Chapter Text
cover by Cami
Blitzø
Blitzø read somewhere (okay, fine, he didn't so much read as heard some guy talking, late at night, in his favorite bar... but the guy sounded smart, not to mention surprisingly coherent for someone who was so completely drunk, so it still counts!) that for each decision you take, there's another version of you, in another universe, that took the opposite one. Which means there could be millions of versions of Blitzø in as many universes, some pretty close, some totally different.
He has no trouble believing that at all. It sort of makes sense, when he thinks of it. What he really wonders is this:
Is there another universe where he managed to end up in a situation even more fucked up than this one?
Honestly, it's hard to believe. Because that would mean he would have taken even more insane decisions, and Blitzø considers himself as... maybe not cool-headed, but... yeah, no, scratch that. He's impulsive as shit, so for all he knows, there’s a reality in which he’s still a fucking clown!
To be fair, this isn't so bad. There are people who look up to him. Even more: he has fans. Well, kind of. A fan, singular. And a pretty lame one, at that. Fucking Dennis! Hardly worth mentioning. But still, a mere year ago, Blitzø wouldn't have thought it possible.
Plus, it's his life now. So he might as well make the most of it.
« Well, well, well », he says, crossing his arms in a casual pose he repeated all afternoon. « What have we here? »
Blitzø cringes inwardly. It sounded cooler in his head, but now that he hears himself speak, it’s like super lame. He can count himself lucky: given how late it is, he and his opponent are the only two people on the street. Fists on his hips in his most heroic pose, he faces off against the asshole who dared to stir up trouble in his neighborhood.
« Who the fuck are you supposed to be? »
The guy is tall as shit, with a ridiculous cape and an even more ridiculous hat that hides almost his entire face. Blitzø can barely make out a pair… no, wait, two pairs of red eyes burning with malice in the shadows of his costume.
(What kind of demon is he? He’s not an imp, that’s for sure. Nor an incubus. Maybe some kind of Sinner? Most of them aren’t that tall, but there are a few exceptions, like that dino lady Overlord.)
« I… uh… I’m… It… It doesn’t matter. Just let me through. Please. »
Blitzø is a little taken aback. Not only because of that soft, posh voice that doesn’t really match the super creepy look, but also because of the politeness. Usually, the guys he faces off against just tell him to go fuck himself, plain and simple. « Please » is definitely a first.
« Not going to happen, asshole », he retorts when he finally comes to his senses. « Your fucking plant… thingies have destroyed the whole fucking block! »
With a sweeping gesture of the arm, he points to the gigantic vines and brambles—whose thorns are as thick as his thigh and dangerously sharp to boot—that are currently climbing all over the surrounding buildings, their roots having burrowed so deeply into the masonry that they’re crumbling those fucking bricks.
(To be honest, it’s freaking him out more than a little. Blitzø is more used to drunk assholes and mob types trying to act tough. Real magical powers, like the ability to control plants, might be a tad above his pay grade.)
Cape Guy looks at the vines (at least, that’s what Blitzø thinks; it’s hard to tell with those creepy, pupil-less eyes of his), then turns fully toward him.
« Get out of my way, little imp », he says in a voice just as posh, but a little sharper than before. « I don’t have time to deal with you. »
This, at least, is familiar territory. Ignoring that blatant insult (fuck him, Blitzø is anything but ‘little’, especially between the legs), he flashes the asshole a shit-eating grin and summons his magic stick.
« Too bad », he retorts, pointing the end adorned with the crystal ball at him. « Because I’ve got all the time in the world… »
(Which is far from true. Since Fizz went to see his physical therapist, Blitzø asked Millie to watch Loony tonight, and she’ll be mad at him if he’s late again.)
« What is that thing? » asks Cape Guy with that kind of curiosity mixed with disdain that, in the early days, would have made Blitzø’s blood boil.
But with a couple of months as a protector under his belt, he’s not so easily riled up anymore. And the fact that his opponents underestimate him usually works in his favor.
(Plus, come on, his stick is hot pink and shiny, not to mention that, under the crystal, there’s a pretty horse rearing up on its hind legs. It’s so fucking cool!)
« That, asshole, is my rod of power. And I’m going to shove it right up your ass! » he retorts with a smirk.
Cape Guy flinches.
« Re… really? » he asks, and it’s probably just Blitzø’s imagination, but he seems almost breathless.
For the second time in just a few minutes, the imp is taken aback.
Seriously, where in Heaven did this guy crawl out of?
🥀🌱🥀🌱🥀🌱🥀🌱🥀🌱🥀🌱🥀
Stolas
The last thing Stolas expected when he woke up this morning was to find himself face to face with a handsome imp disguised as a woman. And yet, here he is.
One thing is certain: none of the etiquette classes he took as a young Goetia prepared him for such a situation. Although he can’t imagine how any master of etiquette, in all Goetic history, could have foreseen such an improbable situation.
The imp is tall for his kind, with a slender yet athletic build, an impressive pair of horns—ornate with purple and white ribbons—and, by far, the most beautiful eyes Stolas has ever seen, accentuated by extremely long lashes. So long, in fact, that they’re probably fake, but the shape and colors of his eyes—a molten gold and a crystalline ruby—are undeniably real. With his arrogant demeanor and outrageous language, Stolas can’t help but find him utterly charming.
Unfortunately, he can’t afford to dillydally; he has a mission of the utmost importance to carry out.
His owlette needs him.
Stolas stands up to his full height, towering over the imp, and purses his beak.
« I don’t want to hurt you, little one », he declares in an icy, haughty voice, « but I won’t hesitate to use force if I have to! »
He’ll simply have to make sure his plants stay under control, because they have a strong tendency to run wild, especially when his emotions are running high. Which, unfortunately, is very much the case right now. And his concern for Via is only part of it.
Think of your Starfire, he tells himself. Don’t let the handsome man sway you.
Stolas is ashamed to admit that it’s easier said than done. Not because he isn’t worried about his precious daughter—of course he is—but because he can’t help but feel flustered by the imp. There’s something about his voice, his demeanor, his powerful hands, his wicked smile… he’s simply magnificent. And his pretty purple top and short ruffled skirt, decorated with tiny horses, make him even more manly, somehow.
The owl can feel his feathers puff up—and, unfortunately, his vines stir—in response.
Via needs him. More than that, Via needs him urgently. Whatever emotions this handsome, flamboyant man inspires in Stolas, they are secondary to his little girl’s well-being.
That’s why, rather than looking at him, Stolas focuses on his plants, channeling his power deep into their roots. A few vines shoot out of the ground and creep up behind the imp, silent but ready to strike. With a swift movement, Stolas clenches his right hand, and two vines leap at the imp, wrapping themselves around his muscular forearms. He closes his left one, and two more vines wrap around the ankles of his shiny boots. Then, he spreads his arms wide, fists tightened, and the vines follow his movement, wrapping more tightly around the imp’s limbs before spreading him wide—not enough to hurt him, but enough to render him helpless.
Seeing this handsome man at his mercy cannot leave Stolas indifferent, and the vines sense it too. The one holding his right arm loosens just enough for its tip to slide down his shoulder, then along his neck, before brushing his cheek like a caress.
Stolas can almost feel it in the tip of his talons.
« No! » he exclaims, taking a step back.
Strangely enough, the imp doesn't seem the least bit bothered by the predicament he finds himself in. He gives the owl a nasty smile—which, far from detracting from his charm, actually enhances it even more—and says:
« If you want to fuck my little red hole with your plants, Cape Guy, you could at least buy me a drink first! »
« I… I never intended to… to do such a thing! » stammers Stolas, indignant.
« How polite, coming from the guy who jumped straight into bondage without even discussing safe words first. Mine is ‘cheese puffs,’ by the way… », the imp adds with a wink.
Stolas’ beak drops open in shock. Is… is the handsome man flirting with him? Certainly not. After all, the situation isn’t exactly conducive to seduction. It’s probably just his way of showing him he’s not afraid.
Or maybe he was trying to create a distraction: Stolas’ slight hesitation caused the vines to loosen their grip on the handsome imp’s limbs. With surprising agility, the man twists his body to free himself from his bonds, then performs a series of impressive backward somersaults to put himself at a safe distance from the plants—or as safe as possible, given that he’s surrounded by them.
He deftly twirls his stick in his hand before pointing it at Stolas.
« All right, asshole! » he exclaims. « Foreplay is over. Now it’s your turn to get fucked in the ass! »
Once again, Stolas is rendered speechless. To tell the truth, the mere thought that this strong, handsome, wicked man might have his way with him—his magnificent red-gold eyes gleaming with lust—makes his knees go a little weak.
Unsurprisingly, the vines immediately rush toward the attractive imp, but this time he’s ready and easily dodges them with an acrobatic leap, before pointing the orb at the end of his staff at the vines. To Stolas’ great surprise, the crystal emits a neon pink light, before a beam of energy shoots out of it, striking the plants head-on.
The beam is nowhere near powerful enough to destroy the vines, but it still hurts them enough that they recoil in pain. Watching the poor vines tremble in agony, Stolas is relieved that the bond between him and his plants is one-sided. Thanks to his Goetic constitution, he could endure much more, but that doesn’t mean he has to.
« Yeah, Cape Guy, take that! Biscuit Queen strikes again! »
« Bi… Biscuit queen? » asks the owl, puzzled. « What’s a biscuit queen? »
« You’re looking at her right now », retorts the handsome imp, fists on his hips, head held high.
Stolas is fascinated. And even more perplexed than before.
« But… aren’t you… um… a man? »
Sure, the clothes are undeniably feminine, but the attitude, the voice, the body… everything screams virility to him.
« Not tonight, I’m not », retorts the imp with a smirk, twirling his staff between his fingers. « Tonight, I’m a Magical Girl! »
« Oh. Um. I see », says Stolas, who sees absolutely nothing, but doesn’t want to come across as rude.
The crux of the problem is that none of this is intentional. The bond between him and his plants is still very fresh, and he doesn’t have a firm control on them yet—especially when his emotions get the better of him. And with Via sick at home and a key ingredient missing to brew her a healing potion, the owl is, unfortunately, at the end of his rope.
Not to mention the fact that the mere presence of the handsome imp plays with his emotions in a very different, yet equally powerful, way…
As for the cloak, well, he didn’t want the townspeople to realize that a Goetia was living among them. As a young nestling, his tutors have told him time and again that his kind was above the common folk, but his first encounter with lesser demons quickly made him realize that they not only weren't aware of this, but were in fact quite hostile toward his kind.
Stolas supposes this makes sense, since no one likes to be looked down upon—something he knows all too well: his father, a King, and his brothers, all Princes, have always made him feel like he was beneath them because of his lesser powers and, therefore, his lesser title. Even his ex-wife had made it abundantly clear that she resented being married to a mere Earl and had, in fact, left him before the ‘precautionary heir’ they were expected to produce had even hatched.
Via might be nothing more than an afterthought to his father, and a mere stepping stone to her own harpy of a mother, but she means the world to Stolas, whose main purpose is to ensure her safety and well-being.
As his resolve grows stronger, he starts focusing once again on his plants.
The handsome imp is about to learn that the owl has more than one trick up his sleeve…
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Blitzo
Looks like Blitzø shouldn’t have worried, after all. Sure, the asshole can control plants and all that, but it’s not like he knows how to do real magic. Plus, his own magic stick gives him far more power than your average imp… than any imp, for that matter. He still has no idea how it’s possible, but as the saying goes, don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.
(Which, as far as Blitzø is concerned, is the stupidest proverb ever. If someone offered him a horse, he’d check its mouth without hesitation. He’d examine it from head to hooves. Horses are the coolest animals in Hell… probably in the entire universe. There’s no way those assholes in Heaven have anything nearly as cool!)
Anyway, he points his stick at Cape Guy, all the while keeping an eye on the vines to his left and right. Ha! If that fucker thinks Blitzø is going to fall for such an obvious ploy a second time, he’s in for a surprise!
In the end, the attack catches him completely off guard: one moment, he’s about to blast the vines creeping toward him; the next, purple flowers bloom all over the plants, emitting some kind of mist that tickle his nostrils and make him sneeze so hard that his ears began to ring. It only lasts a moment, but it’s enough: when his sneezing fit is finally over, he realizes that, all around him, the vines are leaving the building to sink into the ground… and Cape Guy is gone.
Blitzø looks around, but the giant asshole is nowhere in sight. He sniffs the air, just in case there are any traces left of Cape Guy’s presence, but it turns out to be a stupid idea, because he’s hit by a second bout of sneezing.
« Motherf… » he mutters as he half-crawls, half-climbs up the nearest building, both to get away from that fucking mist and to get a better view of the neighborhood. But no matter where he looks, Cape Guy is nowhere to be found. It’s as if he’d simply vanished into thin air.
« That’s right, you better run, fuckface! And DON’T COME BACK! » he yells in his most menacing voice.
Blitzø seriously doubts the guy heard him, but it wouldn’t have felt right to leave it at that. Shaking his head, he makes his way back down. As far as he’s concerned, he’s clearly won this battle. Which means he deserves a little treat. It’s time for some cheese and hot sauce.
He’s done for today. He’ll be back fighting the usual losers soon enough…