As soon as I heard the Iced coffee bit, I knew this would be a Blitz line. I was hoping someone did a video with him on Tiktok but alas it wasn’t made… until I got my hands on the audio.
Oh and in case you guys are wondering why the @ says ‘cowboyncanary’ is because that account is strictly going to be Helluva Boss content, unlike Orcafangirl1997 (I just do random stuff on there from time to time).
I like how this started as ‘I wanted to draw Striker as a baby’ into 'We have a plot for this!’ (Thanks @detectiveashcroft).
So Cherub decided that in order to get back into Heaven is if they reform a sinner, however they took a 'shortcut’ that nearly effected the entirety of Hell. That shortcut was turning everyone into babies, and being the only one uneffected, Solrina is left to take care of five rambunctious babies until she finds a way to reverse it all.
This sounds like an AU I would post lmao. So I approve!
And now I have to add onto this:
Millie and Blitzo are the ones that would squish bugs for fun
Blitzo puts everything in his mouth
Striker, Millie, and Blitzo are hyper.
Moxxie cries at everything. He hears a toilet flush? Cries…explosion on the TV? Cries
Blitzo runs around the house pretending to be horse.
Loona gets mad whenever she doesn’t get what she wants
Moxxie tries to play music be aggressively strumming a toy guitar
They all try to get into the weapons and Sol has to stop them.
Striker is very aggressive with his toys
Oh now we’re cooking with gas! Let’s get some more baby adventure headcanons in here!
I wouldn’t say Solrina is a strict mom, but she’s a battle ready mom.
Sol has to make sure Loona gets no where near Moxxie
Striker and Blitz will fight each other to get Sol’s attention (Sol is Blitz’s Mom friend after all)
M&M is still strong, even in baby form (in an innocent baby way)
Everyone has to ride on Bird Mom, no questions asked (Sol flies two feet from the ground and that’s enough for them)
Bombproof (who’s a colt (hell creatures were also affected by the curse)) helps quell fights between Striker and Blitz (thank @detectiveashcroft for that headcanon)
I like how this started as ‘I wanted to draw Striker as a baby’ into 'We have a plot for this!’ (Thanks @detectiveashcroft).
So Cherub decided that in order to get back into Heaven is if they reform a sinner, however they took a 'shortcut’ that nearly effected the entirety of Hell. That shortcut was turning everyone into babies, and being the only one uneffected, Solrina is left to take care of five rambunctious babies until she finds a way to reverse it all.
first, we see stolas brooding in his home, moping around, watching hellanovas and having cereal, which is a mood, (gabriella). then, he sees blitzo calling and panics but lighting up immediately. hes extremely excited at the mere prospect of blitzo calling him, no matter the context, which has proved me and probably many stolitz fans wrong. initially, i thought stolas was unable to separate his desires from his love for blitzo, which i still thought was there, he just didnt know about it. im honestly so happy to be proven wrong just by this scene.
(and yes, this proves that stolas likes blitzo for more than the superficial, if anyone needed clarification)
blitzo fumbles over his words, cursing under his breath as he tries to persuade stolas into going with him. blitzo didnt think his plan through, that much is obvious, because stolas was his first option (second if you count him flirting with the bouncer) to sneak in, even if he is taking advantage of the prince by doing so. however, he isn’t aware about how he doesn’t even need to try. judging by stolas’ expression, he’d go wherever blitzo needed him to, and that was what he did.
anyway, we then witness some of the most awkward flirting ever, stolas doing his best to start off the date with blitzo just not paying attention. note how blitzo seems uncomfortable throughout the entire situation, he just used stolas a ticket in and nothing more. the owl is trying to take this date seriously now and it unsettles him. and even later on, blitzo never tells stolas this was a farce. i personally believe its because he doesnt have the heart to ruin stolas’ fun, since when was he ever one to not state clearly what he wanted from stolas?
back in episode two, stolas used money to get blitzo to accompany him to loo loo land and never once did blitzo ever entertain the thought that this was anything but a job. same with the harvest moon festival, where blitzo says his employees would like it and they couldnt do their job that day anyway without the book. i could be stretching though, since this is the first time we see blitzo intiating any romantic gesture with stolas and its to exploit the owl, so maybe he just doesnt wanna deal with it.
then we get to asmodeus’s song and where blitzo stands up for moxxie (CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT FROM EPISODE 6 OK HE’S PUTTING HIMSELF IN UNCOMFORTABLE SITUATIONS FOR MOXXIE) and his past comes back to haunt him. this time literally, rather than a breakdown manifestation, and how verosika and fizz criticise blitzo’s love life. im not even gonna get into WHY fizz knows blitzo sucks at romance cuz god, so many theories with blitzo’s past have emerged from this episode, but we know why verosika does.
verosika says he’s selfish and couldn’t reciprocate with love when she gave him all of hers, proving that yes, she was most likely in love with him and honestly i think he was to. his breakdown-verosika in ep 6 said he shoved away anyway that got too close to him until they resented him, so maybe he was starting to let verosika in emotionally, then realized if he did, he’d just get hurt so he ended it.
now, lets go into detail about whats happening here when asmodeus confronts stolas about him being with blitzo.
asmodeus sings: “you used to have a smoking wife, a kid, you had it all! i hope you didnt give it up so you and him could get it uppppp” he immediately targeted the one weak spot stolas sees in his relationship with blitzo; the damage its done to his family.
he doesnt feel ashamed about being with blitzo ever. i’d go as far as to say he wantseveryone to know he’s with blitzo. examples being the scene with the bouncer at the start of the episode, the entirety of loo loo land, and the harvest moon festival during his speech. most moments this episode, it feels like hes worried for blitzo instead of being ashamed of blitzo, but his family is the achilles heel of his love for blitzo and asmodeus hit the nail right on the head.
he once told octavia that he’d never leave her for blitzo in loo loo land with the utmost certainty, and he didn’t, but it seems like stella and him have seperated at the very least, proving to everyone and himself that he fucked up and basically ruined his daughter family’s for blitzo.
stolas then hides his face in the menu in shame and blitzo looks at him in fear, then looks away, betraying shock in his gaze. blitzo probably right then and there, realized this was just yet another relapse of everything, that this wasn’t gonna be any different from fizzarolli (whatever happened there), verosika or maybe even tilla and barbie wire.
(side note: its so ingenious using lust as the destination for this episode where stolitz have their first real conflict, and having m&m there. lust is the ONE THING stolas and blitzo have for each other and the one thing m&m, while have, arent especially focused on it.
it draws a comparison stolitz and how sexually charged their relationship is, and how the expression of love part is the problem here. they love each other, sure, but they really, really, really dont know how to do it healthily.
having a club set in lust, a setting meant to be sexual but also puts heavy emphasis on romantic relationships, juxtaposes stolitz’s problems with romance to their sex shit. showing how stolas, an owl whos horny as FUCK and someone whose introduction was a rich prince that gave off almost rapey vibes, really craves blitzo’s love more than the sex, since he doesnt once suggest anything related to sex during the entire episode to blitzo, despite the whole setting being made for it.
asmodeus and fizzarolli most likely love each other too. being a “implied” (implied in quotes, because anyone with eyes can figure it out from their nuzzling and cuddling) couple, but they’re the primary antagonists towards stolitz and m&m’s relationships this episode. they attack m&m by making fun of moxxie’s song, despite obviously enjoying it in the end, and they just destroyed blitzo’s self-esteem, along with hitting stolas where it hurt.
but they’re two individuals who seem to be able to communicate with each other without a word, if their performative chemistry is anything to go by. they have each other’s back and are partners in crime, and even though they’re fundamentally assholes, they know each other. a parallel they have to m&m in a way, but another thing stolitz doesn’t have. they still seem to hate m&m’s adorable lovey-doveyness, but i’d chalk that up to them being performers in a club of lust for couples and not wanting this sappiness soaking up the sexual tension.)
when the whole debacle is over, stolas reaches out to blitzo tentatively but blitzo retracts his hand, nearly flinching the touch. blitzo tells stolas that they should leave and stolas hurries along worriedly. he doesn’t seem as affected by asmodeus more than he is concerned about blitzo, who had become incredibly defensive and moody.
…now onto the car ride scene.
stolas starts, “thank you for…inviting me out tonight. despite everything that’s happened…i enjoyed spending time with you”, to which blitzo only responds with a “yeah” apathetically. you can see him face-palming in annoyance, but i believe that annoyance is more directed to the fact that in his mind, stolas still has the courtesy to “act nice” when he saw stolas recoil and hide himself when asmodeus confronted him about their relationship. he doesnt want to believe stolas could still love him after that. it’s also just him being in such an emotional, vulnerable state, he doesnt know what to do so he defaults to irritation.
stolas offers blitzo to come in, proving that stolas just reallly loved blitzo enough to stick with him after that disaster. he wants this so badly, why else would he have tried so hard? finally, going on an actual date with blitzo, and sure, it ended terribly, but he doesnt want this to end. he really loves this imp.
but blitzo isnt taking any of it.
“im not fucking you tonight, okay?” blitzo’s voice shaky and desperately trying to hide vulnerability in plain sight, just as he does this entire scene. he glares at stolas, the first time he’s made eye contact with the other this entire scene, even if it’s incredibly brief.
“i’m really…just” blitzo holds a finger up, in a give-me-a-minute gesture before he puts it down immediately after and chokes back tears. he sighs, trying to rein his true emotions back in as they spill out onto his voice, “i’m really not in the mood, stolas.”
“we could talk?” yet stolas still continues to try to make an effort to reach out, “or watch a movie, or maybe cuddle?” his voice is tentative but wistful, and the music accompanies it, hopeful music surging in on the word “talk”.
“stolas, don’t act what we have is anything butyouwantingmetofuckyou.you make that really clear all the time, but i-i-i just can’t do it tonight, okay?” his bottom lip quivers, “i’m sorry.”
as i said in my episode 6 analysis (check it out if you’d like, i’m rather proud of it), i believe blitzo realized he cared more for stolas than he planned to via the drug trip, and knows he loves stolas now, because never once does he say “i dont love you” or “i don’t want you” episode 6 onward. his dialogue is explicitly “this is how our relationship works” or “you wanting me to fuck”. he doesn’t even say anything like “i can’t be with you” and deflects it onto “i can’t FUCK you tonight”. it’s all explicitly about the sex.
and therein lies the problem of how blitzo sees their relationship. he can’t look past the fact stolas might see him for more than the “transactional fucking”, without the sex, without the deal. his past relationships have proved him otherwise before. even back in episode 5, when he first uses the phrase transactional fucking, he has to clarify it is only that.
stolas, hearing this, droops immediately, but he respects blitzo’s feelings and back aways, bowing. “…okay. good night, blitz.”
we all know how this ends; stolas crying on the stairs to his mansion and blitzo crying, curled up in a ball in his apartment, all alone.
Conclusion:
blitzo and stolas are a fucking mess, and i’ve seen people argue over who caused this incident. personally, i don’t think anyone particular was responsible for hurting each other. blitzo’s insecurities were what made him close himself up when stolas tried to reach out and stolas’ for when he was mocked by asmodeus. they were a ship ready to crash, and did they crash.
i honestly loved how this was handled, no matter how much it hurt. it was delicious and i can’t wait for episode 8.
i know at least one piece of fanart is out there, please i am begging someone has done that, because my drawings looks like limp wet fries
but i have one main question who is marvin, who is whizzer.
LIKE IF YOU WERE TO PUT EITHER IN, IT MAKES SOME SORT OF SENSE.
like if we were to cast trina and jason to a marvin, blitzo’s would be verosika’s and loona’s, while stolas’ would be stella and octavia, and whoever is mendel would be whomever you ship verosika or stella with. (*cough cough* striker kinda works and i am fine with that *cough cough*) lesbians from next door are most definetely charlie and vaggie, but if we’re sticking to helluva boss, saille may is probably one of them and im the other because hi queen ily
“Now you?” A boot thudded on the desk, before another leg swung up. Coins scattered with each thump. The leather of the armchair creaked as Blitzø leaned back. With his best businessman smile, he tossed the gold letter opener back and forth between his palms as he remarked, “A man like you? You look like you’ve got an enemy or two. Don’t lie. Surely there’s some heads you want to see busted? Some lives snuffed out?”
The expression on the Clerk-Recorder’s face became even more pinched. And he decisively went back to review the documents.
Blitzø maintained the megawattage of his grin but he let the conversation between them lapse into silence for a while.
Just like how the Lust ring was known for services which catered toward satisfying depravity, and like how Gluttony was a foodie’s haven, located in the fourth ring the Circle of Greed was the home of those whose sins were defined by their greed. Several administrative and recreational establishments like banks, amusement parks, and civic buildings made up its architecture. Instead of zoning cities and towns separately by ring, according to the building codes drafted into existence by the higher powers long ago, it’d been decreed that establishments like City Halls could only be built within the fourth ring. It was only an inconvenience for the demons who lived outside the Greed Ring, but they had to swallow their complaints and acclimate.
Whilst this was the first time Blitzø had the pleasure of meeting Imp City’s Clerk-Recorder in person, he wasn’t entirely unfamiliar with the various City Halls that made up the civic buildings.
Despite popular misconception amongst the Sinners who fell into Hell, Hell was dominated by a bureaucracy. And if there was something they were known for, it was suffocating its subjects with red tape.
Blitzo wasn’t as well-versed on their infernal history and politics as much he’d like to pretend he did, but even he knew that as chaotic as the underworld could be, there was an unspoken hierarchy with specific jobs distributed to each demon.
Hell was not so different from the human world in one aspect—and that was ambition. An ambition to conquer, enslave, and oppress. An ambition to live a better life. Even those with slothful natures had an ambition. There was no one without one, whether it be a desire that was grand or humble.
With that ambition came a confounding question: in a society which thrived on chaos and sin, how can order be maintained? Hell was a melting pot of degeneracy and crime. Their ruler, Lucifer Morningstar, had been a firm enforcer in the founding years of Hell, decreeing that Balance must be maintained so that the denizens of Hell could focus their onslaughts on one another. Every person’s heart, deep down, carried a certain malice. It was simply a question of whether or not that malice was hidden deep inside or it lurked closer to the surface.
For more than a millennia, hierarchy mattered. Without hierarchy, their great leader would have long since been overthrown by his subjects with revolts and uprisings, and their realm would be destroyed from the inside out. This was what had been told to young children; this was what Blitzø and his sister had grown up on. Some traditions had to exist in Hell for a semblance of order to be maintained.
The foundations of Hell itself catered to those who abused their power and trampled on the less fortunate—and will likely continue to do so for thousands of years, long after Blitzø’s bones had become dust. Designed as a caste system, it was built to oppress, pitting one against another in an eternal competition of how high one can climb on the social ladder.
Unlike paradise, Hell was a dark, howling eldritch beast of a prison, housing lost souls damned in the eternal torture for their sin. Both subjects and the ruling class existed in a precarious state of equilibrium which was constantly in flux with the nature of how the world operated.
Blitzø might have been a menace in the shadows, with assassination being universally regarded as a shady profession, but it was still a legitimate business. Which meant there were regulations and unspoken rules even he had to respect. As someone with a hundred percent ownership of the company shares, he was bound by the same red tape as any other business owner. Blitzø still had to sign papers and pay the fees to ensure his license to do business within the city was kept active.
The memories were hazy, but he remembered no one had batted an eye when Blitzø brought out an envelope stuffed full of bloodied cash from his coat. Nobody had thought it strange when he’d flirted with the intern over the counter who’d wanted him to point out the physical location of his startup company on her computer and had asked him to specify which classification of “service/ professional” trade I.M.P. would fall under.
Back then, he had been a nobody—which had suited him just fine because of the nature of his occupation anyway.
Then he became someone whose reputation could induce fear. He’d thrived in the underworld. A talented killer. An underdog whom everyone soon learned they could not turn a blind eye to. Some courtesy had to be given to him, as someone who decided who would be added to his hitlist and who would be spared.
Amid the artful clutter of the office, Blitzø was like a bold, eccentric antique. Dressed in a fitted linen white suit, with a dark shirt underneath and his signature black coat draped over his shoulders, he looked like a mafia consigliere who’d stepped out of the front cover of a magazine. Somebody who looked like he was no stranger to staring down the barrel of a gun many times. The only things missing were the fancy heirloom rings—and maybe a cigar.
He knew, to anyone else, he didn’t appear like someone who’d once been jobless—and desperate. Someone whose clothes had to be oversprayed with cologne whenever he had to head out, covering up the musty, dank odor of old takeout and canned soup and unwashed clothes and self-neglect. The smell of a man who didn’t have any purpose or motivation in life and had been alone far too long in his dingy apartment. His origin.
But now?
His attention went to the letter opener, seeing the reflection of a well-dressed imp staring back at him.
White wasn’t necessarily Blitzø’s color—white clothes presented a bigger occupational hazard than wearing the supposedly ominous red shirt—but it sent a bold statement. An assassin who dared venture outside in a white suit? Either that assassin was just plain stupid, or it was testament of their skills.
He felt his mouth stretching into an involuntary, unnatural smile. The image of a scoundrel smiled back at him, full of sharp teeth and wicked intentions mirrored on the yellowed surface of the blade.
It was a legendary glow-up. He’d literally gone from “hello, sir,” to “hello, your daddy calls me ‘daddy’ too.”
There was also nothing overtly ugly about Blitzø. Beneath the dangerous killer, beneath the professional, utalitarian armor of his murder-suit, was just another person. He had grown out of his braces and pudgy cheeks into somebody whose figure was sharp, long, and lithe—with a thick chest and strength in his upper arms. Maybe Blitzø wasn’t as eye-catching as an incubus with rugged good looks or he wasn’t as tall as the other infernal species, but genuinely he’d won the greatest gift from his genetics; he could overindulge on junk food and his body mass index would still stay relatively the same.
It had been the same for his family. Both his twin and their mother had been conventionally attractive, with the only difference being his and sister’s horns which were of different size from the rest of their species. Different from the usual sexual dimorphism of imps.
The corners of his mouth drooped a little. Reminiscing on the past wasn’t a pastime Blitzø liked to indulge in nowadays except the instances when he was in a boozy, self-pitying depressive funk. His childhood memories especially had become muddled with the passage of time, with specific chunks of it—both painful and embarrassing—that he’d rather not recall.
But there had been an old saying his mother used to tell both him and his sister: a banker is a fellow who lends you his umbrella when the sun is shining, but wants it back the minute it begins to rain. The first time he’d first heard her say this was within their tent; he’d been removing his clown makeup and Barbie Wire had been doing stretches when their mother hurried inside with two garment bags, telling them that their ringmaster wanted everyone rounded up and appearing “presentable” to a meeting with a bigshot.
Even now, he could still recall the ghost of her tired murmur: “Do you notice how Momma always dresses nice to go to the bank? Appearances can be a powerful tool. Even if we’re imps, if you look and talk like somebody worthy of respect and attention, people will treat you differently. You’ll understand when you’re older.”
Her warning was a motto Blitzø lived by; presentation was crucial. Even if a person didn’t have wealth or they were under financial difficulties, they mustn’t give others that impression. They must not be seen as inferior. They must present themselves as someone well-off. It was a broad, sweeping overgeneralization but Blitzø had come to learn the saying was also applicable to everyone outside the Circle of Greed.
Blitzø’s gaze transferred to the knickknacks on the desk. The Clerk-Recorder had been in the middle of opening envelopes with his fancy 24-karat gold-plated letter opener when Blitzø barged through the doors for their morning appointment. The same letter opener was now in Blitzø’s hand, an engraved knife he’d snatched out of slackened talons when he’d taken his seat.
The edges of the blade were designed to be dull but he’d determined, after poking the sharp tip against his finger, that he could still use it to stab someone in the eye or puncture the throat if swung with enough force in a downward trajectory.
It’d been fifty-five minutes into their meeting already. Twenty minutes to exchange pleasantries, sign, and initial. The remaining time had been spent picturing twenty-five different ways he could’ve ended this guy’s life had Blitzø really wanted to.
Blitzø was no stranger to the transferring process of the grant deed of a title; he’d gone through a similar process long ago when he’d finally accumulated enough money to purchase the property he’d been leasing ever since he’d founded his startup. Granting legal ownership, from the grantor—the previous title holder—to the grantee—the new owner, was typically a streamlined process so long as there wasn’t a cloud on title. (At the time, there definitely was. How could he have known there was a previous lien on the building?)
Because of the nature of devil’s contracts, Blitzø had paid extra attention to the fine print this time—to ensure he wasn’t being cheated. Of the papers he had to sign, he’d recognized some of the basic information they wanted from him—the name of the new owner, the signature of the person conveying title, a legal description of the property, and so on and so forth. All paperwork had to be notarized in person for legal transfer and recording.
Filing still required a Preliminary Change of Ownership Request, with fees and a Tax Affidavit. Since it wasn’t just one property but an entire city, given from crown to gentry, the process required extra steps. Today’s appointment was supposed to finalize everything.
From where he sat, Blitzø could still see the stamp of the royal crest on the official document lying out in the open. It was an official statement authorizing the transfer of title from his possession over to its new owner.
He stared. The ink on the paper stood out like dried blood. Prince Stolas of the Ars Goetia.
To Blitzø’s shame, he felt the faint stirrings of arousal. His body remembered. As the Clerk-Recorder reviewed the papers one more time, a gloved claw began to tap restlessly on the armrest.
A month had passed. But it was still surreal to Blitzø what had happened. Seeing these documents in front of him only confirmed that it was, well, real.
Blitzø could feel his grin becoming foolish.
The prince is so peculiar, he thought.
It was a really generous gift. Beyond ludicrous. Either the prince had been so impressed by Blitzø’s excellent figure that his sense of propriety took flight or he had planned it all out, an elaborate power move to increase the reputation of his royal family while getting on Blitzø’s good side.
After thinking about it, Blitzø decided it was probably the latter. Who’d be so kind and foolish in Hell? Had Blitzø fallen into bed with anyone else of the Ars Goetia—like any one of the kings or dukes like Bael or Astaroth—things likely wouldn’t have played out as luckily as it had.
In his heart, Blitzø secretly gave Prince Stolas two thumbs up.
Badass. Not only had the owl demon followed through with his side of the bargain, inviting an imp into the Ars Goetia aristocracy—something never done before in the history of Hell—but he had also gifted him a city. It was just unheard of. Stolas’ popularity had skyrocketed in one day with some demons and dropped sharply with others, making him the most controversial public figure as of late. The publicity stunt had invited heated criticism and praise. News outlets couldn’t make up their minds whether his royal highness had sustained some type of brain injury or if the assassin must have had some kind of leverage on him or the royal family.
Either way, whatever Stolas’ real motive had been, Blitzø had benefited in the end. He was not the type of person who’d say no to free things.
As he had come to discover throughout this entire process, the land that would be coming into Blitzø’s possession had originally been part of Stolas’ Crown Estate, a collection of lands and holdings which were separated from the governed estate and His Majesty’s private estate. Imp City had counted among the empty plots of land divided amongst the generals and commanders for their contribution in the War in Heaven—with crown land rights being hereditary possessions inherited from generation to generation.
To Blitzø’s amazement, the original paperwork to Imp City was supposedly a feather plucked from Lucifer’s six wings. Because of its importance, that relic wouldn’t be taken out of His Majesty’s Treasury and given to Blitzø until everything had been finalized.
Even though Blitzø could now be considered as a low-ranking noble of a small family, he’d gotten what he wanted. Recognition. Aiming any higher in status would pin a bigger target on his back.
While Blitzø had grown out of his animosity toward the rich, it didn’t mean there weren’t still traces of an old curiosity. The royal families were the poster children of the upper echelons of Hell. Like trust fund babies who had access to education, power, and influence, anyone of “royal blood” inherited both throne and estates—all because they were related to so-and-so from the great battle long ago.
Yet Prince Stolas was a walking contradiction. A tall, mature demon who spoke with a gentle, refined accent. Intelligent and of striking appearance, of genteel upbringing and a high education. He was a prominent figure whose family employed imps as manservants and maids throughout the years as naturally as he breathed.
He was also a married man who had kept his promise with a lesser demon even after getting what he’d wanted. And threw in a city as a little bonus.
The city was probably an added incentive for Blitzø’s discretion. To keep his mouth shut. An unspoken message of: See how well I treat you? I can give you so much, and I can just as easily take everything away.
Blitzø caught the letter opener again mid-throw. He had thought Prince Stolas might make an easy mark. And in a way, his hunch had been right.
Stolas was unmistakably powerful and prestigious. Rich, handsome, powerful, and not shy at all, he wanted for naught. Such a man could so easily destroy someone’s career and tear a family apart without so much a second thought or empathy. There wasn’t anything in the world that Stolas wouldn’t be able to get if he really put his mind to it.
With a man who had it all, who might not be so easily tempted by power or wealth, there were only a couple more ways that he could be enticed.
Blitzø knew himself very well. Seduction was Blitzø’s usual modus operandi, his default to nearly every situation. It was the art of the grift.
Had to take a driving test? Blitzø had taken one look at the proctor and distracted him with inane chatter and compliments, until they’d driven back and the examiner realized he was supposed to have been scoring him instead of making chitchat. Blitzø had exited the DMV that day with a new driver license.
Need to slip into a stadium to look for an optimal sniping vantage point for an upcoming concert? His answer had been to learn the daily routine of one of the lesser famous performing artists and fabricate an encounter with her when she was out dressed lowkey in public. Put on a confident smile and give her the illusion of the type of demon that a succubus of her caliber liked.
(And not have her fall in love with him.)
But royalty?
Had I.M.P. been like its early years, then in another time, in another place, and in any other circumstances, Blitzø imagined he might have been desperate enough to attempt to steal a grimoire from the prince’s mansion. A dangerous, high-stakes heist which ran the very real risk of being caught red-handed, being sentenced to a public execution or having his hands chopped off for his crime.
And if it was the prince himself who caught Blitzø in the theft, then while the difficulty of the mission would have skyrocketed, Blitzø might have even resorted to an even crazier stunt: seducing a married prince.
For a moment, a dark thought ran through Blitzø’s brain. If Stolas turned on him, becoming a stumbling block in his life and ruining everything Blitzø had built, then Blitzø would see to his ruin.
He tossed the letter opener into his other palm.
Stolas could also be considered as a powerful big backer.
As the sole heir of his parents’ empire, the prince was so repulsively, unthinkably wealthy that he basically walked on another plane of reality. He was somebody so disconnected from what was expected that Blitzø was surprised that there weren’t security guards stationed around his mansion to prevent abductions and potential assassinations.
The higher a person was, the harder they fell. Nobody was innocent in Hell; there was no reason for saints of good virtue to exist here. Even the most put-together, beloved public figure had skeletons hidden inside their closet. As far as Blitzø was concerned, Prince Stolas and his family was one of the model rulers; they hadn’t fallen into any big controversy or scandal.
People were naturally opportunistic; they sought after the rich and powerful.
There was not a day that went by where Blitzø did not see the latest celebrity scandal on the gossip forum websites. Prince or princess, king or queen, nobility or a commoner, it was all the same. Once someone was rich and powerful, once they had access to big fat wallets and bank accounts, keeping a beautiful young mistress or a young handsome partner on the side was almost a given. It was also the ultimate status symbol, practically an indispensable accessory of accomplishment and an ego-boost.
Not every marriage was like Moxxie’s and Millie’s; theirs was a special case. Blitzø could count on one hand the number of couples he knew whose relationships did not end in a disastrous break-up.
Cheating was often the underlying reason, but there existed other causes.
Although ordinary people could have affairs, it was not a secret that successful entrepreneurs and even politicians were notorious for showing up at business functions with their paramours. Some had even been filmed or photographed in a public outing, lavishing thousands on their lovers in a different ring of Hell while their families were at home.
Blitzø was also not ignorant of the underlying reason why certain cities were called the den of mistresses—or why certain red light districts were bustling with a never-ending stream of clients. A significant portion of I.M.P.’s own clientele had been jilted lovers ordering hits on their spouse’s secret lover, with several cases being the reverse where it was the cheating spouse and their young lover who wanted the wife or husband gone so that they can claim their life insurance benefit and start a brand new life together.
To survive in Hell, it was all about finding money and forging connections. Having someone there to provide for emotional and financial needs, being able to afford nicer things and being able to find opportunities that one might not be able to without someone supporting them and helping pay their bills was a method of ensuring stability.
Damn, wouldn’t that be nice though? For a moment, Blitzø allowed himself to fantasize. He imagined how amazing it would be to have a member of the infernal high society smitten with him. Him being someone’s object of adoration. An ordinary single father and businessman swept into a fairytale romance with a handsome and powerful prince, transported into a world of unimaginable riches and luxury.
When the image entered his mind, Blitzø nearly broke character, just on the cusp of guffawing and slapping his knee.
A rusty voice intruded into his thoughts. “…Is something wrong?” The Clerk-Recorder was peering down at Blitzø over his spectacles.
“Ah.” Blitzø shook his head. He rubbed the corner of his eye, wiping away imaginary tears. “No. Just had a funny thought. I could be a standup comedian.”
The four blue eyes narrowed.
But before the Clerk-Recorder could say anything, Blitzø interjected, “Is everything good to go now?” Propping his chin on his palm, Blitzø gestured to the papers. “Don’t tell me you plan on triple-checking it.”
Author’s Note: Keep in mind this is not from the final draft so some details are subject to change. Ch1-3 can be read on AO3!
Summary: It was undeniable that there was a new and upcoming threat in Hell, rivaling some of the realm’s most ancient fiends in ruthlessness despite his pedigree. Prince Stolas arranged to meet the hitdemon, ready to confer upon him a title. Their first meeting didn’t go exactly according to plan.
Blitzø didn’t think he’d catch a royal demon’s interest in that manner, but as an assassin who’s got several centuries under his belt, he might be able to roll with it.
(A sort of What-If AU, inspired by demon mythology, canon, and some other things like the Helluva Boss Instagram accounts.)
Holy F- why did this hurt so much. I was not prepared!
I just wanted to gush about how adorable Stolas was in the beginning. He was just so awkward around Blitzo.
Obviously he likes him a lot.
Then Fizz shows up and sh*t hits the fan and everything just goes from bad to worse.
Even Verosika put in her 2 cents on blitzo being bad at relationships.
And don’t even get me started on this scene. While I don’t think Stolas intentionally gave up everything for Blitzo he kinda did. (Personally I still think Octavia still loves him a lot).
And it ends with our 2 demon boys crying because of course.
