#boszbichblitzo

[toranoya]

Moxxie paused, taking in Blitz’s words and the sharp, defensive edge in his voice. He could see it now—Blitz wasn’t just angry. He was hurt. The cracks were there, just beneath the surface, held together by bravado and snark. And maybe… maybe Moxxie had pushed too far.

He took a slow breath, steadying himself before speaking again, his tone softer, more measured. “You're right. I’ve only heard one side of the story,” he admitted, nodding. “And maybe it’s not my place to push. I get it… talking isn’t your thing, Blitz. Hell, I don’t think I’ve ever really heard you talk about how you feel unless you’re half-joking or pissed off.”

Moxxie hesitated, his gaze flickering to the window before back to Blitz. “I wasn’t trying to guilt you. I would never use Millie’s name like that. Ever.” His voice trembled slightly, but he held his ground. “I just… I want you to be happy, Blitz. That’s it. And maybe… maybe I’m projecting. Maybe I’m trying to fix things for you because I couldn’t fix things for myself. I don’t know.”

He stepped back, putting a bit of space between them, giving Blitz the room he clearly needed. “But I think you deserve more than this.” He gestured vaguely to the hallway, to the broken window, to the mess that was Blitz’s emotional state. “More than just being alone and convincing yourself that’s all you’re good for.”

Moxxie adjusted his suit, straightening it out like it would somehow settle the growing tension in his chest. “I’m heading to watch Stolas now, call me if you need me,” he said quietly, turning to leave. “By the way, if you want to make things right… you might want to do it soon. He’s got a lunch date today with another Goetia. Apparently, someone he grew up with.” He glanced over his shoulder, eyes soft with concern. “And he’s been speaking very fondly of him.”

Moxxie gave a small, almost sad smile. “Just… think about it, Blitz. Don’t let this be another thing you regret.”

[@boszbichblitzo

[moxxiemisfire]

starter for the lovely @boszbichblitzo

A bright, doe-eyed, wonder filled Moxxie’s shimmering eyes as he stared through the glimmering portal towards their chosen camping ground. As soon as Millie had suggested the little group trip, the bow-tie wearing imp had spent hours scouring the internet for the best possible location. An idyllic view. Pleasant weather. Not too many humans. This? Well, this was perfect. Everything he’d envisioned. “…it’s beautiful…” the words tumbled quietly from his lips, his hooves instinctively carrying him forward until they met with the soft tickle of grass. There were rows of towering trees and a steadily flowing stream of crystal clear water. A pleasant breeze caressed the skin of his face as Moxxie let his eyes fall shut and took in a deep, slow, and altogether steadying breath — it was as though, for the first time in weeks, the pressure in his chest had lifted.

Things had been a little…uh, weird, around the office. In honesty, Moxxie felt as though he’d kind of blacked out and missed a bunch of stuff because he’d been so hyper-focused on attempting to make their finances work and generally hurtling towards a major panic attack. The sharp-shooter pushed that thought to the back of his mind: this trip was supposed to be relaxing. No point letting his worries follow him through the portal.

Sleeping bag? Check. Tent? Check. Insect Repellent? Check. Medicine kit? Check. The imp, who had traded in his bow-tie for a loose Hawaiian shirt, analysed his bags with a look of focus furrowed into his brow. Moxxie couldn’t help but feel like he was missing something — his gun? did he need it? Surely not. These woods were safe, right? The imp tore his gaze away from his bags in search Blitz to ask his opinion. “Sir—” the word died in his throat as his eyes came to meet not Blitz, who was stood on the other side of him, but Millie and Loona, who were both stood on the other side of the portal. In the office. Something was wrong. A look of sheer horror crept across Moxxie’s features as he watched the portal closing. The imp heard Millie shout something along the lines of: ‘Sorry, boys! Enjoy your campin’ trip! We’ll open the portal for y’all tomorrow~’

“No. No. No. No…” the words tumbled from Moxxie’s lips before he even had a chance to process everything that’d just happened. The smaller imp sunk slowly to his knees, staring in disbelief at where the portal had been moments before. “They closed it by accident, right Sir?” he muttered, in denial, allowing his gaze to flicker across to Blitz, “…o-or as some kind of joke, maybe? I’m sure they’ll reopen it any second...right?”

[froggy-fizz]

[ starter for the beautiful, amazing, show-stopping @boszbichblitzo ]

Navigating the bustling, noisy, streets of the Pride-Ring it was near impossible to avoid flyers for the all-imp circus: stuck haphazardly onto lampposts and crumpled underfoot, they were everywhere. All bold lettering, promises of a night of awe-filled wonder, and plastered with the grinning face of an imp in a jester hat. Stifled by the shadow of its tragic history, the circus was, uh…well, let’s just say, business had been better. The horrifying fire had been a bit of a buzz-kill, and even as the years passed, there were only really two pieces of common knowledge about the circus: 1.) It’s that circus where the awful, horrific, tragedy happened. 2.) It’s the circus that has Fizzarolli!~ Look, the jester found the praise undeniably gratifying, especially considering the nerve-wracking nature of his return to performing after gaining a whole set of prosthetic limbs but, well, Fizz just wished it didn’t always feel like he was single-handedly responsible for clawing back their audience. He wasn’t a miracle worker! He was a performer. A fucking good one, but still, it turns out that rainbow confetti, unholy amounts of glitter, insane layers of stage-makeup and general razzmatazz could only do so much to cover up the tragedies of the past.

Days off were rare and even when they presented themself, Fizz exclusively used them to practice the skills he hadn’t yet mastered since getting his prosthetics. There was a soft mechanical whirring as Fizz took the long balloon in his robotic hands. Bathed in the glimmering warmth of the lights of the big top, he began to attempt to twist the skinny balloon into shape, his forked tongue poking out the corner of his mouth in pure, unshakable, focus. With a loud squeak, the balloon slipped through his metal fingers and floated gently down to the floor beside him, still infuriatingly sausage shaped. “You slippery little fucker!” he admonished as he clasped his hands around the rubber tube once more. Come on, how hard could this be? He used to be a fucking balloon animal making legend. His hands may be robotic now but the brain doesn’t forget! Taking a slow breath, being more delicate this time, he twisted at the balloon in an attempt to make a simple horse — his heart soared as he managed to twist and turn until something began taking shape. When he was done, however, his heart skipped a beat. There, resting in his hands, was a half-formed horse missing his legs. That, all-too-familiar, feeling of forming tears began to sting his eyes. Against his will, a hot tear rolled down his cheek. Fizz’s teary eyes darted around wildly to the other circus performers that were milling around the tent in a panic, making sure that no one had seen him falter. Cash would be so angry. It was ungrateful for him to be upset after everything the man had done for him. Plus, no one wanted to see him upset. He was the face of the circus. The success story. The bright, unfaltering, smile. The hope for a better, richer, future. Fizz clambered unsteadily to his feet. Holding that dumb fucking balloon animal tight to his chest, he scurried off to the isolation of his dressing room.

The jester practically threw his failed attempt of a horse onto his vanity. Which was…unsatisfying, consider how it merely bounced of the mirror and floated peacefully to sit among his makeup. The prosthetics of his hands let out a small, electric, spark of protest at how hard he grasped at the edge of the hardwood table, staring straight into the eyes of his reflection. Fizz took a steadying breath, or twelve, then slumping down unceremoniously into his chair — he picked up a stray powder puff and tapped it onto his face where the tear had left a streak in his otherwise flawless makeup. “I know you’re a clown but fuuuuck…seriously Fizz?” he chastised the beautiful idiot in the mirror, wrapping his mechanical fingers around a lipstick before dabbing it against his lips gently. Blitzo was a piece of shit that’d burnt down the circus, left him to die in the flames, and then not had the nerve to show his face ever since. “…waste of a perfectly good make-up look, if ya ask me…” Fizz had spent far too much time that morning colour-coordinating his eye shadow to the cute baby blue crop top he was wearing to ruin his hard work over a ghost.

[moxxiemisfire]

“Does he?” Moxxie couldn’t help the snort of amusement that escaped at the thought of his dad making him seem cooler. There was logic to what Blitz said: movies were always romanticising the mafia. Having a mafia boss father figure as a dark secret was the making of a hollywood hero. “I feel like he may have ruined my chance at seeming ‘cooler and more dangerous’ by shoving me in a wedding dress and trying to get me to marry my ex…that was categorically uncool. In fact, it was very damsel-in-distress,” he paused for a moment, “…I appreciated the save. Driving the car through the wall? Cool and dangerous, no shitty mafia dad needed.”

“Oh, I know,” he confirmed with a sense of certainty, “I get it.” Blitz fucked with him endlessly — but Moxxie suspected that, from Blitz’s perspective, if anyone else decided to do the same…well, they’d be in deep shit.

Moxxie allowed his own smile to deepen a little as he saw Blitz’s face begin to light up a little. A small, genuine, laugh escaped from his lips. He rolled his eyes with a warm fondness. “You know just what to say to fill me with confidence,” the words were filled with a playful sarcasm, “still trying to decide if that makes you brilliant or an idiot…I’m beginning to think it might be a little bit of both.” After all, as much as it drove him insane sometimes, it was Blitz’s wild schemes that managed to get them back out of the trouble that he managed to land them in. Well, that, and their stellar teamwork and sheer talent. “I just mean to say, the damage isn’t as huge as the crowds would have you believe,” The impact of walking through an entire house party of people professing their hatred for you can’t be easy. The magnitude of that is massive. — but the real impact, the people truly hurt…it was a lot smaller. “We all fuck people over…especially when we’re hurt. I think holding a hate party for an ex is a pretty shitty thing to do, especially if all you’re mourning is a one night stand…but like I said, we all fuck people over.” Blitz didn’t seem to notice, sometimes, that the actions of others were equally completely shitty. He didn’t deserve to suffer and be made to feel like shit.

“That’s Millie for you~” There was a fond warmth in his voice that flowed into a soft chuckle of amusement, “I heard you took it like a champ though - I’m not sure I would’ve survived a beating like that from Mills,” Truly, the woman was a force to be reckoned with. Was it bad that he found that undeniably hot? Ugh. It really ought to be embarrassing how whipped he was for his wife. The smaller imp nodded his head slowly, agreeing with the sentiment, “Sharing shit IS hard” he confessed, “I’d be a huge hypocrite if I judged you for that, sir, considering how I never told you that my dad was a shitty mob boss,”

Moxxie did, unfortunately, know how possessor demons worked — luckily, not through personal experience. It was…well, fucked up, there wasn’t really any more articulate way to express it. A little unsure if he was allowed, but accepting any fall out and following his instincts anyway, he reached up a hand to place comfortingly on Blitz’s shoulder. “Blitz, possessor demons, for the most part, are, like, preprogrammed to be parasitic pieces of shit…” he paused a moment, clearing his throat softly to keep his voice steady, “I just…Millie was there to step in, right? and if it were to happen again…If anything were to happen…I mean, you know that we’ll always be there, right? I…maybe I don’t say it enough, but we all have your back — I mean, I-I have your back”

A soft, thoughtful, frown crossed Moxxie’s features as Blitz more or less apologised for all the shit that’d happened in the past few months. The fall out with Stolas and that party had really impacted him. “It’s been a wild ride,” he admitted with a small sigh, “You’re wild and erratic…and-and sometimes I have no fucking clue what’s going on in your head. You drive me fucking nuts…but, you want to know something? If you weren’t you…with all of your scars and your harebrained schemes, then…well, we wouldn’t be where we are today. I...well, I might not even be here…like, at all.” What kind of imp was insane enough to create their own company? Navigate a deal to traverse the human world to boost profits? Who else would pour all of themselves into their stupid, little, dysfunctional family? To give a chance to the heartbroken, cry-baby, gunslinger that happened to fall into his path? “So, trust me when I say, if you being less of a mess would make you less…well, anything, then I guess I’ll just have to suck it up and deal with your bullshit.” he then paused for a moment before adding, “…anyway, most of the losers at that party barely know you, Blitz. I’ve been at your side for years now, I like to think I’m the leading expert in Blitz bullshit, so take my word for it, okay? They’re full of shit”

[toranoya]

A night to remember

The neon lights of Hell’s cityscape glowed dimly through the haze of sulfur and smoke as Moxxie stumbled down the cracked pavement. His cheeks were flushed a deep crimson—not from Hell’s natural heat, but from the contents of the bottle dangling precariously in his hand. The sharp tang of whatever questionable liquor he’d bought from the latest bar still lingered on his tongue.

The Imp wobbled on his feet, his usually sharp, sarcastic demeanor replaced with a rare, uninhibited softness. His tie was askew, his usual polished composure unraveling with every step. Before he realized it, Moxxie found himself standing in front of Blitzø's apartment door. How he got there was a mystery—perhaps a drunken instinct or the undeniable magnetic pull Blitzø seemed to have on his life. Either way, Moxxie wasn’t about to turn back now.

He knocked—or rather, pounded—on the door with an exaggerated flourish, slurring, "Blitz! Open up! Yer… yer boss needs me… no, wait, I need you…" The past week since Millie’s death he had been trying so hard to keep it together, still showing up on time for work, albeit a little hung over. But tonight the drink was talking. Tonight Blitz would see just how wasted Moxx had been getting the last few nights. Anything to forget. Anything to avoid going to an empty home…

[@boszbichblitzo

[froggy-fizz]

“…yes, but I want to,” his tone was gentle but firm, asserting that he wasn’t supporting Blitzo out of some imagined sense of duty but, instead, a desire to do so. That was all to say: Blitzo wasn’t a burden to him. Fizz cared endlessly about the other imp and wanted nothing more than to give him all of the love and support that he was willing, or perhaps able, to accept. “Hey, Blitzo. Are you in the room with me?” he hummed out the words softly, bringing one of cold hands to rest on the side of his best friends face in the subtle hope that the touch might shock him back into the present moment. Talking about the accident was, clearly difficult — but there was something that Fizz was wondering that had been left unsaid. If it was an accident? what happened? “I know this is—” he paused for a moment, “..uh, well, I know it’s a shit question to ask…but, well, I figured now is my chance to ask, ya know, without reopening a wound, or whatever…” The jester’s gaze flittered down as he spoke, struggling to build up to his question, his voice became really small “…what happened that night?”

Fizz nodded his head slowly as he listened to Blitzo’s words. It was so like him to be chiefly worrying about his sister while he, himself, was struggling. A hand came to rest on the back of his neck, rubbing the skin slightly as he allowed his features to warp into a concerned from. “Shit…I-I can try talking to her, I’m not sure she’ll listen to me either, but it’s worth a shot, right?…even if it just lets her know I’m here for her.” Fizz nodded his head enthusiastically at the thought of being able to help with the whole situation. He wasn’t getting much money at the moment — only a small slither of what the circus made — while the rest were paying for his hospital bills and prosthetics. But, he wanted to help. “I want to help! I, uh…well, I do have a place that I know your dad won’t look,” a slight blush heated his face, deciding not to mention that the hiding place he was thinking about also contained all of his, uh, more intimate items. Look, it was the only place he knew Cash hadn’t looked! and anyway, even if he found them, so long as the money was below a dildo or between the pages of a porn magazine? well, he was hardly going to go digging around, was he? It was kind of genius. The jester then levelled a finger at Blitzo, “I want to add to the funds though, not just hide your shit” his tone left no room for negotiation.

Back and forth, Fizz’s arms rubbed soothing, steady, patterns over Blitzo’s back. The jester remained wrapped up, squeezing his best friend tightly, and allowing him all of the time he needed to cry. It felt surreal to have Blitzo back in his arms again — it had been so long and he was still half worried that the other imp would suddenly disappear. “…It’s okay…you’re okay…” he mumbled out quiet, soothing words of comfort while he rubbed his back, “…just let it out…I’m not going anywhere…” It felt like they were just little kids again. They had so often, in the past, sought each other for comfort, but Fizz suspected that Blitzo had not allowed himself this level of vulnerability for a long time. The jester, almost instinctively, nuzzled his face into the other imps chest a little before he pulled back — it was a newly developed display of his affection that stemmed from the fact that his face was one of the only points of contact that he had feeling within.

As he pulled back from the embrace, Fizz patiently listened to Blitzo’s words. It was painful to hear that the person that he cared most about in the world had been suffering so greatly — he wished that he could just erase all of the history that had led them to where they were now. To wave a magical wand like some fairy-clown-godmother and give his friend the life that he deserved…to make him happy, no matter the cost. But, Fizz had no magic and no real capability to help. He felt powerless. “Let me be your lifeline,” he uttered after a moment, “…I’ll pull you to shore. I won’t let you drown.” Fizz couldn’t fix everything but he could be there for Blitzo. If Cash wasn’t going to support his children — if he wasn’t going to bring everyone back together — then they were going to have to do it themselves.

[toranoya]

Moxxie watched as Blitz bolted, leaving the air between them heavy with things unsaid. His chest tightened, the familiar ache of loss creeping in as he clenched his fists, forcing himself to breathe through the wave of guilt that threatened to swallow him whole.

No. He wasn’t going to let Blitz run off like that. Not this time.

Moxx dusted himself off, adjusting his suit with shaky hands before grabbing his gun from Blitz’s desk and tucking it into the back of his pants. Without a second thought, he gave chase, his footsteps echoing down the hallway as he followed Blitz’s retreating form. His mind raced with every step—memories of Millie, of nights spent holding her close, of mornings waking up to her smile. Memories that now felt like they belonged to someone else, to a life he could never have again.

But Blitz still had a chance. He wasn’t about to let him waste it.

By the time he reached the broken window at the end of the hallway, Blitz was standing there, staring out at the city below like it could give him the answers he was too afraid to ask for. Moxxie slowed his pace, reaching out and grabbing Blitz’s hand before he could even think about leaving again.

“Wait, Blitz,” Moxxie said softly, his voice trembling with something between desperation and resolve. “One last thing. I’ve spent days and days with Stolas now,” Moxxie continued, his thumb nervously brushing against Blitz’ knuckles as if trying to ground himself. “I’ve seen him, Blitz. The way he talks about you. The way he looks at me like he’s waiting for you to show up behind me. And I see it in you too, even if you don’t want to admit it.”

“Go back to him. Please.” Moxxie’s voice cracked, the weight of his own loss slipping into his words. “For both your sakes. He’s waiting for you, Blitz. He wants you. But he won’t wait forever. He’s… he’s trying to be patient, but he’s hurting too.” Moxxie’s tail curled around his leg as he stared down at the floor, the pain in his chest almost too much to bear. “Don’t be alone. Don’t end up like me.”

Moxxie’s voice grew quieter, more fragile, as he added, “I lost my Millie. And no matter what I do, I can’t bring her back. But you… you still have a chance. You can still be with him. You can still be happy.” Moxxie finally looked up, his eyes meeting Blitz’, filled with a quiet, desperate plea. “Talk to him, Blitz. Don’t push him away. You don’t want to be alone… I know you don’t.”

[moxxiemisfire]

“That’s Millie for you~” There was a fond warmth in his voice that flowed into a soft chuckle of amusement, “I heard you took it like a champ though - I’m not sure I would’ve survived a beating like that from Mills,” Truly, the woman was a force to be reckoned with. Was it bad that he found that undeniably hot? Ugh. It really ought to be embarrassing how whipped he was for his wife. The smaller imp nodded his head slowly, agreeing with the sentiment, “Sharing shit IS hard” he confessed, “I’d be a huge hypocrite if I judged you for that, sir, considering how I never told you that my dad was a shitty mob boss,”

Moxxie did, unfortunately, know how possessor demons worked — luckily, not through personal experience. It was…well, fucked up, there wasn’t really any more articulate way to express it. A little unsure if he was allowed, but accepting any fall out and following his instincts anyway, he reached up a hand to place comfortingly on Blitz’s shoulder. “Blitz, possessor demons, for the most part, are, like, preprogrammed to be parasitic pieces of shit…” he paused a moment, clearing his throat softly to keep his voice steady, “I just…Millie was there to step in, right? and if it were to happen again…If anything were to happen…I mean, you know that we’ll always be there, right? I…maybe I don’t say it enough, but we all have your back — I mean, I-I have your back”

A soft, thoughtful, frown crossed Moxxie’s features as Blitz more or less apologised for all the shit that’d happened in the past few months. The fall out with Stolas and that party had really impacted him. “It’s been a wild ride,” he admitted with a small sigh, “You’re wild and erratic…and-and sometimes I have no fucking clue what’s going on in your head. You drive me fucking nuts…but, you want to know something? If you weren’t you…with all of your scars and your harebrained schemes, then…well, we wouldn’t be where we are today. I...well, I might not even be here…like, at all.” What kind of imp was insane enough to create their own company? Navigate a deal to traverse the human world to boost profits? Who else would pour all of themselves into their stupid, little, dysfunctional family? To give a chance to the heartbroken, cry-baby, gunslinger that happened to fall into his path? “So, trust me when I say, if you being less of a mess would make you less…well, anything, then I guess I’ll just have to suck it up and deal with your bullshit.” he then paused for a moment before adding, “…anyway, most of the losers at that party barely know you, Blitz. I’ve been at your side for years now, I like to think I’m the leading expert in Blitz bullshit, so take my word for it, okay? They’re full of shit”

A deep, concerned, frown etched itself on Moxxie’s face as he stared across at Blitz — he didn’t believe him. Not in the slightest. However, he’d come to expect the dismissive way that his the taller imp would dodge any display of genuine vulnerability. That why, when Blitz took a moment before amending his previous statement, Moxxie know just how huge of a deal that was. In all the years Moxxie had known Blitz (and truly, it had been quite a few at this point) the assassin had never admitted when he wasn’t coping well. It was a step. A significant one.

Moxxie let out a soft hum of affirmation, “Mills told me some stuff…” he began to explain, “I’m aware the two of you went ghost fucking…you know, in spite of them not existing…and that you stumbled into a possessor demon — who you both, and I directly quote, ‘beat the ever lovin’ crap outta’” There was a gentle calm to Moxxie’s words, his eyes focused intently on the taller imp as though the back of his head could provide any kind of clue as to how he was feeling. “I figure there’s a lot I don’t know,” he admitted with a loose shrug of his shoulders, “Despite what you might think, Mills doesn’t tell me everything — I think, maybe, she understands that there are things you probably don’t want her sharing…things that you’ll share with me in your own time if you want to..?”

It was weird to think that there was anything the couple didn’t share: considering how they were joined at the hip. However, the pair had a rich and varied relationship with Blitz and generally agreed that they weren’t owed any of the information the other was privy to. Moxxie agreed with Millie, he didn’t want to know personal details about Blitz because Millie had brought him into the loop. He wanted to know because Blitz wanted him to.

[toranoya]

Moxxie froze, his breath hitching as Blitz loomed over him, his tone sharp and unforgiving. The finger in his chest, the furious lashing of Blitz’ tail, the sheer volume of his words—it was too much. His body reacted before his mind could catch up, shrinking back until the chair tipped over, sending him sprawling to the floor with a loud thud.

He’d been here before, it was just like when his father used to beat the shit out of him. He thought he was past that, but apparently not. Heart pounding in his chest, Moxxie instinctively covered his face, bracing for a blow.

Seconds passed.

Then more.

No strike, no kick, no words. Just silence.

Slowly, hesitantly, he peeked between his fingers, his eyes wide and fearful as he glanced up at Blitz. The other Imp was standing there, tense but no longer advancing, no longer yelling.

Moxxie swallowed hard, his voice trembling as he finally spoke. “P-Please… don’t do that again, sir.” His hands dropped slowly from his face as he shifted to sit up, back against the wall. “I didn’t mean to offend you. I wasn’t trying to compare our mistakes, or… or drag you down. I just… I thought we all had moments where we fucked up. You, me, Stolas… everyone.” His voice cracked slightly as he forced out a shaky breath. “Christ on a stick, sir, I wasn’t trying to punish you. I just—” He paused, his tail curling tightly around his leg. “I just thought it would make it easier to hear if we all screw up sometimes.”

He sat there on the floor, feeling small, feeling stupid, and feeling like a failure all over again. Blitz’s words replayed in his mind—“You’re only still here ���cause I give a shit about you.”—and it hit harder than it should have. Because despite everything, Blitz did care.

And Moxxie had fucked it all up. Again.

[@boszbichblitzo

[froggy-fizz]

Back and forth, Fizz’s arms rubbed soothing, steady, patterns over Blitzo’s back. The jester remained wrapped up, squeezing his best friend tightly, and allowing him all of the time he needed to cry. It felt surreal to have Blitzo back in his arms again — it had been so long and he was still half worried that the other imp would suddenly disappear. “…It’s okay…you’re okay…” he mumbled out quiet, soothing words of comfort while he rubbed his back, “…just let it out…I’m not going anywhere…” It felt like they were just little kids again. They had so often, in the past, sought each other for comfort, but Fizz suspected that Blitzo had not allowed himself this level of vulnerability for a long time. The jester, almost instinctively, nuzzled his face into the other imps chest a little before he pulled back — it was a newly developed display of his affection that stemmed from the fact that his face was one of the only points of contact that he had feeling within.

As he pulled back from the embrace, Fizz patiently listened to Blitzo’s words. It was painful to hear that the person that he cared most about in the world had been suffering so greatly — he wished that he could just erase all of the history that had led them to where they were now. To wave a magical wand like some fairy-clown-godmother and give his friend the life that he deserved…to make him happy, no matter the cost. But, Fizz had no magic and no real capability to help. He felt powerless. “Let me be your lifeline,” he uttered after a moment, “…I’ll pull you to shore. I won’t let you drown.” Fizz couldn’t fix everything but he could be there for Blitzo. If Cash wasn’t going to support his children — if he wasn’t going to bring everyone back together — then they were going to have to do it themselves.

“And yet, here we are,” the soft words slipped from his lips as they came to his mind, natural and completely unfiltered. It was a horrible accident — it caused so much damage, and so much hurt. It changed things forever in a way that they would all probably spend the rest of their lives coming to terms with. However, they were both alive, and now, they were both together. That fire had taken so much, why let it take more? A small smile deepened on his lips as his pinky promise was reciprocated by Blitzo, “Uh-uh,” he light-heartedly scolded in response to the mumbled concerns of the other imp, “I already got ya covered, I wrote fuck ups into the deal - all I said is that we’d try our best,” Fizz was aware that it wasn’t going to be easy and, hey, maybe they would never get there — but trying sounded like it was worth committing to.

Fizz snorted in amusement, however, as he flickered his gaze properly back onto Blitzo any retort that had been lingering on his tongue died. Blitzo looked so broken: eyes all glassy with unshed tears, red from where some had slipped past his walls and tumbled down his cheeks. Fizz had hoped that maybe the light-hearted joking would soothe Blitzo, but he feared now that maybe it’d had the opposite effect. Ugh. If only these moments came with a set of easy to follow instructions. Instinctively, he wordlessly stretched upwards as best as he could in order to wrap his arms around the other boy. Due to his position, he was more or less hugging around the Blitzo’s upper stomach, but hey! It’s the thought that counts. “…you don’t have to put on a brave face for me, you know?” he his muffled voice came out, from where he’d squished himself against his best friend.

[toranoya]

Moxxie nodded slowly, his expression conflicted. “I do have other friends,” he admitted, though the hesitation in his voice made it clear those relationships weren’t nearly as close. “But… I’d still prefer to stay working in some capacity. Sitting idle isn’t going to help me. I need to be doing something that feels meaningful.”

He sighed and finally met Blitz’s eyes, just for a moment. “I’m sorry I let you down, Blitz. I really am. You’ve trusted me for years, and I went and made a complete fool of myself. That’s on me. But…” He paused, tilting his head slightly and quirking a brow. “Let’s not pretend you’ve always made the most rational decisions, sir.”

“I mean, we both know this job isn’t exactly a beacon of professionalism or sanity. You hired a hellhound to answer phones. You run a business in the human world where everything we do is illegal and liable to get us killed if we screw it up. And, not to mention, you’ve made a few… creative…personal choices yourself.”

He leaned back in his chair, his tone softening again. “I’m not excusing what I did. I just… I’m asking you to give me a chance to prove I can still be the guy you hired. I’ll stay out of the field if that’s what you want, and I won’t make any more dumb decisions. But let me do something to help out. Anything. Please.” Moxxie’s tail flicked nervously as he waited for Blitz’s response, but he managed to keep his gaze steady this time, his resolve firm despite the lingering shame in his chest.

[@boszbichblitzo

[toranoya]

Moxxie’s breath hitched as Blitz reached into his jacket and pulled out his gun. There it was! His body stiffened, instinctively preparing to defend himself. His hand twitched toward his holster, his shoulders sagging as a grim thought crossed his mind.

If Blitz shot me… maybe I could see Millie again.

The idea was enough to make him go still. Then he watched Blitz set the weapon on the desk, the sound echoing like a challenge. Slowly, Moxxie relaxed, his tail giving a weak flick.

At the next question, Moxxie exhaled shakily, closing the office door behind him. He shuffled to the chair in front of the desk and sat down, his posture tense and his eyes fixed on Blitz’s boots rather than his face.

“I… I remember some of it,” Moxxie admitted quietly, his voice tinged with shame. He reached up to rub the back of his neck but avoided Blitz’s gaze. “I remember showing up at your place. I remember drinking—too much—and…” His throat tightened. “I remember saying things I shouldn’t have. Doing things I shouldn’t have.”

He swallowed hard, his gaze briefly flicking to the gun on the desk before settling back on Blitz’s boots. “I’m sorry. For everything. You shouldn’t have had to deal with that. With me.”

Moxxie hesitated, then asked the question gnawing at him. “Am I… being fired?” His voice was steady, but the fear in his chest was palpable. He’d earned Blitz’s wrath before, but this felt different. This felt like the kind of thing that could ruin everything, even the tenuous bond they’d managed to keep over the years.

“I wouldn’t blame you if you did,” he added, his tail curling around the chair leg. “I just… I need to know.”

[@boszbichblitzo

Tense, awkward silence definitely wasn't the best way to start the day, but after how fucked last night had been, Blitz really didn't want to be the first one to break the silence. He didn't really want the silence to be broken at all, but by this point he knew Moxxie well enough to know the tension would get to him eventually and he'd break first.

Aaaand right on cue, there was the smaller imp at his office door, looking about as uncomfortable as he felt. The use of his actual name did cause Blitz to pause, it wasn't often Moxxie used it, but he didn't call attention to it, just watched him with an unreadable expression and waited for him to finish.

"Do you even remember what happened last night, Moxx?" Blitz started, reaching into his jacket to pull out Moxxie's gun and setting it on the desk between them. "Do you remember what you did? What you said to me? I don't give a fuck that you showed up at my door drunk off your ass or that you.... probably ruined my couch, it's better you come to me than wander around alone anyway. But do you remember what you asked me to do? Or what you tried to do?"

[toranoya]

Moxxie blinked up at Blitz with glassy, half-lidded eyes, the corners of his lips twitching into a sloppy smile. The water glass wobbled precariously in his hands before he leaned heavily against Blitz' shoulder, his small frame a warm, clumsy weight. He gave a nonchalant shrug, his tail flicking lazily behind him.

"Don’t worry about it," he slurred, holding the bottle out to Blitz as though it were some sacred offering. "Finished… uh, another one… of this. Whatever this is. Tastes like ass. But, like… the good kind."

Before Blitz could muster a response, Moxxie’s grip on the bottle faltered, and he tipped forward, sliding down until his face was buried against Blitz' stomach. He let out a soft, content sigh as he pressed a trail of small, sloppy kisses along the fabric of Blitz' top.

"I came here ‘cause… ‘cause I didn’t wanna be alone," Moxxie mumbled against him, his voice trembling slightly as he tongued Blitz’ belly. "Being alone is bad. It’s loud and quiet all at once, y’know?"

"A sexy.... badger?" Blitz squinted at him, trying to puzzle through whether or not that was actually a compliment. A month ago, having the smaller imp hang all over him like this might have been fun, exciting, even, but now it just twisted the knife deeper, reminded him of how badly he'd broken him. Like everyone else he cared about.

He flinched at the nickname and gently peeled Moxxie's hand off of him and pushed him to sit down on the couch before turning away to retreat into the kitchen for some water. This wasn't something he was prepared to deal with tonight–– or ever, really–– and he couldn't help the way his hands started to shake as he reached into the cabinet for a glass then filled it from the tap.

"Moxx, please...." He started softly as he returned, pressing the glass into his hands and subtly wiping at his eyes as he moved to sit beside him. "Why are you here? How much did you have to drink tonight?"

[moxxiemisfire]

A deep, concerned, frown etched itself on Moxxie’s face as he stared across at Blitz — he didn’t believe him. Not in the slightest. However, he’d come to expect the dismissive way that his the taller imp would dodge any display of genuine vulnerability. That why, when Blitz took a moment before amending his previous statement, Moxxie know just how huge of a deal that was. In all the years Moxxie had known Blitz (and truly, it had been quite a few at this point) the assassin had never admitted when he wasn’t coping well. It was a step. A significant one.

Moxxie let out a soft hum of affirmation, “Mills told me some stuff…” he began to explain, “I’m aware the two of you went ghost fucking…you know, in spite of them not existing…and that you stumbled into a possessor demon — who you both, and I directly quote, ‘beat the ever lovin’ crap outta’” There was a gentle calm to Moxxie’s words, his eyes focused intently on the taller imp as though the back of his head could provide any kind of clue as to how he was feeling. “I figure there’s a lot I don’t know,” he admitted with a loose shrug of his shoulders, “Despite what you might think, Mills doesn’t tell me everything — I think, maybe, she understands that there are things you probably don’t want her sharing…things that you’ll share with me in your own time if you want to..?”

It was weird to think that there was anything the couple didn’t share: considering how they were joined at the hip. However, the pair had a rich and varied relationship with Blitz and generally agreed that they weren’t owed any of the information the other was privy to. Moxxie agreed with Millie, he didn’t want to know personal details about Blitz because Millie had brought him into the loop. He wanted to know because Blitz wanted him to.

Moxxie felt a familiar tightness in his chest, eyes beginning to sting with tears that he blinked back into his eyes desperately. He’d always hated how easily he cried: it seemed to be his natural reaction to any even mildly intense emotion. If he was really happy? he cried. If he was sad? he cried. If he was angry? you guessed it, he fucking cried! It was mortifying. Fists clenched by his sides as he whipped his head to face the taller imp, a scowl written across his features in spite of his glassy-eyed look. “I-If I’m that useless then why don’t you just fire me?” he snapped despite his better judgement, “…maybe it’d be better for both of us…”

Feeling utterly hopeless, Moxxie wondered if Millie would reopen the portal if he begged really well on the phone to her. Hell, would his phone even get any connection here? It might be worth a try. Worst care scenario, it didn’t work and he’d gained nothing. Moxxie was pulled from his thoughts by a hand on his shoulder. He flinched visibly at the sudden touch, so lost in his own mind that somehow he’d not heard Blitz approaching.

The irritated glare that was plastered onto his features instantly crumbled at Blitz words. Instead, he just gazed up at the taller imp with a doe-eyed look of confusion and, perhaps, a glimmer of concern. Moxxie blinked a couple of times, just staring silently, as though he’d had some kind of internal system error. He parted his lips to speak, then closed them again. Fuck! This was huge. What if he said the wrong thing? What if he said something stupid and sent them straight back to square one? “I-I…You don’t—…I mean, I didn’t think…” Moxxie cringed a little at his absolute inability to form a coherent sentence, he was making it weird! “…Thank you…f-for the, uh, apology — are you okay?”

[froggy-fizz]

“And yet, here we are,” the soft words slipped from his lips as they came to his mind, natural and completely unfiltered. It was a horrible accident — it caused so much damage, and so much hurt. It changed things forever in a way that they would all probably spend the rest of their lives coming to terms with. However, they were both alive, and now, they were both together. That fire had taken so much, why let it take more? A small smile deepened on his lips as his pinky promise was reciprocated by Blitzo, “Uh-uh,” he light-heartedly scolded in response to the mumbled concerns of the other imp, “I already got ya covered, I wrote fuck ups into the deal - all I said is that we’d try our best,” Fizz was aware that it wasn’t going to be easy and, hey, maybe they would never get there — but trying sounded like it was worth committing to.

Fizz snorted in amusement, however, as he flickered his gaze properly back onto Blitzo any retort that had been lingering on his tongue died. Blitzo looked so broken: eyes all glassy with unshed tears, red from where some had slipped past his walls and tumbled down his cheeks. Fizz had hoped that maybe the light-hearted joking would soothe Blitzo, but he feared now that maybe it’d had the opposite effect. Ugh. If only these moments came with a set of easy to follow instructions. Instinctively, he wordlessly stretched upwards as best as he could in order to wrap his arms around the other boy. Due to his position, he was more or less hugging around the Blitzo’s upper stomach, but hey! It’s the thought that counts. “…you don’t have to put on a brave face for me, you know?” he his muffled voice came out, from where he’d squished himself against his best friend.

The jester gently scooped Blitzo’s hands into his own, squeezing them with a quiet mechanical whir, attempting to bring some kind of comfort and reassurance to him. “Blitzo, Listen to me,” his crimson gaze locked intensely onto his best friend, making sure that the other imp was properly hearing every word he spoke, “Accidents happen. It’s bullshit and it fuckin’ sucks, but playing the blame game ain’t gonna make anyone feel better, okay?” Blitzo felt guilty. Fizz felt guilty. Guilt was just a happiness consuming parasitic monster that was never satisfied. It benefitted no one — and worse, the fuckers like Cash, who deserved to feel like shit simply didn’t. “Let’s make a deal…” he lets go of Blitzo’s hands, a hopeful look glistening in his eyes, “we’ll both try out best to put guilt and blame behind us, okay?” Fizz, in all seriousness, offered his pinky to Blitzo in order to initiate a pinky promise.

“Frogs it is!~” he announced brightly, rummaging around in his little bag of medicine, his forked tongue poking out slightly as he surveyed his options — he held multiple band-aids in his hands, holding them up next to the wound and attempting to assess which would be best. The jester allowed a sound of mock offence slip from his lips, “Excuse me, my band-aids are not for ‘baby cuts,’” he then allowed a beat to pass before adding, “…they are a little fun-sized though…but I can put two together. Frankenstein that shit. That’s basically like one big band-aid. Trust me, I’m a doctor~” Fizz opened one of the largest band-aids he had, patching up whatever of the wound he could. “…we’ll see how fuckin’ huge his claws are when I conk him with a metal arm…” he grumbled to himself while he worked, then adding another band-aid — it wasn’t perfect, but it was better than nothing, right?

[moxxiemisfire]

Moxxie felt a familiar tightness in his chest, eyes beginning to sting with tears that he blinked back into his eyes desperately. He’d always hated how easily he cried: it seemed to be his natural reaction to any even mildly intense emotion. If he was really happy? he cried. If he was sad? he cried. If he was angry? you guessed it, he fucking cried! It was mortifying. Fists clenched by his sides as he whipped his head to face the taller imp, a scowl written across his features in spite of his glassy-eyed look. “I-If I’m that useless then why don’t you just fire me?” he snapped despite his better judgement, “…maybe it’d be better for both of us…”

Feeling utterly hopeless, Moxxie wondered if Millie would reopen the portal if he begged really well on the phone to her. Hell, would his phone even get any connection here? It might be worth a try. Worst care scenario, it didn’t work and he’d gained nothing. Moxxie was pulled from his thoughts by a hand on his shoulder. He flinched visibly at the sudden touch, so lost in his own mind that somehow he’d not heard Blitz approaching.

The irritated glare that was plastered onto his features instantly crumbled at Blitz words. Instead, he just gazed up at the taller imp with a doe-eyed look of confusion and, perhaps, a glimmer of concern. Moxxie blinked a couple of times, just staring silently, as though he’d had some kind of internal system error. He parted his lips to speak, then closed them again. Fuck! This was huge. What if he said the wrong thing? What if he said something stupid and sent them straight back to square one? “I-I…You don’t—…I mean, I didn’t think…” Moxxie cringed a little at his absolute inability to form a coherent sentence, he was making it weird! “…Thank you…f-for the, uh, apology — are you okay?”

“I don’t appreciate the sarcasm, Sir.” The smaller imp managed to somehow say the word ‘sir,’ which should have been a respectful title, with a level of disdain that was impressive; he folded his arms tightly across his chest and sent a narrow-eyed look towards Blitz. “I’ve seen enough teen dramas to know that the hot, popular, girls aren’t supposed to pitch tents,” It was true! The reputation he’d so carefully been attempting to craft would have crumbled and his identity would have been exposed. Also, not to put too fine a point on it, but he would’ve probably chipped one of his pristine, baby pink, nails and then what was he supposed to do?

Oh right. The circus. Moxxie supposed it made a lot of sense that Blitz had spent a lot of time assembling tents. The childhood that Moxxie had experienced was confined pretty exclusively to the grand, prison-like, mansion that they’d all been captive in not too long ago. It wasn’t like his father took him on any father-son camping trips — Raised in luxury and complete intolerant of even mild discomfort or inconvenience, Moxxie suspected his father would sooner die than have to spend time in a tent. Much less time in a tend alongside his disappointment of a son.

By the time Moxxie had snapped himself out of his own thoughts the tent was all done. A twinge of pure annoyance ran through him at Blitz’ annoyed tone, “I’ve never seen you pitch a tent before, how was I supposed to know you’re skilled at it?” he defended himself, despite knowing he should probably just swallow down his words rather than rising to the taunting. The smaller imp practically stomped his way over to the sleeping bags and supplies in order to begin sorting through them. Clearly, deciding he wasn’t done yet, he then glanced back to Blitz and added, “I wasn’t even criticising you. I was complimenting you. I-I just…” he swallowed hard, pressing his lips firmly together as he focused on the bags once more rather than finishing his thought.