Blitzs Entire Life Spent Being Unwanted. So He Adapted, And Learned How To Be Something Needed, Something

Blitzøs entire life spent being unwanted. So he adapted, and learned how to be something needed, something to be used.

Which is why I think he firmly believes he is being used by Stolas. He simply cannot fathom a different reality, one in which he is wanted for once in his life.

"Fucking tell me about it." Blitz sat down heavily on the barstool next to Roth, folded his arms, and plunked his forehead down hard on them. "That whole thing was--you know, I'm obviously the actual fucking worst at coping mechanisms," he said with a little snort, lifting his head to look at his friend, "but that shit was something else.

"And some of the fuckers there I don't even know. It's just fun for them. Feels good, I guess. Safe. Hating people. I--I get that." He sat up straight and poked at a fading moisture-ring someone's glass had left on the bar. "But like, this asshole Dennis. He wanted to fuck me at a Bee party. I kind of remember it, mostly that he was really like, you know, fucking grabby. I remember the taste of his breath more than anything else, I was so fucked up and drunk. Apparently, Bee insisted my daughter take me home because I was so 'not okay,'" Blitz made air quotes, "and yet this fucker, Dennis, is now entitled to hate me? Cause he couldn't drunk-assault me?

"I've done a lot of shit, man, but I've never fucked someone who was too wasted to consent. Fuck that. Fuck everyone at the party. I mean fuck me, too. But... Jesus fucking Christ. So does just like, everyone know about that shit? It was on the radio, right?" The imp leaned back now, clacking the ends of his horns against the back of the barstool. It made a satisfying sound, so he did it again, and when the bartender finally came over, he just flipped him off rather than order a drink.

“Now, far be it from me, but throwing a yearly hate party for one Imp is too much. It reeks of scorned bitch vibes.”

Rewatched 'Western Energy' and I was thinking Blitz sure would have left in that same van they rushed Stolas to the hospital in, huh?

"It's perfect," Striker agreed. It wasn't perfect. It was small and they were going to be too damn close to each other for either of their comfort, but it would do the job. Looking around for some extra barrier, he grabbed a metal door off of its tracks from under a counter. It was loud, but there was so damn much noise out there right now, no one was likely to notice, and it might help protect them.

Once they were inside, he nodded to Fizz to help him. The metal door was flimsy enough that they could bend it into shape inside the closet with them--line the wall and cover the lower half of the door. It wasn't much, but it was something, a secondary barrier in case things got worse. If shrapnel tore through the closet door, the metal liner they'd added might at least slow it down some, at worst.

But it's something, he reminded himself, and we get by on every little something.

Now, with nothing left to do, it was just the two of them in a little closet, eyes gleaming in the dark. Moving carefully, so as not to bump or step on the clown, Striker sat down against one wall. He stretched out his legs and folded his arms, trying to at least pretend he was comfortable, calm. That things were alright. Pretending could get a person a lot farther than giving in.

"So. Fizzarolli, right? How you been? Been a while since you an' I crossed paths." He chuckled and closed his eyes. "Guess violent chaos is our theme."

For a brief moment, Fizz freezes at the sound of that familiar voice. Oh, fucking hell, not HIM. He didn't even have to look to know his guess was right, who else could it be? Face set in a grimace, he follows closely behind Striker not wanting to get left behind. & Definitely not wanting to get caught in the crossfire.

He winces at the sound of glass shattering & ducked inside the restaurant with him. "Yeah, thanks, oh knight in shining armor." he grumbles, still freshly annoyed that they had run into each other ——— again. 

At least this time was different, well, sort of. 

He nearly jumps at the sound of the massive boom. Eyes wide, he stands close behind Striker, hands awkwardly clinging to their arm. He was shaking. "Quickly, though, please." he hisses, wide eyed gaze searching the room for what they had mentioned. "I'd like to keep myself in check. Or else Angel's gonna get my fucking title." 

Not saying he didn't adore working with Angel, but like hell he was gonna be the second favorite star. Head shakes at the thought, squinting as he sees something in the far corner of the restaurant. 'Wait, wait. What's that ? " Stepping forward, he tugs at their hand, pulling him along as he ducks towards a closet that looked hopefully big enough for two. 

This was going to suck. 

"What about there ? " He pulls the door open, sighing as it reveals to be empty. & Definitely enough space for two. "It's ... better than nothing, right ? " 

Blitz looked up and met Moxxie's eyes, expecting to see anything but what was there. Actual compassion, worry--caring. Moxxie wasn't putting on a front, didn't even seem to be judging him right now. Seeing that, looking in his eyes, Blitz grew very, very still. He didn't know what to do with a showing of friendship like that. Being any more vulnerable than he already had been didn't necessarily feel safe, and he didn't want to demand too much of him. Whatever this was, Blitz didn't want to bruise or break it.

"I left the van back at Stolas's place and walked here," he admitted, and looked down at his bloodied knuckles, then at the handkerchief, dampened with both blood and tears. Blitz sighed and pressed it to his forehead, then shook his head. "Don't worry Loona. She's got a lot going on these days, she's been coming out of her shell and going out with friends. My place isn't too far from here. I'll walk, then go get the car in the morning." He looked down at the crystal on the back of his glove, then turned it so Moxxie could see it, since they hadn't actually discussed it yet. "But we'll be alright. We've got this now, so... So..."

His voice quavered. Threatened to break.

Fuck. Fuck this. Blitz didn't want to cry anymore. He got to his feet and went over to their tiny office bathroom, leaving the door open so they could still talk. Washing his knuckles with soap and water stung, but in an almost reassuring way.

"Mox? I'm sorry." Blitz sounded calm now, sounded focused, despite his back being to Moxxie. "For all the times, all the ways, I've hurt and upset you. I kept crossing the line between employer and friend. I was... stupid. And didn't understand where that line was, or where it needed to be." He looked at his own eyes in the mirror for a moment, but they were too haunted; Blitz looked past himself in the reflection, looking at Moxxie.

"It won't happen again. You deserve better than to have to deal with... well, with an asshole." He dried his hands and turned to look at him, then held up the handkerchief. "I'll wash this, and if the blood doesn't come out, I'll get you a new one..." Blitz looked down at it and sighed. This was fucking hard. He still didn't know where he and Moxxie stood, he never did, but at least he knew that he needed to pull back. Stop demanding so much of the shorter imp.

"Go home, Mox. I'm gonna take a few days off, I think. Get my head on right. Just--see you in a few days, alright?"

Moxxie had no such thoughts about taking a swipe at Blitzo while he was so down like this. He sat listening and it only got worse, the more Blitzo went on. Moxxie had indeed heard Stolas call Blitzo his impish plaything. How could Blitzo be blamed for such a misunderstanding. Moxxie bit his lip as he listened and only when Blitzo was finished speaking did he exhale a breath he had not realized he was holding while the lovers’ entanglement was reiterated to him.

“...fuck.”

He didn’t often swear casually. But this was a ‘fuckton’.

“...It’s a lot. Blitz…I’m so sorry.”

But Stolas had given Blitzo the crystal. He had made sure Blitzo’s business would not flop. Which was the part that proved to Moxxie that the two had caught feelings for each other. Royals did not ensure imps were secure without there being a solid reason. 

It was impossible to accept Blitzo's attempt at normal conversation from there. "My night was uh, normal--Are you going to be okay tonight, Blitz? I’ve never seen you like this. I could call Loona to come pick you up so you wouldn’t have to drive home alone. I’m worried about you.”

He had trained himself to not wear his heart on his sleeve around Blitzo. It only ended up with him wounded. But now he was honest. Because right now Blitzo needed that. His friend needed that. They were not boss and employee while his friend was in need.