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?"

Yes. Usually no, but he likes to take care of Stolas fully, which means in both of his forms <3 Blitz adores the heck outta both of Stolas's bodies. So whichever his dumb fluffy baby is feeling that day? Absolutely. But, you know, they tooooootally weren't like, a Thing. Not at all. Not at all.... lemme just run off and sob now

...

..

.

do you think.....

do you think he

do you think

do -

BLIIIIITZØ ROCKING THAT OUTFIT (and Millie with long hair!? EXCUSE ME!??)

🔹 Saying that it's okay to write or read about dark and taboo topics but only when they're portrayed in a certain way is still censorship.

🔹 Wanting to ban or forbid media that you believe portrays a negative topic in a positive light, by glorifying, romanticizing, or fetishizing it is still censorship.

🔹 There is no objective metric to decide if a story is portraying a negative topic the 'right' way.

🔹 Just because a piece of fiction doesn't explicitly condemn or portray an evil action in a bad light in the text doesn't mean the author thinks its good or is trying to persuade the audience that it is good.

🔹 Survivors of trauma will not always write fiction about their trauma in a way that seems 'right' or 'normal' to you.

🔹 Banning fiction because it portrays dark, taboo topics in a way you consider gross or disgusting is still censorship.

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.

"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?"