#... It's complicated

[josharko300]

Anyways my thoughts on Krusielle, spoilers

obviously Noelle and Susie are going to start dating first. Their feelings are kinda obvious to everyone but each other, but I don't think Noelle can really interpret Susie saying "I'm taking your daughter to the festival" to Carol any other way. They're going to confront their feelings in the next episode, I'd bet money on it.

Kris on the other hand... We already know they have feelings for Susie judging by the cute moments at Church and when Kris saves Susie from their mini-me and others, feelings I'm almost certain Susie feels back.

They also probably have feelings for Noelle but I haven't watched Ch2 in forever to really know for certain. Whatever feelings they have though have likely been exacerbated by the fact that they haven't really talked in a long time, which means it's properly yearning by this point.

That said, I think it'll take someone calling Kris out on it for it to ever be confirmed. Why? Personally I think that they see the writing on the wall between their friends and Kris think that they don't deserve love for themself. Be it because of the player's soul and/or for other reasons individual to the other participants. Kris thinks they're going to be okay with Susie and Noelle dating while they sit by the side. They're really not.

I think this is kinda demonstrated by the short-lived polycule in Ch3. Lanino, Elinina, and Rouxls. Rouxls kinda put himself in their relationship without really considering the other two and I think Kris worries that the same will happen with them if they try to pursue Susie and Noelle romantically. After all, as Ralsei pointed out, the darkworlds are created based on the perceptions and thoughts of the person making them.

Ultimately someone is going to call Kris out for acting weird about Noelle and Susie. It will probably be Susie, or she'd be the most confrontational about it at least. And if it hasn't already, it's going to turn into a big whole argument about Kris keeping stuff secret and Noelle being like "wait that was real?". I doubt the player would end up having any proper control through that.

[pamshindouu]

And now for a big one!! Here's something I made for last year's Odaiba Memorial. I had been planning it since the previous year and it took me a while to complete but I'm so proud of myself for having finished it in time :')

Digimon has been a huge part of my life since I was very little and I grew alongside the various seasons of the anime so I wanted to pay a little homage to it by drawing all the main protagonists so far! If you check the individual posts on my Instagram you can read a little about my experiences and memories with each season~

[paperlignes]

WHAT WE DO IN THE SHADOWS (2019-2024) SEASON 6, EPISODE 9: COME OUT AND PLAY

[nell0-0]

I was just having a bit of fun with incorrect quotes stuff and. well-

Look, do I love Fi? Yes.

Do I think Mask would be a tad salty and sensitive about that specific subject? Also yes.

[ruubesz-draws]

Godzilla (and co.) in jail :)

It feels nice to draw Rodan and Anguirus again :'))

[tangledinink]

What's the twins relationship with Tigerclaw like (I see that warriors reference, I see you)

it's complicated. [ ✩ the gemini ✩ ]

[self-made-purgatories]

McCOY: "Help me, Jim. ...Take me home."

KIRK: "As surely as if it were my very own."

KIRK: "Bones, help Spock."

MCCOY: "I choose the danger."

[alightindarkplaces]

I don't think a lot of people realize how complicated the situation with Samfro really is... Sam is Frodo's employee, to start, and they are not friends, because they are not peers. They get along and they have a good relationship, as one might have with a very cool boss and an eager servant. Sam takes pride in his service and Frodo appreciates him, but he also doesn't know him very well. He underestimates Sam and sees him as well-meaning and good, but also very foolish (he is not wrong here, but he fails to see how clever Sam can be.)

Until the "conspiracy" comes out, Frodo doesn't really think about what Sam is capable of, or consider that he would act against his wishes. I think he doesn't even realize how much Sam adores him (typical Frodo behavior.) It's after they meet Gildor that Frodo first begins to really look at Sam, and maybe the first time he is impressed by him and sees that he is clever in his own right. He is very proud of him later when he points out Sam's poetry and it's clear Frodo has begun to think very highly of him.

But they are not a couple. They are still a master and his servant, and there is love between them, but it is not romance.

Flash forward to Frodo's flight from the Fellowship, when Sam almost drowns himself just to get back to Frodo. Frodo scolds him and Sam holds his ground and tells him it was cruel to leave him and that leaving him would be the same as dying. Frodo calls him "dearest of all hobbits" and this is when the relationship begins to change... Sam has disobeyed in a big way, now for the second time, and has proven that he is Frodo's friend before his servant (this is huge I can't even tell you.) This is the point when the relationship develops beyond the bounds of service and into one of peers.

They are equal in their quest, though Sam continues to refer to him as his master and carries on tending to him. This is just the way they understand things and are most comfortable and it doesn't detract from what they have built - it's a willing service given freely out of love.

But this is also the sticking point, because Frodo will always have this power over Sam, or at least, he perceives it that way, knowing Sam would literally die for him and do anything for him (except let him go into danger alone.) But this is tricky, and especially for Frodo, who understands the power dynamic and feels responsibility for Sam.

How could Frodo ask anything more of him? He can't.

From Sam's perspective, how can he ask anything of Frodo at all? He can't.

Thus, we enter the queer stalemate, where they are both in love and attracted to each other, but bound by social obligations to remain "just friends" (if you can call what they have just friends.)

As an aside, I don't believe anything they do can or should be considered strictly "gay," but these two specifically are factually in love and gay for each other, even though they don't know how to be together.

[movie-robotnik-positivity]

Big fan of how "Dark Beginnings" portrayed Team Dark. They're not exactly a team, just three people with similar goals who keep finding each other because of those goals.

They're not "friends" the way Team Sonic are friends, but there's an undeniable trust there.

[runninriot]

Another Love

written for the @corrodedcoffinfest pop-up event It's Complicated

wc: 1.966 | rated: M | tags: past friends with benefits Eddie/Jeff, newly established Steddie, unrequited love, complicated feelings, mild hurt/comfort, friendship | also on ao3

   “Guys, this is Steve. Steve, these are the guys. My best friends, who will not embarrass me today. Right?”

Eddie laughs, tries not to let his nerves show by making a silly grimace in the direction of Gareth, who lovingly scoffs and rolls his eyes, says ‘You don’t need us for that, you’re pretty good at embarrassing yourself‘, just to be a little shit. And maybe that’s good, because it means they’re not pretending to be something they’re not. There’s no need to mask who they are in front of Steve, Eddie knows that.

He knows that, once they’ve warmed up to each other, they’ll get along just fine. But still, he can’t shake the funny feeling in his gut.

This is a big deal for him, finally introducing his boyfriend to the people who, apart from Wayne, mean most to him in this world. He wants, no, needs them to accept this new person in his life, because there is one thing he’s absolutely certain of – Steve is here to stay.

Gareth and Doug, being the lifesavers they are, immediately start wrapping Steve up in a conversation and it helps ease Eddie’s nerves a bit. But out of the corner of his eyes, he can see the tension in Jeff’s shoulders. Can sense his resentment of the situation even if Jeff is obviously trying his best not to show it.

He stands off to the side, pretending to tune his guitar which he’s definitely not. Eddie knows he’s already done that before even coming to the venue. Out of all of them, Jeff’s always been the closest to a professional.

It’s something Eddie admires, one of those things he loves about him.

Jeff and Eddie go way back, met long before Gareth and Doug entered the picture. They’ve been friends forever, through thick and thin, always together against the rest of the world.

He’d never admit it out loud but Jeff’s opinion matters most. And that’s not only because he’s his best best friend. It’s also because he doesn’t know what he’d do if Jeff didn’t give him his blessing. There’s so much at stake here, so much to possibly end in ruins. This is so much more complicated than just wanting his friend's approval - there's more to consider. More to fight for. So that's what Eddie is willing to do.

   “Hey, man,” Eddie claps Jeff on the back trying to act casual, ignoring the twisted knots in his stomach. “Can we talk?”

   “If it’s about your boyfriend, then no.”

Jeff takes a big swig from his beer, the look in his eyes unusually cold and distant.

   “Come on, man. I thought we agreed that-”

   “Well, I’ve changed my mind. Look, Eddie. I’m happy for you, I really am. But you cannot expect me to put on a brave face and pretend that this doesn’t fuck me up.”

His words slice through Eddie like a knife, sharp and quick, no mercy on his heart.

Eddie probably deserves it for thinking he could ignore the giant ass elephant in the room and simply wait it out. Wait for the problem to solve itself, for everything to go back to normal, back to easy. Because truth is, there is nothing easy about this.

Eddie knew from the start that this would be complicated, no matter how much he wished it wasn’t. He knew and yet, stupid as he is, he still hoped they could just... move on. Not forget but maybe lock up the memories of a different time and go back to how things were before. When they were just friends, no feelings involved. At least not those kind of feelings.

   “I’m sorry, Jeff,” he says, head tilted down to avoid his friend’s piercing gaze, “I know it’s-“

It’s what? Hard? Unfair? Well, yeah, obviously. At least from Jeff’s point of view. But what is Eddie supposed to do? He didn’t choose to fall in love with someone else, it just happened. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t still have feelings for Jeff, only they’re different now. Not that he ever-

It’s a cruel thought, even though it’s true. They both know it because Eddie never pretended to be in love when he wasn’t. Was he attracted to Jeff? Oh, absolutely. Otherwise they wouldn’t have ended up in bed together. More than once. And it wasn't just the prospect of easy sex that had Eddie coming back for more - it was the thought of falling asleep in Jeff's arms. To be held by someone who makes you feel safe and cared for. He loved the kisses and giggles and how okay it was to be vulnerable and open because there's nothing to be ashamed of, nothing to hide because Jeff already knows everything about him.

The problem is, while it had all started out as casual fun between mates, something changed over time. Something Eddie noticed too late or he would’ve ended it sooner. Jeff never told him about his feelings, so that’s on him, but it is just as much Eddie’s fault because- he should’ve known anyway. Should’ve noticed the shift. But he hadn’t. Or maybe he simply refused to acknowledge it. Selfishly ignored it until he couldn’t anymore.

When he met Steve, he instantly knew he needed to put his cards on the table and come clean about what this would mean for him and Jeff. Told him about this guy he likes – ‘Don’t know if it’s mutual but I’d like to give it a shot, see where it’s going. Maybe it’s nothing but maybe- I think he could be the one.’

And at first, Jeff seemed to be fine with that. Said he understood that they couldn’t hook up anymore. Said he’d miss the fucking but ‘Eh, whatever.’

Only it wasn’t whatever.

But Eddie was so lost in his own head, so caught up on Steve, Steve, Steve that he didn’t see what it was doing to Jeff. Didn’t notice him pulling away more and more until Gareth mentioned it. Asked if something had happened between the two because they were acting weird.

So, when he finally confronted Jeff, things seemed... okay. Better. At least that’s what he thought when Jeff told him he’d get over it, that he just needed some time to adjust. Promised Eddie that nothing had changed when it came to their friendship but right now, Eddie isn’t so sure about that anymore.

And it kills him.

Makes him lie awake at night because he can’t stop thinking about all the worst possible outcomes. What if this breaks up the band? What if Eddie loses his best friend?

   “I don’t want to lose you, Jeff.”

    You’re up in five, someone calls from the side of the stage and Eddie knows this is the worst possible timing for a heart-to-heart. They should be getting ready, he should be talking to his boyfriend who he abandoned and left with people he doesn’t really know, in a place he’s never been to before. But he can’t step away, can’t leave it like that, not when Jeff still hasn’t said anything.

   “I need you. You’re my best friend and I- I love you.”

It’s a stupid thing to say, to use this word, this feeling that is the cause for this mess and the reason for Jeff’s pain. But it’s the right word nonetheless, because it’s the truth. Eddie loves him. Maybe not like he loves Steve but different from the way he loves Gareth and Doug. This love goes deeper than friendship, soul-deep.

   “I love you. You’re important to me and I know- I know you're hurt and I am sorry but I can’t change that my heart belongs to Steve.”

Eddie can’t stop, knows he should because right now, he’s only talking himself deeper into the hole he dug for himself. But he refuses to lie, refuses to try to appease Jeff with false hope – he needs to know where they stand. And if that means Jeff will tell him to fuck off, if that will be the end of their friendship, then-

   “I hate you.”

Eddie’s heart stops at Jeff's words, eyes filling with tears as he braces himself for the biggest regret he'll ever have in his life.

   “I hate you so much for even thinking you could ever lose me!”

They’ve got eyes on them now, Eddie can feel it, but he doesn’t care. Can’t, not when Jeff moves closer, taking one of Eddie’s hands to place it on his chest, right above his heart.

   “It hurts. It fucking hurts. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to be friends anymore.”

Eddie doesn’t know what to say, just sniffs and blinks away the tears blurring his vision.

   “It’ll take some time for me to... get over this. But you and me, we’re bound for life, man. So don’t you ever think you’re getting rid of me. You hear me, asshole?”

Jeff smiles at him and even though there’s still sadness in his eyes, Eddie can feel that he means it.

   “Uh... sorry to interrupt but, um, they said you’re up next so I-“

When Eddie turns to the voice coming from behind, he finds Steve standing there, hands in his pocket, nervously looking to the side.

   “I’ll be down there somewhere. Have- have fun.”

Steve’s about to turn around, ready to step away but Eddie can't let him go like that, so he stops him.

   “Baby, wait!”

He looks back at Jeff, hoping, praying to find what he’s searching for in the other man’s eyes.

   “Go on, your boyfriend looks like he’s waiting for a kiss. Would be rude to leave him hanging.”

   “Are you gonna be mad at me if I do?” Eddie’s not asking for permission to kiss his boyfriend, not really. But he’s willing to tone it down around Jeff if that’s what it takes.

Jeff scoffs, lets go of Eddie’s hand and takes a step back.

   “So mad. But I’ll get to have you all to myself for the next 40 minutes so I guess it’s fine,” he jokes and it feels like a peace offering. Like maybe it’s the first step to better, before hopefully they can go back to how things were when everything was good, not complicated.

   “I love you,” Eddie says again just because.

   “Love you too, man. Now go take care of your man and then let’s get this fucking show started.”

Eddie nods, taking another moment to look at his best friend before walking over to Steve.

   “Everything good with you and Jeff?” Steve asks quietly as Eddie wraps his arms around his middle to pull him close.

   “I think it will be, yeah.”

Eddie's glad he never made a secret out of his past with Jeff, couldn’t bear withholding something so crucial from Steve. He needed him to know that no matter what, Jeff will always play an important role in his life. That if Steve wanted to be with him, he’d have to accept that there will always be a place in his heart that’s occupied by someone else.

Steve throws a look over Eddie’s shoulder and smiles to himself before leaning in to give him a chaste kiss on the cheek.

   “Is that all?” Eddie asks when his boyfriend pulls away, leaving him longing for more.

   “For now,” Steve confirms with a wink, “Your friends are waiting.”

With that, he wanders off into the crowd and Eddie, for the first time in weeks, feels a weight lift off his shoulders and heart.

Maybe it doesn’t have to be complicated.

Maybe it just needs time and trust and mutual understanding.

He’s willing to try, willing to do everything to make this work

Because what he’s definitely not willing to do, is to give up one love for another.

[atsadi-shenanigans]

FSBE 33 - Good Intentions

The rogue takes matters into his own hands.

On AO3.

Astarion fidgets. Immediately stops himself (back straight, boy), and then does it again on purpose.

They’ve made it back to the inn thanks to the wizard’s portal. The group is huddled together over what even he can tell are poor rations (more than usual, anyway). The brat from the graveyard has managed to find her way here and has cloistered up with the other wretches in the corner. Degenerate little beasts. Apparently she has some special tie to the Weave, at least according to the old bag of bones lurking around somewhere.

The druid has holed himself up with the wounded. Apparently his leader and the others found a magical instrument, and the big bear is very interested in it.

None of that is what makes the inside of his skin itch. No, that honor belongs to his dejected darling, holding an unopened bottle of wine and staring at it. Oh, she looks as mild as ever, but he can see the contemplation in those dark eyes.

She’s gotten drunk once. When he went off to pursue the gith during that joke of a “party” those tieflings threw in the druid grove (back when they were all still alive and thought they had a future) (he finds he doesn’t care to contemplate that just now, thank you) (or examining why he finds that so…disheartening).

She’s upset, his leader. Very upset.

And he doesn’t like it one bit.

She shouldn’t be able to affect him like this (of course she does). He still has her affection and thus her protection (she likes to listen to him talk). She may be miserable just now, but it’s not his responsibility to…do anything about it (but seeing her so dejected makes his chest hurt, damn her) (damn him).

His fingers tap on the stem of his wine glass. It won’t do, he decides. It won’t do at all.

He strands. The conversation has moved on to a bragging contest between the Blade—weakened but recovering—and the tiefling. His practiced eye catches the desire in the both of them, the way they watch each other, the grins that refuse to slip off their faces. But he moves past that without so much as a comment, and stands next to his melancholy leader.

Astarion is a man of few talents. Only one, really. But he can put it to use here, now that she’s accepting. And it tends to put others in a better mood.

He waits until she acknowledges him. Meets her questioning gaze with a sultry smirk.

“You seem out of sorts, darling,” he says.

“I’m good,” she says, because of course she does. “Just tired.”

She’s more than tired. Her shoulders slump and her spine curves as if the world is trying to drag her down to the floor. But it’s not just the awful physical exertion they’ve all been subjected to since this travesty started on that mindflayer ship.

“I can’t blame you,” he says. “We’ve had quite the day. But I may have something to cheer you up?”

She blinks at him. The ghost of a line forms between her brows.

Poor thing. Still shy. Still inexperienced. (So easy; they follow him to the slaughterhouse like little lambs, throats soft and trusting.)

“Come upstairs with me?” he says, to get his point across.

She squints. She’s trying to work out his angle. He can’t quite tell if that’s naivete or a deliberate obtuseness.

Still, to be clear, he leans down to murmur against her small, round ear, “I’d like to touch you tonight.”

Stands back up to find the cleric staring. So he gives her a jaunty wave and holds out his hand to his blushing bedmate.

She glances around. Looks as if she swallowed a handful of maggots and desperately tries to keep them down. Which is both offensive (he’s gorgeous, why should she have any qualms) and relatable (he’s done that a time or two himself) (literally).

“I, uh,” she says. Her fingers twist together, and she starts to trace that back-and-forth pattern over her thumbnail. “I thought. Y’know. I might bunk with the girls. Give the others a chance to sleep in a bed?”

Astarion flaps his hand dismissively. “Oh, who cares about that? Come with me, dear. They’ll all be fine another night inconvenienced.”

“Will we?” the cleric says. The insufferable snoop.

“I’m sure you have other means of making yourself comfortable,” he says and looks deliberately at the gith, who is currently surrounded by a gaggle of harpers as she slams down a bottle of something that smells vile. Made double by the dead snake inside it. “Though she is rather bony.”

The cleric’s eyes narrow, but a light flush stains her cheeks. He’s won this round.

“I,” his leader says.

So he threads his arm through hers. Gives her a gentle tug to get her off the stool.

“Come along. We ought to get you to bed after such a tiring time.”

He checks to make sure the double entendre hits his mark and oh yes, her blush is quite fetching on her soft brown cheeks.

But she does follow after him. Looks again to the cleric who rolls her eyes and takes a swig directly out of her own wine bottle (uncivilized, the lot of them).

Leaving them clear to the stairs, and to the room above.

There’s something…heavy in the way his leader walks. Rather like a woman headed for the gallows. Not at all like a lover following her stunning paramour up to a relatively clean bed and a night of passion.

It gets worse when he closes the door behind them (the room is beginning to smell like the both of them, and that eases something in him he wasn’t even aware of). She stands stiffly to the side of the bed, not speaking, not looking at anything in particular. And scowling.

At least she’s not buried her face against a wall this time?

“No need to be so tense, you know,” he says, softening his voice. The sweet ones like that best. And for all her cunning (imagine telling a child to look at the damage her summon did to the corpses of her parents), she’s still inexperienced in more ways than one.

He’s touched her a few times, now. Not just one night, but several. Enough to start to learn more than the superficial things that draw a sigh from her. Enough to guess at what hitches her shoulders up so high.

“It wasn’t your fault, darling,” he says. Nearly follows that with don’t worry yourself over an ungrateful brat. But she wouldn’t appreciate such a sentiment. “You did all you could.”

She sighs. Deeply. Tucks her chin down and closes her eyes.

“It ain’t just that, though,” she says. Glances in his direction but stops somewhere around the vicinity of his feet. “It’s…everything. Wyll. You.”

The last part barely above a whisper and she looks away when she says it.

She’s feeling wretched over the brat and the Blade.

And over.

Him.

She’s already admitted that. Even apologized for it (while sobbing). It shouldn’t strike him the way it does. But it hits regardless. Others have pitied him before—it can be an effective technique on the do-gooders with a touch of drink in them. And he’s still irritated at her over it.

But this is the second day. (He’s had several of those with her now.) She’s still carrying it.

That is what does it, he thinks. A second day. Not a flash of water on a hot branding iron, but something…sustained. Something almost…

Almost real.

He blinks.

(no.)

He’s not here to think. He’s here to do. Lift her spirits in the only way he knows how.

He steps forward. Slides his hands over her shoulders. They’d all stripped off their armor, and she’s down to her undertunic and trousers, with the set of stays keeping her lovely chest contained. She shivers when he touches her.

“I’m not sure,” she says. Pulls away. “I don’t…”

He’s tried to seduce her in this room once already. And they both climbed onto that bed as he described muscle spasms so strong they snapped fever-weakened bones while they both sat there, barely touching.

She needs a gentle touch. He…does this for her sake.

He thinks.

It certainly has nothing to do with how tight his own muscles are, or how warm she is when he’s near enough. It’s to make her feel better.

“It’s alright, darling. I won’t bite, you know. Unless you’d like me to?”

Oh, she pounces on that. In all the wrong ways.

“You hungry again?” she says, tugging at the neckline of her tunic to bare her delicious neck to him.

But he puts his hand over hers, stopping her. She stills, save for the jump of her pulse in her throat.

“I’m content, dear,” he says, softening his voice. “I’m rather more concerned about you.”

He’s used that line before. A light touch to the hand or the cheek. It works well when he leans in and lets his brows furrow. Feigns worry.

With her, the words feel different in his mouth. They come out stilted. Almost awkward.

…he means them.

Fuck.

Gods below, there’s a touch of truth in it, this time. He does want her to perk up. She’s no fun like this. Makes him uncomfortable (hurts).

But it’s a tactic. A manipulation. As he’s been doing this entire time (a lie). He’s manipulating her (lying to himself, too). This is to help her, godsdamnit. Which helps him by proxy. It’s for both of their sakes.

That makes it fine, surely.

Surely?

He palms her cheek. Her eyes widen even as her skin warms beneath his hand. She does blush prettily.

(So innocent.)

She tries to shrink away. But he catches her chin with one finger, nudges her to face him once more.

She’s miserable. It’s painted in her eyes, in the tightness around them. The unhappy line of her mouth and the guarded hunch of her frame.

“I got you killed,” she says.

“Yes, well. You brought me back. And that part was considerably better than last time.” He wants her to feel better. Because, gods help him, it matters. She matters. “Just don’t do it again, and we’ll call it even, shall we?”

Poor thing looks like a drowned kitten.

It does something to him. Cracks his armor. And something almost…warm seeps in.

So he does what he knows. He leans in.

“Astarion…” she says.

“Darling,” he says. Pauses so close he breathes in the air from her lungs. “May I kiss you?”

She’s so tense against him. “I…”

He thumbs her cheek. Steps in, less than an inch between their bodies, close enough the heat of her body brushes his own undead skin.

“Let me make you feel better,” he says, and it’s not an act (shit). He bloody means it (oh gods). He feels ill. Wretched. But he shoves that down as he always does. As he always must. (Does he? Would she…no. No.)

She feels guilty. That can be a weapon in the right hands.

“I, I could rather use a distraction myself, to be honest,” he says.

She looks at him, gaze darting over his face. Her breathing is deep; shy of a pant but still anticipatory. She wants this. He can smell the change in her blood. He’s offering her a chance to help him (manipulation). She adores that. He’s only using that against her to help her.

“Please,” he whispers.

Watches the moment she crumbles. She practically deflates against him, her breath whooshing out as she leans in to meet him.

Her lips find his. Her hands pluck at his shirt.

Astarion gets to work.

***

Note: I have a minor surgery this coming week, but barring complications, next chapter should be out on Wednesday as usual.

[slayerdurge]

Durgetash Resurrection AU

"Is that...? That's my body. I remember now. The Morphic Pool. The Elder Brain, it... I was dead. What did you do?" "I made a deal... with Lord Bane."

[brokentrafficknight]

[tealvenetianmask]

More about Blitz and anger . . .

Anger is a super stigmatized emotion. That's for a reason- it's powerful. When we see it from other people it's usually externalized- it's ugly, aggressive, shows up in abusive situations- it sometimes leads to violence. But when we talk about righteous anger, or the anger of marginalized people, we sometimes praise it. That's because anger can be empowering too.

I want to talk about how Blitz's anger, while it's also destructive at times, has empowered him.

Personal note: when I was a kid, I was yelled at frequently by my mother. The house I grew up in was a 60's rancher with a long hallway in the center, and she would chase me down the hallway yelling. As I grew older, I learned to yell back. Feeling anger and externalizing it didn't make the hurt go away, and it didn't solve our problems- it turned us into two people yelling at each other- but it did make me feel less helpless.

So let's look at Blitz as a kid. In addition to guilt tripping him, his father tells him that "there are scarier things," than stealing from a wealthy and (literally) powerful family, and he doesn't disagree. I think this screenshot captures their relationship pretty well.

We see moments of defiance from Blitz though, even as he's very much under Cash's control. Georgia Dow pointed this out in her video about how Blitz learned resilience in his childhood. Here, have some defiant expressions:

Notice Blitz's eyebrows here, mirroring his father. I suspect that as he grew older, Blitz learned to push back harder, to argue, maybe even to yell. He learned to channel his anger- at being used, diminished, devalued (very likely yelled at and probably physically hurt too) into expression, into fight (I don't picture him physically fighting Cash, but the guy has fight in him- of all kinds).

He learned to feel angry at the world and express that too- for treating imps as lower than other demons, for limiting his options in life, for filling the road to success with exploitation (as we see in the Mammon flashbacks with Fizz).

Speaking of that flashback, he's very ready, as a teenager, to express anger exactly when he needs to for the purpose of protecting a loved one.

Fast forward to the present.

Blitz's anger helps him stand up for the people he cares about- see Fizz in the present at Mammon's show but also Moxxie in Spring Broken.

It helps make him good at his job too. When we see him fight, he doesn't tend to seem all out enraged, but he's super determined and all in. He's at home in a conflict. When he's doing his best fighting, we see a mix of the "angry" facial expressions and pure confidence.

Anger also helps him manage a lot of difficult emotions. Disclaimer (and idea I'll get back to soon)- I said manage, not deal with.

When he interacts with Verosika and with Robo Fizz early in season 1, there's genuine underlying pain from how the relationships with Verosika and the real Fizz ended, but he channels that into anger. The anger makes him take action (Good action? Eh. But still action- he's not crying on his couch.) rather than get consumed by more painful emotions. He's able to keep going.

It also gets in his way, even as he uses it as a coping mechanism. Is his anger at Muffy and the Karen in the doctor's office understandable as he's dealing with his frustration about the inaccessibility of healthcare for Loona and his worries about losing Stolas? Yes. Is it helpful? No, probably not.

It isn't useful with Stolas either. Stolas is this person who's kind and beautiful and quirky and able to match his wit, and who Blitz has grown genuine feelings for, but who is also deeply entwined in the unfairness in Hell's society that Blitz has grown to resent throughout his life- AND Stolas unknowingly participates in some very familiar microaggressions himself.

Blitz channels a whole range of complicated emotions- love, fear, despair at the thought that he isn't loved back- all into anger because he HAS been wronged and his world IS unfair, and anger is COMFORTABLE because anger is ACTIVE, and with it he doesn't have to just let things happen to him!

So we end up back here.

[the-nothing-maker]

Home is where the heart is

(Alastiel is a vampire lord NPC from @luposlipaphobya's D&D campaign, Une Cour de Chair et de Charme!)