Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“I guess you were just... creative.”

“Only as creative as you were flexible.”

The breath caught in Stolas’ throat, both at the innuendo and the sudden dip, suspending him beyond the railing, one leg up in the air. He should have flailed desperately to right himself in fear of falling. Instead, his stomach swooped with adrenaline and exhilaration. Instead, he felt safer in Blitzø’s strong, confident arms than he had since he didn’t know when. 

Instead, the words and the feelings bubbled up and out of him in a laugh, the likes of which he didn’t even know he could produce anymore. 

It was a relief. When was the last time he’d laughed at anything? When was the last time he’d laughed at anything sober. It felt almost alien, his laugh. 

It sounded a bit tinny and warped to his own ears, somehow both too loud and muffled like it was far away from him. 

As his body was effortlessly righted, practically floating at the slightest suggestion of Blitzø’s arms (and who knew he could lead like that, not outside of the bedroom anyway , unholy fuck) , he found himself glancing down at Blitzø’s mouth, looking softer than ever before. 

And when his eyes flicked up, he caught Blitzø’s eyes making the same trip down to his beak and back again. 

He felt his face heat, and knew his blush matched the one he could see on Blitzø’s.

This is it, he thought. This is the moment. Every dream, every fantasy coming to life before his eyes. Not just a com-com, but one of the corny holiday ones.

It even had all the right cast members. The Prince, the Hero. The evil snow…man. Bird.

Although…the Prince usually is the hero, and there is a damsel in distress. 

Maybe it’s the other kind. Where the rich city asshole learns the meaning of life and love while the down to earth heroine, who hated him in the beginning, softens and  sees the beauty inside him. Or something like that. 

…yeah that sounded like them.

The point was - here he was. 

This was The Moment. He didn’t even have to imagine the music. It was the perfect follow up to the kiss they shared in the heroic rescue scene from earlier. He couldn’t have written it better himself. This was everything he wanted. All he had yearned for since Blitzø came crashing back into his life. 

What he’d only dared to dream about in the quietest corners of his mind for years. 

It was here and it was perfect.

…But he was wrong. He felt hollowed out, like he wasn’t even all there. 

As he looked into Blitzø’ eyes, wide and tender and full of…emotions Stolas couldn’t begin to name, he knew he should be feeling. Something. Anything. Or at least… more . 

Because it was there. The fluttering in his tummy, the heat high on his cheeks, around his eyes and spreading around to his ears. The yawning desperate loneliness and the tiny embers of hope that were trying to flare up, even as he stood there, frozen. 

And then Blitzø smiled - he really smiled, all the way into his eyes, which grew impossibly warmer as he leaned in. And before Stolas could decide how he felt, how he would react to the kiss, Blitzø' arms, strong and warm, had wrapped around him, and Blitzø’ chin was settled on his shoulder. 

He stood frozen, looking up at at the full moon hanging low in the sky as Blitzø adjusted his grip, feeling numb. 

And stupid. Of course Blitzø wasn’t going to kiss him. 

This was exactly what he thought before. Blitzø felt guilty. 

For some reason, Blitzø felt that just because Stolas had stopped him from being fucking executed , it balanced out all of the other shit. At least with their arrangement, (which he couldn’t think of without feeling sick and shaky at his disgusting behavior), he was able to provide Blitzø with something in compensation. Not that that, or his own stupid naivety, was any excuse for the…coercion at best (at worst, something he couldn’t even bear to think ). Now there was nothing. 

No, it was worse than nothing. He couldn’t give him anything , he could only take. 

Blitzø fed him food that he had to catch himself (and Stolas couldn’t even be grateful for). He took Stolas to get clothing to wear, going so far as to look for clothing that Stolas might like, too expensive for him to buy, spending his hard earned money and putting himself in danger when it wasn’t enough. He  tried to teach him how to do the most basic things to take care of himself, despite how fucking hopeless he was at fucking everything. 

He gave up his fucking bed . Every meager bit of privacy and comfort he gave or shared with Stolas. 

And worst of all, his kindness.

This wasn’t the Imp that had climbed into his garden and screamed in his face. It wasn’t even the Imp that showed up on Full Moons, full of swagger and oozing sex appeal. 

This Blitzø that was kind and patient and gentle with him was almost unrecognizable. 

Except…he wasn’t. Stolas had seen glimpses of this Blitzø before. Mostly around his daughter and his…Mille and Moxxie. His family. Why would he waste that on the demon who kept him on a fucking leash?

But now he was. And Stolas knew he didn’t deserve it. Not any of it. 

But…here he was, standing under the light of another full moon, with romantic Sinsmas music floating out from the party, with this amazing demon’s arm wrapped around him, warm and comforting. 

It had to be pity. Guilt. Obligation.

…But what if it wasn’t? What if Blitzø really did mean all of it? Every moment of patience in the face of Stolas being a capricious bitch, every moment of gentle comfort when Stolas felt like he would break apart…every moment of today, every step of the dance…and saving him from death at the hands of his brother-in-law. Saving his life, defending him with his brash crudeness that Stolas so adored, kissing him mid-air and ensuring that he landed first and gently set Stolas on the ground. Like he was something to be protected, something precious. Something loved. 

Have a great fucking life with him, Dad.

He felt the swooping in his stomach turn to a cold nausea, his arms leaden at his sides, and his hope turned to ashes in his mouth.

This moment with Blitzø was so sweet, and so perfect, and he hated himself. 

How could he? What gave him the right to feel comfort, or safety or the most meager shred of happiness? 

His chest felt hollowed out. In the space where his heart had been, there was only a fucking void – an open maw that screamed and screamed in silence. 

He was disgusting. Pathetic, worthless. 

And Via had been right.

Blitzø had been able to coax Stolas back inside after their dance ( god, that dance), for a little while at least. And although he wasn’t able to talk him into actually joining any of the holiday games – he did pull Stolas over to the sofa by the hand, spin him around and settle him back with the slightest suggestion of pressure on the bird's hips.  

And he had folded down so gracefully, still following Blitzø’ lead, as if they never stopped dancing.

And Blitzø had just stood there for a single enchanted moment, and simply looked into Stolas’ eyes, much closer to being level with his own. And as he looked, it struck him. Those eyes that he’d long thought to be so open and expressive now looked warm and comfortingly familiar and yet strangely new with his glowing white pupils. 

It was a constant reminder of Stolas’ sacrifice and newfound vulnerability. And Blitzø thought that his guilt would be clamouring the loudest in his head in response, but instead, the sight filled him with a warm pool of tenderness and the ever-growing need to protect. 

His mouth quirked up into a soft smile...Aaaaand that was the moment that Moxxie’s drunken ass had stumbled right into him from behind, pitching him forward practically into Stolas’ lap, catching himself with one hand braced on the sofa back to the left of Stolas’ head and the other landing on his shoulder, one knee on the couch cushion, pressed against the outside of Stolas’ thigh, and the very tip of his right hoof touching the floor between Stolas’ legs.

The sounds of Millie containing Hurricane Moxxina, said Hurricane’s giggling, and a fair few cat calls barely registered from behind him. The adorably startled hoot and flustered expression on Stolas’ pretty face had his full attention. 

Blitzø felt his own face heating but still had the ability to smirk deviously, while leaning in further to breathe “I’m gonna show these bitches how it’s done” into Stolas’s ears. 

He enjoyed the sight of Stolas’s feathers ruffling up in response for another beat before whipping around and yelling, “ALRIGHT, SETTLE DOWN, SSSLUTS, and Loonie,” he gave her a winning-smile and which she returned while cheerfully flipping him off.  

“Who’s ASS to I have to LICK, Loonie-Tooooooonie” he sang. 

“KICK, Blitzø…it’s kick” Moxie interjected, and then dissolved back into giggles. Blitzø just slithered to a seated position, and settled in with his back against Stolas’ legs. 

“Let’s fucking PLAY, bitches!” he said, showing his teeth . 

~~~

The party had gone on late into the night – but by the time 2am rolled around he realized Stolas had once again slipped outside and he wasn’t sure how long ago. 

Time for bed, he thought. Gotta clear these fuckers outta here. 

Then he could go fetch his birdie and get him snuggled down to get some fucking sleep.

Although he winced at the thought of asking Loonie’s friends to leave…

Luckily for him, Millie had been more restrained than he’d ever seen her at a party, choosing to play Designated Domme to her lil Butt Baby, letting Mox get all drinky n’shit instead of getting fucked up herself. So when he cleared his throat and half-heartedly mumbled that it was getting late, Millie had caught his eye, looked toward the fire escape, stood up and began to corral the partiers towards the door (ultimately picking Moxxie up to carry him out). 

His worry about ruining the ending to Loona’s night shifted quickly into delight and relief when she turned and shouted that she was gonna go crash with her friends .

Apparently they were going to stay with Russ so they could get “these baller ass skillets at this brunch place in Gluttony – ‘seriously they put all kinds of shit in it and I HAVE TO TRY IT!’ – called Hangover’s Bangovered” (yeah he was gonna make her take him and Stolas sometime in the future. 

On her way out the door she had leaned down to hug him with a “Happy Sinsmas, Dad,” filling Blitzø’s heart with warmth. And when she asked him to tell the same to the ‘Big Bird’, he wasn’t ashamed to admit he might’ve cried a tiny bit, watching her bound out the door with a little overnight bag slung over her shoulder. 

He cleaned up as much detritus as he could within  2 minutes, and made sure the couch was dry and crumb free, before turning off the overhead lights, leaving only the soft glow of Sinsmas lights strung around the room.

His stomach fluttered as he stepped out on the fire escape only for it to plummet straight through the ground.

Stolas was sitting, back slumped against the building wall. His hands rested limply in his lap. his head was tipped back against the wall. 

And his eyes. 

His eyes pointed upwards towards the light of the full moon, but were empty, as though more than his magic had been torn out of him. Like he was missing part of himself.

Well, of course he was, Blitzø thought. He thinks he’s lost his daughter for good.

And even though Blitzø was firm in his conviction that Stolas and his daughter’s bond was strong enough to withstand this (even though Via was a volatile teen girl) she just needed some time , nothing else could be helped tonight. 

All of a sudden, Blitzø felt the weight of this extremely long day crash over him like thunder. 

Bed, he thought firmly.

He didn’t have to lean down to put his hand on Stolas’ shoulder, but when there was no response, he leaned down and scooped him up in his arms and carried him back into the apartment. 

After tucking him in, running his claws briefly through Stolas’ crest feathers, he crossed the room to the beanbag and collapsed. 

What a fucking day, he thought. I could sleep for a week.

~~~

Spoiler alert – he didn’t sleep for a week. In fact, despite his exhaustion, Blitzø had hardly slept at all. As the pentagram sun began to rise, Blitzø’s eyes were dry and stinging, and they hurt to keep open, but he couldn’t keep them shut. 

The hours had dragged on endlessly, and whenever he’d closed his eyes, he couldn’t stop picturing the way Stolas had looked sitting on the fire escape. It would have haunted his dreams, if he’d had the chance at any. 

It hurt to see his precious bird so wrecked. And NOT in the fun way. 

He’d been so…still, like a puppet whose strings had been cut and instead of coming to life had just collapsed in a tangle of wood on the ground. 

And this wasn’t the first time. 

At least now though, he knew. 

Thank fucking Satan. Or… Lucifer. FUCK fucking Satan. Anyway. Thank someone , because Blitzø finally finally had something that he could do. 

Happy pills. That was the answer. 

Granted it wasn’t an explanation that he liked very much… but it did take some of the bewilderingly erratic behavior and put it into perspective. 

Blitzø knew that he had called Stolas a pompous rich asshole on more than one occasion (and even directly to his fucking face), but he had never actually deserved it. 

Blitzø had never seen him like this . 

In fact the difference was so shocking, it was like two completely different people. And the new guy, who Blitzø had never met and frankly didn’t know what to do with, popped out with no warning, like an infester demon was playing pop goes the fuckin weasel. 

If anything, all it did was highlight the fact that Stolas had always been… perhaps naïve, sheltered and ignorant about a lot of things but he had also always been kind. 

But now…it was fucking scaring him. The things coming out of his mouth. The histrionics between longer periods of melancholic silence. 

Of course, Blitzø knew he was fucking depressed. Anyone would be in his circumstances. 

But on top of that, to be suddenly cut off from a prescribed antidepressant… Blitzø actually felt lucky it hadn’t been worse.

And thank Sa- Lucifer , Blitzø was sooo grateful to his precious family for their continuing kindness and patience with Stolas. And the faith and loyalty to him that showed. 

And if he thought it was bad before… well. Even with everything that had happened today. 

Now he knew . One step at a time - and step one was getting Stolas a steady supply of his meds.

He could do it. He would do whatever it takes to keep his bird’s head above water. 

…try not to inhale the water. 

The image of Stolas faced down in the bath water flashed through his mind, his feeble joke taking on an even darker edge. 

And that was nothing, nothing compared to the suicidal fucking trek to the Ice Queen’s fucking lair, alone, to see his daughter. 

Fuck. If he hadn’t shown up when he did. If he hadn’t known exactly where to look… he shuddered. 

Well. Blitzø had gotten there in time.

His mind flashed to him sitting on Stolas’ lap, feeling so cold despite the heated rocks in his stomach. Wanting so much to to warm up his bird, to offer him comfort, to show him that he isn’t alone. 

And feeling so helpless. 

Knowing that any attempt to tell him that it would be okay (the way he had been trying to do since the trial), would ring so hollow in the wake of Via’s words.

The only thing he could offer was his presence on Stolas’ lap and then at his side, and then… a respectful 2 feet away on the sofa, his stomach clenching in helpless anxiety, feeling like a fucking failure. 

But now. He knew what to do. He had already texted Fizz to enlist the influence of his sugar birdie to ensure Stolas wouldn’t go another day without his meds. 

It was easy to ask for help when it was for Stolas. 

Fizz had responded almost immediately. 

And after getting a fucking novel-length message calling Blitzø a fucking idiot for almost dying again , came the text: 

Oz will get ur prince w/e he fuckin needs (if he knows what's gud for him). 

I just got u back u selfish fuckin prick so STOP almost dying. 

Luv u 2 fzz

So that was that sorted. And until the first prescription arrived Blitzø had the bottle that Via had thrust into Stolas’ hands. Which Blitzø had then picked up from the ground and pocketed outside of the palace...after Stolas let it slip out of lifeless fingers. While sobbing his heart out. 

Fuck. 

No going back to sleep with that cheerful image (and the sounds of his bird’s wracking sobs and wails of despair) in his head. 

Might as well get up, he thought, rolling silently off the beanbag chair and onto his feet with a cat-like grace. 

He paused for a moment to look down on his beautiful bird, resisting the impulse to smooth out the tension between his lower set of eyes (or smooth back the feathers falling across his face or kiss his beautiful forehead). 

We will make it through this, he thought . I won’t fucking let you down again. 

And that means putting one fucking foot in front of the other. Just gotta keep trying, one step at a time. 

So first things first - breakfast.

Stolas’ eyes opened. He felt more than heard Blitzø get up and make his way into the kitchen. 

Not that it mattered – he’d been awake. In fact, he wasn’t sure he’d gotten more than a few seconds of restless dozing all night. 

His eyes hurt, feeling dry and achy. 

Other than that he felt…nothing. Other than the gaping void of unending pain and the screams of the damned where his rib cage used to  be. 

…Seriously it felt like it wasn’t even there. It actually was making him feel slightly nauseated. 

He flinched when Blitzø’s hand softly touched his shoulder, and he blinked up at him. 

“Heyy, good morning pretty birdie,” he said with warm eyes and a soft smile that turned more playful as he said “time to wakey wakey egg–uhhhh, mice and bake…y….Fuuuck me that –” he cleared his throat, “hehmmm, anyway.”

Blitzø looked chagrinned but Stolas merely blinked at him, wondering vaguely when it had gotten so bright outside. 

Blitzø’s face fell a bit, and then morphed back to determined optimism (that was much softer than his patented abrasive charm). 

“Alright birdie,” Blitzø tried again. “I know yesterday was a lot, but today is a new day and we gotta start somewhere….sooo let’s get some food in you. And then we can decide what to do today. Even if it’s veg out on the sofa and watch garbage. Sound good?” 

Blitzø’s face was so hopeful it pierced a bit through the fog in Stolas head. He met Blitzø’s eyes, and quickly looked away again but gave the barest hint of a nod, and started forcing his limbs to start moving. 

To his surprise, moving wasn’t an impossible task which, he realized, was only because Blitzø had slipped an arm around his waist and gently taken his other hand, fluidly guiding him upright as easily as he’d spun him around on the fire escape. 

He felt warmth spreading from the points of contact, as Blitzø walked with him towards the kitchen table and Stolas felt the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. 

A gentle thumb rubbed across the knuckles of the hand Blitzø was holding and his breath caught for just a second and… 

A flash of Via’s face appeared behind his eyes, eyes full of anguish and accusation. Stolas’ stomach dropped.  

He pulled his hand free and shied away from Blitzø, separating completely. His whole right side, his hips, and especially his hand, felt cold at the loss of Blitzø’ support. Almost as cold as the shards of ice spearing into his gut. 

He turned quickly, took the last two steps toward the table and sat down heavily (well as heavily as possible for a hollowed-out demon, bones and otherwise). Stomach churning, he forced himself to raise his eyes from his lap and up at his plate.

He was about to attempt to lift his fork to at least pretend he was eating, when Blitzø appeared back at his side, holding out a familiar pink bottle to him.

When Stolas didn’t reach out to take it, Blitzø set it gently next to the glass of water and steaming cup of tea at his place. As he pulled away, his hand twitched towards Stolas’ as if he wanted to take it again, but he seemed to think better of it, giving Stolas a half-smile and padding over to the other side of the table where he sat down to eat his own breakfast. 

Stolas looked between Blitzø and the bottle.

He had left it on the ground outside the palace, he knew he had. Right after he lost his daughter forever.  

And you needed THESE! Was this my fault that you needed these?

His stomach roiled violently, and he staggered to his feet suddenly, reaching out and swiping the bottle and making for the bathroom - the only place where there was even a modicum of privacy. 

Blitzø’s eyes followed him and he half rose from his chair, “wait, Stols, what’s– “

Stolas heard his own voice say something about putting them in the bathroom cabinet before he shut the door and turned the lock. He let himself slump forward over the sink, one hand on the rim and the other to the right of the mirror, bowing his head and fighting to catch his breath.  

He tried to slow his breathing, and swallow the urge to throw up. 

Octavia’s voices were still ringing in his head:

So does that mean you just stayed miserable because of me? Was I some fucking obligation?

He could just hear her voice, trembling with betrayal and anguish – practically see her face, wildly angry and so, so hurt . He dragged his eyes up, looked through the feathers hanging limply over his face at the purpled bruising all around his eyes and – 

He gasped and bolted upright. Looking in the mirror he saw Via’s face over his right shoulder. 

“ You didn't even hesitate when you got the chance to leave. You’re a fucking LIAR. You destroyed our home. My home. And you think you deserve to be happy ??” she spat at him.

Stolas choked on his spit and whirled around, reaching out “VIA my–” 

But there was no one behind him. He looked around wildly, trembling and shaking violently. 

Oh god, oh god , he thought. But as his body stilled and his mind went quiet and clear for the first time in he didn't know how long, a voice in his head said, “ No . I don’t.”

He slowly turned back around and looked at himself in the mirror expressionlessly, opened the cabinet, set the bottle on the middle shelf, and shut it. 

It was quiet in his head as he walked back to the kitchen table like he was floating, and sat smoothly in his chair. Blitzø looked up at him with eyes full of concern. 

“You okay, birdie?” he asked. 

“Yes. Thank you, Blitzø.”

And he was. As much as he deserved to be. But at least now he knew what had to do, and he felt secure in his convictions. 

There would be no taking of the ‘Happy Pills’. He simply didn’t deserve them. He didn’t deserve to feel anything close to resembling happy. 

He would not betray his daughter further. 

Blitzø flashed him a small, warm smile and gestured with his fork, “alright, glad to hear it, Stols. Let’s try and eat something, yeah?”

Stolas gave a tiny nod, and raised his own fork to his mouth, and didn’t take his eyes off of the Imp’s. 

Blitzø was trying SO hard to take care of him. And even though it was surely out of some misguided sense of obligation and pity – which was fair, he was pitiable. Pitable and pathetic. But he knew that he couldn’t tell Blitzø about his decision. He’d only worry, try harder, and the last thing he wanted to do was add MORE stress onto Blitzø’ shoulders.  

He wouldn’t understand, but Stolas knew he was doing the right thing. After all. 

Monsters didn’t deserve to be happy. 

Chapter Text

**********************************

Via opened her eyes and immediately had to squint against the blinding multi-color lights in and garish deco that epitomizes her location.  

Even with her eyes closed the assault on her senses continued with the blaring of distorted carnival music - so dissonant and unsettling her feathers fluffed up and her beak ground together. 

She tried to shy backwards but two iron strong hands gripped her shoulders from behind, and a dark sultry voice rasped into her ear in a Wrathian drawl. 

“Aww come on, baby birdie , it’ll be fun.”

She lurched forward, wrenching herself away from that voice and looked frantically for her dad - he HAD to be here. 

And he was. And right beside him was him . The other him.

She grimaced and slowed (but didn’t stop her approach). Or…she wasn’t trying to slow down but she felt like she was dragging her legs through molasses.

“Come on Princey,” the king of dicksticks said, “I’m here to work and work only so let’s get to it. My crew can distract your fluffy little omelet. Let’s go…satisfy those perverted bird needs . Hmmmm, sound good, my horny little bitch ?”

She watched in horror as the reason for her world falling apart flicked out his forked tongue and licked up her father’s neck feathers. He shuddered in delight, all four eyes closing in bliss. 

“Ohhhh, Blitzy,” he moaned, “you are so cute when you’re serious.”

“Go on, birdie,” the imp said, giving him a slap to propel him forward and away from her . “I’m right behind you.”

At that she could suddenly move again and she started to chase him. “DAD! Dad, wait don’t – you promised it’d be just the two of us!”

As she tried to run past. Blitzø stuck out his boot and she would have flown face first into the ground if he hadn’t caught her roughly, painfully by an arm. He looked maliciously down at her before pulling her in close to purr into her ear: “aww that’s real cute that you think he’s even listening to you, sweetie. I’ve got your ditzy slut of a father eating out of my ass.”  

She recoiled in horror, ripping her elbow from his claws with a cry and falling to the ground. 

“Dad! Dad?” she called weakly, tears beginning to sting at her eyes. She couldn’t see him anywhere, there were too many people. Since when was Loo Loo Land this popular? And why couldn’t she see her Dad, head and shoulders above everyone? She could always, ALWAYS find him in a crowd, constant like the north star, but all she could see now were dozens of bobbing Loo Loo the Tomato fucking novelty hats - it seemed everyone and their mother had one.  

She opened her mouth to yell again, trying to swallow the stone that surely must be lodged in here through, “DA–”

“Oh crumbs!” The little impish goat-boy appeared in front of her, obscuring her view of literally everything else. 

As he spoke he flickered between looking like his goatish self, legs and horns and all, and some sort of grey rodent she’d never seen but HUGE. 

“I knew you were gonna be a whiny, spoiled little brat about this,” he said, looking down his nose at her before rolling his eyes. “Tsk, if you’re gonna cry about it…” 

He reached into his fanny pack and pulled out a familiar pink pill bottle, ”here take some of these ,” he said.

“Wait,” she choked out, “I don’t need those - those are for my Dad!”

“If the crown fits, wear it, princess ,” he mocked, throwing fistfulls of the little white pills at her. “Like father like daughter, pathetic and WEAK!”

She scrambled backwards from him, paralyzed by fear as, with the last few words, his screaming voice wasn’t alone. Somebody else had joined in, although she couldn’t say who.  

She turned away and kept going, looking for her dad. She would never forgive him for this. 

She passed signs for rides with letters missing, carnival games with monstrous vendors whose eyes followed her as she hurried by. A horde of feral children tearing the hideous animatronic, “Big Woobly,” apart piece by piece and eating him.  

“Hey Princess !” A chill went down her spine at that voice.

She slowly turned to see the robotic clown of her childhood nightmares and Loo Loo, wrapped around each other tangling tongues. 

G R O S S. 

Oh my fucking Lucifer - is everyone a horny pervert?? What the fuck. 

As if in answer to her thought, their heads slowly turned to face her as one, twin unhinged smiles spreading across their faces. 

“ Ohooohohooo ” the clown cackled,  “lookie lookie at the lil baby goth wannabe. You're flying a bit far from your cushy little nest now aren’t you. Is it true what they’re saying?”

“The Apple ” Loo Loo interjected with a maniacal glee, “has fallen far far away, and won’t see the tree everrrr again. EHHEHEHHE” He cackled.

“Aww,” the robot Fizz said with mock sympathy, “who reeks of shame and insecurity now? Oh wait,” he said, stretching his arm all the way around Loo Loo to pose it on his chin, pretending to think. “Does it count as insecurity if you actually ARE unwanted ?” 

“MY DAD DOES WANT ME, ” she screamed and staggered towards them, enraged and blinded by her tears. “I’LL FUCKING– “

But before she could get out what she would do to them, the scene shifted and warped like she was on a fucking Tilt ‘a Hurl, and she found herself in the fun house. 

Then it was suddenly, completely, unnaturally still. The cylindrical spikes weren’t spinning.The creepy disembodied hands weren’t reaching and grasping.  The pendulous blades frozen mid swings, suspended like Swords of Damocles, ready to fall. 

Lucifer wept , this was  s o   m u c h  creepier than if it were all moving. 

She knew where she was going though. Although she was no longer in the driver's seat - she  could only watch through her own eyes, all but floating towards the apple shaped doorway to the spinning apples ride. 

This ride wasn’t moving either. 

She stepped carefully over to the bright red apple and looked around the edge. 

And she saw. Herself. It was her and her dad, just like it had happened. 

Except this time she was looking from the outside, as the other girl curled into herself away from her dad, unwilling to even look at him. 

More importantly she could see her dad.

She saw how tight his shoulders were pulled up. The way he twisted his talons together. The… the dark circles under all four of his eyes.

And she watched as he tried, over and over, to tell her… anything. ANYTHING coherent. But everything he said was muffled, she couldn’t make out a single word. She could only look into his heart shaped face, so like her own, and see his suffering. 

The sound abruptly came back on and she heard herself ask, “Are you gonna run off with him? And leave me behind? Go away where... I can't find you?”

Her heart ached as she watched the other her be pulled into her dad’s arms – the most comforting place in hell, as he said: 

“No matter what happens to me, I will never be far away... from my special little starfire.”

**********************************

Octavia woke up cold. Cuz it was fucking freezing. And yet she was drenched in sweat, her heart hammering and gasping for breath. 

Oh, and she was crying. 

She couldn’t stop seeing that scene. Her father with his arms wrapped around an empty memory. Holding some other girl, a fucking child , close to him. Giving that girl the love and comfort that she desperately wanted, that she’d never have again. 

And it was all a lie.

All of it. The hug, the affection, the empty fucking promises. And even knowing all of this, she still wanted it. 

Wanted him. Inside, she still felt like the crying 4 year old owlet, crying out for her Daddy at night. 

Because of a nightmare where he’d left her. One that she’d had many times over the years. One that, now, had become her reality. 

Fucking stop it, she thought angrily. 

She sat up and wiped at her eyes and looked around her room, trying to ignore the empty spaces where he used to be. The walls of her bedroom were now barren. The shadows of paintings that once hung haunted her, leaving the room feeling cold and empty just like her heart. Every painful memory locked up in the dark corners of her closet. And her mind. 

Fucking stop it, she thought. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. It’s not worth it because it wasn’t real.

She forced herself out of her bed, roughly disentangling herself from her sheets. 

She was done crying over him. She would be okay. She had to be. 

She just…needed to put one fucking foot in front of the other, one step at a time. 

So first things first - breakfast. 

…after a bath, or she would fucking freeze to death. 

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As she drew near to the parlor that her mother took her breakfast in, she slowed down to listen. 

“Ohh sister, it was positively delicious . I wish you had seen it, you gorgeous thing. She crushed the life out of that lecherous piece of shit. Absolutely hilarious!  And the noises! Oh Lucifer, the sounds he made were music to my ears.” 

Oh god , she thought. Maybe I can’t do this. 

She mentally slapped herself. Again. (How many was that today?) And rounded the corner into the room. 

“Good morning, Uncle,” she said acidly. “I see you’re telling Mum about yesterday. It was hilarious. Did you get to the hilarious part where that group of Im-”

“ Of course I was just telling your poor, darling mother the whole thing and my magnanimous decision to let them off with a warning. After all, your father’s suffering plenty. And it wouldn't do to upset the council at this juncture, now would it?” 

Octavia narrowed her eyes, and Andrealphus added hastily, “I did almost get carried away, of course. But honestly , it just makes my blood boil to see that despicable cretin. I cannot bear thinking of how deeply he has wounded you and your mother both. Lies and treachery at every turn! And the slime of his humiliation is like a poison for us all! It besmirches the honor of this family– Of all Goetic royalty! And that arrogant Lothario thought he could just waltz up to our home, like we would welcome him with open arms, and fill your head with more poisonous lies? Over his dead body!” 

Both he and Stella cackled uproariously and Via felt her stomach tighten. Even now , her heart ached with the need to stand up and repudiate every vile accusation and vehemently defend her dad but…how could she when they were right? It was all true, every word. 

On the tail end of their callous crowing, Stella scoffed, “It’s probably better that you didn’t kill him anyway. Let that bottom-feeding whore suffer the humiliation he so deserves. He’s not fucking worth killing any longer anyway.”

Via felt a prickle of unease at that, eyes flitting between the two of them, who were still letting out self-satisfied honks of laughter. 

“What…does that mean?” Via asked, staring at her mother, who tossed her headfeathers nonchalantly. 

“It’s just a figure of speech , sweetie.” 

“Of course it is, darling girl,” Andrealphus cut in, eyes glinting. “We merely mean it’s a relief to have him away from here, away from you. Both of you are so far better off.” 

He moved minutely and Stella gave a squawk. 

“Owwwww,” she whined, “what the fuck was that for, Andrealphus?” 

Via once again looked between the two of them, confused and on edge. 

“Mum,” Via started hesitantly, “I know Dad made some mistakes, and I’m so so angry with him for all of the lies and…everything. But maybe he – ”

Stella swiftly cut her off. “Oh my poor darling Via. You have no idea, and that’s my fault. 

Perhaps…perhaps it’s time.”

Via’s eyes widened at her mother’s words and tone and demeanor. Her eyes were downcast toward her plate and she had said something was her fault. 

And that’s a first if ever she’d heard one.  

Maybe…maybe one of her parents would actually talk to her like a fucking adult. Not treat her like a fucking child, saying nothing of importance, or worse, actually lying. 

Stella was still looking down, gaze moving rapidly in agitation. 

“Mum? What…what is it?” almost too afraid to ask. 

Stella took a long breath, looked up at her and started, “Sweetie, I hate to tell you this.  I never wanted you to know the truth about your father. You’re still so young. Just as I was when I got shackled to that brute . Barely older than you are now.”

Via’s sense of foreboding grew, and she fought down the urge to get up and run from the room…or regurgitate the breakfast she hadn’t yet eaten. She had never heard her mother speak like this and she couldn’t look away if she tried. 

“I tried for so many years to make him happy, to make a comfortable life for us; to have this family, but it was never enough for him. He made it very clear from the first that he only looked at me with disdain. 

The only reason he wanted to marry me was to birth a precautionary heir to his precious family, nothing more. And, the only reason I endured his constant insults and cruelty was for you, my precious girl. I wanted you to have the normal life that I did not.”

Oh Lucifer , Via thought. I am a fucking obligation. A burden on both of her parents. Fuck. 

She gasped and looked down to see her talons digging painfully into her thighs just below the hemline of her pajama shorts. 

She hastily let go and looked up to see her mother, once again looking straight down into her lap. 

“You were too young to remember a lot of this, and as you got older, he was more and more secretive about it. He knew how terribly clever you are, my sweet darling girl. 

And after years and years of this…I am ashamed to think of my behavior in recent months. When I discovered that that monster had desecrated our marriage bed, sham though it was…it was the final straw for me. 

I have not been myself for a while. But now that our home is rid of him, and your brave uncle is here to protect us both, I can finally breathe again.”

Via couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t think. This was all too horrible. She felt a silent tear slip down her cheek. Stella rose from the settee, crossed the room in four elegant strides and wrapped her arms tightly around Via. Like a vice. 

This hug felt so different than the one her mum had offered during that fucking trial. She didn’t feel safe or comforted. She felt smothered. Caged in, claustrophobic. Her arms were pinned to her side so she couldn’t have returned the hug if she wanted to. And she…didn’t know if she wanted to. Her head felt fuzzy and her vision blurred. 

“We’re better off without him sweetie,” Stella cooed into her ear. “Mummy’s here and she won’t let him hurt you again.”

Via just sat there, staring forward, silent and motionless. Her mother went back to her seat to finish her tea. She and Andrealphus started up a conversation about nothing (or something, how would she know). The pentagram moved higher in the sky.

And Via sat. 

Chapter Text

Blitzø and Loona had long since left for the office and Stolas was drifting. 

When he had meekly voiced that he was thinking of staying home and having a quiet day Blitzø had been quick to agree. Quick to take his hands and lead him back to the sofa, wrap a blanket around him, turn on a soap marathon and make him a fresh cup of tea before leaving in a whirl of chaotic energy. 

And Stolas…hadn’t moved. He wasn’t even certain he could move. He just stared blankly forward, unseeing, all his senses pointed inwards. 

All of this was his fault. Every single selfish choice, every thoughtless word, every delusional action created a mountain of painful regrets, filled with the hopes and dreams of the people in his life that he consumed and crushed, cementing them into his escarpment.

He inflicted suffering on all of those around him, and the number of individuals most affected had more than doubled - Millie and Moxie. Loona… Blitzø.

Octavia. 

He hadn’t stopped fucking up since the moment she had hatched. He should never have even had a child if he was only going to cause her agony. 

No, not that. 

Out of all the decisions he had made, bringing Octavia into the world was something he could never wish undone.

Although, he thought bitterly, that wasn’t actually a decision he had made. So it really wasn’t his to take pride in. 

No, it was the decisions he himself had made that were so pernicious. 

A narcissistic, delusional, selfish piece of shit . He just took and took and took . 

And Blitzø…

When Blitzø had exploded back into his life, the only thing his precious friend had wanted was a way to kick start his burgeoning business. So fiercely determined to not only revolutionize his field by creating and monopolizing a subset of it, but to also make heretofore unseen advances towards dispelling the classist hierarchy in hell. 

By stealing his grimoire. Legal? No, but not reprehensible. 

Looking back, there were any number of different choices Stolas could have made. He could have found another way to help him, literally any other way. After all, he had always harbored a deep affection for his first ever friend. 

Or, if not, he could have even just had him removed from the palace. 

Instead he had…

He could barely remember how it had even started.

‘Follow me, Imp .’

He winced. No. 

That was a lie. He could remember it perfectly as if etched into stone in his mind – he just wished the memory was fuzzier, hazier. That he could convince himself it was something they both had wanted. That he didn’t hear the reluctance in Blitzø’s voice. That he didn’t remember the way Blitzø had imphandled him to and fro, not out of passion, but to strategically bring himself close enough to the grimoire to steal it while Stolas was literally in his arms. 

That last thought brought a ghost of a smile to his beak, bold and brazen to the last, his Blitzy. 

It had started with a joke , or at least… mostly a joke on his part…with a side of wishful thinking. But when he fake-swooned and dramatically declared Blitzø had come to ‘ ravish him’ (he cringed in shame)...he didn’t really think anything would actually happen. Why would it? 

“Stolas, please ! I-I need this book, please! I need this book, Stolas. 

I will do anything .”

Stolas jerked as he felt a zap rattle through his skull. That was…odd. He blinked rapidly, momentarily curious, wondering what exactly had caused that sensation before the thought faded into nothingness, and his mind was once again looking at Blitzø, Blitz who was begging him for mercy.

His hands had been clasped in fucking supplication. He had been desperate. Ready and willing to make any sacrifice for his family. The ones he actually loved.

Stolas may not have known all of that back then, but even without knowing the specifics, he could never have imagined that Blitzø was actually there for… that reason. 

No one would seek him out for…sexual gratification. No one. Not him with his scrawny, awkward, gangly body, his clunky, cringe-inducing dirty talk, and his deep well of unquenchable neediness. His greed. His thirst. 

He sure as fuck didn’t hesitate for a second before casting himself as the heroine in some poorly-written erotic novel, making his token protest, clutching his fucking pearls and then swooning the second he was touched. Remembering the way he acted and the things he said made him want to fall through the center of hell past all the rings and die. 

And then after all that, he’d guilt tripped Blitzø into fucking him. 

And then again into a second round. And another and another and then into staying the night.

And then began their journey, a parade of moonlit trysts, memories he kept close to his heart…until it broke. Over the course of those nights, Blitzø had introduced Stolas to all manner of kinks and perversities, indulged every one of Stolas’ fantasies…no matter how ludicrous or embarrassing it must have been for Blitzø. Toys and roleplays, kinks and positions; Blitzø’s creativity and prowess was seemingly endless. And so was his enthusiasm…Stolas had thought anyway. Until that horrific night at Ozzie’s, when a single sentence from Blitzø dumped an icy bucket of water on his head, and suddenly every memory became tinged with a darker hue. 

But regardless of whatever sexual scenario was on the menu, Blitzø returned again and again to a simple blindfold and a gag. In nearly every scene. 

And of course he did.

A gag, so he wouldn’t have to listen to the pathetic, repugnant verbal filth that poured unceasingly from his beak. How could he be expected to keep hard enough to “ satisfy his perverted bird needs ” unless he kept his beak stuffed full with a gag or his cock (or both). 

And the blindfold. So Blitzø didn’t have to meet Stolas’ moon-eyed gaze. The delusional, sappy, puppy-love look in all four of Stolas’ eyes. 

And most importantly, so Blitzø didn’t have to keep up the pretense of looking like he was having a good time. 

He imagined Blitzø rolling his eyes and curling his lip in distaste or, more likely, closing his eyes and thinking of someone, anyone else to get him through those nights. 

His stomach roiled and he forced his mind to change tracks. Unfortunately, there wasn’t a less painful thought path to tread.

All roads lead back to Octavia. His precious little Starfire (Lucifer, even thinking that name made his heart ache with grief). 

He couldn’t even count the ways he had fucked up his daughter. He’d failed her in every possible way. 

Fuck being happy, he didn’t deserve to fucking live. The one piece of perfection in his life, the only light in the endless dark, and he had fucked it all up forever. 

He should’ve tried harder . He should’ve spent more time with her. Every second that he could spare should have been spent with her . 

He should’ve told her he loved her every single day, all the time, so she would never have any doubt in her heart, not one iota of insecurity about how much he cared for her. How she was everything to him. 

“We were never enough for you.”

“You never loved mother, and you don’t love me .” 

…Even if he had done all that, it seemed that his fractious relationship with Stella was a pivotal facet of his daughter’s pain. 

And he had failed cosmically there too. 

He had known, since he was 10 years old, that it was his destiny to study the stars, unlock the mysteries of the universe, and lead his legions as a Goetic Prince of Hell. 

And that he was destined to do it with her at his side. But she was unhappy with him from the very beginning.

He should have made more of an effort to woo her – he should have lavished her with gifts and compliments. 

Instead he had been too wrapped up in his own narcissistic bullshit, feeling sorry for himself, to truly try to ingratiate himself with his intended. 

Even now, thinking about trying to create an affection between them, to please Stella, and make himself an even more vulnerable object of her scorn, it made him feel physically sick. 

…Fucking Lucifer below , could he be a more selfish scumbag? Even after fucking EVERYTHING up, he can’t even stomach the idea of trying to do better?? Who the fuck was he to complain about his lot in life? He was a fucking prince of hell! Born with a golden spoon and all that. 

Stella had made it clear from the very beginning that he was inferior and flawed in every way. The way he dressed, his scrawny waifish figure – not a shred of masculinity in his hollow bones. 

And… He should’ve tried harder with her… In bed. 

His memory of those… sessions they had had in order to produce an egg were fuzzy at best. But she had never held back about his…less than satisfactory performance - not to him or anyone else who would listen. 

But that just proves the point. He should've practiced . He could have done research on how to please… Her. Asked…someone for some…manly advice. 

His stomach twisted painfully at that thought. 

He just…should have tried harder. 

Then, he almost fell off the fucking sofa at the sound of that familiar grating cackle, brash with a touch of the kind of hoarseness that accompanied regular smoking. 

Filled with dread, he slowly turned toward the sound, and there she was. Lounging gracefully on a settee that certainly hadn’t been there a few moments ago. Leaning back and laughing with a glint of vindictive satisfaction in her eyes.

“Yes, husband,” she said with a smirk. “You should have tried harder. You never appreciated the fucking gift you got in me. You should have been licking the floor under my feet in gratitude every day for the privilege of my mere presence .” 

He could only gape at her in horror. This couldn’t be real, it’s just…not possible. What the fuck is wrong with me?? 

“Oh, darling,” Stella cooed, answering his silent question. “Do you really want to open that can of worms? Or what else have you been doing all this time, but ruminating on your complete disgrace. The way you’ve poisoned the lives of every single being around you like a pathetic, needy, sucking black hole. And you’d know , you’ve got two of those aaahahhahha.” 

He shook his head violently, trying to dispel the fucking nightmare he was living in, and another zing of pain shot through his skull. 

“Aww, how saaaaad for poor Stolas,” she taunted. “The pathetic whore, spreading his twig fucking legs for the scum of hell only to find out that even the lowliest of creatures knows he’s not even worth fucking unless he can get something else out of it. Although, I bet it’s convenient for him to have you here, available for use at his fucking whim. Any hole is better than no hole, right Stol-Ass?”

Her evil smirk sharpened, “I wonder how long it’ll last before he’s wrung all the use out of you he can stand? Based on your performance with me , it can’t be long."

Zap!

Another painful shock lit up behind his upper eyes and he yelped, half in pain, and half in supplication for the spectre of his torment to leave him be. 

“You’re nothing. You fucking hear me, you little bottom-feeder?? NOTHING.” 

He cowered back into the sofa, shaking.

 “You’re nothing. And you know you're nothing.  Nothing to me. Nothing to that disgusting imp whore. And certainly nothing to your precious daughter. 

 Say it.  Say ‘ I’m nothing.’”

He whimpered. 

His ears were ringing so hard his head spun and…he smelled…Hell Roses? Petunias and…Basil? Just like the perfume Stella had favored in the first years of their marriage. 

“ SAY IT! ”

And suddenly he was no longer in Blitzø’s apartment, on Blitzø’s sofa. No. 

He was back in his bedroom in the palace. Pinned down by a white taloned hand splayed against the side of his face, pressing it down hard into the bed. Unable to move at all with her weight crushing him from above, all the way down his body to where… he didn’t want to look.

So he didn’t.  All he could see was the embroidered crowns on the bed’s curtains. His ears were ringing, ringing and the overpowering stench of flowers and basil, filling his head, making him choke and struggle to breathe. 

Above the ringing in his ears and pounding of his heart, he could hear her laughing.

Blitzø stopped on the way home to pick up some seasoned mice skewers – just because.

He was happy . 

He sighed dreamily and looked up at the pentagram setting over the horizon in Pride. He couldn’t stop reliving that dance. Holding his precious birdie close, hearing his beautiful hooting laugh – not to mention showing off his masterful skillz (yeah with a fuckin ‘Z’ bitch ) of the ‘Fancy Dancy’ (as he called it), while on the railing of a fuckin FIRE ESCASPE, HA. Take THAT fucking bitch-ass would-be bird-stealer at that thrice-blessed fucking party, thinking he’s sooooo slick in his stupid fucking tank-top with his swoopy bitch hair. Fuckin BITCH probably spent hours in from of a mirror and he STILL looks like a himbo-fuckboi –  

“-- DAD WATCH THE ROAD!” Loona shrieked, throwing a hand over his and righting the wheel that had been drifting into oncoming traffic and jerking Blitzø back to hell.

“...Oops…heh sorry Loonie,” he said sheepishly, carefully adjusting his hands to the “10 and 2 position” (HA – his internal mockery voice sounds like his Stolas impression, hilllariousss). 

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Loona’s ears flattened and the beginnings of a growl rumbling in her chest – and then she sighed and her face softened into a cross between fond and exasperated. 

“Thank the fucking Queen I looked up from my phone,” she snickered. “Three guesses for where your mind was – couldn’t possibly be on the beaky lookin bitch on our couch, now could it,” she teased. 

Blitzø gasped in mock indignation, “ Loonie ,” he exclaimed. “What accusations, what lies, what an imagination you have –”

“It’s good to see you happy, Dad.”

His words stuck in his throat, creating a lump that was hard to swallow past. 

“I – uh…I mean.”

“It’s okay, Dad,” Loona said gently ( two dads in like 30 seconds!!) , “I know things are really fucked up, and he’s fucked up but, I mean, who wouldn’t be. And…he saved your life. There’s nothing he could do that would make me anything less than grateful to him.” Blitzø’s lips quirked up into a quivering half- smile, but he kept his eyes on the road and his mouth shut. 

“Ugh – I’m just saying… he’s family. And…he needs a lot of support right. But there’s no one in hell who could do a better job taking care of them than you, Dad.” 

She hesitated, and he let the words hang there, giving her space to get everything she wanted to say out. 

“...like you did for me,” she finished quietly. And then, in a much louder voice “OKAY that’s enough of that. I’m turning on some fucking tunes…that’s all the emotional bullshit I got in me today.”

She reached for the dial, but before she could turn on the stereo he reached out and touched her forearm, “Thank you, Loonie. Being your dad…it’s a gift.” He choked up and there were no more words to be had. 

He let go and saw her swallow out of the corner of his eyes (which were decidedly NOT filling up with any kind of liquid, thanks), and nod minutely before turning the stereo all the way up. 

He swiped at his eyes with his sleeve as the radio blared: 

You were the spicy little demon

With the bleach blonde hair

Fiendin' for some semen

When I caught your stare

Thought it might be love

But you went too far

Fucked all of my friends

And blew up my car

Blitzø and his daughter shouted along with every word that came out of the stereo at the top of their lungs the rest of the way home, Blitzø’s heart filled with hope and bursting with love. 

“Heyyyyyyyyy, Stolass,” Blitzø couldn’t help but burst out with as he strode into the apartment, mice-treats in hand, and reached for the light switch. “I got a speciallll treat for yo–”

“Dad,” Loona put her hand on his upper arm, freezing him in place, his opposite arm still outstretched. 

The apartment was still, silent and dark. His heart plummeted in fear – did Stolas leave? Was he taken?? He wouldn’t have gone back to the palace, right???

Loona nodded towards the sofa, and Blitzø finally noticed the head feathers peeking up over the back of it. 

“Oh,” he blew out in relief. “Stolas, you almost gave me a hea–”

“Dad, I don’t….think he’s okay,” Loona said in low tones. “I don’t think he’s asleep but…I’m gonna head to my room, just…text me if you need me…I’m gonna put in headphones.”

The spines on his back raised and flexed in alarm, but he nodded as she disappeared into her room without making a sound. Blitzø set the bag of food on the table as he passed and made his way over to the living/sleeping room towards the barest hint of headfeathers peeking over the sofa’s back.

“...Stols?” he started, but his voice died in his throat as he circled the sofa and froze. 

Stolas didn’t so much as twitch in response. Blitzø slowly looked him over, starting up the long lines of his arms, which were splayed, one across the backrest and the other down the couch’s arm, looking stretched and taut to the point of pain, with his fingers twitching minutely. He was slumped over on his side, as if to lie down to relax… except his legs were drawn tightly to his chest. And his head was leaning onto his arm, but the tension in his neck and shoulders was so severe Blitzø wasn’t sure he was putting any weight down at all. 

As he watched, Stolas’ talons dug down into the upholstery and scratched slowly inwards, ripping and shredding, and it looked like he’d been clawing at it for quite some time. 

And that wasn’t the only place with scratches. 

Stolas’ arms and thighs had streaks of black seeping up from under his feathers in long lines as if he had dug in his sharp talons and ripped down, leaving four lines of carnage. On each appendage. The feathers next to him on the sofa and carpet (also blood-colored) only added to the mounting fear in Blitzø’s chest. 

When Blitzø finally brought himself to look fully into Stolas’ face, his fear scurried up the rope and hit the fucking panic bell because…

Jesus Fuck. 

His eyes. 

All four were open so wide they were nearly round, and they would have looked petrified in fear, if it weren’t for the fact that they looked completely empty. Vacant. Lifeless. 

“Hey, uh, hey Stolas,” he began again. 

There was no response. 

“Pretty birdie?” he tried, hopefully. 

Nothing.

Well, not nothing. Stolas didn’t look up or say anything. He just dragged his talons through the lines in the upholstery, carving just a bit deeper. 

At first Blitzø worried that he wasn’t breathing, but as he reached the end of the sofa, he noticed that he was breathing…just so quickly and shallowly that he merely looked like he was shaking in terror. 

Those aren’t mutually exclusive, he thought grimly. 

But as Blitzø leaned in closer, he found he could hear something. 

Tiny puffs of air were leaving his beak, and despite Blitzø not having super owl-hearing, he could just make out the words…well word that Stolas was repeating over and over. 

“Nnothingnnothingnnothingnnothingnnothingnnothingnnothing…”

Blitzø inhaled slowly, let it out in a controlled stream and forced himself to step closer to his extremely unwell birdie. 

I have got to snap him the fuck out it. 

He ignored the voice of caution in his head, and reached slowly out to cup Stolas’ beautiful face in his hands. 

“Hey birdie? Are you oka-–”

As his fingertips made the barest contact with the face-framing feathers, Stolas’s body went impossibly more rigid for an interminable second, before he let out an absolutely ear-splitting screech and bolted, flailing wildly, throwing himself over the back of the sofa. 

It all happened faster than Blitzø could process, one second he was reaching tenderly out, and the next he was staring up at the ceiling, dazed, partly from hitting his head on the coffee table, but mostly from Stolas kicking him right in the fucking face. 

Fuck.

Stolas’ spirit slowly started to seep back inside his own body. 

Fuck fuck fuckkkkkk. 

He could still hear the echo of his own scream, could still feel it burning his throat. His whole body felt electrified, his feathers ruffled up in alarm. 

What the fuck had happened? Where even was he? 

His mind felt foggy, and he strained to remember… anything that had happened. 

…He couldn't remember anything…up until he had felt himself scrambling, desperate to get away, away, away. 

He slowly opened his eyes and raised his head an inch. 

He was huddled down on the floor next to…the back of the couch? What the fuck? 

It was then he realized that his breathing, rough and labored, had an echo. 

For a second, his blood ran cold, remembering the cruel, shrill voice that haunted him, and he tucked himself down again, peering under the sofa to see…oh. 

A familiar pair of boots and the end of a tail.

Blitzø was home. 

For a second he felt a wash of relief break over him at the realization. 

…until the implications hit him.

Oh Lucifer. He’d made a fool of himself hadn’t he? Throwing himself over the back of the sofa. Good fucking grief , he rolled his eyes inwardly. 

Well. Best get off the floor and make his apologies. 

He had just straightened up to his knees when Blitzø walked around the sofa to him. 

He opened his beak to apologize (and try to play it off as no big deal) and froze.

There were two large gashes across Blitzø’s face, and there was a darkening bruise forming around Blitzø’s left eye. 

Stolas didn’t wonder for a second if perhaps this was an injury acquired on a hit that day. He knew exactly what had happened. And if there was any doubt in his mind, the throbbing in his right claw that made itself suddenly and insistently known would have instantly dispelled it. 

He looked up at Blitzø’s beautiful face from his knees, and swallowed hard. 

“Oh…oh my Lucifer, Blitzø,”  he started shakily. “I am SO so sor–”

“Hey,” Blitzø said emphatically, taking a few steps closer to him. “None of that now, Stols. It was—“

Blitzø broke off mid-sentence as Stolas flinched violently away from him, cowering backwards, throwing his arms up over his face. 

Blitzø stopped short, and his arms fell to his sides. 

“...Stolas. I’m not–”

“I’M SO SORRY,” he staggered to his feet with a sob. “I’M SO…SO..”

He fled to the only room he could (the bathroom) and locked the door. 

He brought a shaking hand up to his face, and leaned back, sliding all the way down to the floor, collapsing in a heap of tears and self-recrimination.

When the first sob ripped its way out of his beak, he shoved his fist inside it to muffle any sound, crawled forward on the floor and reached up blindly to turn the water from the faucet on to drown out any noises he couldn’t stifle.

He ruined everything. 

He hated his bitch of an ex-wife with a burning passion…but Stella was right about one thing. 

“I wonder how long you’ll last before he’s squeezed all the use out of you he can stand? Based on your performance with me, it can’t be long."

And every fucking thing he did pushed his luck more and more. And now… now he’d hurt him. Physically . He felt sick. He couldn’t stand himself. It was too much to fucking bear. He wanted out of his mind. Out of his skin. Without conscious decision he began to rip into his skin again, scattering bloodied feathers on the floor. 

Fuck. He’s making another mess. He can’t even breathe without fucking things UP. He’s..he’s….

He felt a wail building in his throat and knew he had to stop it. The last  thing that he wanted was for Blitzø to burst in here to comfort him. 

SLAM. 

That was the last thing he needed, he thought disgustedly. How cute. Just rake some fucking craters in his beloved’s face, then throw a little bitch fit and have Blitzø comfort him. 

SLAM. 

He really was disgusting. Disgusting and pathetic and….nothing.  

SLAM. 

He was starting to feel dizzy from the multiple bashes of his head into the floor, so he lowered himself fully onto it and closed his eyes. 

He had to get his shit together. But honestly…where the fuck would he even start? Maybe he’d just….lie here for a few moments…rest his eyes…

He closed them and sank into the welcome darkness. 

Chapter Text

Stolas opened his eyes and he knew at once where he was. The endless darkness, the celestial glow emanating from the thousands of stars composing hundreds of constellations and Stolas could name every single one. This place he had spent so much time exploring now felt more like home than did the palace he grew up in. 

His place among the stars. One might think that floating in the ever expanding cosmos would make him feel small, insignificant and so terribly alone …but there was something… magical about this place, about knowing that he belonged here , it gave him solace, it made him strong. And no matter how miserable his life could be, he found comfort here, knowing that he was never truly alone when he was surrounded by the stars. 

But… How was he here? He hadn’t thought he’d ever see this place again. Not… not since his magic had been so violently torn from him. But maybe… he should just…be? Enjoy it while it lasts… 

He floated. The stars seemed to move, shifting into bizarre configurations, creating constellations he’d never seen before. 

Images flashed across the sky, appearing as if some deity were sketching in the night with a giant sparkler. 

     A pair of sword-wielding swashbucklers. 

          A balloon animal without limbs. 

               A sparkling chandelier. 

                    An angelic lasso.

                    …A heart full of holes. 

He blinked rapidly, struggling and failing to orient himself, unable to control his own body. Without gravity there was no way to stop, nor to start… just endless spinning. Of all the thousand stars surrounding him, how could it be that he recognized not a single one. A stab of worry pierced through him – without the stars he knew to guide him, there was no knowing where he was, and without his magic... 

The whole galaxy spun, or maybe he spun – who fucking knows – and suddenly he let out a sigh of relief. The Moon, his North Star, glowing brighter than any other, big and warm and beautiful, it felt like home. 

He’d always felt a strong affinity with the moon. Her many phases and varietals of fullness, each with their own name and significance, were invaluable to his sacred duties and celestial powers…but it was more than just that. 

It was to her that he brought his Via, ever since she was a tiny owlet, to sing to her, to comfort her, and share with her his private haven. And then, what seemed like eons later, when those precious shared moments with his daughter had all but dried up, he found himself sharing the pleasures of the moon with the other most important person in his life, bathing together in her light each month at her peak. 

He was drawn to the moon as if connected to her gravitational pull, as if…he looked down. Or… literally connected by a glowing blue string of light… that was coming out the center of his chest. 

Odd. 

He looked up again and saw the glowing thread extending forward around the side of the moon, and without quite knowing how, he was following its path towards the surface. 

He blinked. 

Now he was floating just a few feet away and could see where the cord was leading. 

At its end, the thread split, expanding into a shiny translucent bubble outlined in shimmering red. And inside it was…

Himself. 

Himself and everything he could never have. 

For there was Blitzø, setting down a basket, reaching in and bringing out thermoses and mugs. 

And behind him, his daughter, Loona, unfurling a large blanket and next to her was…

Via. 

And she was smiling, laughing even, though he couldn't hear a sound. He watched Blitzø’s beloved daughter gently bump her shoulder against his starfire’s. Watched them giggle and take opposite sides of the blanket to spread it out on the ground. 

And the other him, the luckiest son of a bitch, closed a portal behind them, sat gracefully down on the blanket, and accepted a hot mug of tea and a kiss from Blitzø…who, after handing mugs to the girls, settled in between them . Not next to Other Stolas. But between the girls, so that Stolas’ precious daughter was nestled between the two of them. 

Where she belonged. 

His heart ached in his chest, and he shut his eyes against the threat of tears but they flew back open as the sound abruptly turned up and he heard himself speak: 

In the great expanse of the nether there exists boundless amounts of magnificent phenomenon the great brilliance of an exploding star, the nimble dance of space dust through a nebula but once every one thousand years our corner of reality is treated to an incredible sight from the deep eldritch recesses of the cosmos the tears of a forgotten colossus begin to fall.

“Jeez, how many times didja practice that fuckin’ speech, Stols?” 

“Oh dozens of times,” Other Stolas said. “Daily. Since I was six years old.And it was all leading up to this very moment.”

Via burst out laughing at the look of confusion on Blitzø’s face. 

Loona leaned over to stage whisper in his ear, “I think he’s fucking with you, Dad.” 

Blitzø turned his mock indignance to his daughter, “Well I know that, Loony”

Via was still giggling into her hand but surfaced enough to say “Mmhmm sure you did, very convincing, old man.” 

“ Ahem,” Other Stolas interrupted, “if I might be permitted to continue? Seeing as I have been practicing my entire life for this.” 

“Yeah, yeah, go on mister Ass-tronomer ”

He raised an eyebrow but didn’t deign to reply to that. 

“As I was saying…

…an incredible sight from the deep eldritch recesses of the cosmos the tears of a forgotten colossus begin to fall.

Tears made of the hopes and dreams of every living thing that never came to be.”

Despite all their teasing, he could see the way this…family, for there was no other word for it, leaned closer together, looked up into the galaxy and let the words of the Other Stolas wash over them. 

“Condensed and sent shooting across the night sky in a dazzling final display.” 

As if on queue, streaks of light began to shoot across the sky, throwing the faces of the four of them into sharp contrast, almost as if they were changing, warping. He blinked hard trying to clear his vision. Everything looked distorted, almost grotesque, the translucent bubble’s color rapidly changing with every flash of celestial starlight. But the voice of the Other Stolas was clear and unwavering as he finished: 

“What appears to mortal beings as a meteor shower we can see for what it is: Azathoth's Tears.”

Everything seemed to slow down. The stars streaking across the sky moved glacially. For a single moment, nothing happened. 

And then Via’s head turned toward him in an isolated movement and she looked directly into his eyes, straight through the barrier. 

“And what comes next, dad? Hmm, oh yes, I remember. You made me a promise, didn’t you?” 

From the depths of the cosmos a rhythmic sound began to cut through the atmosphere, reverberating through his hollowed bones. 

“I asked you if you would take me to see it someday and you said:

‘Yes, dear. I promise, when the day comes nothing will be able to keep me from being there with you.’”

The Other Stolas spoke the words in sync with her with no inflection like a ventriloquist dummy, and Stolas shuddered.  

“That’s what you told me,” Via continued. “But that was just. Another. Lie. 

You couldn’t be bothered to keep your promise. All you've ever done is let me down, time after time. 

You it did then and you’ll do it again. You ruined our family.” 

She leaned sideways, towards Blitzø, and he turned his warm eyes upon her and smiled – the heartbeat of sound from the edges of the cosmos drew closer, louder.

“You should thank me really,” her eyes never looked away from Stolas.

She reached toward Blitzø as if to hug him, and he was quick to embrace her – sharing a look full of emotion and wonderment with the Other Stolas. Stolas, himself, would also have basked in the joy of his two favorite people in the world together if he didn’t feel the icy chill of foreboding rippling down his spine. 

Via’s eyes were still locked with his. 

“It was only a matter of time before you ruined him too. And this way, you don’t even have to get your hands dirty.”

Her hands came up on either side of his face and Stolas watched the light leave Blitzø’s trust-filled eyes as Via snapped his neck . 

“You ruined it.” 

He screamed. 

The rhythmic beat was deafening now and a crack spread like lightning across the landscape of the moon, splitting it apart and Stolas fell, fell, fell into the dark. 

He landed hard, crumpled upon muddied grass. Wherever he was now, it was definitely where The Sound originated from. The bass that pulsed through his body like a second heartbeat was joined by dissonant chords. He looked up, desperately to get his bearings, but finding only faceless demons all around him, crowding him from all sides. He struggled to find his feet, knowing that if he could just get his head above the crowd he could find his way out. But the crowd moved like waves in the sea; there was no fighting the push and pull of the pulsating bodies. Maybe this was it, this was how he was to die, lost in a sea of writhing demons, drifting like a piece of wood in the waves. Then he heard it. 

Heard her.

“My world is burning down around me

My deep despair is what surrounds me, yeah”

He opened his eyes and began to fight the crowd twice as hard as before, pushing back rather than letting himself be swept away until finally his hand met the hard flat surface of a wall and he ran it upwards till he found a ledge and pulled himself up, up and out. 

It wasn’t a wall. It was the end of a stage. A stage he knew, that he’d sung upon himself. When he was full of agony so deep he didn’t know how else to purge it from his body. 

Filled with dread, he forced his eyes up and looked into the face of his beloved daughter, his Starfire as she sang out from the recesses of her soul: 

“Your dark decay

I feel so sad

It's black and grey

I hate you dad

You never change

You only lie

It's all the same”

It was all too familiar; Verosika to one side, and Loona on the other, in place of the hellhound at the Anti-Blitzø party, and her eyes were full of venom, burning into his own with pure hatred. 

He flinched, looking to the side and saw that Blitzø himself was sitting at the drums. He couldn’t stand looking at him either so he let his eyes be drawn to the curtain behind the performers, emblazoned with the words:

FUCK YOU, STOLAS

Underneath there was a hand drawing of a horse with a long neck and a top hat upon its head… but halfway up the long graceful neck there was only air; the rest lay severed on the ground, head, hat and all, in a pool of black blood. 

“My world is burning down around me

My deep despair is what surrounds me, yeah”

He reached up to pull his cloak down over his eyes and realized he was clad in the same red-splattered sheet that Blitzø had worn at that party. He tried to turn; to fight his way out of the crowd but he spun and spun and found himself yet again in a room full of portraits. 

“My world is burning down around me

My deep despair is what will drown me, yeah”

The portraits here made him miss the room of 1000 hateful Blitzø‘s. There weren’t many, but they were huge and garish…and filled with the starring cast of his nightmares. The looming faces of his tormentors surrounded him and their voices overlapped as he spun, and was inundated with fun-house mirrors of his worst moments. 

Stella with her arms around Via from behind, holding her back: 

"Sorry, sweetie. No talking to that deadbeat ."

King Paimon, his father , impossibly tall with a face full of disdain, 

 “ How ugly . How about you stop this bitch crying ,”

Stella with a glass in her hand and her beak curved into a cruel smile,

“ I swear to fuck he just lays there staring at the wall - I'm glad one egg fell out of me so I could stop pretending to want to fuck his scrawny twig ass .”

Striker, fangs bared with bloodlust; a flash of angelic steel and the phantom pain in his shoulder:

“Shame you won't see your kid again….You ain’t worth the tombstone you'll be buried under.” 

Stella again, poison in her eyes, raising her talons to tear him to pieces: 

“ I like tormenting you…I want to keep reminding you of what you did ”

Andrealphus, snooty and smug, revelling in his triumph:  

“Buh-Bye, Stolas, you deviant piece of shit.”  

STELLA, raising his beloved potted hellfern over her head and hurling it towards him: 

“What a  P A T H E T I C  fucking man!”

He ducked, throwing his arms over his head, though nothing came out of the portrait to hurt him. Then, he saw her – his precious girl in her own portrait, this one just in front of him, not looming above, her head tucked down, casting her facial features into shadow.

He opened his beak to call out to her, her name, anything, but he couldn’t produce a sound. 

As she slowly looked up he saw her eyes burned black and he shrank back a bit when she spoke, quietly but deliberate.  

“You told me you’d never leave me. You promised.”

He tried harder to speak, to make any words come out. He had to find the right words. To make her understand. To show her once and for all that he loved her first and foremost above anything, including himself. 

“We were never enough for you! You never loved mother, and you don't love me.”

He shook his head in denial, not knowing what else to do, when she stepped forward out of the portrait. Her movements were stiff and somewhat unnatural but he didn’t pause to consider it, just flew forward and threw himself on the ground at her feet, and suddenly he found his voice. 

“Via, darling, my Starfire, I love you so, SO much, I never knew how much I could love before you came into my life, please just..”

She didn’t speak again, and he began to sob, reaching for her hand and drawing it to his face, kissing it and – 

Something was wrong. Her hand was cold and stiff, and when he bent to kiss it his lips met something that wasn’t Octavia. He opened his eyes to see a string attached to Via’s hand as it pulled away from him. 

He sat back on his knees and looked up at her, realizing that she was dressed extravagantly, in a gown that looked identical to the ones that Stella favored. It was just wrong to see his Starfire dressed in such a way, SO unlike herself. But that was the least of his worries. 

His eyes reached her face and he shrieked and fell back onto his elbows – 

It wasn’t Via. Not anymore. 

Her eyes that had burned black he now saw were giant marbles fit into her sockets. A wide smile split her face, chilling him. She was stiff, rigid all over and he realized the only reason she had moved was because of the strings attached to her like a marionette, jerking her atrophied limbs in a grotesque parody of life. 

He looked upward, his mouth agape in horror and saw Stella and Andrealphus, each with a wooden X, sharing the puppeteering of what was left of his daughter. Taxidermied. Stuffed and preserved to be an ornament, a tool to her mother and uncle. 

It was Andrealphus who broke the horrific silence. 

“Don’t worry, Stolas. She'll be safe and sound...With her mother. The wholesome parent."

The two siblings began to cackle uproariously until they were wiping their eyes with malevolent mirth. 

And then, as one, all of the portraits, and the thing that once was his daughter turned to look at him.

“After all, we’re better off without you.”

Blitzø had been curled up on his bean bag for hours, eyes stubbornly wide and hands clammy, unable to settle into sleep. 

What a fucking day. And to think, he’d come home feeling so…hopeful. Bringing home a little treat for his bird, who was just feeling a bit tired, a little overstimulated, that’s all. It’s not like he stayed home because he was spiraling. Of course not. Because Blitzø would have noticed that, right?

After Stolas disappeared into the bathroom, Blitzø had paced back and forth, trying to figure out if he should give space, or give chase.

What a fucking idiot he was. Of FUCKING COURSE Stolas wasn’t  O K A Y. And if anyone should be able to spot an impending panic attack, it should fuckin be him. 

It should have been him . 

Instead, what had happened? Stolas was left to the mercy of his thoughts today, completely abandoned by Blitzø. He should have known better. Just because Stolas had his meds now didn’t mean things would miraculously fix themselves overnight. He couldn’t stop seeing the ruffled feathers on Stolas’ arms and thighs, dripping black, he– oh. There was something he could do while Stolas was… occupied. Clean up the sitting area so he won’t get his face triggered off when comes out. 

So Blitzø cleared up the feathers. He scrubbed the floor and the coffee table and…flipped over the cushions. He set about making dinner, and definitely did not spend every second straining to hear anything coming from the bathroom. 

When Stolas emerged, he was quiet, downcast, and made straight back for the couch, but Blitzø intercepted him, inviting him to the table for dinner. 

…Which Stolas politely refused, claiming indigestion. 

“ Well at least let me take a look at those cuts ,” Blitzø took a step forward and reached out a hand toward Stolas. Who flinched. Violently.

Blitzø froze, hand extended and waited for permission. 

But Stolas just shrugged around him and headed towards the safety of the couch. 

“Stolas, please. I just want to make sure you–”

“Thank you, Blitzø. But that won’t be necessary. I just need some sleep, that’s all. I didn’t sleep well last night, nor did I get any during the day. 

There was nothing else for Blitzø to do but let him go lie down. 

As quietly as he could, Blitzø had cooked dinner for Loona (he couldn’t bear to eat anything himself), and brought it to her in her room. 

“He doing okay now?” she asked tentatively, lingering in her doorway. 

“Yeah,” he sighed, looking over his shoulder at the bird-shaped lump on the couch. “He just…needs to take it easy. Rest and relaxation and all that, you know…” 

She eyed him silently, biting gently on her lower lip before finally offering, “Just…just please tell me if there’s anything I can do. To help, I mean.”

His head snapped around, eyes wide for a second before they brimmed with tears. 

“Oh, Loonyyy. I can’t tell you how much that means to me.” 

“Yeah well…you’re welcome. And, I mean it. Alright then, I’m gonna go eat and not talk to you until tomorrow. Unless you, you know, need me.”

Blitzø had mindlessly gone through his bedtime rituals, and curled up on the bean bag chair. Awake. 

Awake and thinking and worrying and stressing and and and. 

He just. Needed to stay patient. Nothing happened overnight, and he was determined to go at whatever pace Stolas needed. And he would. 

He was startled out of his thoughts by a low moan. He froze. Was Stolas waking up or was he having a dream? And was it a dream or a  d r e a m  or a nightmare? 

There was another long groan ( yes, definitely still asleep…like I should be right now.) 

He was about to turn over and actually try to sleep, when he heard a low sob. 

He sat up. Okay…yeah it definitely wasn’t a sexy dream. Fuck. 

“Stols?” he whispered into the dark. “Are you awake?”

His only answer was another sob, louder this time, then another and another and it was breaking his heart and before he knew what he was doing, he was up and crossing the few steps to the couch, determined to do something to comfort his precious bird. 

He was across the room before his brain could catch up with his body, and stopped short at the edge of the couch. 

His claws flexed with indecision, aching with the need to reach out and do something. Should he touch him? Fuck. Stolas was sweating, feathers askew, and struggling against the blanket that had become twisted around his limbs. His face was twisted in agony, all four eyes tightly clenched, leaking tears from underneath, and his heavy breathing and pained whimpers made Blitzø’s stomach roil. 

“ Stols, baby wake up,” he choked out. 

There was no reaction, so, feeling like he had no other option, Blitzø decided to risk touching him (cuz that had gone so well earlier). 

He cautiously placed a gentle claw on the shoulder closest to him, and then squeezed tighter when there was still no response. 

Well. That got a response. 

Stolas didn’t wake up, but instead started thrashing and sobbing harder, flinging his head back and forth, kicking, and scratching at his arms. 

And once again Blitzø hit the fucking panic button and reacted instinctively to subdue him.

He slithered on top of him, grateful for his experience riding horses (and Stolas), and took control.

Luckily he had lots of practice with that as well, so with smooth movements he had Stolas’ wrists pinned above his head with one hand, and the other tightly fisted in Stolas’ headfeathers, stilling the most violent of his movements. Finally, with his bottom half he stilled Stolas’ hips, (although there was nothing he could do about his long ass bird legs). 

And throughout it all he kept up a litany of “It’s okay Stols, you’re okay I got you, you’re okay baby, you’re safe, I have you, I got you, you’re okay, I’m here…”  

As the tension started to leech from Stolas’ body, Blitzø gentled his hold on the back of his head, carding his claws through the feathers. He leaned in closer, pressing his forehead into Stolas’ whose lower set of eyes slowly cracked open, blinking in disorientation and still leaking steadily. 

Blitzø continued whispering words of comfort and praise, softening his grip further, one hand cupping Stolas’ jaw and the other on his cheek, smoothing a thumb across his faceplate and gently wiping away the tears streaming out of all four eyes.

 “ That’s it, that’s good. That’s my good birdie, ” Blitzø pressed a kiss between Stolas’ upper eyes, and shit, yep, that did it. Stolas’ breath hitched and he fractured, sobbing and gasping and clutching at him, frantically trying to wrap all of his long bird limbs around Blitzø. Blitzø just held him back, rocking him gently, and let him cry. 

Slowly, slowly his sobs became sniffles, his harsh breathing began to ease, hitching violently every so often. 

Blitzø smoothed away the last of his tears and slowly sat up. 

“There’s my pretty bird.” 

Their eyes locked and Blitzø offered a smile, soft and sweet and real and suddenly Stolas was sitting up too, and Blitzø was in his lap and he was clutching at him again , but this time it was his face, drawing him into a frantic kiss. 

It was hot and messy, all beak and fangs and tongue and tongue and tongue , moaning into each other’s mouths, swallowing each other’s gasping words. 

“Fuck, oh fuck, fuck fuck.”

Blitzø’s hands were running through headfeathers, Stolas‘ over horns and spikes, down his back, then sliding around, around and down Blitzø’s abdomen towards the waistband of his sleep shorts. Oh god. Yes , no but yes. 

But actually  N O. 

“Wait – Stols, wait , stop! We can’t –” he forced himself to unlock his fingers and pull back. 

This wasn’t how this was supposed to happen. All this time, waiting and trying to build back trust and respect and then he did this??!? Satan’s balls, what the fuck was wrong with him? What kind of pathetic, disgusting asshole would take advantage of this moment, this moment of extreme vulnerability? Fuck. Say something, you moron!

“It’s not that I – I mean, I do, I…it’s just not –”

Stolas seemed to curl further in on himself with every word and Blitzø cursed himself to heaven and back, he was fucking useless with fucking words fffffff. 

Stolas sniffed, looking away “It’s okay, Blitzø. I understand.” His voice sounded horrible, scratchy and hoarse and just so, so sad. 

“No I don’t think you do. I just…I – Look. You’re very…this was a really emotional night. And I just. I would hate to take – we just can’t… it’s not…time. You know?” 

Oh Stolas knew. He knew. He could hear the ends of allllll those sentences Blitzø was too kind to finish. 

“I understand, Blitzø,” he said tonelessly, sliding backwards to put some distance between them. Blitzø did not look reassured, his face pinched in distress. 

“...Stols. It isn’t – it’s just that you don’t deserve –”

“I’m tired,” Stolas cut in over him. He really didn’t need to hear the end of that sentence out loud. “Apologies. You are correct, now is certainly not the time for any more of… this.”

Blitzø visibly deflated, looking crestfallen, but then took a deep breath. 

“Okay, yeah. You’re right. We should sleep.”  

“Yes.” Stolas could feel Blitzø looking at him, and moved to lay down, refusing to meet his eyes. 

“Um…do you want me to– I mean, uh, Could I– fuck, christ on stick,” he muttered before blowing out a breath. “Could I h-hold you? Just for tonight?” 

And Stolas…couldn’t think of anything to say. So he just…shrugged minutely and gave a tiny nod before laying down. 

Blitzø wriggled into the space between Stolas’s back and the couch, latching his arms around him, and cradling Stolas’ head to his chest. 

It was quiet for a moment before Blitzø spoke softly, “Hey Stols?” 

There was a beat of silence so Stolas hmm’d in acknowledgement. 

“Everything is going to be okay. I promise.”

Stolas said nothing, but his eyes filled anew with tears. 

“Night, birdie.” 

Blitzø snuggled closer and within moments his breathing had evened out into sleep. 

“Goodnight, Blitzø” Stolas whispered. 

And though his eyes ached with tiredness, he knew he wouldn’t sleep. 

Chapter Text

Stolas had no idea how long he’d laid awake, staring unseeingly out across the room. Eventually Blitzø’s steady breathing and warm body curled around him had lulled Stolas into some sort of sleep…adjacent state. He knew he must've slept, though when he awoke it felt like barely a moment had passed. 

But the light from the pentagram was streaming in through the window, and he could smell and hear things emanating from the kitchen that told him Blitzø was already up and cooking.

“Wait – Stols, wait, stop! We can’t –” 

“It’s not that I – I mean, I do, I…it’s just not –”

“I just…I – Look. You’re very…this was a really emotional night. And I just. I would hate to take – we just can’t… it’s not…time. You know?”

Blitzø had been very kind. He was very kind. It was kind of him to not finish those sentences, but Stolas wasn’t stupid. He could read between the lines. Even if they were disjointed, fractured lines. 

Stop! We can’t – go down this path again . 

It’s just not – going to work out.

Look. You’re very –

…well Stolas could take his pick of endings for that sentence. You’re very…what? Very clingy? Very pathetic ? Very exhausting to deal with all the fucking time?

They all fucking applied. Stolas knew they were all true . And yet, somehow it still hurt beyond measure that Blitzø knew it too. 

Hearing the words come out of Blitzø’s mouth would have been devastating. Fucking unbearable. 

So really, his stammering had been a mercy. Even if Stolas didn’t deserve it.

Blitzø had rejected him even when he’d had the means to give him anything he could possibly desire; even with all his wealth and power, Blitzø hadn’t wanted him. So why the fuck would he possibly want him now. 

Shaking himself, Stolas forced himself to his feet and made his way quietly into the bathroom for his morning ablutions. He was just washing his face and smoothing his head feathers back when there was a knock on the door. 

“Won’t be a minute!” he said, in as cheerful a tone as he could manage. 

“It’s just me!” It was Blitzø. “Open up real fast?”

Stolas braced himself and swung open the door. Before he could choke out so much as a “good morning,” Blitzø was giving him a doe-eyed look and thrusting a hot cup of tea towards him. 

“Morninggggg feathers, I thought you might like some tea while you…you know…” 

Stolas stared at him. 

Blitzø cleared his throat, “I, uh…I  know there’s water in here. Obviously. But I, um. I thought you might like to have tea with your. Um – your pills.”

Oh right. Those. 

“Oh. How thoughtful of you,” Stolas reached out for the tea, feeling so uncomfortable he wanted to claw even more of his feathers out. 

Blitzø lingered in the doorway for a moment, but when Stolas remained silent and stiff, he smiled awkwardly then turned and headed back toward the kitchen, letting the door swing shut behind him.

Stolas opened the medicine cabinet and looked at the bottle of Happy Pills. 

His stomach turned.

He could not get the look on Via’s face out of his head. The absolute devastation in her voice when she’d asked if he had needed medication because of her. 

He leaned over the sink, and rested his head on his arms simply trying to breathe. Maybe he was being stupid about all of this. He couldn’t even tell anymore. All he knew was he really, really fucking wanted those luciferdamned pills. Wanted to dump an indiscriminate amount of little round tablets into his hand and just throw them all down his fucking gullet. Wanted to float all the way up, up, up and laugh and smile and feel joy.  

“You're weak.” 

He jumped, jerking his head up, right into the corner of the still open medicine cabinet, then staggered backwards and fell to the ground, looking up in disbelief at the elegant plumage and cruel face of his ex-wife, petrified . 

“ Exactly where you're meant to be, ” and she was laughing, laughing, and with every breath it grew louder, crueler.

Lucifer almighty why the fuck was this happening to him??? 

It’s not fucking real, he thought, but his head was spinning and Stella was there, advancing on him and –

The door flew open and Stolas scrambled backwards, throwing up an arm to protect his face. He hit the wall and realized he had literally backed himself into a corner. He curled in on himself, trying to seem as small as possible, and braced himself to endure whatever came next. He could still hear her laughter echoing cruelly as the ringing in his ears overwhelmed his senses. 

Crash. 

Fuck, what the FUCK what was that??

Blitzø sprinted to the bathroom, and when Stolas didn’t open up after the first two knocks, he pushed his his way into the room and Stolas…fuck. 

He’d completely flipped out.  

Well. Blitzø was not going to make the same mistake again. He would not be reaching out to touch Stolas without his explicit consent. 

He stepped cautiously closer and crouched down a couple of feet from his poor birdie, then just began talking. He’d come back when he was ready, right? Yeah. 

He spoke softly, calmly, keeping up a litany of gentle encouragements for several minutes before Stolas was able to do anything other than whimper and shake. Blitzø could tell when he finally began to surface as he went still and silent. 

“Heyyy…you back with me now, birdie?”

He watched as Stolas took a long slow breath, let it out, then looked at Blitzø with eerily blank eyes and said, “apologies.” 

Blitzø gaped at him, and then scrambled to his feet as Stolas gracefully rose and walked past him out of the bathroom. 

“Apolo–Stolas, what the fuck– are you alright?? That was, you just. Christ on a fucking stick , Stolas, you’re giving me whiplash here.” 

Stolas froze halfway to the couch and turned back, eyes downcast. 

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to trouble you. I am most certainly alright. I’m just going to change into some office-appropriate attire.” 

“Stolas, you were literally just curled on the bathroom floor ! You’re not fucking okay! And ALSO…fucking forget going into the office , bitch , you need to fucking sit DOWN, you literally have blood on the back of your head! Fuck, hang on, one sec I’m just gonna shoot a message to M&M, we’re opening late today…or maybe...yeah maybe we should just take the day off, you need to rest, I can–”

“STOP. Blitzø just fucking STOP. You’re not going to close for the day for no reason . You’re not going to “open late” and I am more than capable of going in to work with you all today and pulling my own weight. You don’t need to baby me, I can be useful ! And the very last thing I want to do is drag you down even more than I already do.” 

They looked at each other down, breathing hard.

Stolas turned, gathered his clothes and left to change. 

Blitzø just sighed, looking after him. Loona poked her head out of her room and raised an eyebrow at her dad. 

“So…I guess we’re leaving then?”

Maybe this would be a good thing. Getting out of the apartment, getting some fresh(ish) air. Seeing other demons… having space. 

Yeah fuck all that. Blitzø couldn’t tolerate that crock of shit even inside his own head. 

Stolas’ words were rattling around his mind unrelentingly. 

‘I can be useful! And the very last thing I want to do is drag you down even more than I already do!’

Fuckin Satan’s taint, it was like talking to a mirror. A warped-ass mirror with a sexy feathery leggy bitch spitting his own self-hating vitriol back at him. He hated hearing those words come out of Stolas, fucking Stolas’ mouth. 

And after all of that, what could he say? No ?

The drive to get M&M was awful, the silence stifling. Seriously, he couldn't hear his own fucking thoughts, and when they finally got into the van…Blitzø had never been so grateful for Moxxie’s early morning chattering. 

What the fuck is wrong with you, you piece of SHIT. 

…okay maybe being able to hear his own thoughts wasn’t better. Fucking Moxxie . 

He couldn't stem the torrent of self-recrimination flooding through him. He just couldn’t believe how badly he’d fucked up yesterday.

Well no. That wasn’t true, he absolutely could believe it, in fact, it would have been shocking if he hadn’t … Except… he’d been doing so much better recently. Ever since that awful fucking trial… or even before that, when he talked with Verosika? Whatever. It didn’t matter exactly when. He’d gotten a lot of shit into perspective. 

And then at the trial…what a ‘Come-to-Satan” moment (pun very much fucking intended) with Stolas getting kicked to the fucking curb with literally only the clothes on his back (he didn’t even have time to grab his phone for fucks sake). 

It was awful. Heart-breaking. Only… it wasn’t. Blitzø tried to hide it but he was fucking thrilled to have Stolas back in his life, under the same roof . Kept close where Blitzø could make sure he was safe from his fucking bitch ass harpy of an ex. Not to mention the army of fucking vultures that were his “peers.” Fucking standing around, not giving a single shit what was happening, then with their zombie looking ass back up singing all trancy and shit when Satan fucking HIJACKED Stolas’ SONG . 

Fucking ASSHOLES ALL OF ‘EM. 

None of them cared about Stolas.  And if that hadn’t been enough proof of it, there was also the fact that not a fucking ONE of them had reached out to Stolas in the weeks since. Bunch of fucking bitch ass chicken nuggets the LOT of them. 

So yeah. He was selfish. We all knew that. He loved having Stolas in his home, his business, his life. He was like a… well, like a baby bird fallen out of his cushy ‘lil nest way up in a tree, too young to fly. And Blitzø had picked him up and cradled him close to his chest, knowing how fragile, how precious he was. It had been a fucking honor to be the one taking care of him. From washing his dirtied feathers that first night, to smoothing back his crest after tucking him into the very place Blitzø had slept for the last four years… it was a gift. To be treasured. 

And guess what you DON’T fucking do with a little baby bird that is utterly dependent on you for literally everything , unable to fly or hunt or protect itself yet? You don’t fucking PUT THE MOVES ON IT. 

…which would be a crime. How the fuck did he get around to birdie bestiality? Oh right. 

Cuz he’s a fucking SELFISH PIECE OF SHIT. Fucking CHRIST. He honestly couldn’t believe himself. 

He’d PROMISED himself that he’d be patient. Give Stolas time and space (what little he could) to recover… himself. Before anything could potentially happen between them. 

And okay so Stolas had kissed him in that fucking epic dragon-slaying-heat-of-the-moment-kick-ass-action-hero moment.

And it had been… so good. Just. His heart – anyway not the point. The point was, directly after that Stolas had his whole world ripped away from him. Way worse than when he was banished. The sounds he — no. He wasn’t thinking about that either. The POINT was, he’d had time to think. After. On the sofa, curled up to keep Stolas warm, while Stolas was staring at nothing and dissociating out of his feathers… Blitzø decided, no matter how fucking hard it was, he and Stolas needed to actually fucking talk about their shit before anything else  h a p p e n e d. And by shit he means FEELINGS. It was too fucking important. 

…And no matter how the conversation went… Stolas deserved for Blitzø to look him in the eyes and tell him how he felt. 

Feels. 

Which is why he could just slap himself over last night. Stolas had been upset. Fucking sobbing . Stolas had needed comfort . A friend. Not for Blitzø to stick his tongue down his throat. Or worse. 

And that was the shittiest part. If Blitzø hadn’t stopped himself… no one would have. And who knows how Stolas would feel about him in the morning if he’d pressed the advantage. 

“Uhhh, Blitzø?” 

Blitzø wrenched himself out of his head and met Moxxie’s eyes through the rearview. “ What, Mox? ”

“You, uh – you missed the turn. Into the parking lot? Of… our work?”

Ah. So he had. 

Fuck. 

Stolas let out a long breath as the diamond shaped portal winked out of existence. He sagged into his chair, allowing some of the tension in what felt like his entire body to dispel .  

It had been a long morning. 

He’d really hoped that having Mildred and Moxxie as two additional conversational buffers would ease some of the strain that hovered between himself and Blitzø. It had not. 

Somehow the presence of the other IMP employees only seemed to make things worse. During every interaction between Blitzø and himself he was hyper aware that all three of them were staring avidly at them. 

He should have offered to make them popcorn , he thought sourly. It’s only polite . 

Fucking heaven. 

It had been utterly exhausting. 

But honestly, how was he supposed to function at all with Blitzø popping up at his side every other minute offering him a beverage, helping him into his chair, offering suggestions or, Lucifer-forbid, compliments, and overall just being far too gentle and, and solicitous and, and… and nice.

Great. He sounded like a crazy person. An ungrateful crazy person. 

And now they were finally off to their first hit of the day and Stolas could be alone with his thoughts again. 

Although honestly it wasn’t all that much better. 

He’d been trying so hard to ignore and evade his thoughts, and his..everything really. 

Since his banishment, he’d been without his medication, so it wasn’t surprising that he’d been experiencing some…less than pleasant side effects , shall we say, from suddenly being cut off from his… consistent consumption of… rather in consistent dosages (a choice he was now paying for, with interest ). 

He’d experienced countless physical discomforts – aching in his joints, nausea and sharp pains in his stomach, absolutely killing his appetit and, at times, a horrible itching/tingling sensation under his feathers that made him want to claw them off by the handful. But far worse had been the mental and emotional fluctuations – during the day, struggling to stay present with Blitzø always by his side while his spirit seemed only loosely tethered to his skin, his mood swinging so violently between a numbness or all-encompassing despair to an anxiety so severe he couldn’t sit still lest he vibrate out of his skin . It was embarrassing to always be half a second away from melting into a puddle of feathers and tears. But worst of all were those…those outbursts. When words bubbled up from he didn’t even know where, words he’d never thought before, bubbling up and spewing out like a malignant geyser. 

He couldn’t even bear to think about it – 

‘Normally I dine on a custom diet prepared by my waiting staff’

‘Is this how everyone acts when they don't have money?’

‘No, fun is free , but we can afford nice things.’

Who the fuck even was he?? He sounded like every fucking asshole at every party he’d never wanted to go to! Worse , he sounded like exactly what Blitzø had called him. 

‘You know what might help that privileged little attitude? Paperwork!’

His stomach churned. Pompous. Rich. Asshole. Is that actually all he was? Just some fucking classist prick who’s…

‘Oh lords! I'M POOR NOW!’

Not even rich anymore. And that was the only thing he could offer, the only thing that could possibly be useful to Blitzø. 

He just…couldn’t understand where these things were coming from? Had they always been inside him? Was he, underneath it all, just like the rest of them?? His father, Andrealphus…Stella.

Everytime one of those poisonous sentences left his mouth, he burned with shame, with self-hatred. And he waited with baited breath to see what would be it . The last straw. Blitzø and the rest of them had so far been extremely… tolerant of his repugnant behavior. But Stolas could tell it was wearing on them. 

If he kept this up, one of these times Loona or Millie or Moxxie… or Blitzø would snap, and justifiably so.  

He was just… waiting. Waiting until they realized what a fucking burden he was, a dead weight, an irritation.

In these moments when it was just him in the office though… he could breathe a little easier. With them gone, he wasn’t in any danger of saying something destructive. He couldn’t hurt any of them when we was —

“Alone?”

He froze, not even daring to breathe. That deep husky drawl was straight out of his nightmares. Fuck. Was he actually asleep ? 

“Long time no see, your highness .” 

The sound of spurs jingling sent a chill down his spine, and he slowly turned his neck towards the door to Blitzø’s office. 

Striker, leaning casually against the jam, chuckled darkly, “Oh wait. I can’t call you that anymore, can I?”

Stolas couldn’t answer, didn’t want to answer, had no idea if he even could string a sentence together, so he stayed quiet and unmoving. 

He hadn’t even touched on the most alarming side-effect of his withdrawals (or at least he hoped that’s what it was)...the hallucinations.

He hadn’t had the space to think about it the night before, what with his spirit completely leaving his body, and then having yet another humiliating rejection from Blitzø, but he couldn't ignore it now. He couldn't think of any other explanation for the horrific vision of Stella appearing in Blitzø’s living room. He would have loved to shrug it off as a blip, but considering the visage of Striker casually posing in the I.M.P. offices…

“Aww, what’s the matter, big bird? Imp gotch’ur tongue? Hmm? Did’ja miss me?”

… Was it a bad idea to talk back to your hallucinations? Would it make it worse? Or was that just… good manners. “What…” he cleared his throat, “what are you –” 

“Doing here? I came to watch the show! You said something about makin’ popcorn?” 

Well that was very meta , he thought, surreal even. 

Stolas raised an eyebrow. Striker pulled out a wicked looking blade, a familiar blade, and casually began cleaning under his fingernails. 

“Come on now, pigeon,” Stolas felt his feathers fluff in indignation at that. “You know exactly what I'm talking about. The fuckin’ rodeo clown show of your life, the aftermath of that trial, you workin’ as a slutty little secretary to your dick swingin’ boss man. You’re life’s more entertaining than those garbage fuckin soaps that only dumbest of shallow whores like. Y’all are pathetic, waltzin’ around like you think you’re in Hella Novella. ”

Okay, now that was just fucking rude. 

“Lot of big talk for an Imp who’s ridiculous ‘man-cave,’ (which is a literal cave I might add), looks exactly like the evil lair of Ricardo Du Lac ! And your cheesy cowboy-wannabe one-liners would make the writers of General Hellspital cringe their claws off .”

Stolas felt a flash of triumph as the smirk dropped off Striker’s face and it reddened in anger. Ha! Little shit was almost too easy to rattle (heh, get it?). He was almost sorry it was just a hallucination because that was a good one.  Then, he took a moment to again question his sanity, what with celebrating winning a point in the verbal sparring match he was having with what he was sure was a hallucination . 

Striker’s spiky tail snapped and despite his certainty, the rattle it produced made Stolas’ heart rate skyrocket . Extremely realistic hallucination…he hoped. 

Striker let out a low snarling scoff and took a few menacing steps toward the desk where Stolas sat. 

“You just can’t keep your beak shut, can you, Goetia? Always so ready to jump down the throat of those you look down on. Even when you've been knocked down into the mud with alllll the rest of us, you’re still looking down that lofty, royal little beak.”

Lucifer wept. He didn’t know why but this demon had the insidious ability to slither into him and poison his mind. His words were hypnotizing and deadly – like being in a trance only to awaken with a constrictor wound around your throat. 

“I've known from the moment I saw ye. Standing on a stage in Wrath looking down at the rabble at your feet. Smilin’ and grandstandin’ with your supercilious language, your poncy little outfit and highfalutin airs. Diminishing their sufferin’ and actin’ like they should be down on their knees in supplication for your mere presence.” 

It didn't seem to matter whether or not he was real; Stolas’ hands shook where they lay on the desk. He couldn’t seem to move them voluntarily so they stayed there as if affixed to the wood with glue. 

“And now, all of hell knows it too,” Striker took the last few steps toward Stolas and stopped with only the desk between them. “If I thought you were a shallow, pathetic bitch before, heh. Well, you're less than worthless now. You're not even worth the money paid to take you out anymore.

Honestly, it’s got a cosmic kind of elegance to it. You threw away your whole life, gave up everythin’ for the Imp that couldn’t be bothered to come save you from being brutally murdered. You woulda been long gone by the time his little minions showed up if your wife hadn’t changed her fickle little mind.”

There was a schick of metal slicing through air and the sound of wood splintering as Striker (hallucination, not real not real ) whipped out his blade and brought it down, embedding it into the wood between Stolas’ two hands. And still, he couldn’t move. 

Striker used the knife’s handle to pull himself closer, up onto the desk to loom over Stolas. 

“Even after everything, after throwing it all away, you’re here, pathetically clinging to his petticoats like a barnacle, batting your pretty little eyelashes and hoping he’ll notice you. It’s pathetic . You’re just embarrassing yourself – he’s pushed you away time and again, as recently as last night. You threw yourself at him and all he gave you was kind words, and a patronizing hug, just enough to assuage his guilt. 

Stolas gaped in horror up into those glowing yellow eyes – how the fuck had this spiralled so fast and so far??

“Really, pigeon , what would he want with you now? You have nothing to offer him. You have nothing to offer to anyone .”

Fuck, fuck. He was going to be sick. 

“And, hehhehe” Striker chuckled darkly. “The best part is, that with your little song and dance, you’ve made your darling Blitzy a shining star with plenty of admirers, so he don’t need a fuckdoll any more. If I were you, I’d take myself out to the trash before he gives you the boot .” 

Stolas’ eyes filled and he forced his limbs to obey, jerked backwards until his chair hit the wall and he dragged himself out of it. Striker’s eyes followed him as he edged out from behind the desk and slowly backed away, breathing hard.

That blood chilling smile spread over Striker’s face, and Stolas couldn’t help but close his eyes against the vision, trying to ignore the tell-tail rattling, gasping for breath and repeating a mantra of it’s not real, it’s not real, his head was spinning, he took another step backwards and – 

“ Oh crumbs!” 

…

It all happened too fast to compute. All Stolas knew was that he’d backed up into some one , and toppled over backwards, flying wing over beak, crashing into a painful heap up ungainly limbs. 

Ow. 

How. Humiliating.

The I.M.P. crew had come hurtling triumphantly through their portal right behind where Stolas had been having his dramatic little meltdown, and he’d apparently fallen over Moxxie, judging by his anxious apologetic string of sentences that registered vaguely. Not to mention the furious diatribe coming from Blitzø in a tone he would never aim at Loona or Millie. 

Stolas kept his eyes shut and wished fervently for death. Or to just… disappear. Or fuck, to have his magic for a  mere second , so he could just rip the fabric of space open and step straight into the void. Anything to not be where he was. 

On the floor. A fucking pathetic mess. Poor helpless Stolas. Always needing Blitzø to help him dust himself off and pat him on the head. He couldn’t take it again. The pity, the kindness. 

He didn’t deserve it. 

“-- before you swallow your own ass, Moxx, cheese and crackers , get the fuck outta the way!” 

Stolas blinked a few times as his consciousness rejoined his body. 

Moxxie was grumbling irritatedly and rubbing at the back of his head (apparently where Blitzø had slapped him), Millie patting his arm consolingly while trying to reign in her giggles and Loona too was struggling to suppress an amused smirk. 

At the end of his tirade, Blitzø turned and made his way over to Stolas, softening instantly. 

Blitzø knelt at his side and brought a hand up to rest on Stola’s shoulder, looking him over for injury. Apparently having ascertained that nothing was immediately amiss, Blitzø’s mouth slid into a lopsided grin and he reached his other hand out for Stolas to take. 

No. 

Stolas inhaled sharply, reacting without thinking, slapping away Blitzø’s offered hand and throwing the other off his shoulder, unable to stomach the comforting touch. 

“ I'm FINE. Lucifer ! Stop treating me like a fucking child!”

His words sounded foreign to his own ears, like someone else had used his mouth to produce them. He couldn’t move, couldn’t make another sound, his horribly angry words hanging in the air above them all. 

He could feel four sets of eyes weighing heavily upon him. Nobody moved for what felt like an eternity, until Blitzø finally broke the silence. 

“I’m…sorry, Stols,” he swallowed thickly and continued in a low voice, “I…I don’t think you’re a child, I don’t mean to –” 

Oh god. Hell below. He wanted to d i e. He could not handle Blitzø apologizing to him after everything that had happened .  He couldn’t . He…he

“I-I, I need a moment, ex-excuse me.” 

He stumbled to his feet and out of the room. 

Chapter Text

For a moment, nobody spoke. Nobody moved . Loona and M&M exchanged stunned looks with each other between furtive glances at Blitzø. 

Blitzø’s eyes stayed locked on the door that Stolas had fled through. 

Fuck. 

Fuck fuck FUCK. 

How coud he have fucked up THIS BADLY. THIS MANY TIMES. IN SUCH A SHORT FUCKING TIMEFRAME . He…he just. He just kept fucking everything up with Stolas. Stolas who needed him . Stolas who was hurting so badly. Stolas who had literally given up everything he’d ever known for Blitzø. And Blitzø just…kept triggering him. 

Blitzø’s head was spinning crazily. He was actually starting to fear he might pass right out when–

“ Breathe , B.”

He gasped, gulping in a huge lungful of air. Huh, funny. He hadn’t realized he’d stopped breathing. Weird. He nearly jumped out of his skin when Millie laid a hand on his arm. 

“ Christ on a stick,” he drew in another shaky breath and dragged a hand down his face. “That was…that wasn’t good.”

“I’m so sorry, Sir.” Moxie sounded horrified, close to tears, “That was…I-I didn’t, I should’ve –”

“It wasn’t your fault, Mox.” Blitzø was suddenly calm. It wasn’t Moxxie’s fault. All he’d done was walk through the portal. No. If this was anyone’s fault, then it was his own. He needed to get his shit together and starting using his fucking brain. Stolas needed him. So he was going to fucking give him what he needed. Whatever he needed. 

“Let’s call it a day, we can afford to take an afternoon off,” Blitzø was trying to pull himself back under control, but Millie’s other hand came up to grasp at his, and turned him to face her. He forced himself to focus on her face and the pressure of her hands squeezing his. 

“Deep breath, B. It’s gonna be fine. Why don’t you hand the crystal to us three, and then you can take Stolas home and… rest. Relax. Reset. Talk , maybe. We’ve got plenty of simple hits we can knock out, and that way you two can have some space.” 

Space, he thought. That was what Stolas needed. Some space. 

Not that there was much of that to be had while living in a one bedroom with the two of them sharing the living room. And…fuck. He had even encroached upon his bed (couch) last night. 

“Yeah,” Blitzø was nodding now, “yeah that’s a good plan. You three – “ 

“I’m coming home with you,” Loona cut in over him. And when Millie opened her mouth to argue, continued with “I’m gonna pack an overnight bag and spend the night with a friend.” 

“Oh…that’s a…thanks, Loony. Alright. Alright thank you guys. I’m just gonna…” he gestured towards his office, “I’ll get a few things squared away, give Stolas a few to calm down and then I’ll bring him home.” 

“Good plan, Blitzø“ Blitzø was glad to hear Moxxie using his name again, rather than the “Sir” he had reverted to while stressed. 

“Take your time, B.” Millie smiled encouragingly at him as he backed through his doorway and then shut it. 

He turned around and sagged against it. 

Ffffffffuckkkk me .

Blitzø had thought Stolas was doing a bit better. Adjusting. Spending time in the office. Or was that just wishful thinking on Blitzø’s part?

He had certainly seemed less tense. And he had mostly stopped having outbursts of uncharacteristically condescending and privileged garbage – complaining, and bitching, and huffing. 

And that was a relief. And not because he was fed up with Stolas acting that way. 

It would be the height of hypocrisy for Blitzø to be annoyed at Stolas for being a bitch while at his lowest. 

Blitzø certainly knew a thing or two about weaponizing obnoxious behaviour in order to keep others at a distance. If he was honest with himself ( and at this point, why bother being anything else? ) he knew exactly what it was like attempting to drive people away with toxic, unpleasant words while at the same time desperately wanting them to love him anyway. To see into his heart, to see past the facade. And all the while knowing he didn’t deserve it.

Fucking irritatingly convoluted honestly. 

The point was that Blitzø understood . It was actually impossible NOT to understand. 

That last Full Moon, when Stolas had gifted him the Asmodean crystal and an obviously over-rehearsed speech – telling Blitzø that he cared about him, that he wanted him to stay – it was so easy to doubt. 

It was easy to dismiss it, to explain it away as Stolas just trying to get rid of him. Here, have something shiny to keep you quiet, the door is that way. After all, Stolas had always known that Blitzø was a stubborn, tenacious motherfucker (he winced), who would fight tooth and nail to keep his business, his family afloat. 

It was less easy, but not impossible, to maintain his doubts the following morning (a memory he couldn't think about without feeling sick with shame.) And it was even harder to believe Stolas anything but painfully sincere that night, looking up from the crowd of demons gathered together in mutual hatred of him, while Stolas’ heart bled out onstage. 

Stolas hadn’t known he was there. Stolas wasn’t grandstanding. He wasn’t pandering to the crowd. He was curling into himself and letting out his confusion and hurt and heartbreak – in a rock ballad that fucking slapped (fucking galling .)

And though Blitzø couldn’t doubt the truth of his emotions that night… Stolas clearly had had feelings for Blitzø, shocking though it was…it wasn’t hard to believe that they were definitely all past tense . Stolas had been so fucking angry that morning, and so hurt when they spoke at the party, and he’d barely hesitated to jump tongue-first into a bitch ass bubble-gum lookin ass Hunkubus motherfucking COCKSUCKER–or CLOACA SUCKER or… Fuck . 

…Okay he might’ve gotten off track, where the fuck was he? 

Oh yeah. The point was, it was easy to doubt that Stolas still cared about him after everything. And Blitzø didn’t blame him one fucking bit. 

But then , at that trial… that was something he couldn’t dismiss, doubt or explain away. As far as he was concerned (and honestly no one else’s opinion fucking mattered ), it had been incontrovertible proof . 

Blitzø had watched helplessly as Stolas threw his entire life away. He had given up literally everything – and in the process he’d made himself the most hated Demon in all of hell. 

Just to keep Blitzø alive. 

Honestly, it didn’t fucking matter if Stolas’ had only done it because it was “the right thing to do.” 

… But Blitzø knew, he knew that that wasn’t the only reason, or even a reason. He didn’t think reason came into it at all. 

Blitzø had broken into his home to steal his book, so everything that had happened was his fault. Stolas could have washed his hands of him, could have just changed the channel while they snuffed out Blitzø’s life. 

Instead, he had shown up mere moments after the broadcast had begun. It was obvious he had reacted without thought, that his gut instinct had been to protect Blitzø . 

And he had done it flawlessly. 

Blitzø hadn’t been able to appreciate it at the time, what with his head being on the chopping block and all, but Stolas’ performance — to the Sins, to all of Demon royalty, to all of hell — that had been breathtaking. Magnificent. Captivating. And so fucking compelling . Even he had been half-convinced that Stolas was, in fact, an evil genius, a villainous rogue , who’d been pulling the strings from the very beginning. 

And not because he doubted Stolas’ character, no, not for a second , but because he was just that fucking good of an actor. He knew how to put on a fucking show .

And Blitzø knew a true performer when he fucking saw one considering he had tried desperately to be one his entire adolescent life. 

Stolas hadn’t begged for leniency, hadn’t first tried to convince them to spare Blitzø by telling them about The Deal or anything even remotely approaching The Truth. 

He had, without a shred of hesitation, lit a fuse on the fucking powder keg that was his entire life. 

Stolas loved him.  

There was no other explanation. Blitzø had doubted it before, but no longer. 

It didn’t matter how bitchy he acted, or what obnoxious shit came out of his mouth. It didn’t matter how much he tried to convince Blitzø that he truly was just a privileged, rich asshole . It was just more of the same. Smoke and mirrors. A grand performance to convince Blitzø that Stolas wasn’t worth the effort to take care of him .

And honestly, it hurt to see Stolas try so hard to push him away. Not because it hurt his feelings, but because it was horrible to see – to watch him act so very much unlike himself ( and so very much like Blitzø ). But there were cracks in the mirror. Blitzø knew his Stolas was inside, suffering immeasurably and torturing himself. 

He betrayed himself in moments. Allowing hellborn to throw all manner of swill on him without so much as batting an eyelash. The way he’d slumped face down into the bathwater, almost giving Blitzø a fucking heart attack.

The way he had marched straight up to his flouncy bitch ass tool of a brother-in-law and threw down, knowing he was power-less. 

If anyone knew about self-destruction, about passive suicidal ideation , it was Blitzø. 

For fuck’s sake, he wrote the book on that fucking subject. He WAS the book on it. 

But guess what? It didn’t matter . Blitzø had seen straight into Stolas’ soul, and now it was lodged inside his chest, pumping lifeblood into him. 

Stolas was his fucking heart. 

The only way he could hurt Blitzø was by hurting himself . So. Keeping him going, keeping him from completely self-destructing, that was the only thing that mattered now. 

… When Via had brought the Happy Pills, when Blitzø’d realized… he really… thought that things would get a bit easier. But what did he know? Maybe they took days to kick back in. Or maybe they were irrelevant because the blow of Via’s rejection would have destroyed him no matter how many medications he was on. 

Lucifer. He couldn’t imagine. 

Well actually…he could. He’d imagined similar scenarios with Loona a thousand times. 

And also… he didn’t have to imagine. Loona had hurled similarly hurtful words at him many times. And she wasn’t the only one… 

But perhaps it was worse for Stolas because he hadn’t heard it a thousand times. And Via wasn’t the most recent of a lifetime of brutal rejections. 

And she was his baby. As in he’d literally taken care of her since before she’d hatched. 

… And all of this had just been… underneath the surface this entire time, just waiting for a catalyst to explode out of Stolas like a fucking geyser. 

Everything was a fucking mess, but Blitzø knew a few things with absolute certainty. 

1. Stolas loved him. 
2. He…L– would do anything for Stolas. Anything he needed. 
3. He needed to BE what Stolas needed. Or to figure out what it was and give it to him. 

And thinking about yesterday, last night… Blitzø had fucked it all up. Trying to read Stolas’ face and body language the way he used to do in the bedroom, trying to be what he needed by relying on his instincts. His gut. 

And it wasn’t working. 

So. He needed to figure some shit out. And Stolas… needed space. 

Loona was abandoning ship for the night so they would have the apartment to themselves. 

Blitzø wasn’t sure that he wanted to be alone in the apartment with Stolas. 

Well no, he definitely did. He just didn’t know if that’s what Stolas wanted. And that was the whole point. He couldn’t know. But he could ask. 

But he wasn’t going to ambush Stolas, and he wasn’t going to dive into yet another emotionally charged conversation without fucking thinking his shit through. 

So… maybe he could drop Stolas off at home and clear out for a few hours? Run some errands and let Stolas be. Get his own head on straight, give them both a chance to breathe and then maybe, maybe they could… actually talk about some things. Tonight. 

He could bring home dinner! And maybe… maybe even some flowers ? 

He didn’t want there to be any more misunderstandings between them. 

It took several minutes for Millie to get the dweeb to chill the fuck out. As chill as he could be, anyway. Which wasn’t very. Loona had to admit, she did feel a bit sorry for him, he was obviously freaked out, feeling guilty as saint – he kept frantically saying “oh crumbs oh crumbleton I’ve made everything worse.”

She couldn’t even find it in herself to tell him he sucked , that everything was his fault. Because… he seemed to believe that and, well… it just wasn’t true. What happened had literally nothing to do with the nerd. 

“Mox, honey? I’m just gonna go check on Blitzø, mmkay? It’s a little too quiet in there.” 

He chuckled weakly, “sounds good, baby. I’ll just.. Make some tea.” 

“Excellent thinking, baby,” she leaned in to nuzzle at his face and Loona scoffed under her breath, “I’ll be right back.” 

Moxxie sniffled as Millie tapped twice on the boss’ door and quietly let herself in without waiting for an answer. 

“Hey Loona, would you like some tea–” but her tail was already whipping around the door as she too left the reception area. 

Loona let the door swing shut behind her and rolled her eyes as she scented the air. 

Great. He must have gone up to the roof. 

Hope he isn’t thinking about jumping, she thought darkly. 

She stomped her way up the stairs and when she got to the top and pressed open the door to the rooftop, she found him standing at the ledge (hopefully not contemplating jumping) and smoking a cigarette. 

“Hey.”

Stolas’ flinched, but forced himself to relax so quickly she could have blinked and missed it. She settled her weight against the ledge and pulled out her own cigarette, letting the silence linger, allowing him time to collect himself and answer. He didn’t. 

…Okayyy, apparently it was on her to get the ball rolling. But… she’d known that would be the case when she made the choice to come up here, didn’t she? She rolled her shoulders, cracked her neck and smoothly pulled out her lighter, sparking the flame and inhaling deeply. 

She truly had mastered the art of keeping a cool, disinterested facade, even when she was freaking out on the inside. Not that she was. Freaking out. She just… fuck this is why she didn’t do the comforting people shit, she was tits at it. 

Okay. 

She had to say something now. 

Fuck. 

Stolas flicked his used cigarette off the ledge and she wordlessly handed him another, holding up her lighter for him. As he leaned in she was struck with sudden inspiration. 

“You know. When I met Via the first thing she did was offer me a light.” She felt Stolas’ eyes on her but kept her eyes on the horizon. 

“Yep. Pretty much just like this. Except my lighter wasn’t working so she magicked up this sick little purple flame.” 

She glanced over at Stolas to find his eyes wide and his beak slightly open. Okay, good he was listening. Let’s keep it going but try not to make him cry, yeah?

The corner of her mouth lifted in a tiny smirk, “What? It’s not like I gave her a cigarette.” 

Stolas chuckled weakly but it died as soon as it left his beak. “I didn’t think you’d – … When was this?”

“In L.A. when she pulled her little disappearing act. You know.. When you showed up here and literally busted down our door. Plus some of the wall.”

He didn’t laugh this time so she tried again, “Despite the fact that you could have portalled directly into the office. Quite an entrance though, I’ll give you that.”

He sighed and leaned down on his arms, but didn’t rise to that bait. FFFFFfffffkay. She was gonna have to carry this conversation. 

She could do that. For him. For her dad. 

“She was really upset, you know.” 

He sighed again and hung his head, “I know. I fucked up that day too. Just like all of the others.”

“You didn’t fuck up, though, in the end.” 

“...How could you say that? I broke my promise, I promised I’d take her to see a fucking celestial phenomenon, one that only happens every ten thousand years, I might add. And I was too wrapped up in my own bullshit to see how much I was letting her down. You don’t need to lie just to spare my feelings, Loona.” 

“ She wasn’t upset about the stupid star shit . She was upset about who found her .”

That seemed to take the wind out of his sails a bit. 

“Did she say that?”

“She didn’t need to. She said a bunch of shit about how you couldn’t be bothered to look for her yourself. That’s literally all she wanted.”

He looked completely staggered, “But… how do you know that?”

“Because I saw the look on her face when I told her you were out there. In L.A. Looking for her and going out of your fucking mind with worry.”

Stolas said nothing in response, but his fingers twisted in distress. 

She took a deep drag of her cigarette, held it in her lungs so long that it hurt, then exhaled as slowly as she could.

“When we met up with you guys… my dad tried to hug me and I kicked him.” 

She kept her eyes forward but she still caught the way Stolas winced in remembrance. 

“Yeah. I used to do shit like that all the time. Although that night I was more invested in making sure you and Via made up. You remember, right? She wasn’t pissed . The first thing she said to you was sorry. She didn’t give a shit that you missed the meteors or whatever… she just wanted… to know you were there. That you loved her.”

“Well… Maybe that was true then . But… but you were there at the palace. No matter what happened before, she hates me now. She doesn’t want to hear from me ever again. You saw it for yourself.”  

“I’ve told Blitzø that he’s not my real dad. Screamed it right into his face. That him adopting me didn’t count. That I never have and never will need him in my life. And I’ve said…like, a lot.”

Stolas looked stricken. 

“B-but you, you and Bli –”

“I said all that shit and more and it doesn’t mean that I hate him. I’m sure a therapist would have a lot to say about what it does mean, but I’ve never hated him.”

“So then… why–” 

“Blitzø made it clear from day one that he lo-… that I was important to him. That I mattered. That I came first. And I literally didn’t know what the fuck to do with that. No one had ever said anything like that to me before.”

She broke off, swallowing hard, and turned to face him. 

“You always say the cruelest things to those you love the most because…  you know it won’t drive them away.  And I… I’ve said some shit I didn’t mean. I’ve said a lot of shit he doesn’t deserve. And I knew he’d never hold it against me… Although sometimes I hold it against myself . The only thing those words ever did was make Blitzø hate himself . But it never made him care less about me.” 

“I… Loona dear… I’m so sorry… But that is completely different. You are being far too harsh with yourself – the trauma of growing up without a family would affect anyone . Via grew up with both her parents. The fact that she’s grown up to doubt my love for her just proves what a failure I’ve been.”

“Yeah. That was soooo not my fucking point. You’re saying that treating Blitzø like garbage is more understandable because I was in the system and that’s ‘traumatic’ ? Newsflash dude, we all have trauma. You know what else is traumatic? Getting divorced. Traumatic for Via and for you.”

Stolas hung his head and she forced herself to chill. 

“Look. I’m not saying you’ve made all the right decisions, or that you haven’t fucked up. You have, and you don’t need me to tell you that. But, fuck dude, everyone fucks up. And it’s been hard on both of you. So stop willfully misunderstanding me, dipshit.” 

“Loona, you ca–”

“ Look . My point is. Dads fuck up. Daughters can say horrible shit they don’t even mean. And maybe… maybe , they scream because they want… they want to tell you they hate you and be loved anyway.” 

“Of course I love her . More than anything. I just… if she doesn’t know that…I cannot help feeling that I have failed at the only thing I've ever truly cared about.“

“Yeah well. Look… I only met your daughter the one time and I just… we have some shit in common, that’s all.” 

“How do you mean?”

She sighed in frustration…at herself. She wasn’t saying it right. 

“Well… I never meant any of that horrible shit I threw at my dad. I already told you that. But sometimes it would just… come out. I was angry a lot of the time and…and scared. And I know that Via… I mean… that day…at the trial? I've honestly never been more scared in my life, and he… we thought he…” she broke off swallowing hard. “Blitzø… he was ready to take the fall. For us. And the thought of losing him…especially to protect me….” she broke off to swipe at her eyes, and took a second to calm herself. “I just… I imagine that Via must have felt something similar. I mean… she saw you do that same fucking shit. It’s scary. The thought of losing the one fucking person who you feel safe with…”

His shoulders began to shake.

“Look… you just gotta… give her time. She’s a smart girl. And I know she loves you so fucking much.” 

She reached out to touch his back and Stolas broke, letting out quiet sobs. Before she could panic too much about having a crying bird on her paws, he was already regaining his composure enough to speak. 

“Loona. You are an incredibly insightful and kind young woman.” He wiped delicately at the corner of his eyes. “And Blitzø is very lucky to have you.”

She shook her head, “I’M lucky to have him. Blitzø… he cares so fucking much for me, for his whole family .”

His beak quirked into what she could only describe as a fond smile, although whether it was for her or for her dad she couldn’t tell.

“I know he does. He’s endearingly protective of his people. You, Mildred and Moxxie, Fizzaroli.” 

She rolled her eyes then looked at him with what she hoped was an equally fond expression before responding, “...And you. You’re his family too… Guess that kinda makes us family too.” She knocked her shoulder into his playfully and he almost fell over. 

She steadied him, then flicked the end of her cigarette away. 

“... Tell anyone about this and you die. Let’s fucking go home.” 

Chapter Text

“B?”  Millie poked her head around the door to Blitzø’s office. 

She wasn’t sure what to expect coming in, which Blitzø she’d get, but she’d known him a long time. This was her best friend and she loved him. So… she was prepared to drag it out of him if necessary. For his own good, of course. 

She was so prepared for whatever he could throw at her that it caught her off-guard when she stepped inside and found him slumped at his desk with his head in his hands.

She felt tired just looking at him. 

Before even acknowledging her, he sighed wearily, “I just… don’t know what to fuckin do, Miils. I… he’s just suffering so much. It fucking kills me.”

Well. That saved her from having to think of an opening line.

He’d stopped, but she said nothing, knowing there was more. Knowing Blitzø, knowing he needed the space to get it out. 

And she was fuckin right. She let the moment hang there, heavy in the room, waiting for him to– 

“ Ughhhhh,” Bitzø raked his claws down his face, exhaling sharply, “....All I can do is fucking watch. I watch as he struggles and fights every fucking day… and the whole time he puts on a brave face, trying to pretend he’s not dying inside. And it– the fucking weight of it… it gets heavier every day. All of it, just crushing down on his boney little bird shoulders. And I. I just…I just wanna take it from him.” 

Millie crossed the room to rest her hands on the back of the chair meant for clients. 

“ Awww Blitzø,” her voice and eyes were soft, and her heart ached for him. “ I know you do, honey. Because that’s what you do, that’s who you are. But… you must know that you can’t. That it’s not good for you or him. I know how much you care about him, and even though things are, shall we say, complicated right now… You got him back in your life . And I’m so SO happy for you. But…this situation… it’s messy, B. Before , he was this high-falutin prince, untouchable, and you felt miles beneath him.  And now, everything is different. And it doesn’t matter how you began, what matters is now. And right now, he’s powerless and completely dependent on you.”

Blitzø stood up suddenly causing his chair to hit the wall behind him and he began to pace agitatedly.

“I know, everything is just so fucked up. He’s so… fragile right now. I want to do more to help, to encourage him, to support him, but it feels like everything I try backfires and I’m just making things worse . And then , we’ll have these… these moments of… I don’t know, like almost… something . I don’t know, Mills. I thought maybe… If I gave him some space?”

“Blitzø,” Millie’s voice stopped him in his tracks, and when she reached out towards him some of the tension leached out of his shoulders. She sat him down in the client’s chair, and stood in front of him, leaning back against the desk, putting them at eye level. She took a moment to gather her thoughts and when she spoke, she spoke softly: 

“You and I are a lot alike, B. When shit gets hard for us…when we get upset, overwhelmed and caught up all twisted-like in our brain – when we are explodin’ with anger or frustration … The two of us… we need our space.  Whether that means takin’ a walk or going out to fucking kill something… it helps. Helps us to calm down, and clear our heads. But Stolas… well, sometimes Stolas reminds me just a little bit of Moxxie.” 

“Fuckable? HA.”

…She should have seen that one coming… he sure knew how to break the tension… And she had to admit it was funny AND it was true.  

“That too,” the two of them shared a smirk before she sobered. 

“I just mean that. Well you know Moxxie can get all trapped up in his head too. But if I leave him alone , and give him space like I would need… it doesn’t help. He can get trapped in there, inside his head. Whatever blessed voices are in there, they twist everything up. And the longer he’s left to stew, the more warped his thoughts become and before you know it, he’s convinced himself of all the worst possible things.” 

Blitzø stared forward for a moment, clearly thinking hard. 

“But… if he doesn’t need space , then what the fuck does he need? Because I feel like everytime I open my fuckin’ mouth I say all the WRONG shit and it triggers his feathery fuckin’ face off and just makes everything worse . 

“Since Sinsmas everything has been so hard, and I mean… it was hard before that but now it’s all… I don’t know, out there. It’s been horrible, Mills. Yesterday I came home and he was in such a bad state. He was…like catatonic and he’d ripped out a buncha his feathers and just…it wasn’t good.” 

Satan’s fuckin overalls. That was…worse than she’d thought. 

“Aw Blitzø, Im so sor-” 

“And then, when I tried to comfort him he completely flipped out and ran into the bathroom. Fucking exactly like what happened just now ! I just… I want to help so bad — but all I do is make it worse.”

She couldn’t stand how defeated he sounded – fuckin’ heaven , this was breaking her heart. She took hold of his shoulders and waited until he brought his eyes up to meet hers. 

“Blitzø. Listen to me. You’re not making anything worse. I’ve been watching the two of you for weeks, and I gotta tell ya B, I’ve never seen you like this before. You’ve been so… sweet, so tender with him, and honestly? It just warms my heart to see it. You’ve just…you’ve come so far–”

She was cut off by his laugh, shorter and higher than normal. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know, Mills . I was a huge tool and now I’m slightly less of a huge tool, no need to throw a fuckin party about it.” 

She held up her hands in mock surrender, unable to suppress a smile… She’d let that one go. For now. 

“Fine, fine, have it your way, B. I only mean… you were so sure that it was impossible, you and him… and now look at the two of you!” 

“Millie.” He raised an eyebrow. 

“Okay, so it’s still a little convoluted. But B, you’ve been acting like you’ve already had your fairy tale ending, doting on him and treating him like a delicate little princess. And it’s not that Stolas doesn’t deserve all that. He does! But… you’re not there yet. And unfortunately you can’t be there right now. Stolas…he isn’t okay. I’m not going to pretend to know him, I don’t really. But I do know that he was rode hard and put away wet. And you —“

Blitzø choked on his gasp, and she paused. 

“ Millie I told you, we aren’t…there’s been no riding and nothing put anywhere wet .”

“ ... No, no that just means he’s been… put through the ringer. Fucking satan, anyone in his circumstances would be halfway suicidal, I can’t even imagine what he’s going through.”

He let out a long sigh, resting his head in his hands. 

“… I can. I really can.” 

“And that,” she said, scooting up onto the arm of Blitzø’s chair and wrapping an arm around him, “is just one of the reasons why he’s so lucky to have you, B.”

“ Pfft , he’s not the lucky one in this shit.” 

He was trying to deflect, to be funny in his self-deprecating way… but the strain in his voice would have given him away even if Millie didn’t know him well enough to see right through it. 

This time she wasn’t going to let it go. 

“… He is. We all are lucky to have you Blitzø.” She knocked her shoulder into his, and when he didn’t respond playfully (he, in fact, looked like he might burst into tears), she leaned in and pressed an exaggerated kiss to his cheek. He huffed out a laugh and pushed her (gently) away. 

“Jeez, alright you all won the fuckin lottery, now can we please move on?” She giggled. Despite his tone she could see the color in his cheeks. That was better. 

“Alright then, back to it. It’s not that Stolas doesn’t deserve your taking care of him, and he definitely needs it right now. But that’s the point, he’s completely dependent on you. It’s just as unbalanced as it was before, just in the other direction. He needs to figure out how to stand on his own two skinny little bird legs.” 

“But I can’t just…”

She held up a hand to stop him. “I’m not telling you to stop helping him. He needs your help, your support… he needs you to be his friend right now. And sometimes , being a friend means saying shit that needs to be said, even if they might not like hearing it. Sometimes it means pushing them hard, so they learn their own strength. Sometimes it’s letting them fail so they can learn from their mistakes. So they can grow.” 

Blitzø let out a distressed sound. “I don’t want him to fail – he’s been crushed enough.” 

“You’re not going to hang him out to dry , B. It’s like…how do I put this?” she closed her eyes for a few seconds before continuing. “Stolas needs to be in the driver’s seat for a while. He needs to hold the wheel and learn when to press the gas or the brakes.” 

Blitzø opened his mouth to interject, and she put her hand over it.

“BUT, he needs you to be there, in the car beside him, giving him the directions, helping steer when he gets overwhelmed.”

Blitzø stared forward, clearly trying to translate the metaphor into some sort of a plan of action. Millie understood, and let him think for a moment before she went on. 

“So for tonight… I think you should do something together to take his mind off of Via. Relax, see if you can get him to laugh. BE his friend.” 

Blitzø sighed. 

“I really… thought things would get better once he got back on his meds. I didn’t even know about them until Via showed up with the bottle. But if anything he seems worse. And I don’t know how they fuckin work. Maybe they take time? Maybe they are just fucking candy and aren’t doing jack shit. Who the fuck knows? 

“Hmm… well… maybe he needs something you can’t buy off the shelf at Hellgreens. Although that might be hard to get for an Imp…”

Blitzø straightened up, grinning devilishly. “ I know an Imp who can get anything he wants .” 

This was hell. 

… I mean it was literally hell. But this was the fucking worst. 

“OOOoooo, that’s a lovely color on her!”

That screeching voice came from the Ostrich Goetia that Octavia had privately nicknamed “Bitch #1.” Bitch #1 must be fucking colorblind. 

Via was trussed up in the most garish orange and green monstrosity. She looked like someone had thrown up on a traffic cone. Surely she’d pissed her mother off royally and this was her punishment. 

How her mother, let alone the two fucking harpies she’d invited, could say that it looked good , she couldn’t possibly fathom. Maybe they were fucking with her on purpose. She didn’t know the names of the ladies who’d ostensibly come for “tea,” and she didn’t care – she’d just labelled them Bitch #1 (the ostrich) and Bitch #2 (the pelican). A fucking pelican. Not a good look for the demon nobility. 

Regardless, there’d been a lot less tea-drinking, and a lot more criticizing-every-possible-aspect-of-Octavia, this afternoon. She’d been there, up on the pedestal in front of a giant set of mirrors for what seemed like ages , while Geerda, a seamstress imp, was pinning the ugly gown for yet another round of alterations. How many times was her mum going to insist they take it in at the waist ? She could barely fucking breathe. And why did the waist need to be so tiny when the sleeves were fuckin huge? Gross. 

“Stella, you have got to help her with her head feathers though,” Bitch #2 was now saying. “She’s  just so frumpy , all those manky looking feathers just hanging in her face and an absolute imp’s nest in the back. A hem. Her plumage is so dark you’d hardly know she was yours, Stella.” 

“Oh trust me, she’s mine. My cloaca has never been the same,” Stella cackled.  

Via gasped, fucking mortified. What the fuck, mum? 

“What the fuck, mum??”

Stella’s eyes cut to her, flashing dangerously, before she smiled  in a falsely sweet manner. “We’re going to have to work on your decorum, sweetie,” Via cringed, knowing she was going to get an earful later. “Gotta turn you into a proper lady, a proper princess.” 

“Well, you have your work cut out for you, Stella, if you want her to be ready for her coming out,” Bitch #2 cut in. “When does she turn eighteen? Two months?” 

…What coming out? The fuck does that even mean? She’d never had to engage in society… why did her mother suddenly care when she never had before….

“Ohh, something like that.” 

That got her attention, and she scowled, wondering darkly if that meant her mother didn’t know her own daughter’s birthday or if she just didn’t know today’s date. Or even what month it was.  

“Are you sure she’s almost 18?” Bitch #2 continued (she was really starting to piss Via off), “She’s awfully… underdeveloped. Especially considering the decadent figure her mother has always had.” 

Stella cackled, “Oh you flatter me. But tragically, she takes after her scrawny, gangly-looking father. At least the slender look works better on Via, on a man it’s just pathetic. If you could even call Stolas a man. Unholy Lucifer ! it makes my skin crawl to think I used to touch him.” 

Via was getting so fucking uncomfortable. And not just because of the layers of tulle and scratchy sleeves. Or because she couldn’t fucking draw in a full breathe. 

Maybe her mum was just talking this way because… that’s how she was with these friends? That’s how they always were? If so she should get different fucking friends. It was just… so different from how she’d spoken the other day. 

“The day I found out I was gravid was the greatest day of my life –” 

Okay, that fit with what her mum had said about –

“Once Paimon and the other old crones where satisfied, I celebrated with a funeral, the fucking DEATH KNELL of our sex life.”

Both Bitches squawked unattractively with laughter, practically oozing scorn and derision, and the fucking Pelican Bitch (# 2) said “AAAAAAAAAAHAHHahah OOOoOOOoo Stella, you are BAD, you are! I’ll never forget receiving my invitation to your “Never Fucking Again” Party hhhahahha” she was making undemonly revolting noises between her words. “The fucking card opened up into the shape of a cloacaaa hahahha.” 

“Oh oh oh yessss,” added Bitch #1, “and your party favors were full of sex toys hhhaaaa! Because the theme was : Who needs him - that’s what sex shops are for!” 

Her mother was cackling right along with them. 

It was like all three of them had forgotten she was in the room. Their screeching was like talons stabbing into her brain, and their forms flickered, looking grotesquely distorted, and her head was spinning again, she was, she was…

Ouch. 

“Fucking Lucifer!”

She twisted away from the Imp who’d stabbed her with a pin and turned her head all the way around to try to assess the damage to her waist. 

Stella advanced upon the Imp beginning to shout. 

“YOU! YOU DISGUSTING LITTLE COCKROACH! HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO INSTILL ANY KIND OF MANNERS INTO MY DAUGHTER IF THE FUCKING SERVANTS ARE SO INCOMPETENT .” 

Fuck she really hadn’t meant to draw her mum’s attention. It was hard to breathe, and she felt so unsteady, but she had to do something to diffuse her mother’s temper.

“Mum, I’m really fine, it’s no big de–” 

“NO BIG DEAL?? I’LL FUCKING DECIDE WHAT IS OR ISN’T A ‘BIG DEAL’ IN MY HOUSE.”

Ostrich Bitch clucked her tongue, “Poor Stella . She needs all the help she can get if she wants to get this girl in good enough shape for a halfway decent contract.”

“What are you talking about? What contract?” She whipped her head around and immediately regretted it as it only made the spinning worse.

Bitch #1 just blinked at her, “Why… a marriage contract, dear. What else?”

When she woke up, the room was empty of her mother and friends. In fact the only other being there was Geerda, who had been fanning her face, but stopped when she realized Via was conscious. She looked terrified, standing next to Via, wringing her hands. 

At least she’d been carried to the settee and not just left on the floor. Although her mother had probably ordered Geerda to do it…. ugh, how embarrassing. 

“If you could just…. Just help me out of this– this dress. I just… I just wanna put my clothes back on and you can go.” 

What the fuck. 

What the fuck was happening. 

She made her way unsteadily back towards her room, feeling almost numb with shock. She’d never seen her mother behave this way, treat her this way. Not that she’d had a lot of time with her mum one on one… and, she supposed it was normal to be bitter about a divorce and want to talk shit with your girlfriends… not that she had any personal experience in that sort of thing.

She didn’t want to think about it anymore. 

Marriage contract.

She stumbled and reached for the wall to regain her balance. She was maybe going to fucking vomit. She changed course and headed for– for her dad’s room. 

It’s just because it’s the closest bathroom. No other reason. No. Other. Reason. 

It wasn’t like she needed to feel near him. She didn’t need him at all.

When she got to his rooms, instead of heading toward the bathroom, her feet carried her to the bed. 

She crawled onto it, slipping under his comforter to lay on her side, hugging one of the pillows to her chest. Just like she’d done hundreds of times. Only this time, the bed was empty. There were no comforting words, or warm arms to hold her close, and keep her safe. 

She was not going to cry. She wasn’t. She…

She was crying. 

Everything was wrong. All of it. Nothing made sense anymore. She was supposed to be getting through this! Standing tall and learning to walk forward on her own, ready to take on her duties when she came of age. Instead… she felt a wave of anger remembering the smug way her uncle had all but swept her out of her dad’s study when she’d come looking for the Grimoire to continue her studies. After all, she’d been learning with her dad for some time. He’d made it clear he wanted her to enjoy her childhood, wanted her to feel free to explore any interest that caught her fancy. She went through dozens of phases, and he indulged all of them, including the ones he found off putting (like taxidermy). But when she came to him with wide eyes, wanting to learn what he did, (learn to be like him), he welcomed her, included her in his work, showing her the mysteries of the universe and teaching her constellations and beginner spells. 

And Andrealphus brushed her off like a fucking child. Worse. Like a girl. Like a little girl who hadn’t single-handedly taken down his flamboyant-ass ice dragon bullshit and knocked him on his prissy fucking tail-feathers. 

Fuck .

She dragged herself out of the bed, keeping the coverlet wrapped around her like a cloak, and traipsed into the bathroom for some water. 

She flinched when she met her own eyes in the mirror. 

She barely recognized herself. She was so fucking exhausted. 

Her feathers were lank and lifeless. She just wanted to sleep. To go to her room, turn out the lights. Try to get warm in this frozen fucking wasteland and just sleep . Lucifer, she was depressed. 

She let out a great hitching sigh, feeling well and truly cried out, and opened the medicine cabinet for a glass. 

The pink plastic bottle drew her eye and she stared at it. At her father’s name printed in all-caps, above the obnoxiously scripted ‘ Happy Pills.’ She thought of her dad’s smile, even when her mum was in a towering mood. The way he kept his shoulders back and head high, standing tall. Effortlessly confident and charming. Her hero. 

Her beak twisted bitterly and she reached for the bottle. 

“Thanks Fizz, I owe you a million.”  

“Bye Blitzø.” 

The call disconnected. Fizzaroli and Asmodeus just stared at each other for a moment. 

Finally Fizz burst out, “Jesusss fuck. I had no idea things were that bad.” 

Blitzø had initially called him but he’d eventually put the call on speaker so they could both talk to him. 

Ozzie let out a long, slow breath. 

“...I’m not sure about this, Froggie. Maybe we should first try… getting Stolas an appointment to see someone? Someone who can evaluate him properly and prescribe the appropriate medicines from there.” 

Fizz bit his lip, thinking it over, before ultimately shaking his head. 

“I don’t think so, Oz. I mean, first off, it would take forever , and who knows how that’d even go now that Stolas is persona non grata . It took months for them to get me to a dosage that actually fucking helped.” 

“Yeahhh,” Ozzie spoke slowly, obviously mulling it over and trying to be placating. 

“But… isn’t it better to gradually increase the dosage, my little frog ? There’s a reason that professionals do that, you know.”

Normally Oz could talk to him in a cutesy tootsy way and it made him feel precious and adored. But…things had been more difficult since that awful fucking trial. Logically he knew that there wasn’t anything more Ozzie could have realistically done… but it sure was fucking hard to remember that oh so reasonable point when the image of his best friend’s head on the chopping block haunted him everytime he closed his fucking eyes. 

“... Look. Blitzø said that Stolas has been taking Happy Pills for a long ass time, and now they aren’t helping. I just… we have to help them. We have to do something. I can’t fucking bear it, Oz –” Fizz cut himself off before he could start crying. Again. It felt like all he ever did recently was cry… Maybe he should think about seeing a therapist too. Like he’d recently encouraged Blitzø to do. Shit had been fucking intense, from way before that horrific trial… but since then.  There was something especially traumatic about watching what had happened through a television . It was like a nightmare – he could only watch as it played out and if he screamed, no one heard him. 

He’d only just gotten Blitzø ( Blitzø, his Blitzø), back into his life. Had finally started to acknowledge the barely scabbed over wound from the violent way Blitzø had been removed from his life. Only just begun to understand the level of gaslighting from Cash Buckzo, who’d been the cause of so much pain and suffering. Only just begun to uncover the gaping hole in his life the Blitzø had left, and was now, tentatively filling in again. A precious reunion that could have never happened if it hadn’t been for extraordinary circumstances. And he’d watched it nearly happen all over again. But permanently this time. And he saw it over and over in his sleep, the same way he’d dreamed of the fire, and Blitzø running as he burned, all those years ago. 

He was jolted out of his thoughts by Ozzie, “Babe, you know I – “ 

“I know,” he snapped. “I know you couldn’t do anything. We’ve done this dance to death. But that’s just my point. You couldn’t do anything then. You can now. I mean, Belphegor is you’re fucking… sister or whatever.” 

“What exactly am I supposed to say, Froggie?”

Fizz huffed in frustration. 

“Tell her the truth …tell her you have a close friend, a goetia , who’s suffering from severe depression, and insomnia. Or tell her it’s for you. Or fucking Mammon, or anyone you fucking want just fucking help them.”

Ozzie looked down at him, and whatever he read on Fizz’s face must have said what his words couldn't. 

“Alright, Fizzie Frog. I’ll do what I can, whatever I can,” his voice was low and gentle and against his will, Fizz felt his shoulders relaxing in relief. 

“Good,” he breathed. “Get the big birdie whatever the fuck he could possibly need. The best of the best…” he wrapped his arms around himself, multiple times. 

“It’s gonna be alright Fizz. You’ll see.” Oz knelt down to put them closer to eye level and pulled him in close. 

And Fizz let him. 

Chapter Text

“Heerrre you go, Stolas,” Blitzø placed a mug of tea ( Earl Grey, made just how Stolas liked it) on the desk in front of him. 

He watched Stolas go still as he stopped by his desk. He didn’t look up – in fact, it almost seemed like there was no reaction at all. Almost. But Blitzø knew Stolas, was watching him all the time nowadays, and he didn’t miss the slight flinch, the ways his shoulders hiked up defensively. 

Ugh, he hated this. He opened his mouth to say – he didn’t know what, just something when Stolas said, “Thank you, Blitzø. You really shouldn’t have.” 

He sighed. 

“Awwww…I wanted to, Stoly-Poly,” he sang, striving for playfulness with a confident grin… he didn’t think he’d quite managed it. For a moment Stolas’ eyes flicked to him and his mouth twitched like he was fighting a smile (or fighting tears) and Blitzø‘s stomach swooped with nerves and hope. Their eyes held for a few seconds, but ultimately Stolas said nothing, just nodded, going back to…whatever it was he was working on without saying another word. 

And Blitzø retreated back to his office. 

Fffuck. He hated this. 

It had been days of this.

After his conversation with Millie, Blitzø had walked out of his office with determination in his step. Loona and Stolas had come back from… somewhere, and they’d seemed… much calmer, and comfortable with each other in a way he hadn’t seen before and Blitzø had relaxed even more. Stolas had been quiet on the ride home, but that was fine. It was fine. Up until Loona had headed out for the night and they were alone. 

It hadn’t been… horrible. But it certainly hadn’t been easy. Stolas looked like he was just waiting for the other shoe to drop while Blitzø was struggling to untangle the mess of words swirling around in his head, trying to work up the courage to open The Conversation… 

But when he’d tried to start, he’d barely gotten out Stolas’ name before he’d turned to look at him, frozen like a quieve in headlights, and Blitzø had chickened out and asked if he wanted to watch a movie instead.

Rinse. Repeat. 

The same thing happened the next night, and the following afternoon, and honestly he didn’t know what would happen on Saturday where there was no work to give them something to focus on. 

Except… he didn’t want to avoid the conversation. He wanted to fucking get it out there… He wondered if this was how Stolas felt leading up to that horrendous full moon… and how long had he been feeling that ?? 

Fuck look at him, thirsting to talk about feelings. Who the fuck was he? 

…K, great that he was having such progress with his self-reflection bullshit but that reeeeeealllly wasn’t the point right now. 

So…after going back and forth with Millie about giving space vs. talking shit out (and doing it again and again in his head in the following days), Blitzø compromised. He tried to make it obvious that he was open to talk if Stolas wanted to talk, but he definitely didn’t want to force him if he wasn’t ready… at the very least he wanted to give Stolas’ medication more time to help stabilize him (and get his hands on better ones) before trying again. 

The last thing he wanted was for Stolas to feel attacked, or ambushed or anything… he already had a hunted look about him and at times, random times, it was almost as if… 

On the other hand, he also didn’t want Stolas to feel smothered, or like Blitzø was treating him like (he winced), a child . It was a fine line to walk…and the high wire had always been Barbie’s thing, not his. 

So Blitzø tried to just… keep going the way he had been ever since The Trial. Be kind, be upbeat, look for ways to be supportive and encouraging. Try to make him laugh.  

Too bad it wasn’t working at all. 

If anything, Blitzø was more worried about Stolas than ever before. 

Most of the time he just seemed… far away. Empty. And so very quiet, almost ghost-like – there were times when Blitzø entered a room and it would be several minutes before he, a trained assassin , noticed he was even there and had a fucking heart attack. He would try to laugh it off, make a joke, but Stolas would only hunch in on himself and mumble an apology. 

Then there were periods when he would be responsive – when Stolas wanted to be useful, to pull his weight… which would have been a relief if it didn’t come with a manic cheerfulness and a smile stretched too far across his face. 

But the worst. 

The worst was when he’d tense up, for no reason that Blitzø could see, and he’d start to tremble and curl further and further in on himself, almost like someone was screaming at him. 

It was horrible. 

Blitzø knew what it was like to have his own brain attack him… but this was intense even by his standards. 

It made him want to fight – to scratch and bite and kill, kill whoever was making his pretty bird feel like that – but there was nothing there. No one to kill. 

Blitzø didn’t like it one bit. 

And if he tried to coax him out of…whatever it was. Well, the first time he’d made the mistake of trying to touch him (yet again) – he’d shot a foot into the air and screeched, before bursting into tears and apologizing about a thousand times. 

After that, Blitzø would just call out his name (sometimes a dozen times), until Stolas seemed to hear him. And then…well, sometimes his face would crumple and he’d excuse himself to the balcony to cry. Sometimes he’d get angry and that was worse , because after he’d spewed whatever stupid petty nonsense (and honestly Blitzø couldn’t remember a single one, they didn’t matter ), Stolas would deflate. And Blitzø could only watch as his birdie’s face darkened and he fell into an even deeper depression from the guilt. 

The point was. Blitzø was glad he hadn’t forced Stolas into talking about… anything too emotional; he was half afraid of Stolas shattering into a million pieces as it was.

But his heart ached. He missed Stolas. Which was fucking insane since he literally spent every fucking waking hour with him and then slept in the same room.

But still. He missed him. He missed his vibrant, savage, beautiful, petty, flamboyant, extra-ass, Pretty Bird.

Clearly he’d had the right idea before. He just needed to wait to get help from Ozzie and Fizz…   

He tried to push down the fears that whispered “ what if it doesn’t work? What if these meds are just as useless as the ones he’s taking now?”

Even more insidious were the fears that…Stolas’ continued suffering was because of him. 

Maybe it was impossible for Stolas get better while living in a shitty one bedroom apartment, in a shitty neighbourhood, with some shitty asshole always in his fucking face. 

A shitty asshole who ruined everything and everyone who he loved. Or, more accurately, who made the bitchin’ bad choice to care about him.

… Just because he was sure Stolas loved him didn’t mean Blitzø wouldn’t ultimately destroy him. 

No (that was Millie’s voice in his head, telling him to snap the fuck out of that ) . And as for the meds…well, that was the whole point of going through Ozzie. A fucking professional was prescribing it. And it couldn’t come a moment too soon.

His phone buzzed and he looked down at it. 

Fizz: Got the shit, be there soon 

Speak of the exorcist… thank Lucifer. He wondered how soon Fizz would be –

Crash. 

He sighed. 

Fizz closed his eyes, let out a slow breath, then nodded. 

And Oz knocked the door open. And off its hinges. 

CRASH.

Showtime. 

“HELLLOOOOOOOOO I.M.P. WOW do you folks look like you could use some fffffffffffun around here! And you can count yourself lucky ‘cause I, the one and only Fizzarolli is here to brighten your endlessly dreary day on the job!” 

A collection of unamused faces greeted him as he swept his sunglasses off his face with a flourish, striking a pose as he waited for applause. Which was not forthcoming. 

“... dude, you broke our door.”

He glanced back at Ozzie and raised a brow, “Yeah, babe, what the fuck?”

Blitzø launched himself out of his chair and into the reception area with a giant grin on his face. 

Fizz was still grandstanding

“OKAYYY you ready for some OFFICE HUMOUR??? Here goooesss. 

Why did the BOSS cross the road? To delegate it to someone else. HAHAHAHAHA ” 

…

“FIZZ, you absolute bitch! AHhahahaaa – ” he pounced. 

They collided, but Fizz, instead of landing on the ground, had rolled, twisted and somersaulted back to standing, Blitzø sprung back to his feet as well, still laughing. 

“What can I say?” Fizz tossed his head, his hat whipping over his shoulders like fucking Ariana Grande’s ponytail. “I like to make an entrance.”

“Pffft, TMI Fizz, no one wants to hear about your entrance,” Blitzø wiggled his eyebrows, grinning madly at his own fuckery. 

Christ , he thought as a wave of relief swept some of the weight from his shoulders – there was no one who could break tension like Fizz. The two of them had texted over the last couple of days and Blitzø might have confided a little in his oldest friend about his mounting concern. Ah well, what’s a broken door? Also, the fact that he (little twink that he was), could steal the spotlight when the literal Sin of Lust was right behind him was honestly nothing but impressive. 

Fizz opened his mouth and Blitzø, deciding that whatever lewd thing was about to spill from his slutty clown lips wasn’t needed, so: 

“Welcome to I.M.P., Fizz. My pride and joy.”

Fizz scanned the room and his eyes seemed to catch on Moxxie who was assessing him with narrowed eyes. 

“Heyyyyyyyy – Sorry for the whole “limp-dick baby bitch” shit during your completely inappropriately-timed love ballad,” he didn’t sound the least bit sorry, and Blitzø snorted. 

Moxie looked like he was gearing up to explode, but Millie took a step forward, laying a hand on his arm (he visibly calmed) and cheerfully replied: 

“Sorry about knocking you on your sweet little ass in front of your adoring fans, hope I didn’t make you look too pathetic.” 

She smiled angelically (evil, evil smile). 

Fizz stared for a moment and then burst out into his signature raspy laughter, sounding absolutely delighted at the repartee. 

“Fizz? Meet Millie, the sturdiest, toughest bitch Wrath ever produced, and Moxxie, my sharp-shooting right-hand man. And I’d play nice, he’s reeeeeal good at his job.”

Moxxie’s eyes grew round and glassy, “ Blitzø …”

“PLUS, I call him a limp-dick baby bitch allllll the time, he loves it.”

“BLITZØ! YO–”

Fizz turned to Loona. “Heyyy hot fluff – You look wayyyy too good to be working for this asshole…”

“THIS is my DAUGHTER. My PRECIOUS PERFECT BABY, LOONY TOONY. SHE–” he broke off at the look on her face and changed course. “She’s a fucking BADASS, like YAS QUEEN SLAY and by SLAY I mean SLAY HER ENEMIES cuz she’s SCARIEST of all of us.” Heh he was proud of that.

She raised an eyebrow but her mouth was fighting a smile so he turned back to Fizz who was looking at Loona with his mouth open. 

“You… you’re Blitzø’s… WOW. You’re Loona??? I’M YOUR HOT YOUNG HOT FABULOUS HOT UNCLE FIZZ!!! I can’t wait to get to know you, and tell you tonnnnssss of embarrassing stories about your daddy-poo when he was young, ehhehhehehhe” he cackled. 

“...My gay Uncle Fizz, apparently…” 

“And on that note,” Blitzø turned to Ozzie who was chuckling in his low, sexy as fuck way, realizing that he’d had a literal Deadly Sin in his office for like five minutes and no one had so much as acknowledged him… “HI, uh, Your Sinfullness!” He swept him a dramatic bow.

“Blitzø. It’s Oz or Ozzie, please. We’re practically family, ” Blitzø could feel his chest (and face) warm at that before Asmodeus sobered. 

“I also don’t feel I can go forward without expressing my… deep regret about the last time we met. I wish I could have… would have done more.” 

Blitzø’s eyes widened and cut to Fizz whose face was uncharacteristically impassive. Before he could formulate a response, Ozzie continued, “All I can say is it’s a relief and a pleasure to see you looking so hale and hearty… and my, my  practically virile in a rugged sort of way. Our brave Prince Stolas must go weak at the knees, the lucky bird.” 

“Uhhhh… Thanks?”
Blitzø didn’t know what else to say to that… but luckily he didn‘t have to…

“And SPEAKING of LUCKY!” Ozzie turned to Stolas, who had been sitting at his desk, practically motionless this whole time, as if he thought if he was quiet and still he might not be noticed. Ozzie seemed to get this, and his energy softened. 

“Hey Birdy-Babe,” he said gently. “It’s so good to see you. Please accept my humblest apologies for not visiting sooner. But now that I’m here, let me start by saying that what you did was one of the bravest things I’ve ever seen, and I’ve been around a long time .”

Stolas’ face turned red, stammered out a thank you and grabbed what Blitzø suspected were completely random papers from the desk in front of him, before stumbling his way into the meeting room, mumbling something about some very important filing . 

The door swung shut behind him and there was a moment of quiet.

Blitzø saw Fizz and Ozzie exchange a look before Fizz stretched out an arm (from a good six feet away) to loop around Blitzø’s neck and was by his side in an instant. 

“WELL, Big BossMan Blitzø… let’s see this office of yours!”

Blitzø glanced back at Ozzie who was looking pensively toward the meeting room where Stolas had disappeared to, and he paused. 

But Fizz’s arm encouraged him to keep going as he whispered, “Let Oz talk to him. He’s got the meds, he’ll walk him through the dosage and shit. Plus, he’s been wanting to talk with him. And it might be good for Stolas to connect with someone… you know. From before. That doesn’t… hate him?” 

They grimaced at each other, but Blitzø turned and led the way into his office.    

They walked through the doorway into Blitzø’s office and he felt some of the tension leech from his shoulders (still being hugged into Fizz’s side).

Fizz had a way of making people feel comfortable (well, when he wasn’t purposefully making them uncomfortable and harassing them from onstage, that is). Even with 15 years of bitterness and guilt and blame and warped narratives between them, Fizz and he just… fit. They spoke their own language. It was comforting, having his oldest friend back. He knew Blitzø better than pretty much anyone else. 

Oh the other hand… he knew Blitzø better than pretty much anyone else. Which meant he was impossible to bullshit. 

So he didn’t even try. As the office door swung shut behind Fizz, their animated grins softened into more genuine, if smaller smiles. And then Blitzø’s dropped all together as he slouched down, rubbing tiredly between his eyes. 

Fizz danced like a fucking ballerina over to his chair and sat in it like a fucking queen on a throne. He rolled his eyes (and bit back a fond smile). Fucking dramatic ass bitch. 

After a few moments of silence Fizz seemed to understand that Blitzø had no intention of opening the conversation; he propped his face on his hands, and batted his eyelashes at him.

“Soooooo…. How’s it hanging, Blitzy-poo?”

Blitzø huffed out a weak laugh and dragged his hands down his face. 

“ Oh you knowww. Life’s a dream and all that shit.” 

“Well yeah obviously, I know that, but…”

He trailed off leaving a silence that Blitzø again didn’t fill. Fizz’s hand twitched, and he changed tracks. 

“I almost feel bad for giving shit to your lieutenant out there… but he’s just so easy to fuck with.”

“Ha… yeah, Moxxie’s super fuckable…with. Just wound super tight if ya know what I mean.”

They both chuckled weakly as Blitzø circled his desk to sit on the edge facing Fizz. 

Blitzø swallowed. He knew what was coming. He’d basically asked Fizz to do it, with his cryptic-yet-angsty text messages, there was no way Fizz wasn’t going to ask –

 “Sooooooooo… like…I know a lot has happened since… but like, fuck it we gotta start somewhere, and I just have to know… what happened that night you took the Dragon Driller out for a spin?”

…That. Fuck. 

Now that the moment was here and Fizz was sitting in front of him, giving him that look, he just... He didn’t fucking want to talk about this. He wanted to pretend (even if just to himself) that the reason he didn’t want to bare his heart was because there was too much time and distance between the two of them . But he couldn’t lie to himself (which sucked). The truth was… it just hurt . After all this time (which wasn’t actually all that long), when he did think about it, despite everything that happened at The Trial and after… that Full Moon and the following day… the hurt, and guilt and heartbreak was fresh and raw.     

“HA,” he laughed bitterly, “there was no spinning as I’m sure you’ve gathered. And you know what? You’re fucking right, a lot HAS happened. It hardly matters now.” 

“Uhhh…huh,” Fizz squinted at him, “… okay now I'm sure it does matter. You left Ozzie’s all cocksure, primed and ready to, and I quote, ‘ show that bird a night he will have imprinted on his mind AND ass.” You practically moon walked away from me, promising you’d give me the deets I might add. And then it’s radio silence for weeks until suddenly you’re on TV about to be fucking executed ??? So like. Yeah, I think it does matter.” 

This had suddenly gotten too real. There was something caught in his throat, surely that was why he suddenly couldn’t make a sound. 

Fizz sighed, stretched out his arms and whipped himself out of the chair and onto the same edge of the desk as Blitzø, pulling a leg up to turn toward him. 

“Blitzø… I know a lot has happened with… everything. But you do know that I care about you, don’t you?”

Blitzø couldn’t even crack an acerbic joke. Hearing Fizz, his Fizz saying those words … in that voice. The voice that scraped out of permanently damaged vocal chords. Damage that he had inflicted. And yet the voice was soft and kind and so like the voice of the sixteen year old Fizz he’d been so in love with. His precious friend, so charismatic and affectionate and pure. Before he’d ruined him. 

But…

“It was painful... and challenging, and y'know, fuck you, still but ... It's not like I'm broken. And I now have someone who understands me and...My life has actually been pretty great.”

“Blitzø? Hell to Blitzø…” 

“What? Yeah sorry I… I guess I know that.” 

“Pfft, you guess you know? Do you guess you care about me ?”

“What?? Fizz of course I care about you! You’re my oldest friend, my family , I thought I’d lost you forever and now I have another chance of course I-” 

“Well, there you go, asshole. Back at you.”
Blitzø stared at him uncomprehendingly. Fizz sighed.

“Look. I… maybe it’s not what you needed but… I wanted to give you some space after that shit-show of a ‘trial’. What with you almost getting your head chopped off and your Prince Charlatan actually getting his everything ripped away from him… I figured you had enough on your plate, especially with him staying with you. 

Anyway, I was trying to do the same thing after that special moon night or whatever. When you didn’t call I thought… ah well, if he wants to talk he’ll reach out. But maybe… I shouldn’t have assumed you’d know that. That you can. Talk to me I mean. About anything.” 

There it was again. That chasm between giving space and communication. 

“Anything, huh? Okayyyyy how’s about we talk about the filthiest, most depraved shit you’ve gotten up to with the big man out there?” 

Fizz didn’t laugh, or protest or anything. He just looked thoughtful before, “Well, I think that would be a conversation that involves alcohol, but sure. Plus I’d love to find out what kind of freaky shit your birdie’s into.” 

My birdie. 

Was he?

He sighed. “I don’t know, Fizz. I’m not even sure he still wants me like that anymore, honestly.” 

Fizz stared at him for a few seconds, and then a mechanical hand came up to smack him in the back of the head… and then wound around his shoulder. 

“Don’t be fucking stupid, Blitzø… What's really going on?’

Blitzø let out a shaky sigh, looking down at his own hands. “I’m failing him, Fizz. I can’t… I’m not giving him what he needs and I just… I have to help him. I’ll never forgive myself if I fuck this up. Not that I’ve got a great track record. I mean, heh, you would know. There’s literally no one I’ve fucked over more than you.” 

“Blitzø.” Fizz pulled him round to face him. “The only thing you ever did to hurt me, was disappear from my life for fifteen years.”

Blitzø stared at him in disbelief, but when he opened his mouth (not even sure what he was going to say, honestly), Fizz cut right over him. 

“And even that wasn’t your fault. And if it’s partly your fault for not trying to reach out sooner… it was equally my fault… maybe more so.” 

“Fizz, no. None of it was your fault, none.” But Fizz was shaking his head. 

“I should have never listened to your dad. I shouldn’t have questioned your… who you are. You were always…” he took in a deep breath, clearly trying to decide how much to say, and then his face resolved and he looked straight into Blitzø’s eyes, and Blitzø couldn’t look away. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever told you how much I… looked up to you, growing up. You were so… fearless, bold. I looked up to you so much.” 

Blitzø gaped at him. That just… didn’t make any sense. 

“ But… how could you have been…I mean you were always the most amazing and natural performer…” 

“That is the only place I felt confident,” Fizz was looking at his hands now, “Because it wasn’t… it wasn’t really me. It was The Amazing Fizzarolli and I loved being him, and then I’d take a bow and be plain, old me again. Awkward and shy and afraid of everything. And you, you could mess something up when performing and keep on going, even turn it into something funnier than it was supposed to be. But honestly,” he looked up and slanted his eyes at Blitzø. “… It was the rest of the time. When you were just Blitzø and I was just me. You were always just you. You knew who you were, you still do.

“And you always, always took care of me. Protected me from anyone who so much as made a snide comment. Comforted me when and encouraged me when I was insecure. You stood up to your dad, covered for Barbie and sometimes even me. You have no idea how much I admired you. I even… fuck this is embarrassing,” his eyes looked up and around as if to find courage and finally returned them to Blitzø’s and continued, “It doesn’t matter anymore but I… when we were teenagers I sort of… had a huge crush on you.” 

Blitzø practically had to pick his jaw off the fucking floor. 

“But, what, you–” 

“ I just said it doesn’t matter anymore ” Fizz nearly hissed , his face red. 

He took in a deep breath and met Blitzø’s eyes again. 

“Blitzø. There will always be a part of me that is a little bit in love with you.” Blitzø’s heart felt like it was about to explode. 

“But everything is how it should be. You and I both moved beyond that and found our… soulmates.” Fizz trailed off at the end as if he felt embarrassed at having said something so cheesy but Blitzø didn’t give a fuck. This was too fucking much to take in. 

Fizz liked me ? What the fuck?!? That didn't make any sense, he could have had anyone, he… his brain caught up with the last part and he choked. 

“Our soulmates?” 

Fizz looked shamefaced for a few seconds and then his face set with determination.

“Yes. Oz is mine. He’s it for me. Are you saying Stolas isn’t it for you?”

Was he?

Yes. 

Of course he was it. Even though everything was fucked up. Even though their life journeys couldn’t have been more different. Even though there had been a huge chasm of classicism and a million other things between them. Even though they had started with the most fucked up, warped, unbalanced deal. Even if his dad had purchased Blitzø as a plaything when they were kids . Even though just one of those factors might cause a relationship to fail. Even though it all seemed insurmountable most of the time.

Fizz was right – It didn’t fucking matter. 

“Blitzø!” Fizz snapped in front of his face and he jerked out of his thoughts. “That wasn’t a rhetorical question. Do you fucking love him?” 

And in the end it was simple. 

“Yeah. I do.”

Their eyes met. 

“Good. Now that we got that out of the way, I can make my fucking point. The original point. You think you’re fucking it up, that it’s inevitable because it’s you, and all you do is fuck up other people’s lives. And that no one knows that better than I do.”

It wasn’t a question. Fuck. See, this is what he meant when he said that Fizz knew him too well. He’d always been perceptive as fuck and unflinchingly honest, except when they were young he was always gentle about it. Now his honesty had teeth. 

He tried to shrink back but Fizz gripped his far shoulder and turned him all the way to face him, and then continued.

“As you said, I would be the authority on the subject of what it’s like to have your life destroyed by Blitzø Buckzo. And I gotta be honest with you. The only thing you could do to destroy that bird of yours, would be to disappear from his life, leaving a Blitzø-sized hole in his heart.” 

He couldn’t speak. He tried but no sound came out. A part of him (the teenage part) registered remotely that if Fizz had said anything like this shit to him when he was 19 he would have died happy. 

There were no words he could say that could express a fraction of the feeling welling up inside him. So he didn’t speak and just closed the distance between them, pulling Fizz into a desperately tight hug, hoping it would convey some of his gratitude, awe and affection. 

“Aww…” Fizz wrapped his arms twice around them and patted his pack, “I love you too, buddy.”

Fuck. He was not going to cry. He was not going to cry.

He finally pulled back, sniffling just a tad but (mostly) dry-eyed. 

“Thanks, Fizz. This… it means the world, coming from you.” 

Fizz’s face split into a smile somehow both playful and tender. 

“You deserve to be happy, Blitzø. Just… don’t get in your own way.” 

Chapter Text

He found himself alone in the reception area. 

… Asmodeus could really clear a room. After all, he was one of The Seven– Demon Royalty, a Deadly Sin of Hell. 

The door had barely swung shut after Fizz and Blitzø before the reception area cleared. That little goat-ish Imp (Mackee? Moccasin? Mooksy?) had squeaked and stuttered out an offer of some sort of beverage (which Ozzie waved off) before the female one dragged him away  somewhere. The Hellhound just walked out without a word, eyes glued to her phone and retrieving a pack of cigarettes from her pocket. Seriously, he was surprised there weren’t skid marks on the floor. 

Yep. That was him, the Demonic Embodiment of Lust. All-powerful, big scary sex man. Pfft. As if any of that meant anything . 

Being a Deadly Sin didn’t stop him feeling powerless when watching the cruel and baseless death sentence of one particularly fiery Imp. It did nothing to help him to take any sort of stand against his ‘peers’ – against all those motherfuckers of Hell’s Tribunal. And it really did nothing to stem the waves of sickening guilt when faced with his beloved’s complete and utter betrayal at his own inaction. Or the hot shame of his own failure. 

It had all happened lightning fast. For immortal beings, one might think they’d have the patience to sit in a courtroom in the name of “justice” for more than 20 minutes without offing an innocent creature. And Ozzie… after barely a single sentence of protest, had sat by and done nothing, despite the desperate messages blowing up his phone. 

For a Demon of such supposed power and influence, his words had done fuck all, and things had spiraled out of control. And In that moment, his mind had conjured a very realistic flash of a different imp – of a precious head with broken horns on the chopping block. Another pawn sacrificed in the chess game being played by higher demons who wouldn’t think twice about throwing any lesser demon to the fire. 

That wouldn’t be his Fizzarolli. Not while he was alive. 

So yes, in that moment he’d thought only of Fizz and his safety . His precious froggie, so strong and beautiful and so very fragile. 

He didn’t think of how precious this imp was, the one whose head was about to roll, to another demon. That perhaps he was the beloved ‘froggie’ to someone else. Not until that someone had materialized and put his magic and body between his lover and the blade. 

And what had Ozzie done? He’d spoken barely a sentence in defense of the imp… of Blitzø. And that was only after Bee had tried to intervene. He’d had a lot of time to think in the weeks following that day, about his own actions, or… lack thereof. 

Bee hadn’t hesitated to stand up and say she personally knew Blitzø, that he deserved the chance to speak. And what had Ozzie said? 

“Yeah! I'm sure he has a good reason for all this.”

And that was all. It had sounded like he wanted to be open-minded, while not giving any indication that he knew the guy.

And Ozzie… he knew quite a bit. 

He knew he’d been clever and brave and fierce, protecting Fizz and getting them both out pretty much unscathed from their kidnapping. 

The same way he’d been at Mammon’s bullshit clown competition… when Ozzie had called him for a personal favor. Loyal and protective and supportive to his Fizz. His Fizzie who’d spoken quietly in the small hours of the morning, in bed, about their childhood, about the tragedy that’d ripped them apart, and how much it meant, having him back in his life. 

And it wasn’t just Fizz who had kind things to say about Blitzø… Stolas had begged for a meeting with him to advocate for the little guy, and told Oz that he had real feelings for him. He’d heard the words straight from Stolas’ beak – and he’d sat there as that flamboyant disney villain knockoff claimed that Blitzø had raped Stolas . In front of all of their peers.

And Oz had said nothing. 

Not to mention that Blitzø had a crystal under his jurisdiction that allowed him legal access to the living world. 

And Oz had said nothing.

Blitzø and his compatriots were kept silenced, disgusting lies were spat at him, he was literally sentenced to death , and Oz had said… nothing. 

He’d thought to protect his beloved froggie… but, despite all of his concern for him, he’d failed to consider how Fizz would feel … having the broadcast suddenly go live and being faced with the imminent death of his dearest friend. 

One of his only friends. 

Despite how universally loved Fizzarolli had become, how his audiences thronged and rabid fans stretched around blocks for the chance to meet him, to shake his hand, to snap a picture (and often try to cop a feel)… they would all be shocked to know just how… shy he was. Almost reclusive. Whenever he wasn’t on stage or engaging with his fans as the Amazing Fizzarolli, he was tucked away from the world, spending time curled in on himself and recharging. His sweet little Fizz, he gave so much of himself to the masses of hell. But he would always return home to Oz. And they’d curl up on the sofa, or bed, snuggling up to read, watch TV or even just scroll on their phones. 

Everyone thought they knew him. Everyone thought they could walk up to Fizz and be his friend (or more ), like the Fizz they knew onstage was the whole package, and he belonged to all of them. That just because they could own a Fizzarolli doll, a thing that moved and talked and looked just like him – the citizens of hell thought they could own him too. 

The fact that he himself had produced the dolls made him physically ill. Although… if he hadn’t been personally in charge of designing and producing the Fizz Dolls, he never would have met his precious froggie.

And Oz… he was the luckiest damn demon in all of hell, because Fizz was his. The real Fizz. Because he did know all of Fizz – he was privileged above all, to have access to Fizz’s secrets, his feelings and insecurities. His passion, his sweetness, all the parts of him that were soft and quiet and real. 

These were the parts of Fizz that no one else saw, and it was an honor that they were shared with him, and no one else. 

… No one until recently, that is. Because Blitzø Buckso had exploded back into Fizz’s life and taken up a slot in his inner circle that Ozzie didn’t even know was open. It was like there’d been a Blitzø shaped hole, in a secret room, locked up and hidden away deep inside him. And Blitzø… he’d broken through with dynamite, and settled back in like he’d never left. 

And in a way, he hadn’t. And Oz was so happy for them. Fizzarolli deserved all the friends and support and closeness he desired. And he’d seen the difference in Fizz since Blitzø had come back to him. How Blitzø’s presence in his life made him just a bit more brave, and animated and his smile just a bit wider. 

And it had almost been blown to heaven. 

So what if he was a tiny bit jealous of the way Blitzø had just slipped back into Fizz’s life. He, the sin of LUST, jealous? And really, it was stupid. There was nothing to worry about with Blitzø… he had his own royal bird to keep him busy. 

Speaking of… Stolas. 

Oz wasn’t sure what to do about Stolas. 

He was honestly nothing like Oz had expected.. But he knew now that he’d misjudged him — at his club and then again during that meeting about acquiring a crystal for Blitzø. 

In fact… it seems he’d misjudged him for years. He’d seen Stolas on the peripheries of social functions for years. Usually at the sort of events Ozzie would avoid if he possibly could. Parties held by his ex-wife and her set. 

Stolas would stand broodingly in dark corners, looking out with haughty derision at his peers, too standoffish to socialize… or so he’d thought. 

But he was beginning to realize that he… had just been plain wrong in all of his assumptions about the owlish demon. 

In fact, the moment he’d realized just how wrong he’d been… was the moment he’d appeared in a swirl of glowing stars and told all of hell what a despicable villain he was. 

This one act, incredibly brave and self-sacrificing, and just so shocking , had completely upended every thought he’d ever had about Stolas. 

He’d never witnessed anything like it in all his time. 

Ozzie had known countless demons, and so many of them were selfish and shallow. It was the beautiful depth of Fizzaroli that drew Ozzie in and made him stay. His inner world, something rare and unique… And Stolas, he had quite an inner world too. 

But… Stolas was certainly not the same as Fizz. Today, like so many times before, he’d taken the first opportunity to isolate himself from everyone, but Ozzie was now beginning to suspect it was not like Fizz at all. Stolas was not recharging. He was fleeing . And Ozzie owed it to him, to Blitzø, Fizz, to fucking ALL of them to demon-up and go talk to him.

He knocked on the door to the meeting room. 

No answer.

He would face whatever Stolas’ reaction was.

He slowly cracked the door open.

Even if he yelled. Cursed him. Even if he… 

…was bent over the table with his arms locked, head hanging down and shoulders trembling. 

…Or that.  

“Stolas?”

He shot upright like he’d been fucking electrocuted. 

“Oh! Your Majesty. My apologies. I was just, just–” He frantically began gathering up the papers that had clearly been strewn haphazardly around the room, and continuing his anxiety-driven babbling. 

When Ozzie reached him, he was on all fours, stretching his long arm under the table for a stray document. Oz reached down to still him with a gentle hand on his shoulder. 

“Heyy, relax, birdy babe.”

Stolas froze and looked up at Ozzie with an expression uncomfortably close to fear on his face, so he crouched down and took his hand, then guided him up to sit at the table. He didn’t let go of Stolas’ hand as he angled a second chair and sat beside him, leaning forward to take his other hand, encouraging Stolas to face toward him. 

“I–I wasn’t… My apologies, your majesty. What you must think of me, being so silly…”

Yeah, no. That wasn’t gonna fly. He certainly wasn’t going to let Stolas apologize to him. 

“Please don’t distress yourself, my friend. You have absolutely nothing to apologize for.”

Stolas opened his mouth but before he could make a sound Ozzie took a breath and steeled himself: “Actually. I want to apologize to you.”

Stolas’ beak snapped shut, his eyes widening. 

“I should’ve… It wasn’t right. Any of it. What happened to you… to Blitzø. Neither of you deserved that and even though I wasn’t the— well,” Oz looked down at their hands. “What matters is, I should have done more, done something. You never should have been put in that position in the first place… perpetrating that ridiculous ruse that you’re some kind of evil genius when anyone who knows you at all would know that’s absolute bullshit.” He winced at the irony of that, but plowed on. 

“I meant it, what I said before. What you did was one of the bravest things I have ever seen in my life. And the repercussions were absolutely disgusting.” 

He heard a sniffle and looked up to see that tears were streaming down Stolas’ face. He pulled out a handkerchief and offered it to him, and looked away to give Stolas a moment. 

Stolas snorted and he glanced back to see him holding up the handkerchief, eyebrows raised, looking amused despite himself. 

The words “ Cum On Me” were embossed across it, along with delicately stitched, brightly colored dildos. 

“Uhhhhh… It’s clean, I swear.” 

Stolas rolled his eyes, but hooted out a laugh, and finished wiping his face. 

Ozzie chuckled too before allowing the sound to fizzle out and they sat in silence for a moment. A long moment. 

He was just contemplating if he should break it, or wait for Stolas to speak, when he did. 

“I… I appreciate your kind words, Lord Asmodeus–”

“ Ozzie, please Stolas.” 

“...Oz…zie. I do appreciate your concern, but honestly? I am more worried about my daughter than anything else.”

His eyes were downcast, but then his expression shifted and he looked back up with something approaching hopefulness on his face. 

“I don’t suppose… I know that it’s very unlikely… that is to say, it’s not as though we spent overmuch time together but I have no other connections at all to… well. Have you heard anything about my daughter?”

Ozzie’s heart sank. He would have given anything to be able to give Stolas… anything that would set his mind at ease, but unfortunately… “No, I’m sorry, birdie babe, I haven’t.” Stolas’ face fell, and Ozzie’s heart ached . He really hoped it wouldn’t make things worse to ask, “I take it you’re not… I mean haven’t you been in some kind of communication with her? At all?” 

He watched Stolas’ face crumple further, speaking so low as to be barely audible, “No. Well. I saw her one time. And I… I don’t think I will again.”

The stupid peafowl were keeping Stolas separated from his kid? Completely? What the actual fuck?! Although… he supposed he couldn’t be too shocked after that fucking joke of a trial.

Andrealphus. The fucking manipulative, conniving, narcissistic, flaming drama queen. 

What a little bitch.  

And the mother… the last time he’d seen that loathsome shrew she wasn’t even present, it was just her… image. At his club… when he’d… publicly humiliated Stolas, throwing his affair AND the images of his wife and daughter in his face… fuck. He hadn’t thought about that in ages. In fact he’d barely thought about it at all after it’d happened. But… that’s just the kind of shit his club was known for. But… the image of his underage daughter on display at his sex club?... It was– was… he looked at Stolas’ miserable face.

It was royally fucked. 

In a bad way. 

Right. Time to change the subject. 

“Well. That’s– at least you have– I mean…How're things going with your little Imp? I know things unravelled in a … less than ideal way, but hey! You got your man back, right? At the end of the day, at least you have each other.”

“HA,” Stolas’ single syllable dripped with bitterness and Oz fought not to recoil, “ I don’t “have” anything. Literally.” 

Oz raised a flaming eyebrow at him. 

“Oh no? That’s certainly not the impression I got based on his conversations with Fizz.”

“Well. You’re quite mistaken. Our relationship has always been a transactional one regardless of whatever ‘conversations’ may or may not be happening with Fizzarolli, no matter what I’ve said…” he shook his head sadly and took a few breaths before continuing, “No matter what foolish feelings I may have expressed to you… It may have meant more for me… but… but not for him. He’s just a good demon . He would never let… Well, he just cares about people… so much more than he lets on.”

Despite everything he was feeling, Ozzie chuckled, “Ohohoho I know he does. Unholy Heaven , the way he was when the two of them got kidnapped? He definitely cares very deeply for his people.” 

Stolas looked at him blankly for a long moment. 

“ What?? ... Wait, when who two got kidnapped?”

“Fizzie and Blitzø? You know… you were there .”

“I was…But–But… when?…Wait.” Stolas blinked owlishly at him. “Was that when I came to you for a meeting and you got that video?”

“Yes.”

Stolas stared blankly at him. 

“Of Fizzarolli trussed up and being ransomed?”

“Yes.” 

“When we spent a fucking eternity stalling that ridiculous lawyer???!?”

“Ye-What???” Stalling???

Stolas shook his head dismissively, “It hardly matters now but… are you telling me that Blitzø was captured along-side Fizzarolli?”

“...Uhhh… Yes?” Good Lucifer, what had he stepped in? “...He didn’t tell you? That was how they reconnected. That’s why he was at that ridiculous pageant bullshit of Mammon’s. As his bodyguard.”

Stolas’ expressionless face stared back at him. Ozzie was starting to panic. 

“When he… came to us to buy some special items for your big full moon date night????”

Stolas somehow looked even more vacant at that and Oz fought the impulse to wave his hand in front of his eyes to check that someone was home. 

Instead he continued on, “You know… Fizz told me it was just the cutest thing— how excited he was to see you. Apparently he was very choosy about what toys he wanted for you, very emphatic about all the shit you’re into, or not into. Seeing a top so tuned into their partner is soooo heartwarming… warms other places too ehehe. And apparently he’d already been to a bunch of other shops in Lust before calling Fizz at all, he was so determined to please you. And we hooked him up big time with some of my best shit… some of them have not been released to the public yet!” 

He beamed at Stolas, expectantly. Surely this would make him feel bet…

Stolas looked positively gray. Ozzie hoped he wasn’t going to be sick. So not his kink. 

***

Stolas was going to be sick. 

He didn’t know anything. 

He knew exactly nothing about his supposed “true love.”

He didn’t know about the kidnapping OR the daring escape . 

Or Striker’s assassination attempt. The “first time,” whenever the fuck that was.

Or…the night of that fucking blessed full moon when he’d shown up, apparently all happy to see him and everything had gone to heaven.

And he didn’t even know he had a sister until Sinsmas, and even then, the only reason Blitzø told him was because he felt so guilty and sorry for him after Via… fuck. 

And after everything Blitzø had been through–

After everything you put me through, you pompous, rich ASSHOLE?!

He knew nothing. 

The only real thing he knew about Blitzø was the bottomless depths of his heart. He was so fucking endlessly loving and kind, loyal and protective. Even if it was only coming from a skewed sense of guilt. Even when the person didn’t deserve it. Because Stolas certainly didn’t deserve it. 

What a terrible weight it must be, wrapped around Blitzø’s delicate neck, perpetuating the pretense, having to pretend to care for him all day, everyday. 

And Stolas knew how heavy the burden was, wearing a mask at all times. 

He wished he could enjoy Blitzø’s “care” but he felt too fucking numb, seperated from his own self, unable to feel any of his feelings. 

He was out of control. 

He wasn’t having emotions, emotions were having him. Having him and exploding outward in every direction, torpedoing into everyone around him. 

“You okay, Birdy Babe? You’re looking tired… how’ve you been sleeping lately?”

He jolted. Fuck, he’d forgotten that he wasn’t alone. 

“Ah well, you know. It’s been… it’s been… okay ?”

Ozzie just gave him a look. 

“You know… it’s okay to need help sometimes.”

Yeah if you’re a fucking basket case. 

Ozzie heaved a sigh, “I’m sorry babe, for being all up in your personal shit but… you know that dashing Imp of yours has been so worried about you. He’s been confiding in my Fizzie – and it’s just the cutest thing how worried the two of them are for you, it  just melts my heart” he put a hand to his chest dramatically and Stolas had to restrain himself from rolling his eyes. 

“ Anywayyy , your little Imp told us that the meds you’re currently on… aren’t quite cutting it? So they asked me to pull some strings with the lady in charge to get you the good shit. So I went to see my sister, Belphegor.” 

He waved a hand, casually ripping a hole in the air and withdrew two brightly colored pill bottles, setting them on the table in between them. 

Stolas looked at them dubiously for a moment before reaching out and picking up the first bottle (an obnoxious baby blue ) and examining the label. 

Tranquil Kat’s 

Kitty-Mine Tablets

Curled around the words was an orange tail, connected to a cartoon cat, snoozing happily, with the caption: ‘ For the Purrrfect Night’s Sleep. ’

There were even little zzz’s all around. 

Wow. That wasn’t infantilizing at all . 

The cutsie bullshit took up most of the space on the bottle (which was quite large), but tucked into a small space on the back he found some words with more than two syllables. 

Kitty-Mine Tablets (90 count)

Take 1 Tablet Sublingually Nightly

Take for : Insomnia, anxiety, depression 

Call Your Doctor if you have any of the following symptoms : Increased blood pressure and heart-rate, weak or shallow breathing, blurry vision, muscular convulsions, nausea. 

**Warning - DO NOT TAKE MORE THAN RECOMMENDED DOSAGE . Higher dosages can cause: Hallucinations, Dissociative Episodes, Respiratory Depression, Short-Term Memory Loss, Cardiac Arrest, Hemodynamic Instability. 

*Kitty-Mine can be fatal in high dosages, especially for individuals under the influence of alcohol, or other other drugs - please consult your physician before mixing medicines.

Andddd… Asmodeus had continued speaking and he hadn’t been listening even a little bit. 

“... –lphagor takes her shit very seriously, and normally she’d want to see you herself but… I thought you might prefer to handle this as quickly and discreetly as possible, so she gave me strict instructions and also these to pass along.“ He offered two pamphlets to Stolas, who took them mechanically.  

“So… for these ones, she said to take them 30 minutes before you want to sleep. Apparently you want to just… lie back and go to your happy place, visualize yourself being somewhere relaxing and before you know it you’ll be rocked to sleep in a hammock on an Envian Isle.” 

“That’s…” Stolas floundered, trying to dredge up something to say, but his mind was blank; his limbs felt sluggish and there was a high pitched whistling noise that was incredibly distracting. He managed a nod and reached out for the second bottle, this one an eye-searingly sunny yellow: 

Mama B’s 

Trauma Cure All

This bottle was just as cringily cheerful as the first, covered in little smiling demon emojis. Eugh. 

Trauma Cure All (180 count)

Take 2 Capsules Orally Every Morning 

Take for : Anxiety, Treatment Resistant Depression 

Common Side effects include : Dry mouth, Sedation, Blurred Vision, Dizziness, Muscle pain/weakness, Mild Seizures, 

TCAs can interact with other medications, including antidepressants, sedatives, and blood pressure medications. Please consult your physician before mixing medicines.

**Warning - DO NOT TAKE MORE THAN RECOMMENDED DOSAGE: 

TCA overdose can be fatal if it’s not treated in time. If you ever suspect an overdose — in yourself, a loved one, or even a nemesis — call 696 and get medical help right away.

*If you experience suicidal thoughts or worsening depression, seek immediate medical attention.

“Bellie said these are one of her earliest creations, so they’re very strong – especially effective against treatment resistant depression and they’re only safe for the upper classes of demons to take. So she said to start with one pill every morning.

She said there are enough of both pills to last you about three months, but she’ll want to make an appointment with you in a month or so to check in – you know, see how you’re doing with them and if we need to adjust your dosages. Oh , and she said you can stop taking those Happy Pills.” 

Done and done.  

Stolas kept his eyes on the bottle, staring at the tiny words without reading them, but he finally looked up when Oz placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. 

“I know… things are real hard right now but… all of us want to support you. And I mean… if nothing else, our two little imps are practically brothers and that makes us family.” 

Huh. That’s… pretty much exactly what Loona had said. Apparently Blitzø came with a lot of family attached. He wondered what that was like… must be nice having so many people around you, caring about you. 

Too bad Ozzie was wrong. In order for that to be true he and Blitzø would need to actually be… 

“...Everything will be okay, birdy babe, I promise.” 

Stolas closed his eyes against the stinging, willing himself not to cry. Again. He still couldn’t get a single fucking word out of his beak, Asmodeus must think him so rude, so ungrateful, so–

“I’m gonna go find my Fizzie now, but first. I have one more thing for you.” 

Stolas’ eyes opened to see a shiny new hellphone. 

“Oh, I–I couldn’t, I–” 

“You can. Call me any time… and who knows? Maybe you’ll speak to your daughter sooner than you think.” 

Ozzie turned to go, but caught himself. 

“Oh I almost forgot. Stolas,” Ozzie began, and at the use of his actual name Stolas startled and looked up. 

“It’s really important that you DON’T take the meds together. They’re meant to alternate morning and night and need to be taken at least 6 hours apart. Belphegor made a biiiig deal about it because apparently combining them makes your blood pressure skyrocket and can even cause hallucinations .” 

Stolas snorted at that, the irony. 

“So does that mean it would stop hallucinations if one were already having those?” 

Ridiculous.

Asmodeus, who had once again moved towards the door, froze and slowly turned back with an uncharacteristically serious look on his faces. 

“Stolas,” and uh oh he said my name again. “Stolas… are you actually experiencing hallucinations? Because that’s not something to fuck around with– maybe we should wait for you to talk to Belphegor. I can call her and see if we can get you an emergency consultation today, or tomorrow at the latest. Fizz didn’t say anything about this, does Blitzø know? We’ve got to—” 

Stolas panicked. 

“NO! Fucking Lucifer on his throne , of course I am not. Like, excuse me, am I not allowed to make a fucking joke? You’re absolutely right , your highness, all of this has been incredibly difficult, and everyone around me is so concerned I can’t so much as breathe without causing a commotion so it would be nice if you all just crawled out of my fucking cloaca !” 

The silence that followed was deafening. Or was that the crackling static in his head? 

What. The fuck. Had he just said. To a fucking Sin. It was official. He’d completely fucking lost it. He was a menace to society. Maybe Oz would do everyone a favor and eviscerate him. 

Fuck. He had to say something. 

“I–Your Highness, I am–I am so sorry, I beg your pardon, I don’t know what came over me–”

A gentle hand on his shoulder stopped him and he looked up into the fiery mane above him, bracing for impact. 

“Just Ozzie to you, birdy babe. Get some sleep and call me in a few days, okay? Let’s keep in touch.” Oz squeezed his shoulder before letting go, and slipping out of the room. 

Stolas sat, not moving an inch, keeping his eyes forward and his mind carefully blank. 

“... Stols?” It was Blitzø, poking his head into the meeting room. 

Stolas dragged his eyes over to meet Blitzø’s, looking back at him with such soft concern. 

He didn’t deserve it. 

Blitzø stepped the rest of the way in, looking down at the 2 bottles in front of Stolas. “Ah, I see Ozzie brought something for you, that’s great!” 

“Hm, yes. I suppose I should thank him. Or rather… I should thank all three of you, right? How kind of you, talking about me together, I feel so very cared for.” 

Blitzø winced. 

“Aww jeez, birdy I didn’t… well. I won’t apologize for this, or for caring about you.”

Stolas sneered, “Of course not, add it to the list. I know how you feel about apologies.” 

Fuck. He regretted those words before they’d fully left his mouth. 

Blitzø recoiled, the look of shock morphing into anguish on his face. 

Fix it, you moron. 

He opened his mouth to say… something , to take it back, to apologize but froze. 

“Ain’t nothing there to fix, little birdie.”

Aaaand Striker was sitting in the chair across from him, leaning back with his boots casually kicked up on the table.

And then it was too late. 

“I– I just wanted to tell you that we’re going on our last hit for today, but it might take a while. So. I just. Thought you should know.” He stopped, and worried at his bottom lip until, “I– I really want to have like, a real conversation, Stols. I’be been wanting to, just never seemed like the right moment but… But we… I have things I need to– just, we’ll talk later, okay? I’m sorry for everyth– we’ll talk later.”

And he was gone. 

The glow under the door told him that all of IMP were now in the human world and Stolas was alone. 

“ Well, isn’t that just adorable .” 

The dark chuckle made Stolas jump out of his skin. Fuck. Okay so not entirely alone.