#having past memories of a life spent as a tortured puppet really leaves a mark huh

[petrichormore]

The fact that q!BBH references Egglore I just-

I do think it’s super interesting to think about q!bbh’s character with the knowledge that his past life/past history with the eggpire is affecting his political stance and decision making. He’s terrified of having someone put into a powerful position where they have the potential of being puppeted in part because that’s what happened to him.

He’s willing to potentially kill candidates to prevent that type of corruption from even having a chance to occur because… well, maybe that’s what he had wanted someone to do to him. Maybe he’s looking at this situation and seeing something else. Maybe his anarchist stance, and his fear of a figurehead government is actually a fear of something else. Maybe he sees it as kindness, to kill the puppet and cut its strings before its master can force it to dance - can force it to suffer.

Maybe he wishes someone had been kind to him, once upon a time.

[g-on-ef]

Hey if you’re still doing that 50 cliches and prompts, perhaps we can get a crumb of #23 for Blitzo x Striker? 👉👈

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A\N: Nonnie you ask for crumbs and I'll give you the whole bread ^^ also if you guys want send me some Striker x Blitz prompts of your own or one from this list ^^

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#23: “Just tell why you did it!” “Because I’m in love with you, okay!”

Striker was fighting to remain conscious, the past thirty minutes have not been kind to him...especially with the bitch Stella trying to get back at him for shooting her.

Earlier today Striker got a call from Stella to come to her as she had a new plan that she wanted Striker to carry out, a plan that could finally break Stolas.

When he came to her palace Stella told him her plan.

“Why kill the cheater when you can break his spirit,”

“Don’t you already do that every time he’s reminded that he’s marry to you?”

Stella glared at the imp, the one thing she hated about him is his mouth and his constant snide remarks.

“I will ignore what you just said, now onto the plan, the best way to get back at Stolas is to kill the most important person to him in all of Hell,”

“Octavia?”

“Touch her and I will kill you myself,”

“Well you did said you don’t care who I have to go through to kill him so technically-”

Her hand slammed on the desk she was sitting behind.

“Touch my daughter and I will put you through such agony that’ll make Lucifer himself coward in fear,”

Striker bit his tongue, he knew when he had pushed his luck and he could see he was pushing the last of Stella’s buttons.

“No the one I want you to kill is the piece of shit that ruined everything, the thing that Stolas continues to see, I want you to kill Blitzo,”

The minute that name slipped out of her mouth Striker did not hesitate to take his blessed tip revolver and shoot her with it.

Her guard was down so she didn’t have the time to move until it was to late, the gun hit her right in the torso going right through her, paralyzing her.

“Ahh!” she shouted, Striker was getting ready to shot her again when the door open and someone grabbed him or try to.

Striker was able to handle the bodyguards that came in, being a wrath imp mixed with Lilith’s bloodline gave him enough strength to beat the shit outta the guards...but not enough to defend himself from Stella who had her own gun and shot him, her aim wasn’t good so all she was able to do was shoot his shoulder.

Striker screamed as he felt the pain, before he could do anything, one Stella’s guards pulled out an angel weapon and stabbed him with it.

The pain was the unbearable, falling to his knees his attacker began to stab his back making the assassin scream.

“Stop!”

The attacker turned to his queen.

“Taking him to the dungeon, I will deal with him there,”

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Striker held Blitz closer to his body, he’s never been this gentle with someone before. Never took his time with someone and enjoyed their body.

Never appreciated every sound his partner made or the expressions they made whenever he was pleasuring them.

Normally he would fuck them as fast as he could and leave, with Blitz he couldn’t do that.

The past three nights have been amazing, ordinarily Striker didn’t do this he didn’t try to get to know people, hell he tried to keep them as far away from him as possible, especially if he was gonna go through with his plans he couldn’t afford to have any weaknesses, nothing the overlords or royals can use against him.

And yet here he was, pleasuring Blitz, slowly moving in and out of him.

The feeling of his walls around his cock made Striker groan in pleasure, he took in every moan, whimper, whatever sound came out of Blitz he listen to it and tried to engraved it into his memory, knowing this will be the last time they ever get to be like this.

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He opened his eyes and watched as Stella glared at him, her servants pushed her around in her wheelchair as she stared at him with such hatred that Striker was surprised that the bitch didn’t have the ability to turn him to stone or kill him with her glare.

“Why the fuck are you protecting him?! He chose my good for nothing piece of shit of a husband and you still protect him?! He doesn’t care about you!”

Striker stared at her, he knew what she was trying to do, his sperm donor always told him people would say anything to hurt you so if they aim low than you aim lower.

“It pisses you off doesn’t,”

Stella glared at him before Striker continued,

“That one lowly imp managed to capture not one but two powerful beings attention, your husband and me, Lilith’s bastard. One tiny lowly imp has two of your puppets wrapped around his finger. Someone who’s supposed to be superior than imps, and yet every dick that you want to be fucked by is either getting fucked or fucking the imp that you hate,”

Stella’s cool facade fell as she lifted her fist and punched his stomach, the punch shouldn’t have hurt but because Stella’s rings were made of angel weapons it definitely was going to leave a mark.

“Kill him, make sure he doesn’t make it out of this alive!”

Striker closed his eyes ready to accept death and Her embrace, the last memory he had was the last night he and Blitz made love to one another, the night were Blitz and he curled around each other silently promising each other a piece of their heart to one another.

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When he opened his eyes he was met with a bright light he blinked trying to clear the bluriness of his vision.

“Am I dead?”

“No but you’re gonna wish you were when I am done with you,”

Striker turned his head to the voice that sound awfully like Blitz’s.

Oh, it is Blitz and he was angry.

“Uhh...hi?”

“Hi! HI?! You’re ass has been lying in this bed for the past 22 hours we almost lost you and all you have to say is HI? YOU FUCKING DICK!”

Striker lifted himself up and watched as Blitz continued to glare at him.

“Do you have any fucking idea how scared I was! Fuck if it weren’t for the mating bite and Lady Lilith helping us we wouldn’t have saved you!”

Oh...right...he forgot that he gave Blitz a mating bite.

“Blitz-”

“Do you have any idea what was going through my mind when I felt your pain? What I was feeling when I heard your screams?!”

The city imp got up from the chair he was sitting on,

“I almost lost you! I almost lost the first person to show me respect, to remind me what it was like to be loved and all you have to fucking say is hi!”

Striker looked at Blitz who was crying now,

Striker grabbed Blitz and pulled him on his lap as the city imp cried into his chest.

“Lady Lilith told me, told me that bitch tortured you because she wanted me dead! Why didn’t you tell her about me?! Why didn’t you just tell her where I was at so that she could’ve let you go?!”

Hearing that made Striker growled.

“You fucker you really think I would let her hurt you?!” he pulled back and grabbed the imp by his shoulders.

“I’ll die before I’ll let anyone touch you!”

“Don’t fucking say that! You almost die because of me!”

“And I’ll do it again if I have to!”

Blitz was getting mad, he didn’t want Striker to die because of him hell he didn’t want Striker to waste his time with someone like him, he deserved better and yet Striker nearly died because of him, and here he was telling him he would do it again without hesitations.

“FUCK! Why?! Just tell me why the fuck would you do that?! Why would you sacrifice yourself for me?!”

“Because I’m in love with you!”

Striker’s eyes widen as did Blitz’s. Fuck that was not supposed to come out of his mouth, hell he was never supposed to tell Blitz that he loved him, that was a secret he was going to take to his grave and yet...and yet he didn’t regret saying, he didn’t regret telling Blitz the truth, his city imp deserved to hear those words.

“You...you dickwad no you don’t! You don’t love me! You can’t!”

Blitz curled in on himself not sure if he could believe what Striker was saying. He couldn’t be in love with him...right?

Striker wasn’t surprised that Blitz didn’t believed him, from the time they spent together Striker knew that Blitz had low self esteem and when Striker listened to him he thought he was playing with him but was surprised to learn that Striker genuinely cared for what he had to say, that he paid attention and wanted to learn more about him.

He had to tell him he meant it when he wanted to know more about Blitz even when he didn’t believe him.

“I’m in love with you,” he took Blitz’s face in his hands and place a kiss on his forehead, cheeks, the scars on his face.

“I love you Blitz, I’ve been in love with you since I heard about you,”

Blitz looked at him, before wrapped his arms around Striker’s neck and kissed him. the cowboy and the city imp kissed as if it would’ve been their last day in hell.

In a way it almost was, Striker thanked  La Santa Muerte , for watching over him and making sure he returned to the one he loved.

Blitz was thankful towards Satan that Striker was alive and that he was here with him, the two pulled back for some much needed air, Blitz rested his head on Striker’s chest wanting to listen to his favorite sound in Hell. Striker’s heart beat.

“Promise me, promise me that you’ll stay by my side forever,”

“I promise you forever Blitz, when time wants to tear us apart I’ll stay by you, I promise you always; never will I wander from you never will I leave you; I promise you eternity, that even when our time comes and we are reincarnated into the next life I will always find you. I promise to love you Blitz my heart, soul, and body is yours forever and always and way pass eternity,”

“Wow...” Blitz pulled back and looked into Striker’s eyes.

“That was some fancy words you just used,”

Striker just smiled as he pulled Blitz closer to his body.

“For you and only you,”

[whenanordinaryfilipinoreads]

Quotes from The Plague by Albert Camus

‘Now the only moral value is courage, which is useful here for judging the puppets and chatterboxes who pretend to speak in the name of the people.’

‘The language he used was that of a man who was sick and tired of the world he lived in, though he had much liking for his fellow men and had resolved, for his part, to have no truck with injustice and compromises with the truth.’

‘“I’ve seen too much of hospitals to relish any idea of collective punishment.

But, as you know, Christians sometimes say that sort of thing without really thinking it. They’re better than they seem.”’

‘“Why do you yourself show such devotion, considering you don’t believe in God? I suspect your answer may help me to mine.”

His face still in shadow, Rieux said that he’d already answered: that if he believed in an all-powerful God he would cease curing the sick and leave that to Him. But no one in the world believed in a God of that sort; no, not even Paneloux, who believed that he believed in such a God. And this was proved by the fact that no one ever threw himself on Providence completely. Anyhow, in this respect Rieux believed himself to be on the right road, in fighting against creation as he found it.’

‘Thus the first thing that plague brought to our town was exile. And the narrator is convinced that he can set down here, as holding good for all, the feeling he personally had and to which many of his friends confessed. It was undoubtedly the feeling of exile, that sensation of a void within which never left us, that irrational longing to hark back to the past or else to speed up the march of time, and those keen shafts of memory that stung like fire.’

‘“But you’ve no reason to feel angered. I assure you that if you find a way out of your quandary, I shall be extremely pleased. Only, there are things that my official position debars me from doing.”’

‘“Officialdom can never cope with something really catastrophic. And the remedial measures they think up are hardly adequate for a common cold. If we let them carry on like this they’ll soon be dead, and so shall we.”’

‘“After all,” the doctor repeated, then hesitated again, fixing his eyes on Tarrou, “it’s something that a man of your sort can understand most likely, but, since the order of the world is shaped by death, mightn’t it be better for God if we refuse to believe in Him and struggle with all our might against death, without raising our eyes toward the heaven where He sits in silence.’

‘Still, when all is said and done, the really amazing thing is that, so long as the epidemic lasted, there was never any lack of men for these duties. The critical moment came just before the outbreak touched high-water mark, and the doctor had good reason for feeling anxious. There was then a real shortage of man-power both for the higher posts and for the rough work, as Rieux called it. But, paradoxically enough, once the whole town was in the grip of the disease, its very prevalence tended to make things easier, since the disorganization of the town’s economic life threw a great number of persons out of work. Few of the workers thus made available were qualified for administrative posts, but the recruiting of men for the “rough work” became much easier.’

‘From now on, indeed, poverty showed itself a stronger stimulus than fear, especially as, owing to its risks, such work was highly paid. The sanitary authorities always had a waiting-list of applicants for work; whenever there was a vacancy the men at the top of the list were notified, and unless they too had laid off work for good, they never failed to appear when summoned. Thus the Prefect, who had always been reluctant to employ the prisoners in the jail, whether short-term men or lifers, was able to avoid recourse to this distasteful measure. As long, he said, as there were unemployed, we could afford to wait.’

‘“[T]here was nothing shameful in preferring happiness.

“Certainly,” Rambert replied. “But it may be shameful to be happy by oneself.”’

‘He heard a voice behind him. “Why was there that anger in your voice just now?

What we’d been seeing was as unbearable to me as it was to you.”

Rieux turned toward Paneloux.

“I know. I’m sorry. But weariness is a kind of madness. And there are times when the only feeling I have is one of mad revolt.”

“I understand,” Paneloux said in a low voice. “That sort of thing is revolting because it passes our human understanding. But perhaps we should love what we cannot understand.”

Rieux straightened up slowly. He gazed at Paneloux, summoning to his gaze all the strength and fervor he could muster against his weariness. Then he shook his head.

“No, Father. I’ve a very different idea of love. And until my dying day I shall refuse to love a scheme of things in which children are put to torture.”’

‘[T]hey were gambling on their luck, and luck is not to be coerced.’

‘Though prices soared inevitably, never had so much money been squandered, and while bare necessities were often lacking, never had so much been spent on superfluities.’

‘They had already seen children die, for many months now death had shown no favoritism, but they had never yet watched a child’s agony minute by minute, as they had now been doing since daybreak. Needless to say, the pain inflicted on these innocent victims had always seemed to them to be what in fact it was: an abominable thing. But hitherto they had felt its abomination in, so to speak, an abstract way; they had never had to witness over so long a period the death-throes of an innocent child.’

‘“I only know that one must do what one can to cease being plague-stricken, and that’s the only way in which we can hope for some peace or, failing that, a decent death. This, and only this, can bring relief to men and, if not save them, at least do them the least harm possible and even, sometimes, a little good.”’