For @poisonedspider - Continued From Here, Because We Love Angel Dust And Cleeaaaarly Never Want Anything

for @poisonedspider - continued from here, because we love Angel Dust and cleeaaaarly never want anything bad to happen to him

-

"Oh, it's plenty fuckin' sus," Striker agreed, his voice calm and his eyes steady as he studied the spider. "Business like this always is, ain't it? "I hope you'll forgive me for tyin' you up. I plan to keep you that way until you give me some assurance you ain't gonna try to kill me, because I'd hate to have to put you down in a way that sticks. Can't have you respawning and going off to warn your pet Overlord." Although there was some heat to his words, everything about his body language was calm, self-assured. The imp didn't seem worried at all about things going badly, nor did he seem to have any actual animosity towards Angel. If he had to kill the beauty, he would, but it wouldn't be personal.

"I ain't the one that took you down, by the way. Someone else knocked you out, delivered you to me. And now, you're way outside'a your boundaries, kiddo. You get free of me, you'll be loose down in Wrath, and I don't think that'll end well for you." They were in a dingey little motel room, or so it seemed, but there was a distinct lack of noise. Up in Pride, in Pentagram City, there was always noise. Whether it was gunshots, screams, cars backfiring, or hotel residents fighting Heaven, Pentagram City was always bustling. One had to actively seek out silence, find solutions like noise canceling headphones or soundproof privacy booths.

But here?

Outside of these walls?

It sure sounded like there was nothing out there. Not another soul. No roads, no shouting. Nothing. Wind whistled and shushed around the building, and bits of dust filtered in through a small crack in the window, the precursor to a slowly approaching sandstorm.

Now that he'd given the spider at least half an understanding of what was going on, Striker picked up a bottle from where he'd left it on the sink. He unscrewed the top and took a swig to show that it wasn't poisoned, then poured a bit out so Angel could see what it was. Water, sure, maybe boring, but it was good and clean, and didn't smell like sulfur the way damn near all water in Hell did.

"So. What's it gonna be?" He crouched down and offered the bottle, tilting it so Angel could drink if he chose to. "You gonna cooperate with me, behave yourself?" Something in the dryness of his tone, or maybe the way his eyes never so much as strayed down the rest of Angel's body, implied that whatever Striker actually wanted from him, there wasn't going to be any sexual coercion or misconduct here. "Or do I leave you tied up here 'til you ain't useful to me anymore, then give you that long sleep you Sinners got robbed of?"

The Full Moon - "novelization" of THAT scene, contains full spoilers.

It is okay to reblog, but please do not repost. The dialog lines are all taken directly from the show, I didn't write them! Like I said in the title, this is just a 'novelization' type thing of the scene--all of the staging, beats, etc, it's all Vivziepop & Crew! This is just my take on the episode, of course, please don't be angry if it doesn't jive with how you interpreted it! Also, this is largely from Blitz's point of view, other than at the very beginning, but please don't take that to mean I am at all anti-Stolas. I adore him, adore him, and am not blaming him. This episode was wonderful and felt like such a realistic way for things to go.

-

Stolas could do this. Somehow, somehow he could do this, he could get through the day. He wouldn't think about how many hours overdue he was for his antidepressants, which were gone. He wouldn't let himself think about what would happen if this went poorly--but of course, that was all he was thinking about. What if this went poorly? He sat on the edge of his bed, trying to be calm, trying not to fidget, and failed at both. Blitz would be here any minute; soon, their lives together would begin, or they would end.

Nothing could remain the way it was.

His heart was racing and his hands were cold. This was the right thing to do, he knew it was, so why did it feel wrong somehow? Why did he feel like he was standing on the edge of some terrible precipice? Why did it feel like he going to do something cruel? This was kindness. This was right. This was the only way he could even ever begin to convince his darling Blitz of how he felt. Love could hardly flourish under chains.

But then again, maybe Blitz wouldn't even come tonight. Maybe it would be one more night of disappointment and loneliness--and maybe part of him was hoping for that. Stolas sighed and hung his head, disappointed in himself for thinking it, yet unable to deny it: if Blitz didn't come, he wouldn't have to do this. Everything could stay as it was for another month, and they could live just that much longer in this beautiful, terrible lie.

As he thought it, a large bag was hefted over the balcony railing, as if Blitz had gathered up everything he'd stolen that wonderful day in their childhood.

Stolas's stomach felt like it was full of lead.

This was happening.

A moment later, Blitz appeared, climbing up over the balustrade. "Hidey-ha-hoo-ha, Stolas," he called out cheerfully. He sounded so playful, so happy, could it be so wrong to just--let this happen? Just once more?

The beautiful, darling, dangerous little imp dragged the heavy bag into the room, unaware that he held far more than the cloth in his hands. Stolas's heart was there somewhere--it had been from the beginning.

"Guess what I got for us? I got lots of fun shit for us to--" Blitz struggled with the bag--"play with tonight!"

Look at him. He was smiling. He was happy. He was even dressed differently than usual, so nicely. Stolas should smile too. He should get up, play along, say something, invite him closer, anything, but he couldn't. For a moment, he couldn't speak, couldn't move. His heart was too heavy. He wanted this, wanted the pleasure of another night with his beloved in his arms--

But he couldn't continue treating Blitz so cruelly.

Blitz deserved better than that. He always had. It didn't matter that Stolas had never meant to be cruel, he told himself, for he knew that he hadn't; all that mattered was that now that he understood the cruelty, he needed to do something about it. He had to protect his lover, even from himself, else Blitz's consent could never mean a thing, and that was a line that horrified Stolas to understand how he had tripped and danced across it.

-

"Like this extra large candle that smells like..." Blitz plastered his face against the glass and breathed it in, "horny!" Getting the damn candle had been more of an ordeal than it should have, but it was worth it. There was something about the smell, and while he often bought toys that he thought Stolas might like, the candle felt a little different to him--special, maybe. He couldn't just say that, that would be weird, but since it was sex-themed, it was safe, right? Stolas couldn't reject him for this, couldn't be upset about it. They were here for sex, it was going to be amazing, and if he could do anything to make his damn bird smile, he would.

"I got..." He dove back into the bag. Christ on a stick, he'd picked up way too much shit, hadn't he? Picking up a small plug, he made a face. When did I even buy this? "I got... whatever this little guy is, but..." No. No. Don't show doubt. Just keep this fun. Keep it light. He grinned and looked back at Stolas. "But I'm sure there's some place in your cloaca where you can stick it." He tossed the little plug aside, aware that Stolas really hadn't reacted to, well, anything, and pulled out the special toy Fizzie had pulled out for him. Thank fuck he had this, because Stolas was being oddly quiet, and the heat felt like it was on. If he couldn't please him...

Fuck worrying and fuck thinking. They were going to have a great fucking time. Everything was going to be fine.

"And look at this bad boy!" Flipping it up into the air with a flourish, he activated the toy, letting the massive cock take shape, tentacles whipping wildly. The rich red light behind him cast dark shadows on the floor, towards Stolas's feet.

Stolas still didn't seem to be reacting.

He was just... staring?

Was this not enough? Fuck. Stolas was a Goetia. Incredibly powerful, incredibly resilient. Almost nothing could hurt him--other than the shit Striker used on him, fuck that angelic bullshit--and so finding toys to at least give Stolas the pretense of danger was hard sometimes. Hard, but worth it. He usually seemed to like the more intense things--those bear traps felt more like a soft bite, Stolas had once confessed to him--so this should do it, should be close to edgeplay for Stolas, but...

What...?

What was going on?

Blitz looked at Stolas, trying not to falter.

"Do you...?" Stolas coughed quietly, clearing his throat, and seemed to intentionally soften his tone, but his next words still came out brisk. Businesslike. "Do you have my book, Blitz?"

Blitz's stomach dropped.

Something really was wrong.

He shut the giant vibrator down and made himself smile. "Yeah, uh, yeah. It's... right here." Blitz fetched the heavy tome out of the bag. The beautiful blue book seemed to get heavier every time he held it. Right now, it felt like it weighed far, far too much. "I, I always bring it." This would be fine. He walked closer to Stolas. "Why do you...?"

"I need it back." Stolas held out his hand and Blitz slowly started to give him the book, but then the beautiful owl said one more word: "Permanently."

Oh no.

Oh no.

Oh no.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck.

Blitz whipped the book back out of reach. "Perman--hold, hold on Stolas." Clutching it to his chest, he tried, he tried not to sound like he was freaking out, and he tried to put that smile on. Fake it til you make it, right? That shit could count in this kind of situation too, sure it could. Think. Think, asshole. He's obviously mad, so what is he mad about? Figure this shit out. Figure this shit out and fix it, but keep it light. Don't fuck this up. Don't fuck this up. "Now, hold on. Is this because I've taken up skipping a few rounds with you in bed because I'm busy? That ain't fair." He held up a hand, closed his eyes. Don't panic. Smile. Eye contact. Move towards him. Do it. "I, I, I, I can still hold up my end of the bargain. Right? Let, let me show you a good time tonight." Stolas's hand was still outstretched, so Blitz reached for it. "You know I can."

But Stolas didn't let him touch him. He pulled his hand away.

What was happening?

Blitz's heart was beating faster now. The room was starting to feel different. Unfamiliar.

"Please," Stolas said quickly, tightly, closing his hand as if Blitz might have burned it if they'd touched, "don't say it like that, Blitz..." He wrapped his arms around himself.

Like what? How else should I say it? Isn't that what he wants? What am I doing wrong?

"Come on, bitch." Blitz rested his hand instead on a warm knee. Stolas looked different, felt different, felt a million miles away, but his body still felt the same under Blitz's hand, and that had to count for something. "You know I don't disappoint." Fuck, look at that precious blush on Stolas's face. Blitz tried to make his words into a purr, a promise, to make it everything Stolas might enjoy--but Stolas was...

Recoiling?

"No!" Stolas got up quickly. "No, no, no. There's no need. I've made up my mind."

Blitz stared as Stolas turned and walked away from him, leaving him.

He's leaving.

Blitz had fucked up.

He wasn't--he wasn't good enough. Loona was right. Stolas was bored with him. Or disappointed, or something. Maybe he had realized that fucking an imp was just a novelty, fun for a little while, but that he could do so damn much better.

Stolas's long legs took him across the room so quickly--away from Blitz so quickly, and he carried the book with him.

No. Focus on the book, asshole! Not on how it fucking feels to... If he lost the grimoire, they were all screwed. Millie had family that were relatively safe to go to if she stopped being able to pay rent, but they would probably treat Moxxie like shit all over again, and that bitch Crimson wasn't going to be any help. Loona would be fine, right? She would be fine if I.M.P had to disband. She might even be happier away from then, and--and they would all go. Because if he couldn't employ them, what the fuck was anyone sticking around for, and Stolas was taking the book away and without it they would just be imps, the bottom of the fucking foodchain again, having to fight their way up from the bottom not to even get on top, but to just get out from whoever was stepping on them next.

Blitz started after him quickly, but reigned himself in as much as he could, stopped himself from running up and just grabbing.

"Stolas, please, don't... I--I need this this book. Please!" No. Calm down. Calm the fuck down, Blitz. If you panic, he'll throw you out. He'll see the desperation and know how weak you are and he'll throw you out. Calming himself, at least outwardly, Blitz lowered his head.

He knew what he had to say.

It was what he always had to say. Maybe never to Stolas before, but there had been others.

Fuck, there had been others. People thought they only wanted Something, but the truth was, they always wanted Everything. No boundaries allowed. No limits. Full submission or nothing at all. He had to offer everything, a blank check. There was no other choice.

"I need this book, Stolas." Blitz felt sick. His hands had been cold a moment ago, but now all of him seemed to flush with an old heat, an old shame, the kind of filth you couldn't wash off no matter how many showers you took, because he knew. He knew what could happen when he offered this, but he had to do it.

Tears burning his eyes, hot and heavy with all the shame and the old memories, Blitz forced the words out: "I will do anything."

But Stolas didn't take the bait.

He turned around, smiling that sweet smile of his, and shoved a box into Blitz's face, some fancy fucking jewelry-looking box. What the hell? What--what was this? Blitz's head was spinning, or maybe the room was. Maybe the floor was tilted. Maybe there was just nowhere left to stand.

"This," Stolas said, sounding calm and pleased as his grimoire floated beside him and he revealed a lovely amber crystal, seemingly oblivious to the fact that Blitz had just offered to sell him everything, including his self-respect, including his consent, his autonomy, just to keep the book, "is an Asmodean Crystal." He looked happy? How could Stolas be happy right now? But he went on. "It's registered in your name."

Blitz was struggling to keep up.

"A... what?"

Stolas seemed to light up at being asked, and his grimoire opened, a lovely little illusion sparkling to life above it, illustrating how Blitz could use the crystal apparently. Maybe Blitz should be paying attention to that, but he couldn't take it in. Just understanding Stolas's actual words felt hard right now. Trying to make sense of any of this, it was...

Fuck.

It wasn't working.

Oblivious to how he felt, Stolas went on. "Asmodeus has his demons legally travel to Earth for work all the time," he practically chirped, warming to the subject as if he had rehearsed it.

Fuck. He probably had.

Stolas snapped the grimoire shut. "I made the case for you to own one! You will be technically under his jurisdiction, but, you will be able to go anywhere you want in the human realm, without fear of consequence." He left the boxed gem in Blitz's hands and turned away yet again, walking away to shelve his grimoire.

Blitz studied the box for a moment, but his eyes went back to Stolas. This still didn't make sense. None of it did. Why was Stolas brushing him off like this? What..?

Stolas looked at the grimoire for just a moment, his expression incredibly sad, as he added, "Without breaking demon law." He managed a smile, but it didn't last long. As he put the grimoire on the shelf, putting away their tether, snapping the tie that had bound them, there was grief on his face.

Why? Why the fuck was Stolas doing this if it was making him sad? What did--what did it mean? The crystal was beautiful, sure, but it was... it was...

The grimoire was out of reach.

Was Stolas, too?

Stolas turned back to him, his voice quiet and genteel, and Blitz studied him, trying to take in every detail, every clue, studying him like he'd never seen him before.

"You no longer need my grimoire," the beautiful owl said.

He didn't sound happy about it.

"Whaaat?" Blitz tried to brighten the mood, to make it playful, to take this back somewhere safe, but Stolas didn't take the bait. If anything, he only sounded more and more distant as he went on.

"You..." Stolas paused for a moment, for one terrible moment, where if he would just reverse course everything could be okay, but he didn't. "You no longer have any obligation to see me, to touch me, to..." He hesitated again, and Blitz could hear that touch of shame in his voice, "to bed me. You are... you are free of me."

The words were recognizable. Blitz understood the words. But why did Stolas say them like he hated saying them? Why did he say them like something felt dirty? Like he had to wash something away?

Wash... Blitz... away?

That couldn't be what he meant.

This couldn't be happening.

Blitz's expression was entirely unguarded. His playfulness was wrong, mind whirling, heart breaking because it already knew, even if he was refusing to hear it.

"I.. don't... understand. Why are you giving me this?" Blitz gestured at the beautiful crystal again. There had to be a better explanation than that rambling crap Stolas had just offered, because every mixed signal there--Stolas wasn't happy about saying any of it, so why the fuck would he say it? He had the power here. He could say anything, ask for anything, so did he...

What was happening?

I'm doing something wrong. Think, think, fuck!

"Am I not like... fucking you good enough?" Blitz asked, and that felt right. Of course. Like Loona said, he was probably just boring to Stolas now. Maybe Stolas sensed that Blitz couldn't keep up with the crazy shit they got into--maybe Stolas sensed the truth, that there was a vanilla streak a mile fucking wide inside Blitz. Maybe that disgusted him and he didn't want anything to do with it, and, and, and.. yeah! That had to be it! And that was fixable! Hope came rushing back and Blitz started breathing again. "Because I could always, I can always do better," he protested, nodding, but as Stolas moved closer to him, crouching down to be closer to his level, he felt the desperation taking hold again, felt the edges of the world turning sharp as they began to crack.

Stolas didn't want to hear it. Wouldn't let him say it. He didn't care that Blitz could do better. That was the thought running through Blitz's mind, the truth hammering home. It didn't matter how he begged or pleaded or what he offered, Stolas had made some horrifying decision and now he was sticking to it and he was doing it so kindly and so distantly and it was fucking terrifying.

"Blitz." Stolas's tone was gentle but firm. He took the crystal in one hand, Blitz's left hand in the other, and Blitz couldn't move, couldn't breathe. "I'm giving you this because," his beautiful owl went on, "I care."

Stolas smiled as he said it.

As he pressed the crystal into Blitz's glove.

Blitz couldn't move.

So much for breathing.

Their arrangement had felt like a torment sometimes, for so many reasons, none of them Stolas's fault in Blitz's opinion, but as he felt that magical weight pressed into the glove, it felt like chains for the first time.

Or like the smashing of every wall.

Like living in a greenhouse. Some little plant, growing a new flower slowly, because it was safe, but then it didn't grow fast enough and the storm came and the glass broke and there was nothing left but the howling nothingness.

No safety.

Stolas was hurting him. Not physically, but it fucking hurt all the same. Hurting him. But he was being so gentle. So polite. So kind.

Why is he doing this? I love...?

Stolas was still speaking. Right. He had to listen.

"...very deeply for you, and I have for some time."

The crystal bonded so smoothly, its presence a warmth and a weight, almost alive, almost like someone holding his hand. There was no denying the precious magic to it, the immeasurable value, and under any other circumstances, Blitz might have been thrilled to get something like this...

But the crystal felt like a replacement. Not for the grimoire, but for... for Stolas. For them.

Blitz stared into his eyes.

Don't make this be real, Stolas. Please? Please, don't make this be real.

Stolas wasn't even meeting his eyes. "But this... transactional thing we have," he said, gesturing vaguely in the air, as if a gesture and a few words could sum up whole nights spent together, warm and ridiculous and sometimes rough and always good, and the wonderful mornings that came afterwards, "it's not right, anymore." Stolas's beautiful red eyes were finally on him now, his expression pleading, "it hasn't been, it never was. And now, all I can see is how wrong it is to be so tethered to someone in such an unfair way and not know how they feel."

Stolas said it like he was pleading. Like he was begging Blitz to understand. On some level, Blitz recognized that. But at the same time, the words were hitting him like blows, buffeting him and he couldn't understand, couldn't think.

Wrong.

Tethered.

Unfair.

Blitz looked at the crystal again, unable to take his hand fully back, barely able to move. Was this--what was happening? Why was Stolas speaking to him like they were already a world apart...?

Stolas must have sensed how lost Blitz was becoming, because he brightened his tone, even smiling a little as he went on. "But I want you to continue to be who you are. Your business!"

Blitz looked down at the crystal, finally lowering his hand. Be who he was? Without Stolas? But without Stolas... who was he now? When so much had changed? How could... How could Stolas go from grieving to pleading to persuading to this cheerfulness? What did he want? Mind whirling, Blitz was just trying to keep up when Stolas lowered his head and said the words that stopped everything.

"You don't have to stay here with me."

A flash of white static in Blitz's mind--then panic.

No. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO.

The bird took off his top hat and smiled at him, still here on the ground with him, low enough that he wouldn't loom over Blitz, wasn't overshadowing him, dominating him, like he was close when he, he, he, he fucking wasn't. He was still talking from somewhere out of fucking reach. Didn't he see that? Didn't he--what was he doing?

"But I... I want you to," Stolas said. Did he? After the way he'd sounded so ashamed earlier? After all of these messages bouncing back and forth so quickly that they weren't even mixed, they were just a chaos of atoms crashing around in the void.

"I want you to stay here with me," Stolas said more firmly, "because you want to. Only. If you want to."

Go.

Go if you don't want to be here.

Only stay if you do. If you're sure. If you understand--but how the fuck could he understand? Everything was flying at Blitz so quickly that all the velvet in that voice couldn't soften the blow. Barely breathing, hardly even aware of his own body, all Blitz could do was feel--feel himself flailing in that howling chaos inside, the emptiness, and try to grasp at any answer. This couldn't be happening. This couldn't be happening--

So maybe it wasn't.

Yes!

That was it! That had to be it. This wasn't happening. Stolas was playing a game and wanted Blitz to play, too. Thank fuck!

Blitz's chest eased up some and he smiled and, even if felt a little forced, even if he heard his own desperation, he said, "Ohhhh, okay. You're fucking with me! This is an interesting roleplay. Never done this one, but I can get into it. Alright, how's this, alright..." Play. Play, play, play, play, play. Play. Play. Blitz walked away to the bed, pressed his back against one of the posters, and struck a dramatic pose. Kinda rude to jump into a roleplay without talking about it first--they usually were pretty good about saying what they wanted and didn't want out of heavier kink scenes, the one bit of communication they did fucking right--but he wasn't gonna shame Stolas for that. Fuck, thank fuck that was all this was! Blitz threw himself into the roleplay with enthusiasm. "Oh, Stolas, I'll stay with you!" He danced towards him. "I love you so much, I--"

Stolas held a hand up, firm, in front of his face, a silent command:

Stop.

Blitz stopped.

"Thank you, Blitz." Stolas stood.

The gap between them was rushing apart again. Doors were closing on something precious.

The cold was back.

The howling void.

"For awakening me," Stolas went on, his voice so kind, so tender, so loving. "For making me so happy, even if only for a little while." He put his hat back on.

No.

No.

Blitz had fucked up.

This wasn't a roleplay.

This wasn't a game.

This was real.

This was real and he had fucked it up. He was losing Stolas. He was losing Stolas. He hadn't understood and he fucked it up and he was losing him now and--

Stolas started for the door. "I wish you the best with your business," he said, suddenly brisk and formal, impersonal.

"Wait, what?" Blitz turned after him, still racing to try and recover, to find his footing. The ground had been unstable after all, but the world wasn't tilted anymore, it was upside down. "You were--serious? Hold, hold on now, Stolas. What the fuck?"

Stolas gripped the door. "I have my answer, Blitz. You needn't say anything."

He left.

Blitz ran after him.

"I have wanted you for so long," Stolas mused, justifying, aching, striding down a darkened hallway, the paintings covered with dropcloths as if Stolas expected to be leaving soon, as if he had begun saying goodbye long ago. "The fact that you couldn't believe that I might have these feelings about you..."

Feelings?

Blitz was chasing him, but the words Stolas was saying were like chaotic punches, blows coming, shattering everything. Feelings? This was real. Feelings? This was real and he had fucked up and Stolas was walking away and he couldn't just let him go, he couldn't--he had to stop this! Fuck!

"...that your first instinct is that it's always... about sex," he said it like it was such a tawdry thing, when it was wonderful between them, fun and beautiful and so, so much of what they had had, what was already gone, what was bleeding out between them too quickly to be staunched, "that's enough to know what this is."

"What?!" Blitz demanded, shock beginning to turn to something else. He couldn't keep up with the shock, with the pain, with being gutted, with being ripped off the plane he knew and thrust into something else, but there was one way he could survive this. He could fight. He could fight Stolas, fight this, fight the terror, the bleeding-out of their relationship, he could fight. And he wanted to. He wanted to--he didn't want to. Fuck, he didn't want to at all, but he needed to. Stolas wasn't fighting to keep it, so Blitz fucking would.

"FUCK YOU, Stolas! You spring this Feelings bullshit on me, are you fucking kidding?" Stolas just kept walking, but so did Blitz, following him into a grand hall, empty but for the light and their voices, his echoing with his own ugliness. The doors tried to close on him, but he kicked through them, determined not to let anything get in between them. "Can I get a fucking minute to think after everything you put me through? You pompous, rich asshole!"

The word was like a blow. Blitz felt it land. He hated it, but he couldn't take it back. He couldn't back down. He had to fight this, he had to fight, to fight Stolas, to stop him from leaving, to chase him and explain and get time to think and to understand because maybe, maybe they wanted the same fucking thing, maybe they could be on the same page but if Blitz opened that page, if he even looked at that page, and he opened himself up to it, and Stolas wasn't there too? He wouldn't recover. He wasn't good at this shit, at feelings and sincerity and opening up, but that didn't mean he didn't want it. He was bad at love, but he wanted it, fuck he wanted it, needed it, craved it, and he felt it. Love was there, fueling the anger, fueling the pain, bruising the air between them as he shouted at the only man he truly wanted, who was walking away because he didn't want Blitz enough if Blitz couldn't give him an immediate answer, if Blitz was reeling from the whiplash, if Blitz hadn't spent all day thinking about this too and...

What the fuck?

How?

How was this happening?

How had this all blown up so badly?

Bltiz was breaking. Adrenaline surging, he paced and turned, tail lashing.

"Treat me like one of your little butler imps? You can't just dismiss me like that!" Snapping out of it, he stalked after Stolas, fury making him so much braver than his desires ever could. "I mean, you royal fucks think you can do this every time." Raw. Too true. Too open. Too honest. His throat ached and his eyes burned and tears began to fall. "That you can just play with our feelings because we're smaller and not as important!"

Stolas stopped, and so Blitz did as well, feet spread, tail low, balanced to fight. Stolas wouldn't look at him, so Blitz went on. Fuck it. What was there to lose now?

"Well I'm not letting you, bitch! LET'S GO!"

FIGHT ME, STOLAS.

TURN AND FIGHT ME.

FIGHT ME SO I CAN PROVE THAT I WANT YOU.

FIGHT ME SO WE CAN HAVE THE TIME I NEED TO CATCH UP AND BREATHE AND UNDERSTAND.

I CARE.

DON'T YOU SEE?

I DO CARE.

I'M HERE. CHASING YOU DOWN. FIGHTING FOR US WHEN YOU WON'T.

I'M RIGHT HERE!

FIGHT ME!

WHY WON'T YOU FIGHT ME?

His voice echoed in the room and he knew, even as he shouted, that Stolas wasn't really there anymore. Stolas wasn't really hearing him. He hadn't been hearing him since he left the bedroom.

Blitz was losing this fight, but he wasn't going to give up. Chest heaving, he stood still, waiting, hoping, fearing, needing.

Stolas was very quiet for a long moment, but when he spoke, everything was there in the first tone of his voice. Heartache. Goodbye. It was over. It was over.

"Blitz," Stolas said, kind to the last, even when he was the cruelest thing that had ever happened in Blitz's world, "I think so very highly of you." So much self-composure, self-control--

But then it snapped, and when Stolas's voice broke, Blitz's heart broke right along with it.

"I didn't realize," Stolas was crying now, his voice tight, on the verge of losing all control, "you think so low of me."

Eyes widening, Blitz straightened. What? Was that really what Stolas thought he was saying? Didn't Stolas know how beautiful he was? That his voice was in Blitz's dreams every night? Didn't he--no. Because I didn't tell him. I have to tell him.

"Goodbye, Blitz." Tears ran freely down Stolas's face.

No. No, no. Blitz could fix this. He understood now. He reached out, leaping forward. "Stolas, wait. I'm sor--"

But magic swirled around him.

Stolas was gone.

Blitz stood below the steps of the palace.

The doors were closed.

Stolas was gone.

"What..."

Stolas was gone.

"The..."

I did this.

"FUCK!" he screamed into the sky, but there were only echoes now. No one was listening.

Stolas was gone.

"Nope, no, uh. That you don't," Blitz said, only then realizing he had proposed out loud. Oops. Sometimes, it might be nice to keep those intrusive thoughts to oneself. But hey, the proverbial cat was out of the bag, and it was way too late for takebacks. Besides, he didn't really want to take it back. She was---shit, who wouldn't want to marry her?

So, putting on a grin, he offered his hand.

"I'm Blitzo--the O is silent. I kill people for a living, love your work, and think we'd make one hell of a team. How about it? Wanna get married for a week, have a fuckton of fun, make some mistakes, and not regret a damn thing?"

He probably wasn't getting out of this conversation alive, but hey, worth it.

@doublejango replied: Immediately propose

"....Do I know you?"

Blitz would probably never admit that he would have been crushed if Angel said no, but when the performer said yes? The imp's golden eyes seemed to brighten and he stood up a little straighter, obviously delighted. Even his tail seemed to be a little more perked up now, in a higher arc above him, and his smile was genuine. Blitz was hardly the kind of polished company he figured Angel usually ran with, but goddamn it, he was going to make the most of the chance to meet this guy. Getting to know someone who had so many different skills, whose charisma kept anyone around him on their toes? This was a day Blitz was never going to forget.

It would all end in flames, of course. Anything good was bound to crash and burn. But hey, fuck it. Life was all about crashing and burning, so might as well enjoy a couple barrel rolls along the way, right? Or so he told himself, before getting confused by his own metaphor.

"Neither have I. My daughter told me 'fuck no' when I invited her, and my employees kiiiiiind of looked at me like maybe I've lost my fucking mind," Blitz admitted, although he sounded ridiculously entertained by it, "so thank you for being the one person who is down to go check out some fuckin' fish with me." He offered Angel his arm, practically bubbling, he was so damn excited about this.

-

When they stepped out into the street and some asshole Sinner immediately leered out a car window and shouted something crude at Angel Dust, Blitz didn't even hesitate; a pistol was in his hand before the fucker had even finished shouting, aimed at his face.

"Keep driving, bitch!" Blitz shouted back.

Wisely, the Sinner immediately put the pedal to the medal.

With a satisfied little snort, Blitz put the gun back inside his jacket, continuing on like nothing had happened, like he hadn't just revealed to Angel that maybe the pretty spider had just agreed to hang out with a nutjob.

"So when you're not hanging out with imps," he said, as they made their way to the new aquarium--there were signs all over the block now, advertising 'real Earth fish!' which absolutely had to be a lie, but was such a good lie that Blitz was hooked--along with a sizable crowd of other curious people, "what do you do? Like, for fun? Do you have any favorite shows, or hobbies, or anything? I know, awkward fuckin' small talk, right? But like." He hopped over a puddle of blood, not in the mood to have to clean his boots when he got home. "I'd kinda like to be friends? And this is how we start that shit, right?"

Continued for @doublejango

There were a million things going through Angel's head as the other talked, ranging from somewhat cocky, to immensely depressed. He was flattered that the other thought he was a good actor, especially considering how terrible Travis' scripts were. He learned to work with them, but oof, some of them could be hard. But at the mention of the content of the plots, Angel pursed his lips together, staring off for a moment. Almost lost in thought. Things had gotten dark lately. And though Val hardly ever wrote the scripts, he wondered if it was a reflection of their relationship.

Being able to hurt Angel while it being part of his contract, like some sadistic fuck.

He snapped out of it, a soft smile on his face, leaning onto his elbows with a cheeky grin. "Yeah, well, that just shows that yeh' have seen mah' work." He purred out, no shame in pointing it out. It wasn't like that was a shock, most every sinner had seen him on screen before. Half the televisions were flooded with pornography, and with his looks, his channels often got the most ratings. "If it makes yeh' feel betta', ah' agree with yeh'. The plots suck and the scripts are tacky as fuck." He laughed, shrugging. "Ah' preferred when there were actual stories. Oh! Like the one where ah' got to be a pop star. That was fun." Plus, it had given Angel a chance to sing.

Speaking of. "Ah' will say mah' new music video is hot though. Yeh' should check it out." He teased, before staring at the hand extended to him, placing his in it and giving it a squeeze. "Pleasure. Yeh' already know mah' name, so. Bet yeh've moaned it a few times, too." A wiggle of eyebrows, before he was blinking. Being hit on was one thing, but this was different. Almost to the point he didn't know if it was a joke, or how he was meant to respond.

"A....vampire squid?" He blinked, not sure what that meant. Hell was full of random demons. The man he confided in the most was a fucking cat with wings, for crying out loud. Still, he sipped at the coffee he had purchased - fucking coffee shop AU - using the time to think for a moment, before giving a nod. "Yeah, sure. Ah've never been tah' the aquarium." Most of the places he was taken were obvious - clubs and bars. A change of pace might be nice.

Art not mine

Fuck all of this bullshit. Blitz heard Angel out, listened to every damn word, and he hated all of it, because he understood. Angel didn't seem to think he would, or could, but that was the damnable misery of shit like their lives: one couldn't help thinking they were suffering more than others somehow, or that there wasn't any way things could get better, or that someone couldn't understand.

The imp's tail wasn't often very animated around people he didn't know well, but he and Angel had been becoming friends recently, and he cared now. So, seeing Angel's distress, hearing it, and feeling his own, his tail started to twitch in sinuous little frustrated movements.

Blitz looked at their hands for a long moment, then shook his head and turned away, letting go. He started pacing.

There was shit he didn't tell people. He didn't tell Stolas. He didn't tell Moxxie. Only one person he could even remotely consider a friend knew, but nobody was going to ask Fizz about it, and Fizz wouldn't squeal on him anyway.

"You don't need to protect me," Blitz said. "If Valenfuckingtino wants to try shit with me, he's welcome to. I've dealt with a lot fucking worse. I know, I know. He's dangerous. It's Hell, everyone's dangerous, everyone's an asshole. And I do." He looked up, golden eyes practically blazing, and stopped pacing. "I do know the life of a sex worker. Not all of them are--completely fucked up by it. And some of them--us," he amended, tears shining momentarily bright in his eyes, "started real fuckin' young, because we didn't get a choice." The anger and shame made his voice break, and he quickly turned away from Angel.

"So Val's a psycho. Who here isn't?" Blitz pressed a hand to his face. "I just... don't want to lose you as a friend, alright? Whether that means I need to march in there and beat the shit out of Val," not that he really believed he could, but Blitz would try, and he would use every resource and trick at his disposal to make it work, "or we just pretend everything's fuckin' fine so we can cope, I don't... just...

"Don't leave. Alright? Please. Don't... leave. Me?"

Continued for @doublejango

Angel felt terrible for laughing, but it was impossible not to. Here was Blitz, thinking that he was going to fuck up Angel? It was the funniest joke he had heard in his afterlife. Sure, he still didn't know Blitz fully to a degree, but they all had their secrets. Especially in Hell. He shook his head, hiding the rest of his giggles at this point behind two of his hands, before snorting and pushing his hands through his hair. "Yeh' hysterical. Good one. If yeh' don't already think ah'm fucked up, yeh' clearly don't know the life of a sex worker."

He stressed, in a way of trying to affirm to Blitz that the imp would never be able to do more damage to him than he had already done to himself. He was certainly caught off guard, however, by the next things out of the smaller's mouth. The way that Blitz developed a sense of anger, enough so that Angel immediately laced his bottom two hands together, wringing them a bit nervously. He could handle anger, but he always prepared for the blow that was to often come from it.

"Ah' ain't wantin' tah' puss out." He stressed, shaking his head. "It's just, yeh' don't know mah' boss. And ah'm tryin' tah' protect yeh' here." Because he cared immensely about his friends, and protecting them, and putting their safety before his own. Before he could even explain just how cruel Valentino could be, Blitz was putting his hand out to him, Angel blinking at it in a bit of shock.

He stared at the extended hand, fighting off the urge to cry at it, taking Blitzo's hand in two of his own and gently squeezing the offer. "Ah' can't." He whispered, hating how broken his voice sounded, hating how much leverage the Overlord had over him. "Ah' can't run away, Blitz. Mah' soul is fuckin' under contract. Ah' literally can't escape because ah'm not...." Free. He couldn't say it. But he wasn't allowed to make his own choices, and he knew it.

"Ah' want this tah' work. This...whatever we have. Ah' like it. Ah' like you." He stressed, punctuating enough that his accent didn't even catch on the word. "But ah'm always gonna have tah' go tah' him first, Blitz. He pulls the strings. And ah' don't...ah' don't want that hurtin' yeh."