Hey Blitz, Have You Ever Seen What An Owl Looks Like Without Its Feathers? Would You Like To?

Hey Blitzø, have you ever seen what an owl looks like without its feathers? Would you like to?

Blitz snorted. "How bad can it--holy fuck, does no one feed them?!" He clutched the stranger's phone so hard the screen cracked, eyes wide in horror. "That---are they like, are they okay? LIke, not this dead fucker, but owls in general? How many mice do I need to feed Stolas a day to make sure he doesn't like fucking waste away?"

Striker was his enemy, had been his enemy for so long now that it felt strange to think of him as anything else, felt strange to care, but all the same? Blitz did. His stomach tightened as he listened. The idea of Striker being killed by the Goetia was nauseating in a way Blitz never would have expected it to be. His hand tightened around the phone as he took everything in, as the story hit him--hit him, and made so much about the man make sense.

"Striker," he said, his voice warm, loving, "I don't hate you. And what you just told me... I didn't know. I'm sorry. You deserved better. So did she. And if this is what you have to do--I believe in you. I do. And I'll help, if I can. Hell, I just fought Lucifer not all that long ago, because I wanted the Hellborn to be treated better. He loves us. All of us. And he cares... and maybe Paimon doesn't have the right to do these things, but he has the power." Closing his eyes, Blitz rubbed a hand against his forehead. "I don't want you to die.

"What do you need from me? Tell me how to help you." A dangerous question, maybe him signing his own death warrant, but so be it. Blitz had been ready to die for the Hellborn once before. Now that they were rising on their own? He would be a fucking hypocrite if he wasn't willing to risk it all to help them again--especially a man he had once trusted, once cared about... a man who deserved a second chance. Who deserved better.

"Paimon took away someone from me. Someone I love."

Striker let out a low, bitter chuckle.

“I know it’s a risk, Blitzø. Hell, I ain’t blind to the fact this could get me killed. But it’s for somethin’. For her. For a chance at somethin’ better than what we got now. I ain’t dyin’ just to rage against the royals. I’m fightin’ for a future where the ones we love don’t get torn away just ‘cause some stuck-up bastard says so. 'Cause he thinks we're too inferior."

He took a breath, his voice tightening with conviction.

"This ain’t just about rebellion, it’s about freedom. And yeah, maybe I’ll die. But I’d rather die fightin’ for her, for us, than live a life where we’re both chained. I won’t throw it away, Blitzø. I’ll make sure every damn second counts.”

He then licked his lips, watching the people chanting together in the streets.

"I know you hate me. I...I did awful things to you and your friends. But I changed, Blitz. Or at least I'm doin' my best to.

I can't describe ya the pain I felt when I found out my love was forced to marry another man...

And that he was forced as well, his adoptive family kept as hostages so he could be compliant. Who's gonna be next? Paimon doesn't have the right to do these things."

"Oh, right," Blitz immediately snapped, turning to look at his reflection, "I'm the broken dipshit? Bitch please. You don't even have my bloodstains from today, where's your sense of pride, huh? Some mirror. You--

"You..." He slowly lowered the finger he had been pointing, eyes widening, before he sniffed the air.

"I can fucking smell you. What kind of fucking funhouse bullshit is--you know what?" And that was it. Without any more deliberation, without any sense, without any kind of good decision-making process in the slightest, Blitz lowered his head and charged at this other him. Fuck that noise, fuck this funhouse, fuck the fucking carnival, fuck everything, he wasn't going to stand for--for--for whatever the fuck this was! Today had been shit (everything had been shit recently though, hadn't it?) and being confronted with himself, with having to look into his own eyes, with having to hear his own voice echoing off of the mirrors? That was too much.

He had horns, and damn it, he was going to fucking use them. Whoever was wearing a BlitzoDisguise2000, or whatever this was, was going to regret coming in here.

℧ :: starter with /  @doublejango

【𐂃】 He couldn't remember how he ended up in a place like this, an abandoned amusement park, looking like it had been sitting for the past few decades. It didn't help that his asmodean crystal wasn't complying with his attempts to open up a portal too. Fuck it, whatever. While he was here, he figured he could take a minor stroll around the place. Entering the first thing that piqued his interest, a funhouse.

Pacing through the labyrinth of obstacles, he looked down at his phone -- trying to obtain signal. Venturing deeper && deeper until -- he found himself stuck... in what appeared to be a maze made out of mirrors. Some ranging in shapes, others looking shattered. "Shit" stashing his phone away he raised his arms forward, trying his best not to bump his face against the clear glass. Inevitably coming to a standstill when he perceived a particular reflection. One that wasn't looking his way.

❝ This mirror is fuckin' broken. Shitty version of mine can't even mimic my movements right. dipshit. ❞

You know i dont get homoerotically pinned to the wall nearly enough

remember when they shared hoodies?

"Okay, would you rather..." Blitz was curled up on Stolas's lap with a magazine in his hands, but he leaned his head back so he could look up and see the most beautiful face in the world as he asked, "dance in the rain, ride on a train, or feel no pain?"

Feel no pain. The answer came swift as a flood, but he kept the words locked behind his beak. Nimble fingers delicately trace the back of his horns, traversing an invisible path at the back of Blitz's head and the base of his neck. He gives a thoughtful hum, unwilling to let go of the words just yet. Riding on a train was pleasant! He'd done so before both in Hell and upon the mortal plane. Mouth curves with a warm smile, finger dancing just beneath the imp's chin before he places a warm kiss to the top of his head.

❝ Dance in the rain. I love to dance, and the rain can be refreshing. Besides, it's deeply romantic~ ❞