TW / Suicide attempt, description of panic/anxiety attack.

TWENTY-FOUR

So that disproves the starry-eyed Princess's diabetes hopes and dreams. Being a nicer person doesn't pay off.

Blitzo has tried three different versions of genuine heartfelt congratulations to Millie & Moxxie for their anniversary. Each time – all he gets is varying degrees of suspicion from the possum-imp. Ungrateful little bitch, Blitzo is trying, goddamn it.

Maybe he's trying too hard. Maybe months of being a prying perv have imprinted, and any actual attempt at respectful behaviour will be seen as a subversive trick with ulterior motives.

Should he get them a gift instead? Actions break more bones than words, after all. (Not literally, in this case...but in others, sure.)

TWENTY-SEVEN

Apparently, Millie & Moxxie like simple little trinkets for an anniversary present. Unadorned rings or bracelets, perhaps with hidden blades for subtle self-defense. A harmonica with their initials carved crudely onto it. A framed picture of just the two of them. Lapel pins. Even a doodled-in card.

NOT overwrought jewellery stolen from a high-class mall. NOT high-caliber weapons (because apparently that's "work", and their anniversary is "personal"). NOT sex toys – he genuinely thought they'd have appreciated those a bit more, seeing as he knew their kinks. And he'd made sure to get clean, reputable ones too! No Luxy Leroy's cheap shit here, no sir/ma'am/non-binary entity.

But even finding the right gifts, the ones that didn't make Moxxie frown or grimace or wince, apparently wasn't going to get him out of the time loop. Fuuuuck…

It did occur to Blitzø then that maybe the focus, the centre of this time loop wasn't a certain employee couple, but a certain owl…

(He squashed that thought down.)

This time around, he let his frustration seep through. He didn't buy no gifts, he hogged all the kills on their assignment, he was short & curt with M&M afterwards, and the twisting of his gut spurred him to just walk on out of the office, Moxxie's barbed offense sounding at his back.

It was enough that Loona commented on it, back at the apartment. Not critically, nor supportively, just a typical couldn't-care-less observation on him being more of a selfish asshole than usual today. Blitzø muttered something indistinct in response.

He heard his daughter pad away; she shut her door without further comment. An invisible knife wrenched his intestines into a forsaken coil.

TWENTY-NINE

...

So that's what it took to fully drive M&M away. To make them actually, truly quit and leave. That's what he was capable of, when he tried to be as repulsive as possible.

"Are you worried I may have enough of it one day as well?" echoed tauntingly in his mind.

The office felt empty in that awful, clammy, taunting way. Loona was gone too – when had she left? He hadn't noticed, he hadn't thought what her reaction would be to...this.

The bruise on his face (courtesy of Millie) was the least painful thing right now.

And the reset couldn't come soon enough.

...

Fuck it.

Blitzø gave in & lifted the flintlock to his head.

THIRTY

Moxxie may have been perturbed by the clump of bloodied wildflowers shoved in his face, and by his boss's damp face pressed into his and Millie's shoulders.

Blitzø wouldn't have been able to tell what either of them were thinking or feeling in any case.

All he could do was apologize wetly over and over again, promising that he'd do better next time – not that this made any sense to anyone but himself.

THIRTY-ONE

Loona glared at Blitzø, snarled something about him being an overbearing control freak, and slammed her door in his face.

He'd only asked if she wanted to hang out tonight, father & daughter. Because clearly if M&M weren't the key to escaping this pisser of a day, then his Loonie was (not Stolas, nope, nuh-uh), and his fatherly instincts told him familial bonding would be better for her than pining after some dark-&-handsome himbo hellhound.

Instead, it just ended out a rerun of their argument on the beach. "You're not my dad! I didn't need you then, asshole! I don't now!"

Only this time, the emotional wounding was aged, reopened, festering, after one whole month of the same day over and over again.

(The night of the full moon would have come and gone by now...)

THIRTY-FOUR

The last few times, he hadn't tried offering Loona a lift to this party. So this time, much as he loathed relinquishing his protective hold on his adopted daughter, he did offer.

She still declined. But she reassured Blitzø she could take care of herself, and he was at least somewhat comforted by Loona's no-look grunt of farewell; comforted that he hadn't messed things up any more than usual.

Yet Blitzø was still ending the evening by himself, in his apartment.

He flicked through the old photos on his phone again; staring at the one of his first family for the longest.

Nope. He had choices, meaningless as they were in the end, and he wouldn't end this repeat of the day curled up on his couch.

He shucked on a jacket.

Blitzø wandered the dark streets of Imp City. It was getting very late. M&M would be screwing like succubi by now.

Maybe if he forced himself to stay awake all night, he'd finally make it to the next day. Maybe.

Most likely not.

Fuck, being nicer (or nastier) to his employees wasn't doing anything.

Wait, when the fuck did he actually start half-believing in this Groundhog Day bullshit? "Do all the right bullshit today and you'll get to see tomorrow?" Yeah, he'd seen the films, both the original living-world version and the Hell-made porno starring that fluffy spider femboy which was honestly less story and more endless gangbang wish-fulfillment.

Why the shit did all this have to come back to Stolas – his being able to move on from this stupid day depend on satisfying some stupid sexy bottom prince who only ever wanted his dick –

– who let him sleep those full moon nights in a royally comfy bed –

– who sometimes rang him out of the blue only to chat, to ask him questions about how Blitzø's day had been –

– who kept on finding reasons to spend time with Blitzø for non-fucking reasons –

– who showed up in full demon mode to protect them when a mission went awry –

– who – who – who –

...

Damn it.

…

He ground to a halt outside the Vogitek department store. Flat screens in the window burst into life.

"We have a huge breaking story here on 666 News, folks! Prince Stolas of the Ars Goetia has been found DOUBLE-DEAD at his mansion in the Pride Ring, slain by what seems to be a blessed-tipped weapon!

…what?

no, no, no, no, nonononononononono please no –

Stolas – the book – the living world – oh fuck the book, STOLAS –

It was Striker – it had to be that backstabbing daddy-fucker –

He felt bare, unprotected, vulnerable, powerless, guilty. He should have been there. To take the bastard out, or to get Stolas away from the mansion, or something –

Blitzø couldn't breathe. He didn't think. He couldn't think – he could only feel – why did he feel this badly over an owl he wasn't supposed to fucking care about?

Emotions overwhelmed him.

Blitzø slumped to the pavement, and gasped against the smog and whatever was constricting his chest until his vision turned black.

A/N:

And the penny starts to drop...

I honestly don't even want to think of exactly what Blitzø said that made M&M straight-up resign on Day 2...