sweetviktory

[sweetviktory]

Sideblog

Well, I gave in. I caved, like a dumb bitch.

Catch me at my Resident Evil blog, @manofmold

[sweetviktory]

Cannabis Edibles & 🥵!Moist Laundry. ‘Not lying ‘bout the heat that I’m packin’; though.

“...”

He’s just- backing away slowly.

[sweetviktory]

*has both a 🔫 & a 🗡 ‘cuz I’m more Samurai Shinobi!🤠 than regular 🤠*

"...What?"

Striker blinked at the strange grey faced sinner. He raised an eyebrow, squinting at the denizen.

"What sort of fumes are you on?"

[sweetviktory]

A knock came at Striker's motel door. An anonymous letter was slid under the door, and attached to it were two pictures. A house that was crudely rebuilt, and a yellow squirrel demon. 'This is Andy Squirrel. I want you to find her, and take her somewhere far away. She lives in Pentagram City in the Pride ring. Included is a picture of her house. I don't care how you do it, just don't kill her. Not yet at least. Rough her up a bit if you want. A hundred grand will be outside your door as payment. All in cash.'

Striker raised an eyebrow at the pictures. Damn. A kidnapping job? Normally he wouldn't take one of those. He was an assassin, not a babysitter. But still, the cash was nothing to sneeze at.

He opened to door to see if the person was still there.

[sweetviktory]

A small blind puppy child named Ayla walks into Striker before finding his tail "Kitty?"

Striker turned towards the sudden disturbance to his tail. He blinked at the other before he smiled. His tail wrapped around the other and he lifted her up, booping her nose.

"Well then. What's a being like you doing here in Hell?" He looked around. "Where are your parents?"

[sweetviktory]

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

Striker was sweating bullets, and not because of his condition, though that was partially it. He still maintained a calm expression.

Fuck. Was he- wrong? Wrong about the other? No- no he couldn't be. This had to be some sort of trick.

But he sounded so sincere.

Striker was confused and starting to doubt himself. Something he hated. His world view was shaking, and he didn't like it.

Striker cleared his throat. "I'd love to, I would, but I have to get back to Wrath. I really only came here because the Wrath hospital is barely one at all. You're expected to man up and grin and bear it."

"Are you all right? You disappeared from the festival at the same time as my dear Blitzy, and he came back rather battered so I couldn't help but be concerned about your welfare." (celestial-feather)

Striker's eyes widened and he turned to the other, giving off a rattle of surprise. His tail hung between his legs as he smiled at the ridiculously tall Goetia. Fuck fuck fuck.

"Ah. Well. You see, there was a little bit of a scuffle. As it turns out, one of the farmhands had plans to kill ya off. Thankfully, we got there just in time. Had a funny feeling about them, you see."

Please buy it, please buy it.

He adjusted his hat, putting on a serious face.

[sweetviktory]

Striker pulled back, frowning. Shit. Shit. He's gone and made it obvious. That's not good. That's not fucking good at all.

"Thanks for the concern, but I'm fine. Everythin's fine. Trust me."

Striker smiled at Mitzy, attempting to step back to get back to work.

@murder-machine-mitzy

Panting softly, Striker sat down on a large pumpkin. He wheezed, struggling for air. Damn it. He'd thought he'd have more time.

Leaning back, Striker's mouth hung open. He needed water, but his limbs seemed to be refusing to obey him.

"Hey-" he rasped out, but it was too soft for anyone to really hear. His chest was getting sticky and the tape wasn't holding up as well.

[sweetviktory]

    Oh.

   Stolas might not have been surprised, but Striker only just managed to hide his own at the other’s tacit defeat. He knew he wasn’t the only assassin Stella had hired, she had made that all too obvious. But was Stolas really already that used to it?

   “Aw, it’s fine. You ain’t have to do that.” Striker remarked, waving a hand as a added gesture to ensure the other wouldn’t be concerned. 

   Surely this was a front? Maybe Blitzo had told Stolas, and Stolas was only leading him on like some sick joke? Yeah... Yeah, that had to be it. No way Stolas would actually care about someone he perceived to be so far beneath him.

   “You mentioned Blitzo. Is he doing alright?” Striker asked smoothly. Fuck. Fuck. He’s in trouble.

"Are you all right? You disappeared from the festival at the same time as my dear Blitzy, and he came back rather battered so I couldn't help but be concerned about your welfare." (celestial-feather)

Striker's eyes widened and he turned to the other, giving off a rattle of surprise. His tail hung between his legs as he smiled at the ridiculously tall Goetia. Fuck fuck fuck.

"Ah. Well. You see, there was a little bit of a scuffle. As it turns out, one of the farmhands had plans to kill ya off. Thankfully, we got there just in time. Had a funny feeling about them, you see."

Please buy it, please buy it.

He adjusted his hat, putting on a serious face.

[sweetviktory]

   Damn it. Of course.

   Striker huffed, continuing to massage his arm, careful not to roll the bandage loose. It was a ridiculous sort of thing, Hell Kitty, but the Princess of Hell had been gracious enough to supply the shot that necessitated the bandage, so he’d taken it without complaint. Well, okay, he might have mumbled a little snark, but other than that? Nothing.

   Panic briefly flit through Striker when Alastor hinted towards his wealth. Shit. Did he know about the rifle? He tried to surreptitiously gaze at the other to see if he knew via his expression, all the while keeping his own calm.

   “Why wouldn’t I want to stay here? There’s food, shelter, protection from the dangers of Hell. Not to mention, I’m not charged out the ass for certain- accommodations.” 

   Striker was still weary of mentioning his difference from other imps. This was Hell. You could never be too guarded.

.

[sweetviktory]

   Striker jumped a little when he heard Mitzy. He immediately tried to scramble to his feet, even though that was murder on his poor body. He tried for the same charming smile he usually gave off.

   “Course I am. Doin’ fine. Everythin’s fine, Mitz. I’m just resting a bit. It’s hot today, ain’t it?”

   His tail wriggling a bit nervously, Striker turned to get back to work at harvesting the pumpkin he’d been lying on. Despite his attempts to hide it, anyone could see he was having trouble. His chest struggled to rise and fall.

@murder-machine-mitzy

Panting softly, Striker sat down on a large pumpkin. He wheezed, struggling for air. Damn it. He'd thought he'd have more time.

Leaning back, Striker's mouth hung open. He needed water, but his limbs seemed to be refusing to obey him.

"Hey-" he rasped out, but it was too soft for anyone to really hear. His chest was getting sticky and the tape wasn't holding up as well.

[sweetviktory]

Striker groaned internally. Maybe. An external noise might have slipped out. But that was hardly his fault. Alastor was just too annoying.

"Fine. What did you want to know?" He grumbled, hoping he was getting across just how much he didn't want to do this while staying relatively respectful.

After all, Alastor was still much more powerful than him.

.

[sweetviktory]

There's a picture of Striker in a tub overflowing with bubbles. His hat is hanging on the tap and he has a hand running through his damp hair. Underneath is text.

"Does the carpet match the drapes? Only one way to find out~"

[sweetviktory]

Even though Striker was tall for an imp, he was no match for a sinner, let alone someone like Alastor. His tail swished through the air, as he let off a hissing noise.

"It's Striker. Around 2 syllables. You put like 10 on that sonnuva bitch." He snapped. His hand tightened around the hell phone, threatening to break it.

Slipping his phone into his pocket, Striker narrowed his eyes up at the other. How he longed to bring him down to his size, but that would be signing his own death certificate.

"Did you want something?" He must have, right? He wouldn't stop him just to piss the breeze and shoot the shit.

.

[sweetviktory]

@murder-machine-mitzy

Panting softly, Striker sat down on a large pumpkin. He wheezed, struggling for air. Damn it. He'd thought he'd have more time.

Leaning back, Striker's mouth hung open. He needed water, but his limbs seemed to be refusing to obey him.

"Hey-" he rasped out, but it was too soft for anyone to really hear. His chest was getting sticky and the tape wasn't holding up as well.

[sweetviktory]

@333-host-mortem

It was one of those days.

On his way back to the shitty hotel he was hiding at to keep from things getting too hot, Striker rubbed his arm. He was coming back from the clinic after just barely being on time for getting a testerone shot. It was something his mother had taught him. It helped break up the stuff inside and make it hurt less. Something like that, anyway.

His phone buzzed. He pulled it out. A text from the cream puff that had hired him. God, what he wouldn't give to put a bullet in her brain as well. But later. Much, much later. Her, bitching about how slow he was being.

He humphed, so focused on his phone he ended up brushing shoulders with someone. He looked up, hissing in an annoyed manner. That fucking hurt. The shot arm, still sore.

[sweetviktory]

Magical Anons are welcome here, just saying. Also, I'm cramping up something fierce and I don't want to suffer alone so if anyone was a trans!Striker thread, then yes I am available. Feel free to leave any details you want in the comments. Soft, angsty, etc.

[sweetviktory]

Hey Striker, what're your impressions of the major overlords? Any in particular you're more wary of, or more intent on killing someday?

"Hmmph. Well, obviously besides the rich Goetia? That pompous moth pimp. Not now, though. I need to wait, see how things play out. If Blitzy goes running to that ditzy blueblood, then the last thing I'll want is other denizens knowing. And, considering it'll take that in order for me to get close, that's a no. You can't just off an Overlord without a plan."

Striker paused, tapping a claw with his chin. "The only one I could maybe reliably kill right now is that princess of hell. But even then, she's currently under protection of the Radio Demon, a being also on the same level as Val. And I don't really see the point in offin' her. She's naive, yeah, but she doesn't treat us like shit. As far as I've seen, anyway."