are in Hell. Specifically, an abyssal plane that is completely closed to travel from anyone without explicit permission to be here--or without the power and knowledge to traverse it. Your brother offered you to me as a gift, in exchange for my aid should he require it, and how could I say no? I've never had a creature as exotic as a faerie before!" This was easily the least dignified Vepar had ever been, and the little crest of feathers on his head was halfway up with his excitement--as high as it ever went. "You are my prisoner, I suppose, although pet seems a much more civilized word.

"Now. Please. I was informed that you can eat nothing but fish and cat milk? We do not have cats, at least, not the sort it seemed Balekin referred to, but I was told that," he indicated the milk on the nightstand, "would be an appropriate substitute. Please, do tell me if it is inadequate. I wish to care for you, my darling pet, and see that your health does not suffer.

"How are you feeling? You were handed to me in a rather... stuffy bag," he admitted, voice darkening with disapproval, "which did not seem to have adequate ventilation to keep anyone alive." The Goetia reached out with a gentle, careful hand to run his claws through those curls. "You need not fear. This is the home of demons and monsters--and, if Balekin is anything to go by, that means it must not be so very unlike where you are from?"

Were one to inquire about it, Cardan cannot quite remember the events leading to his current disposition; he recalls pieces, tiny fragments of memories, such as being situated upon his bed within his chambers in Hollow Hall, reading Alice in Wonderland all the whilst taking nibbles of the cheese a mortal servant delivered to his room as dinner, for Balekin wished him not in his way as he worked on something he called "finalising affairs". If he is to be frank, he does not even recall falling asleep — merely the occasional darkness of his eyelids falling heavier and heavier over gold adorned eyes, and then, gradually waking from what feels like a solid slumber into the shivering cold of winter, in a room he does not quite recognise, with a looming voice he cannot quite link to a face.

The Prince strains to chase awareness, falling short just about every time he begins to climb the wall back to consciousness — and yet, it is not until he feels the couple of digits lightly touch his brow that the easiness finally sinks in, and the next times he attempts, he manages to come to. Black eyes rimmed with a halo of gold are unfocused for a brief second of time, seeing the world around him as a mosaic of blurred colours and shapes, the sounds distorted in his sharp, elongated ears as though a cacophony of voices each speaking over the other and none making sense. The Fae's brows furrow and his lips curl to release a pained groan as the landscape before him dawns clear and clearer, until all he can see is a lattice stone wall with a snowed-in window, and a night stand with a white liquid inside — could it be milk ? —, stirred with a stripped thing he cannot quite put a name to.

Although Cardan's mind is swimming like an aggravated group of sprites, one thought dawns clear in his head; he is not in his room, and he is not in Hollow Hall. And, though habit had it that whilst attending his brother's revels he would wake up disoriented and naked amongst many bodies of courtiers he has no recollection of the night before, this has a different feel to it; A feel of danger and panic, as he can feel his heart plummeting from his torso right into the darkness of his stomach.

Where in the Mab foresaken earth is he ?

Jolting into a sitting position, the Fae's eyes grow double their size in panic as they feveredly take in his surrounds; the glass of milk, the snowed windows, the iron-made door leading to the outside. . . And then the tall looming figure of what he can assume to be a bird staring out of one of the lattice stone windows, as though contemplating the fate of the world — or, well, some thing equally as important. Cardan knows him not, and he does not wish to know him; in fact, the only conversation he wishes to have with him is one that provides him with directions as to the fastest, swiftest way he can go back to his brother's estate in the Hollow Hall.

❛ Where am I ? ❜ Inquires Cardan, his words dragged together and barely audible, as though his tongue has yet to come awake like the rest of his body has. Swallowing hard, he can almost feel the dryness of his throat as well as the still growing heaviness of his eyes as they pierce through the Falcon's back. Did he take him from Hollow Hall, or is this yet another one of his reckless, careless antics while under the influence of Faerie Powder ? ❛ Who are you ? And why is it so cold in here ? ❜

A storm of kisses falls upon Blitzø, soft and feather-light at first. Slowly, with each one, they become more insistent, lingering, and warm against the imp's skin. Stolas presses closer with a soft hum, nuzzling against his favored fiend briefly before interrupting him completely and capturing him in a desperate kiss.

At first, Blitz had just snorted and batted at Stolas, with all of those little kisses. But as they got in the way of anything else, he tossed his phone aside and turned his face towards his bird, just letting him do it. Blitz closed his eyes and started purring, letting himself enjoy this...

Until the flavor of the kisses seemed to change. The way Stolas held him, the way he kissed, the depth of the kiss, the need--there was no way Blitz's body and spirit weren't going to respond to that. For a stunned moment, he just let Stolas do it, let Stolas kiss him like there was no tomorrow. But then, abruptly, a switch flipped in Blitz and he rolled them both, pinning Stolas under him on the bed. Straddling him, knees pressed in snugly against Stolas's sides, he grabbed his arms and pinned them, then started kissing him all over again. Desperate, because maybe Stolas was right. Tomorrow wasn't fucking promised. At least, not for an imp. So he kissed him tonight, with every ounce of passion he possessed, kissing and kissing and kissing him, holding him down--trying to show Stolas that he was wanted. That Stolas never had to beg to hold him, or plead for attention, ever again. Blitz wanted him and was finally, finally, here to fucking try and show him that.

"Stolas," he whispered finally, his lips near Stolas's ear, but not against it; he always worried about how delicate Stolas's hearing might be. "Listen to me. Right now. You need to know this.

"You're fucking sexy. "You're beautiful. "You're funny. "You're ridiculous. "You're just like, really fucking tall, and sometimes kind of a dweeb. And you're perfect. Okay? You," he lifted his head up enough to take Stolas by the chin and meet his eyes, "you are perfect. And anyone who thinks otherwise is a fucking idiot asshole pussy. "And one more thing. While we're talking about what the fuck you are. You?" He caressed his chin with a claw, his soft and sweet expression suddenly turning to mischief, "are mine, birdie."

"Ain't asking for much, are you?" Blitz asked with a dry laugh, closing his eyes and pressing a hand against his forehead. "Fuck. Something that scares the Goetia?" Even asking it felt wrong somehow, like he was somehow betraying Stolas--but Stolas wouldn't want this. Stolas wouldn't want powerful Goetia to go against relatively helpless Goetia, would he? He was better than that. Stolas was kinder than that, more compassionate--

And then there was Vepar, Blitz realized. He stood up straight, adjusting his hold on the phone. "Actually, I know someone who can help... and I think I got somethin' that might do you some fucking good. It's this," he dropped his voice, glancing around to be sure there wasn't anybody listening, but the street Blitz was on was very, very quiet in comparison to what it sounded like was happening in the background of Striker's call, "this amulet. It protects the wearer against any kind of demonic attack. I just figured out that a demon can put it on--but here's the fucking catch. While it'll protect you, and you can put it on? Once it's on, you can't take it off. someone else has to.

"I know a Goetia, one who's--well, no, he is a complete psycho, but he's still in good with the rest of them, and he doesn't have a problem with us. Let me talk to him, see if he can take it to you. Whatever shit is going on, he should be able to get through it, through any wards or whatever, to find you.

"As long as you're goddamn alive to be found." His hand tightened around the phone again, making it creak. "So tell me, Striker, that you'll be alive. I don't want to lose another friend. Not today. Not when I just got you back."

Striker’s voice was cold and bitter.

“Lucifer? Lovin’ us? Blitz, I highly doubt that. The way he’s been runnin’ things, treatin’ the Hellborn like we’re nothin’ more than dirt, don’t exactly scream love to me. But I’ll tell ya this—things would be better if Princess Charlotte took his place. She’s got more sense and heart than he’s ever shown.”

He paused, his voice thickening with the weight of old scars.

“This ain’t the first time a Goetia took away someone I loved. I was married once, had a kid. My boy, Jackson, was only seven. A Goetia bastard wanted our land to build some fancy country house, and I wouldn’t give it to him. So he set fire to our home. Made sure I was there to watch them burn… my wife, my son. Gone, all ‘cause I stood in his way.”

There was a heavy silence before Striker’s tone sharpened again.

“If you really wanna help, Blitz, I need leverage. Find somethin’ those bastards care about, somethin’ so important they’d do anythin’ to get it back. Or someone they’re scared of. Paimon, Lucifer—don’t matter which. Somethin’ to turn this whole damn game upside down.”

Blitz read the texts a few times, feeling a strange sense of release. Not relief, that would be too positive, and these messages brought a sense of dread with them. Subtle, but it was there. No, release was the word, he decided, because Moxxie had just taken off the soft gloves he usually handled Blitz with. Moxxie wasn't playing any part, wasn't putting on an act; this, the clarity of thought, the analysis, this was the real Moxxie.

The tactician.

They weren't playing pretend anymore, and it felt oddly freeing--like pulling a bulletproof vest off before diving into a new fight. Blitz started to answer... but then his phone rang.

It was over an hour before he finally replied to Moxxie.

>>I do. And we talked. Things got worse. >>There was some kind of attack on them. It was exactly what you said would happen. >>Paimon sent a hit squad, took out a bunch of protestors. >>You're right. When the time comes to really do this? We do it quiet. Underground. We get the pieces in place. We don't let them know the next move, or even that there's a movement at all. >>btw Moxxie. Nice to meet you <3

Maybe that last was a little tongue in cheek, Blitz reflected, but if Moxxie wasn't going to play? Neither was he. Blitz could be a buffoon, could absolutely be an idiot, but now wasn't the time. Even if this was just a quiet conversation, even if nothing else ever came of it, it was serious. It wasn't just their lives they were talking about, the lives of everyone either of them had ever fucking cared about.

If Moxxie was going to show his heart of steel, Blitz was going to remember how to stand tall--and how to look death in the fucking eyes and smile.

After reading the revolution poster (via @helluvaoutlaw) texted to him by Blitzo ( @doublejango ), Sonny sat and thought. When he texted Blitzo back, it was the same way he would talk to an equal in business as a crime boss. He thought he owed Blitzo that. He was smart, he probably put together by now that Moxxie could be calculated on his other job he needed to be. None of that 'I don't think, sir' and 'maybe not' meekness. He looked at this plan and went over it in his head and delivered his honest opinion on it.

[Text] it is nice to see others echo our sentiments. I'd be tempted to look in on this. However

[Text] This is a bad angle. putting your plans out in the open like that where the birds can see your agenda

[Text] all they have to do is send one blast at us, and we lose 100

[Text] yes, we have numbers over them but to make that work we need discretion. and patience.

[Text] announcing it on a megaphone like this person is doing is asking for unwanted attention

[Text] a secret call to action takes longer but it's worth it when your enemy can't hear it. this sounds doomed, sad to say.

[Text] do you know who made this?

Seeing the way Chaz reacted to the jacket did something to Blitz's heart, melting it in a way he hadn't expected. Chaz loved that coat the way Blitz loved his necklace, the imp saw, and he was glad, so fucking glad, that he had taken care of the jacket. He'd loved wearing it at the time, although it was far too big for him, but it clearly meant more to Chaz than just a garment. Being able to give it back to him, to help put a missing piece back into place, left the imp feeling warm inside.

And then, of course, there was Chaz. So damn sweet, such a nerd. He was a different man than the one Blitz had met in Greed. Things had been awkward there, to say the damn least, with Chaz desperately trying to con them all. But now? Chaz seemed happy, and that changed everything about him, for the better. Blitz had no idea how things were going to go, if they were going to become friends, if there was more in the cards for them, but this time? He realized it didn't matter. He didn't feel any anxiety, didn't feel anything but a relaxed contentment just to be here with him.

"Don't worry about your dirty mouth. I've heard it all and probably said worse, you're not going to offend me. Hop in, get comfortable. It's a bit of a drive."

Once they were both situated, Blitz drove off, heading towards the ferry; they were going to need to travel down to Wrath for this particular destination. "The water and take-out's for you, by the way. I wasn't sure what you like? So there's a few things in there. It might be kind of a long time in the car, and I didn't want to, uh. Fuck. Just seem like I'm kidnapping you." Which was kind of what he was doing, wasn't it..? Shit. Whatever. Blitz flicked the radio on, but kept the volume low.

"So! You know, lucky us, now we're at the Awkward Small-Talk stage. How you doin? How was your day? And what's the story behind the jacket?"

Chaz perked up at the quick agreement, a bit stunned, stammering "U-Uh yeah sure, just give me your phone real quick" Chaz said with an awkward grin, taking Blitz's phone and saving his address to it as quick as he could handing it back just in time for him to freeze as Blitz leaned over the counter and kissed him on the cheek, body heating up as he grinned with a shudder as Blitz whispered to him, tail wagging behind him.

He had a pretty noticeable blush as he chuckled, not sure what to say to such sweet words from the Imp, scratching his neck before giving a bashful grin "Thanks Blitz... You too Demetri" The shark said before waving them goodbye and sighing, desperately hoping that this went well

-

The shark went through the rest of his shift, pretty uneventfully, till the club was closing for the night, gathering his things and beginning to walk out before a voice snapped him out of his thoughts

"Was that Blitz you were talking to earlier?"

Chaz perked his head up, turning around to face the sin, Asmodeus comfortable sitting on the edge of the stage, casually instructing some other employees as they closed up "Y-Yes..?"

"I don't have a problem with it, just surprised, you and the others were pretty adamant on me and Fizz not mentioning you to him at all."

"Well yeah, we all got a past with him I guess but he just showed up at the bar, he was actually really forgiving and... nice. Asked me out for tomorrow even."

"Oh, well Im happy for you, You especially could use something like that I think. Good."

"M-Me? Why?" Chaz asked, raising a brow

"Cause In the time I've known you, I've sensed your lust for... redemption I suppose, for forgiveness and a second chance. I would have helped if you asked but Im glad it worked out on it's own. Though I still think those other two deserved it just slightly..." Ozzie rolled his eyes then grew a slight smirk, Chaz chuckling to hide his embarrassment.

"Gee Big O, okay then, know all my kinks and dirty thoughts too?" Chaz questioned jokingly, earning a giggle from the sin "Only what you think about in my presence, but a fair bit I guess, your a nice boost to the moods I thrive off of when your on shift~" Asmodeus teased, Chaz blushing as he waved him off "Your welcome Jizz Lord~ Goodnight~" Chaz almost sang as he walked out, waving farewell to his boss so he could get home.

-

Chaz made sure to get up earlier then usual, and did his whole routine, shower, brush and gel his hair as well as somewhat nice colone he was trying, that smelled like a NICE ocean, breeze. Not greed's for sure. He was just dressed in his shoes, tight pants and sweater.

He kept an eye on the time, and walked out, grinning back when he saw Blitz parked outside as he walked up "Heya Blitz! You look great! Hope this is a okay look, wasn't sure what to go with and besides it's got the comfort that Im used to it." Chaz said with a shrug as he put his hands in his pockets, thanking when Blitz opened the door for him, not often on the receiving end of gentlemanly gestures, ducking to get in only for his eyes to go wide.

Not even at the nice looking takeout and water, which he did need, his nervousness had left his throat a bit dry and parched, but at seeing his jacket again, clearly cleaned and taken care of, his heart skipped a beat, mouth agape for a second as he pulled it out, just enjoying holding it in his hands again for a second.

"Geez, I can't describe how much it means you giving this back to me Blitz. Just..." Chaz began, slipping it on, and taking a deep sigh of relief as he pulled it closed for a second, enjoying the comfort it brought in him again before smiling at Blitz "Thanks, and of course I do, don't get asked out much like this these days, besides-

He got real bold, putting a hand on Blitz's shoulder "I-I'd like to spend some more time with you too, get to know eachother. Hell Im the one who can't keep his dirty mouth shut, I'd be more concerned if your comfortable hanging out with me!" Chaz joked, leaning down to be on eye level mostly with Blitz, a dorky grin on his face as his tail wagged.

This was horrible. Sure, they lived in Hell, and Blitz coped by making endless jokes about it, but right now? Right now, life actually felt like Hell. He could hear the hollowness in Moxxie's voice, he could practically feel the agony radiating off of him, and there was nothing Blitz could do to make it better. He wanted to. Fuck, he wanted to help him, to do anything, anything to make it hurt just a little bit less--but there was nothing he could do. Only time was going to help either of them, and time was passing so damned slowly, leaving every minute a torture.

Neither of them was handling this. They were getting by, they were surviving the passing minutes, but they weren't handling this. Not really.

How the fuck could they?

Blitz looked over at Loona, but her ears were back; she didn't want to talk. So, he nodded, grabbed a few extra weapons, then opened the portal and gestured Moxxie through first.

-

When Blitz stepped through, something broke. He didn't know what, but he felt like, a distinct and almost painful snapping sensation in his head, like someone had shot him between the horns with a massive rubber-band. He hissed quietly in surprised pain, glanced down at his hand--

The crystal was dark. Whatever light it had once held, the light was gone.

Eyes widening, Blitz choked down the wave of fear, then let himself look around at....

Not the place they were supposed to be.

Everything here was ice. Dark blue, nearly black, smooth, shining. The walls, the floor, the ceiling. The corridor ran straight before them, or branched off to the sides behind them--and although he couldn't prove it, Blitz knew, knew fucking immediately, that they were trapped in some kind of maze. Trapped. Together. In a place that felt like it fucking epitomized loneliness and emptiness.

Loss.

It wasn't silent. Air whispered. Water dripped. The ice creaked and groaned, crackled subtly. No, it wasn't silent--but the sounds weren't reassuring. They weren't the sounds of a living world.

These, Blitz thought, were the sounds of a tomb.

Unwilling to risk a shot, he deliberately drew a knife rather than risk reaching for a firearm if something happened.

"So, I guess you uh, kinda already figured this out... but I don't think this is Phoenix fucking Arizona. Mox, are you..." Blitz had to swallow back a wave of grief, sudden and keen. He closed his eyes, his head spinning. "I guess we... we.... walk. You pick what way we go. I'll follow you." And all my choices are shit anyway. They all turn wrong. Better, much better, if I just follow you.

His voice echoed, the words bouncing away down the halls, distorting eerily as they came back to them.

Moxxie stiffened as Blitz’s hand came down on his shoulder. The touch sent an icy jolt through his spine, and for a split second, he couldn’t breathe. He didn’t blame Blitz. He couldn’t blame him. Blitz was his friend…and Millie’s death wasn’t Blitz’s fault, no matter how many ways his mind tried to twist the story in the dead of night, no matter how easy it would be to place all that hurt on someone else. What he did blame Blitz for was giving him some stupid babysitting assignment watching over Stolas because he was too afraid to talk to him. When he could have been with them. When he could have been with her. Maybe it would have made a difference.

But seeing Blitz, standing there like nothing had changed—like the world wasn’t still crumbling under Moxxie’s feet—was…hard. Too hard.

A dozen angry thoughts flitted around in his mind as Blitz rambled on, trying to sound upbeat, talking about contracts and killing, about “living the sweet life.” The words barely registered. It was all a blur of empty noise, like someone turning up the volume on static. But Moxxie nodded anyway, out of habit, or maybe because he didn’t know what else to do. If he didn’t focus on something, he’d fall apart right there in front of everyone.

His fingers tightened around the mug he was holding. He could still hear her laugh—Millie’s laugh, echoing in his head, blending with Blitz’s words. How many times had they come back from jobs like this, covered in blood, but still alive? Still together?

Not this time.

He forced a breath out, trying to swallow the knot in his throat. “Yeah, I’m ready,” Moxxie lied, his voice quieter than he intended. His eyes flicked up to Blitz’s face for just a second, catching that forced smile, the look in his eyes Blitz was trying to hide. Moxxie knew it too well—guilt. That same crushing, consuming guilt that had been eating him alive.

But there was no going back. No undoing it. They both had to live with the wreckage.

[@doublejango

Has Blitzø made any office toys of Stolas? You know, these things?

He absolutely has. For a while there, he actually had one made out of Stolas's feathers before it occurred to him that he probably shouldn't just have those lying around the office. Not that Stolas can't defend himself, he absolutely can, but if a disgruntled client were to notice them and track his baby down, Blitz would be pretty upset about it. He doesn't know if Goetia feathers can be used against them by just anyone, but if the feathers end up in the hands of someone powerful enough, and skilled enough, to use them as part of their magic? Blitz doesn't want to be the reason something horrible happens to that bird. Not that he's attached, of course. Too much imp to simp, right? Ha.... haaaa..... sorry Blitz, we know you're full of shit.

Unfortunately, his office toys don't tend to last long. Whether he's being inappropriate with them or, as happens more often, launching them into epic battles via office-supply trebuchets and catapults that inevitably either go too hard or break apart, it's a tough life for those office toys. They fall apart, or get cannibalized because the actual supplies become needed.

His current Stolas-Toy is made out of dried glue formed into a doll, and covered in pencil shavings.

It is also stuck in the lemon tree.

The tree is semi-sentient and slightly pissed at Blitz right now, so he's not going in there to get the toy out. If the tree is that determined to keep Stolas-Toy, it can have him. Totally not anything to do with Blitz being in denial about his feelings for Stolas or his hurt or anything like that, he is absolutely not using this as a convenient excuse to just deal with things. He definitely didn't launch the toy into the tree on purpose. Why would you... even suggest... is it getting hot in here...?

He also has a Lucifer-Toy and an Andrealphus. The latter is made out of a tissue and some rubber bands, while Lucifer was painstakingly carved from a bunch of chalk that Blitz glued together. Lucifer, of course, is shaped like a duck.

Hey Blitzø, have you ever fucked someone with your tail? Could you? Please?

[ This whole thing is going under a Read More xD and if you want more information, here is a link to a previous headcanon post that touches on this]

Blitz snorted and nodded, buttoning his jacket. "It's cute that you ask. Who do you think I am? Of course I fuck people with my tail." He brought it around between them and twitched the spade. "It's not completely rigid. I use it a lot, especially during prep if I don't have my claw-cover glove. But sometimes, people are like, really into tail, and I am fucking happy to oblige. Daddy can do," he grinned, "all sorts of things with it."

His tail was every bit as strong as his arms or legs, and while the end wasn't quite as soft as a tongue or as deft as fingers, it was pretty damn close. The appendage was part of Blitz's body, not a tool, and while not all imps had tails as strong or as flexible as his, as dexterous, he was proud of his.

"There's these spines near the end, so that's as far in as it can go, but I mean, that's like the equivalent of fisting up to almost my elbow right? In length. So it's usually more than enough. And there are other ways, other things to do with it, other than just," he clicked his tongue, "sticking it in."

"But hey, if you want a demonstration... buy me dinner in the lounge at Lacerate." Blitz winked. "We'll see where the fuckin' night takes us, huh?"

Blitz probably should have been paying attention to his surroundings. He hadn't been at all reassured by Vaggie being a lesbian, because lesbians were excellent people who also made incredibly badass warriors. When he saw that she really wasn't making any effort to keep Angel against his will, or prevent him from having company though, Blitz had given her a sudden grin and a nod before going off with him to his room. And his room, his room would tell Blitz so much about Angel, if he just looked...

But he was completely in-fucking-capable of looking, because there was a tiny little pig there. Screw Angel, Blitz was in love. He immediately crouched down, slinging the shotgun over his back, and hunched as much as he could to be on the piggie's level.

"Hey there, little fella!" Blitz said, his heart already melting, his plan forgotten, his romantic feelings abandoned. The only thing that mattered right now was this precious little piglet. Already purring, tail already hinting at swishing, Blitz held out a bare hand to let the little guy sniff it. Hellpigs were cute, fuck, they were so fucking cute, but they were also every bit as smart as Earth-pigs, from what Blitz understood, if not smarter. They couldn't be expected to just be okay with everyone around them. They had personalities, thoughts, emotions, and he didn't want to bulldoze over the little guy. Giving him time to sniff, time to decide how to react to the imp? That felt like the best way to go. Voice warm and gentle, smiling, Blitz added, "My name's Blitz. I'm here to try and woo your dad. But I'd like to be your friend, if you're up for that."

A week. A week. An entire fucking week. Angel was a lot of things, but patient was certainly not on that list. He didn't really understand why they would even need a week to process things, when they were kissing and confessing and being absolutely vulnerable with each other. The feelings were clearly there, weren't they? Unless him being so vulnerable had scared the imp away. That could absolutely be the case. Angel Dust knew he could come on too strong.

But, begrudgingly, he had agreed. And it was the longest week of his fucking afterlife. He'd been working ridiculous hours, Valentino trying to keep him away from the hotel as much as possible. He had a feeling that Val knew that Angel was seeing someone - Vox had cameras all over Pentagram City. But he worked through the drugged up, poisoned stupor, coming home and curling up and sleeping knowing that it was one day closer.

Though the closer that the day got, the less excited, and the more anxious he got. They hadn't even discussed anything like a meeting place. Were they going to have a phone call? A video chat? Should he go to the I.M.P. office and try to meet Blitz there? His mind was spinning a million miles a minute, and he didn't even have drugs to numb out his thoughts. Val's poison didn't count - he was trying so hard to be sober, but that was out of his control.

Then the day finally arrived and.....nothing happened. No text, no phone call, no Imp Charming come to sweep him off his feet. Angel had even dressed rather cute for the occasion, wanting to make a good impression. He was starting to think he had been ghosted. It would make sense, honestly. Blitz had probably just been being polite, and decided he needed a week to break it off before it even begun. He probably wouldn't be able to handle dating a literal sex worker with mountains of baggage.

His knees had been drawn to his chest, Fat Nuggets trying to nuzzle him, when he had heard the commotion downstairs. Heard Vaggie yelling his name. He blinked, pushing himself off the bed and heading down from his room, stopping halfway down the stairs as his eyes lit up. "Blitz." Before narrowing slightly with worry, seeing the weapons drawn towards each other. "....are yeh' fuckin'...f' Satan's sake..."

He moved over to the imp, heels clicking across the lobby floor, before he smiled and tossed an arm around Vaggie's shoulders, the fallen angel shooting him a completely exhausted look. "Vaggie, babe, this is Blitz. Blitz, this is Vaggie. Yeh' don't got t' worry about her, she's a lesbian." He laughed, giving the Latina a squeeze before smiling softly at Blitz. "Yeh'....wanna go talk in my room? It's a bit more private."

Vaggie rolled her eyes, Angel holding his upper hands up in defense. "Calm down, Vag! It ain't like that. Yet." He smirked, before nodding towards Blitz. He wanted to take his hand, desperately, but he also didn't want to do anything until they talked. Didn't want to get his hopes up. So instead he is simply shooting a grin over his shoulder at the shorter man. "Come on, my room ain't too far down th' hall." He would be running there if it didn't make him look desperate, though he certainly got there quick, to the door covered in polaroids of him with people he loved. Blitz was definitely up there.

Pushing the door open to reveal the most absolutely Angel Dust coded room ever. Bright neons and purples. Lots of fluff and fur. Giant posters of himself from past performances, posters of Valentino, more polaroids, a huge heart vanity in the corner, and - "Nuggies!" Angel laughed, scooping up the Hellpig and nuzzling into him, before kicking the door closed behind the imp once he entered. "Nuggets, this is Blitz." He nodded, setting the pig down again, watching him saunter over to circle the other's feet, sniffing and investigating.

Blitz didn't get it. He looked over at the strange woman speaking to him and blinked, first one eye and then the other, but didn't get it. The way she stood and the way she had spoken indicated that that was absolutely supposed to be a joke--and it probably was funny, he realized, feeling a sudden rush of empathy. Just because he didn't get it didn't mean it wasn't funny. There had been way, way too many times that he tried to tell a joke that--fuck, not only did they not stick, but they flopped so damn hard they made his face-planting look like a delicate ballet. Not wanting her to feel any of that, he put on a grin and used a foot to push out the third chair.

His companion, on the other hand, had clearly understood the joke. The tall Goetia was laughing softly, his black eyes almost warm with amusement--a miracle for him.

"Hey now," Blitz objected, "someone gonna explain it to me? And you, Jester Tits, sit down and have some coffee with us. It's actually pretty good." Blitz had a beignet that he hadn't touched yet, so he tore it in half and set her piece on a napkin, scooting it over to be in front of the chair he'd offered her.

Vepar stood and touched his chest, bowing his head to her. "Please," he said, "do join us." Glancing over at Blitz, he quickly fingerspelled Justice for him, with a deliberate break between the T and the I.

Eyes widening in delight as he suddenly understood, Blitz let out an abrupt laugh, got up, and clapped the strange woman on the back a few times. "Just ice. Okay, okay, I get it. Spelling ain't exactly my strong suit, but I get it now. Nice to meet you. My name's Blitz--the oh is silent." He almost made a terribly lewd joke to follow that up with, but there was just something about her that made him think twice about it. Plopping back down into his chair, he dumped his water out, poured half his coffee into the water cup, and put that in front of her as well. "This fucker," he said, gesturing to the iridescent blue-green, sleekly built Goetia, "is Vepar, Duke of Loss or whatever. He's a creeper. And I guess--a friend?" He looked at Vepar. "Unless we're sticking with enemies."

"Why not do both?" Vepar gave him a quick smile, then looked back to their new companion, intensely curious about her.

@doublejango

"Blitzo ...did you know justice is a dish best served cold ...because," she snickers, "Because otherwise, it's just water."

I can't believe you would call us out this way... and I wholeheartedly approve! 😂

Saw this on fb & I just think it's @doublejango all the way. Both Blitz and admin.

Do you ever just read something that hits you in such an unexpected and profound way that you need to just step away for a while, but it's good? Like it's a lovely feeling, a somewhat complex feeling, and you wouldn't trade it for anything--it's something beautiful mixed with something sad, but it's perfect. It just touches the loneliness, but it doesn't hurt, it makes you happy? Like oddly, intensely, quietly happy?

Vepar looks to the depths, not to the skies. For him, beauty has always been found in the darkness, in the endless depths of ocean. He gazes into them now, but tonight there is little peace, little comfort. Tonight, the water seems impenetrable. The darkness stares back, accusing, demanding.

Will you ever do better? Will you ever do right? He swirls his claws over the surface of the water, setting the tiniest of ripples free to dance. They, at least, seem joyous. He wants to look away as the water settles, as it becomes only his reflection again--his black eyes, empty eyes, mirrored by the sea.

The water is right to reflect such darkness--and right to ask questions. If only he had answers...

There is much to rectify. He will need to make IMPROVEMENTS and a steep amount of changes, acknowledgements. But perhaps someday, he will be better for it. For now, he sits with the mistakes and wrongs he's made—forcing himself to meet the reflection they provide. No running. No hiding. He must face himself even if doing so tears him apart.

I got to see my cousin today!!! She scared the crap out of all of us with sepsis recently, but pulled through. She lives in Tampa, so I've been trying not to over-worry the last few days about Hurricane Milton, like I know she just survived one terrifying thing I hope to fuck she doesn't get hit by the hurricane, but!!! She just!! Showed up! At my house! I literally screamed and cried, which I almost never do when seeing people, I was so surprised and happy, I could not let go of hugging her.

Holy crap, sometimes a day brings the best surprises of all time!