How Tf Do You Know So Many Birds

how tf do you know so many birds

"I uh... you mean, like, how do I know... bird species? Like those fucking penguins and their bullshit language? Or like, know birds in Hell? Cause," fuck, why was he sweating? Blitz wiped at his forehead.

"Listen, fucker. Just cause I'm into horse shit doesn't mean I can't also like, really like birds. You fall in love with one gorgeous bird and suddenly that's it, they're all basically perfect and you love having them around and hearing their feathers rustle and like, like, fucking--birds of a fucking feather or something, alright?" Grumbling, he closed his sketchbook -- doodles of several smaller birds eating Paimon could clearly be seen -- and shoved it into a drawer.

"How do you not know so many birds? And what are you doing in my office? Here to steal my lemons, whore?"

[ for @goetiiaprince, in response to this cute af moment ]

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"I don't know," Blitz hummed, looking up at him with adoring eyes, thankfully hidden behind those shades.

"From where I'm standing, there's something about you that no one else even comes close to having." Standing up straight for once, he was significantly taller than in his usual hunched posture, and didn't have to stretch his arm quite as high to reach up and hold Stolas's hand. Gentle as could be, because fuck, everything between them felt a little fragile these days, and like it all needed to be handled tenderly, he brushed his fingers along the inside of Stolas's much longer ones, then rubbed his cheek against his palm before letting go.

Blitz settled back down into his usual stance as they walked along, but he stayed close to Stolas--closer than necessary. Fuck, it felt good just to be near him, just to be together. He looked up at him every few steps, halfway expecting Stolas to just leave, preparing to beg him not to go. But Stolas was still there, and that meant... fuck. It meant a lot more than Blitz used to want to admit.

Used to.

But these days?

He reached out with his tail this time, and brushed it against Stolas's leg, glancing up again. "So, are you uh... Are you seeing anyone? You know, these days?"

Smooth, yeah. Real fuckin' smooth.

How hard will you fight for your team and Stolas?

"Hard," Blitz answered, his voice a little flatter than usual. He was at his desk, arms loosely folded behind his head, boots on the desk with one ankle crossed over the other--a posture that might have looked relaxed if not for the sudden suspicion and heat in his eyes.

"Why? You wanna go? Cause I've got the time. If you want to threaten them, any of them, oh, I've so got the time."

Threatening him was one thing. Blitz was used to that. But the people he loved? The imp would abandon all self-preservation, all common sense, if it meant protecting them.

cant believe this is the note we’re starting pride month with

"If I tackle you, it'll be because there's a mattress behind us and you asked me to," Blitz said, unable to help making dirty jokes when opportunity presented. His dumb grin softened again though, and he nodded, picking the drink back up. "Look, that night, that whole con, it was all really shitty. We were both shitty and using each other." The amber liquid held the lights of the club beautifully. Blitz sighed, looking down into it, and swirled it around for a moment.

"There's an annual party devoted to people who hate me," he said, voice cracking ever so slightly. Fuck, he wasn't going to fucking cry. That shitty place had fucked him up, but he wasn't going to goddamn cry. Blitz took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, and met Chaz's eyes again. "But you? Weren't there. You coulda gone. But you didn't. And that means a lot to me. I think... the way you're acting... it's uh. Look, I'm no good at... but this whole thing, your vibes, feels like... maybe people haven't given you enough second chances. Or something. Christ, um..."

Blitz took another swallow of the drink. It really did go down smooth, even if it burned. He closed his eyes for a moment, then looked at the pretty shark again. "Maybe we both fucked our first impressions of each other. But maybe we can like, do better, you know?"

That was when Blitz's date drifted up. Demetri was a beautiful succubus, his expression perpetually sweet, who often liked to flirt with Chaz even if he never really tried to pick him up. He seemed to take in the situation between the two of them with a glance, and he leaned against Blitz. "Hey, Chaz." Demetri's smile was warm.

"You guys know each other?"

"I'm here a lot," Demetri admitted, blushing.

"Of course you are." Demetri had danced with Stolas at that damn party. Of course he knew this shark too. He... fuck. He was nice. Really nice. Blitz offered him the glass, and Demetri took a sip while Blitz looked back at Chaz. "Let's try again sometime, huh? Besides, I uh.. I might... have kind of... fuckin... stolen something from you. That you probably want back? You remember a long leather jacket? I mean if you don't want it, fuck, that thing's snuggly as shit. But if you do...?"

Even if Chaz was in a space he'd grown comfortable in, seeing Blitz again and seeing the smirk on his face slowly but surely made the shame from that night well up back to the surface, not just for selling and pushing himself out to any one who'd allow him into their bed, but for what he ended up doing, rushing out of the manor upon seeing his keys were missing and drugging Blitz to try to keep him quiet, locking him in his trunk and allowing Crimson to try to kill not only him but Millie too. Mobster or not Chaz tried his best to treat his bedmates well, he never forced it on them or tried to genuinely hurt them, at the time he had reasoned it was nessecary for his hail mary plan to work, but in the time since, part of him wished he'd push his utter desperation for someone's warmth in the same bed aside to try to make a compromise with them all, Where'd it even get him? He still ended up sleeping in cold bed more often then not, on the run and crying himself to sleep at how fucked up he made everything and some part of him thinking... maybe he deserved to end up on Crimson's wall of trophies. His mother would certainly be ashamed to see what her son had become, and he didn't even have the jacket she gave him to clutch to hold off that thought...

You could tell he was lost in his head, the glass was already clean but he still cleaned it vigoursly with his claw, more him trying to work out his nerves then him trying to do his job. Maybe, Just maybe if he did this JUST right he could at least give Blitz a decent conversation, a decent night that wasn't him using the Imp who'd done fucking nothing him and he still drugged him. If this went right he wouldn't be forgiven, but he hardly believed he deserved that, but at least he'd actually help someone instead of dragging them down like he'd done all his li-

The way his entire body froze when Blitz caught his hand was the most noticable thing in the world, head just thinking "This is it, He's just gonna pull me over the counter and gut me before I can even do anything" However he felt weak in the knees when he felt Blitz squeeze his hand, the shark doing it back, even clinging a bit when Blitz pulled away but he stopped himself, hoping Blitz didn't notice, standing there like a deer in headlights when Blitz said his name, just hoping the scarf around his head muffled his slight whimper of fear.

Of course he saw through his disguise, it was rushed together and he wasn't the most 'blend into the crowd' kinda demon to begin with, eyes widening at what Blitz said, letting him slide the card over to him before sighing, grabbing the hanging end of his scarf, untying it from around his face and pulling off his shades, setting them both on the counter as he leaned it on it, breating out to calm down, his heart was pounding right now.

"Fuck you just saw right through this huh" He swings the scarf around for reference before he sighed again "Your too smart for me that's for sure, though Im surprised your... giving me this, after everything I did." The shark says dropping the scarf and picking up the card, reading the number over before looking back at him, surprised how soft a gaze he found from Blitz "Um but I... appreciate it, it's really sweet and a lot for a guy like me. I..."

"Im sorry, for all the shit I pulled, that's doesn't change it I know, that's why I gave you that drink on the house, it's actually really expensive usually so I wanted to treat you. It's... the least I could do right?" The shark relented, voice cracking at the end and him wiping out his eyes and breathing in. Looking at the card

"Sorry I'm allergic to a scent Big O uses in here but... are you sure you want to give me this? I sure as hell fucked first impressions with you, that's why I thought you'd maim my ass if you saw me, not... be nice to me. I still won't be surprised if you tackle me right now actually" The shark admitted, he didn't really believe that Blitz wouldn't hurt him right now, he deserved it right? Everyone else who was around that day wanted to kill him after all.

Fuck. From the first word Stolas spoke, everything was better. It didn't matter that he came out ready to fight. It didn't matter that the two of them weren't even really, well, the two of them anymore. Stolas's voice made the world right again. Nothing could ever be wrong, not really, as long as Blitz could hear his voice. The imp had barely even reacted when Stolas came out ready to fight. Part of him was worried, because he understood the things that made a person react that way, but the rest of him?

Just seeing Stolas, in any form, felt wonderful. Blitz was growing weary, more and more so the closer dawn drew, and he felt strangely detached from himself, but Stolas's mere existence filled him with a familiar, nostalgic, bittersweet warmth. When Stolas went back in, huffy and adorable, Blitz followed him...

And stopped in his tracks when he realized Stolas saw the blood. The wounds.

Fuck. Blitz swallowed hard as his former lover started touching him, undressing him. His entire body was battered -- deep bruises paired with deeper lacerations from long, sharp talons -- but right now? Injuries didn't matter half as much as they should. Stolas was touching him, and that felt like home. Stolas's caring put a lump in the imp's throat. He smiled, blinking away tears, and reached out to carefully slip his claws through the feathers on Stolas's head, gently preening, gently caressing.

Fuck, he had missed him. Touching him again, smelling his feathers, the scent of a bed only half slept in, even the alcohol on Stolas's breath...

"Don't help me, Stols," Blitz cautioned him. He touched Stolas's chin, hoping to meet his gaze. "Something bad happened. I don't remember all of it, but I'm... pretty fucking sure I murdered a Goetia tonight. A Duke. Vepar. I don't... know... how the bird brigade handles this kind of thing, but don't imagine it'll take them long to find me. If you help me... let's just. Fuck. Let's not get you in trouble, too. I just... shit. Time to get real gay here." Blitz stepped closer, desperately wanting to hold him, hands moving to Stolas's arms. "I wanted to see you. You know. One last time."

Because it would be a last time, wouldn't it? The thought left a quiet, oddly numb feeling lump in his stomach, but right now, it didn't matter.

Right now, he had Stolas.

In the time since Verosika’s Halloween party, Stolas had been living in a constant state of depression. That night, he had used alcohol once again to mask the pain he felt, having seen Blitzø there who didn’t seem to care enough to fight for him. Stolas was so tired of the constant games from the imp. He had thought that maybe spending the night with the incubus who asked him to dance would have eased his anxiety. It was fun in the moment-he couldn’t deny that but he was also deeply inebriated. His drunken mind pretending that he was living out a scene from one his romance novels where he was the princess who was swept off her feet by the adoring knight. It was silly, it was childish, and entirely unrealistic. 

The incubus had wanted to go home with him after, Stolas had been tempted if just to stick it to Blitzø that he was wanted by another but the incubus was so kind, he didn’t want to use him like that. He thanked the other as the night came to a close, the incubus asking to see him again, handed over his number on a napkin. Stolas took it and thanked him but he hadn’t touched it since. 

***

The palace was a lonely place without Octavia in it. She had been staying with her mother at Andrealphus’ home for some time, they hadn’t exactly been on speaking terms for reasons Stolas couldn’t understand. Part of him wanted so badly to tell Octavia about the abuse that her mother inflicted on him but he knew that would only cause her distress. His daughter would never understand why he had wanted a divorce so desperately but he would have to make peace with that somehow. However difficult that was going to be in his loneliness and isolation. 

Stolas had never done well alone, Octavia had his one source of comfort for the past 17 years but now…he had no one. The drinking was arguably becoming a problem. Every night he would pour a few until he was tired enough to sleep, hoping it would abate the nightmares that seemed to come to him every night now. He felt like he was slowly losing his grip on reality, all alone in the endless rooms of the palace. The staff would often come across him just walking and walking around the property with no destination in mind. 

***

It was just another night like the many others that came before it. Stolas had a few shots of whiskey until he was tired enough to try and get some sleep. He wasn’t sure what woke him when he sat up suddenly, his breathing labored as he looked around frantically. Ever since Striker had shown up at the tea shop, Stolas was always on high alert. He threw off the blankets and stood on shaky legs, grabbing on to the bed frame for support, his free hand glowing with magic. He wasn’t going to let Striker best him this time, even if he sometimes thought about what it would have been like to die that night…

Using his magic, Stolas blew open the balcony doors, his eyes glowing, the red and black form of his eldritch starting to creep along his limbs. He was about to attack whatever the shadowed figure was before him when he noticed the familiar shape. Stolas pulled back with a screech of surprise, his eldritch form hiding once again. “B-Blitzø? Is that you?” He stepped closer, the imp being illuminated by the moonlight. “What are you doing here? I could have hurt you!” He nearly growled in annoyance, the magic dying out.

Stolas huffed in annoyance, leaving the balcony doors open in invitation but going back to his room and pulling on his robe before sitting on his bed and crossing his arms, waiting for an explanation from the imp. 

He was about to scold Blitzø for sneaking on to his property when he noticed the blood that stained his skin and clothes, the lacerations that adorned his body. Stolas gasped, getting up quickly and kneeling before the imp, all anger having dissipated. “Are you hurt? Who did this to you?” He was frantically pulling off the torn clothes, his talons running gently over the smaller cuts to seal them with magic. The larger ones he could heal but it wasn’t going to be easy.