Blitzos Inbox - Tumblr Posts - Page 2
Pssst, hey Blitz…
Go drink a Venti Traditional Misto with soy milk and two blonde shots, adffogato and Ristretto, along with three vanilla pumps at the very bottom. :)
Blitz nodded, listening to Moxxie talk about the drink, and continued sipping on his Sweet Valentine smoothie. Tail happily curled, eyes bright and cheerful, he had nothing to say. Sip, sip, sip.
Besides. If he said anything right now, he might have to remember the horrible trip from that entire affair, and that was more than Blitz wanted to. He still had nightmares about it sometimes, still woke up in a cold sweat.
Besides. What could be better than this smoothie? Although it was almost out, he realized, and looked down at his cup as if it had personally betrayed him, more than a little heartbroken.
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?"
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.
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."
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!
The prince's lips come close to Blitz's ear, feather-light touch to the back of his horns; there, and gone within an instant before they settle instead on his feral lover's shoulders. ❝ I thought of you today while I was out, ❞ he begins, lips curving into confident and fond smile. Stolas steps away to pull a heavy velvet bag from within his pocket. He was grateful for it provided the gift it carried. From within, Stolas produces an intricately crafted knife that was almost black, were it not for the shifting sheen of its blade. It changes upon movement like the iridescence of corvid feathers. At the base where blade met hilt, was a singular engraving - a B for his name. ❝. . . one can never have too many weapons, in your case at least. ❞
Blitz had closed his eyes at the wonderful contact from his lover, leaning his head back and reaching up to caress his head with his claws, but he didn't try to hold on. He watched as Stolas moved around him--and then, when the knife came out, his lips parted and his breath caught.
It was beautiful.
There had to be a catch to something so stunning, but it didn't matter. If Stolas trusted it? That was enough for Blitz. He would let his prince ruin him, ruin every last part of him, without hesitation, if that was ever what Stolas needed. It would be a hell of a way to go.
Hand closing around the hilt, a pleased shiver moved through him. The knife fit. It fit in his hand like it was made to be there, and he could practically feel it hissing with eagerness to be christened. Thoroughly charmed by the beauty, the imp turned the blade from side to side for a moment, just watching the way it shimmered, how dark the reflections were, before he looked back up and met his baby's eyes.
"The first person it kills will be in your honor." Leaning up, he kissed them tenderly--even as his tail wrapped hard around their waist, the spade angled away so as not to cut him, but the grip tight. Possessive. Unyielding.
"What can I give you in return, my love? Would you like a prisoner skinned? Would you like to be tied to your throne and toyed with? Parts of you... sealed with wax?" The words were crude, but they were also love, pure love.
Blitz's eyes were never brighter than when he looked at Prince Stolas.
DJ just leaving this to let you know you are incredible
sshhhh, come here, i love you friend. mine now <3
Does Blitzø prefer to be the big spoon or the little spoon?
The big spoon, always the big spoon. Given how pokey he is, it's the safest for whoever he is sleeping with, because he's less likely to accidentally hurt them that way. With spines on his head, horns that absolutely could be a deadly weapon if he needed them to, or if he just forgets and fucks up with the tip of a horn in a dangerous spot like against someone's throat, and spines on his shoulders that he prefers don't get squished or pressed on? He's hard to cuddle from behind.
That being said, he really does enjoy it when someone manages to get comfortable behind him and he trusts them. But given how rarely that happens? Blitz prefers to be the big spoon. He likes to hold his lovers close and listen to them breathing, listen to their hearts. He likes to know, really know that they are safe, and the only way to be sure of that? Is if they're in his arms, where no one can get to them without him knowing, where the world will never be able to sneak in and steal them away.
....Blitz is fine and absolutely not terrified of losing people, what do you mean?
It feels like a shameful, selfish thing to want, but goddamn does Blitz crave that anyway. He will fight for the people he loves, he will fight for fun, he will fight for himself. He'll absolutely refuse to remember his own safety if one of his family is on the line. Fighting is safety for him. As long as he can fight, the world isn't so terrible. So when he can't? Snuggle him. Snuggle him, and teach him that maybe, once in a while, he doesn't have to fight to be loved.
All of that being said... if he's exhausted, like genuinely exhausted, dehydrated, and in all around poor condition, the spines between his shoulders will flop more easily to the side without hurting him so much. They're the only ones that aren't deeply anchored in his muscle or to bone (their structure is very different and they have a huge blood supply, and quite a few nerves especially around the base), and so at times when they're limp, he would love to be the little spoon. To just be held for a while, when he can't be the one to do the holding?
Do you ship Pesto and Moo Deng?
Blitz snorted in cheerful amusement. "Aren't they like, babies or something? Seems a little early to ship anyone. And listen, after Antarctica I'm not sure we should trust Pesto. His parents probably engineered him to keep growing so he can just eat people in a single fuckin' bite, mark my words. Penguins are something else. That precious little hippo deserves so much better.
"That being said..." He twirled a pencil over his fingers. Pencils were great. No wonder they made antibionics out of them. "If those two fall in love, more power to 'em. Forbidden love ain't all bad.
Invitation to Blitz (Guest of Dishonor)
Hey Blitz, It’s that time of year again! You’re cordially (or should we say “reluctantly”) invited to be the guest of honor at the Annual Anti-Blitz Party on Earth. Yes, you read that right.
The event will be held on 31 October, and it’s going to be an absolute roast fest—literally. Your exes have RSVPed, and they’re ready to, um, "celebrate" all things Blitz. Expect lots of sarcasm, brutal jokes, and a few sharp-tongued jabs.
Body armor is strongly recommended, and maybe even a helmet this year. We don’t want you running away after the first burn!
Time: Whenever you stop avoiding us Location: Earth (The spot where your ego will be publicly fried)
So, bring your thickest skin, your snarky comebacks, and get ready to face the fire. Who knows? You might just survive the night!
Sincerely, Everyone who’s ever been annoyed by you
P.S. There will be cake—but it’s probably poisoned.
And just like that, the entire year of trying to heal since seeing Stolas at Verosika's last party evaporated. The months that had felt like fucking ages, the work he'd been so proud of himself for doing, it all went up in smoke as that same feeling returned--the dark, ugly reminder of what he really was to people, of all he was ever going to be to them.
Blitz was growling by the time he made it to the end of the invitation; anger felt safer than letting this keep on breaking him down. Before he could bite the paper though, a gentle hand touched his. Startled, Blitz blinked and looked up--Demetri had come out of the bedroom. A year ago, he'd been wearing that Better than Blitzo tee, and now here the two of them were, shacked up in a fucking hotel room like it hadn't happened... but only because it had. All of it had. Wordlessly, he handed Demetri the invitation, then went over to get a pot of coffee going.
The incubus wrapped a sheet around himself--loosely, prettily--and settled down onto the couch to read the card. When he tossed it aside and looked at Blitz again, he snuggled down into the corner of the couch, his eyes soft.
"How do you feel about being invited?"
"I don't--fuck, I don't know. Worse?" There were no filters. Of course there weren't any filters. Sulking, really not in the mood to chew his coffee, Blitz went to join him on the couch. He had only planned on sitting next to him, but when Demetri held the sheet open, Blitz sighed and crawled into it with him, letting himself be held. "Guessing you got yours."
"Yeah. There's a whole Fangbook group for it, and it's been a trending tag on HellTok for a few weeks now."
Blitz sighed and closed his eyes. I miss Stolas. Fuck, I miss him so bad. But that ship had sailed, and rightly so. Stolas deserved so much better--and for all Blitz knew, because he sure as fuck hadn't asked, Stolas had had better, probably with this guy right here.
"What the fuck do they want me to do? They're fucking stalkers. Yeah, great, they care, but that's the fucking thing--they think I owe them my caring back. They think I owe them my, what, my whole life? All of my fucking happiness? That they're all entitled to my fucking suffering or some shit, because they want me and I don't want them? Just because you can fucking stalk someone doesn't mean that person owes you shit. And yeah, maybe some of 'em... some of you," he amended, and could feel Demetri wince a bit at the word, but he didn't contradict it, "had a legit fucking grievance. But just wanting someone isn't... it's not reason enough to do all of this. Dennis is one of the bros because he's sulking he didn't get to fuck me when I couldn't have consented even if I wanted to. Half the people there, I never even shared a drink with or flirted with, I just... I'm fucking..." Anger abruptly dissipating, Blitz could hear the tears threatening in his own voice. A year of trying to heal, and what had he accomplished? Closing his eyes, he turned to press his face against Demetri's neck.
"I know, man. I've always known." Demetri sighed and rubbed his chin against Blitz's little head-spines, in between his horns, then closed his eyes and just settled in to hold him. "Can I give you some advice?"
Blitz didn't respond, but the little thwap of his spade splatting against Demetri's leg was answer enough.
Smiling sweetly, since Blitz couldn't see his face right now, he went on. "Don't go. Don't let them break you. They are stalkers. And they are obsessed. It's predatory. People like to feel justified--and there's no cheaper thrill than feeling justified in harassing someone they deem undesirable. It's a human impulse, one that unfortunately is pretty pervasive among our kind. I went... and until Stolas sang, I was hating being there. What you and I shared before--it was worth it," he said softly. "Or at least, I thought it was. I didn't realize how serious the party was going to be, or how many people were buying into the mob-mentality and the hate, or refusing to work on their own healing 'cause they thought, whatever, it's all his fault, and there's nothing I can do. And that's bullshit.
"I like Verosika. She's a lot of fun. But she's also an alcoholic. She's not over you and she never will be at this rate. She hasn't hit her rock bottom yet, and doesn't want to change. She stalks you. She whips this furor up every year... and yeah, some of her points? Are legit. You did fuck you. You've fucked up with a lot of people. But that doesn't mean you need to turn yourself over to them. if you go, these people aren't going to use that as healing. It's not going to help them. Even if you go and laugh and dance on the tables and it feels like everyone is having a good time--babe, I really don't think it's going to help anyone. And I know it's not going to help you, exposing yourself to all of that imagery and violence. If they wanted to heal, they'd be trying by now. They'll just get worked up all over again, and someone's going to get hurt. Physically hurt. Probably not you," he admitted, smiling fondly again, although a little sadly. "But you'll have every right to defend yourself.
"Don't go, Blitz. And don't talk to anyone who does--not unless they come to you, wanting to work on healing whatever rift is between you." Which was something he'd seen Blitz doing with people over recent months, and what had ultimately convinced Demetri that Blitz was safe to be with again. This idiotic imp was trying, he was hearing people, and being genuine with them, and Demetri felt good waking up next to him now, on the rare occasion he got to. "Yeah, it sucks. But you're allowed to live your life. Like you said. You don't owe them your suffering or entitlement. If people want to talk to you, they can reach out, right? I mean--I did," he added, laughing softly, but with a trace of pain in the sound. The last few months had been rocky for them--a lot of conversations that ached, not even because of their history, but just because of who they both were, where they were in their lives... Demetri sighed and nuzzled one of Blitz's horns, silently asking permission. When he felt a little nudge from it, he knew that was a yes, so he raised a hand and wrapped it around one of the horns, stroking in slow, soothing motions.
"Besides. If you go to that party, how are you going to go to the BDSM Club Crawl?"
That made Blitz laugh and sigh, his breath warm against Demetri's chest. After a moment, Blitz came out from the cuddle, moving both of them so he could sit on Demetri's lap and straddle him.
"You really don't think I should go? Let them get their fucking hits in? Cause, listen, just because they're assholes for the stalking and shit, doesn't mean they deserve to be like, completely written off."
"No. But the party is not the right way to engage with them, baby. I think that some people are... a little too impulsive these days," Demetri said, trying to soften his tone, feeling a little guilty for speaking badly of people, but believing it all the same. "Anger feels good. Being part of a club feels good, even if they have to hold on to their anger to stay in it. They like to believe that anyone imperfect is inherently evil and deserves to be harassed and shamed. It's their issue, man. It's not yours. You've been trying to do better with people, I know that. Just because someone decided to stalk you? Doesn't mean any of these people own you. Stalking does not magically give someone the right to own you."
Blitz cupped Demetri's face in both hands, studying his eyes. "You still in love with Stolas?"
Demetri laughed. "Yeah. A little. Or a lot. He's... pretty great. You?"
"Completely."
"You gonna tell him?" Demetri slid a hand up one of Blitz's thighs. It hurt a little whenever the two of them talked about Stolas, but it hurt in a good way, a way that felt right. Demetri considered Stolas his friend, he had ever since meeting him, and he wanted so badly for the idiots to get back together once they were both ready. His own love for Stolas was genuine, but it was something Demetri didn't necessarily need to follow through on--no matter what his heart claimed to want--because he knew he himself wasn't ready for anything serious yet. Besides, seeing two people who were maybe meant to be together? It felt kind of beautiful, kind of precious. He shipped the idiots.
"Yeah," Blitz promised. "Whenever he's ready to talk." Words that had felt easier to say last year--but a year of silence, a year of nothing? Holding onto hope was starting to fucking ache. And deep down, Blitz wasn't sure Stolas would ever... no. Fuck that. Those were thoughts for later. Right now, he had a beautiful guy in his arms, and Demetri needed love just as much as anyone else did.
He took Demetri's hand and looked at it, looked at his wrist. "You guys really never scar, do you?"
"Not on the outside," Demetri whispered, sudden anxiety making his stomach drop. "Blitz, that wasn't your--" but his words went quiet as the imp pressed a tender kiss to the place he'd used to need to keep bandaged. Sudden tears blurred his vision. "I know I can't keep you," he whispered, "but I'm happy to have you right now, Blitz... I'm..."
Blitz hugged him tightly, and when Demetri abruptly clung to him and burst into very quiet tears--quiet because the incubus had learned it was better never to sob aloud, because that was one of his traumas, something he hadn't yet overcome--he just held him, stroked his back, and let him cry it out.
"Come to the club crawl with me," Blitz suggested, when the crying ended.
"You sure? I don't--I'm not trying to get in the middle of--"
Blitz kissed him on the forehead, soft as could be, then kissed his lips, even if they tasted like tears. "I'm sure," he promised. "And you're not. Come with me... and I can show you pictures from my cult."
"Your what?"
"Yeah! I didn't tell you? Some sweet goat started a cult because I put the Mark of the Beast on him and chose him as my companion. I'm actually gonna stop by and check in on them all later today, if you want to--"
This time, it was Blitz who couldn't finish his statement. The incubus was laughing in delight as he practically flung Blitz down, kissing and kissing and kissing him, saying yes in between those kisses, laughing so freely that it left Blitz aching with delight.
Stolas might always be there with the two of them, in different ways and for different reasons, but it felt good, it felt so good, to have rebuilt their friendship, to have this.
Fuck Verosika indeed, and fuck her party. Blitz didn't want to live in their past. He wanted to live in his life--and right now, that life had wonderful company in it, wonderful friends, and family he adored more than anything.
It was a life worth living.