A Clean Cut.

A clean cut.

The souls already freed.

The studio shut down, the limousine sold.

Vox should have been watching. He should have been watching. He never spied on the other Vees, he never violated their privacy like that, not unless they wanted him to for some reason, but now he regretted it. If he had just been spying, if he had been prying, he would have known--

But maybe there were other things. Other ways he should have known. Valentino couldn't have come to this conclusion, and already executed his plans, without any warnings signs. Had they been there? Had there been moments Vox missed? Something in his eyes, in his tone, or silences that lasted a little too long?

Had Valentino felt alone the entire time he was making this choice, making these plans?

Mind whirling, Vox listened. He listened, walked over, and was down on his knees, his hands on one of Valentino's legs, looking up at him, trying to memorize his face. Not just to take an image, because images were cheap, they were a dime a thousand, and they weren't the same as a memory. They weren't the same as knowing someone. Remembering how the light hit their skin, remembering the heat of them under your hands, or the way they smelled, the way their voice made you feel. He was losing Valentino--he had to be. Because what Val wanted... what Val wanted, where he was going... Vox could never go with him. He couldn't be redeemed. He couldn't do better, not the way Valentino wanted to--

But maybe, maybe, he could do one thing.

His hands tightened around Val's leg. There were actually tears on Vox's screen now, little droplets that burned his eyes as they slid down, sizzling, to drip from a corner.

Val had already done this. Of course he had. He set his plan into motion, he took every necessary action, everything that would have to be done to ensure Vox couldn't stop him. Which meant there was only one form of damage control to take here--and only one choice to make.

"Let me come with you," he said, his voice quiet, tight, maybe a little hoarse. "The Vees won't--without you, Val, I don't care. I don't want the prestige. Not without you. You have come to matter to me far too much, more than anything else. So if you're going, if this really means that much to you... Velvette's the smart one. She can handle things. She doesn't need us. Let me come with you. I'll release my contracts. Do whatever it takes. Whatever you need. I don't want to lose you, Val.

"Not until the end. Not until Heaven takes you. Because that's what you want, isn't it? To be welcomed into their arms?

"So let me stay with you. Let me--protect you, at least. I won't interfere. Whatever it takes to help you find... find what you need." Valentino was better muscle than Vox was, he always had been, he had the street smarts, but it didn't matter. Vox loved this man. He loved him. Being the Vees meant more than just the image, important as that had been: it meant loyalty, at least to Vox. And if he couldn't stay loyal to both of them, he would stay loyal to one of them. This one. This soul. This man, who he would always choose, in the end.

Until the end.

Val's own fingers twitched when Vox withdrew his touch. Sensing that his words were beginning to truly sink in. The physiological changes made it obvious, the familiar glow was usually a sign of a euphoric slip of control. But not on this night.

What followed was a bombardment of questions, quickly making Valentino feel overwhelmed as each desperate inquiry inflicted more agony than the last. All of his preparation, the explanations he had concocted beforehand, threatened to crumble under the crushing weight of guilt.

But Val had sworn to himself that he would tell Vox the truth.

ཐིཋྀ "I freed all of them.", he confessed, holding his partner's thunderstruck stare.

"Every soul contract I made is undone. I shut down the studio, sold my limousine, and made arrangements to move out of the penthouse."

Because Val didn't want there to be even the slightest chance that he would back out of his plan. Not after the eternity it had taken him to find the courage to attempt to change. It was now or never.

"I have two places I can move to, I've yet to decide which one it's gonna be. But Vox..."

He leaned forward in his seat, red eyes glowing with conviction.

"... I'm not doing this to hurt you. I know my resignation will weaken the Vees and I'm sorry for that. You can sell all of what I leave behind, I won't be keeping much. I promised myself that if I'm going to do this, I'm going to see it through to the end. A clean cut... will make it easier for all of us. Which doesn't mean that we can't be together anymore. Just that a lot of things are going to change."

How sensitive are Blitzø's horns?

They're not sensitive to touch in any kind of sexy way. Blitz feels if someone or something is touching them, but it isn't a pleasant sensation for him. Most of the time, having his horns touched is going to piss him off, unless the person doing the touching has his permission. Anyone who grabs his horns without express permission is never going to hear from him again, no matter how good they are in bed--same with his tail and his spines.

But what his horns are sensitive to are vibrations and temperatures. If there's a weird high-pitched frequency buzz in the air, it'll bother him, specifically in the horns. He feels vibrations in them that he can't necessarily hear. High, low, distant, etc. He intensely dislikes sharp buzzing feelings in them, and that can make him cranky.

His horns are also full of blood for roughly the first two-thirds. There's a lot of spongey, living bone and tissue in there, with a lot of blood-flow. They help keep Blitz feeling cool and comfortable if he's somewhere particularly hot. And if a horn were to be broken? It would be agonizing. Deeply agonizing, and potentially a life-threatening injury given how much blood-flow he has to them, depending on how it was broken and if the bleeding could be stopped. Imps survive without horns, but that doesn't mean it's easy, y'know?

(He will always, always be horrified for what Fizzarolli had to endure. Blitz will never forgive himself for that).

Be careful who you Roleplay with.

I mean... I try? Kind of? As long as our writing styles are compatible, I'll write with just about anyone. If someone starts demonstrating that they're an unsafe person to interact with, if they start guilt tripping people, etc, I will eventually unfollow them on my own, but I would really prefer to be left to do that on my own. I deleted the other ask. Am guessing your intentions are good, but at the same time, I just really don't want anons about my partners, please respect that.

I'm not mutuals only though, and am also not a "one strike?? Jail forever!" person. If I have to unfollow someone for a while, odds are I'll probably feel bad about it and refollow them later. Unless it has been a long, ongoing pattern of behavior, it's almost always something I can just shrug off after a bit.

I really, really don't want "the tea." If there's tea, it'll eventually spill in front of me. Please trust me to see it on my own.

Aaaand this got longer than I meant for it to, I'm sorry. Again, I believe your intentions are good, but I would rather not know.

Any particular physical insecurities Blitz has? His horns, tail, his scars, etc?

Not really. He sometimes gets frustrated with himself for walking flat-footed rather than up on his hooves like Moxxie does, for example. It's not especially comfortable, and actually does cause him some pain, while also fucking with his balance a bit. But, walking this way is the result of an injury when he was younger, and Blitz just straight up never did physical therapy to get himself walking properly. He's fine, he has adapted, but sometimes he wonders if maaaaybe he would be a little more graceful if he just did the work to be up on his hooves. But that's a lot easier said than done.

Helluva Boss + Text Posts

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