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kitthepurplepotato · 1 year

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Part 11 / This Wedding Sucks.

Summary: Mr. Katsuki goes to Denki’s wedding and gets drunk (and sappy). Things get weird. Mr. Katsuki does NOT want to kiss the Menace. Kirishima almost looses his poor balls. This summary does not make sense but neither is the chapter. Author went all deep and shit on this one. She’s not sorry.

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, drunk Bakugou, swear words, suggestive

First Chapter 💥 Masterlist

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“Wow, this is…”

You are not sure how to describe this wedding hall.

One thing for sure, this place was re-designed especially for this occasion; Who the actual fuck would want such an obnoxious piece of furniture at their wedding?! This massive, expensive looking sofa has leopard print on it, the legs are pure gold and if that’s not enough, the whole shape of it looks like they have stolen it from a porn film set or something.

Otherwise, the place looks super fancy; the main color theme is black and white with a hint of golden all over the place; the door knobs, the accents, they are all shiny and expensive looking.

The other weird thing is the music; instead of the usual classical music, your ears are met with the sound of acoustic guitars. It’s sophisticated, but… different. You will definitely ask about the artist, just in case you ever get lucky enough to find an idiot who can tolerate you enough to spend the rest of their life with a lunatic like you.

“This is the bougiest shit I’ve ever seen.” Mr. Katsuki finishes your sentence, and honestly, he is not wrong; Kaminari Denki might not be the worst payed hero in the industry, but he’s definitely far off from being a millionaire and this place is way past his pay grade.

“How did he pay for this?” You ask the question of the century; and for your surprise, there is a really easy answer for it.

“Denki saved the owner’s son a few years ago.” Kirishima butts into the conversation. “They only need to pay for the catering.” He laughs and makes his way into the main hall.

“If there’s no caviar on the menu, I’m leaving.” Murmurs the angry blonde and stomps over to his seat.

“Jealous much?” You snicker and sit down next to him.

“Tch, why would I be jealous? This is a joke.”

“Yeah, it’s a bit too much for my liking.” You agree while you sip on your champagne.

Mr. Katsuki looks exceptionally hot today, you need to say. He’s wearing a black tailored suit with a dark red, super skinny shirt which doesn’t leave much for the imagination; his tie is loose which gives him a look of a rebellious teenager who doesn’t want to dress up but tries his best to fit in anyway. Having such a shitty personality in this godlike body is such a waste.

After the hall gets filled with heroes and family members, the event is about to start; sappy guitar music fills the hall as the couple of the day walks down the aisle.

“Whoever cries first need to chug down a bottle of vodka.” Mr. Katsuki smirks at you and the others, but his words are met with eye rolls and shush sounds. “This is not fun.” He sighs with a massive scowl on his face.

“I’m in.” You whisper into the blonde’s ears; he can barely hide his challenging smile as he leans back on his chair.

Honestly, you are not a big fan of weddings. You will never understand why would anyone pay so much money just to exchange some words and a bloody ring. Also, you’ve never been at a wedding before.

As the ceremony goes, you kind of start to understand the whole thing though; even you tear up by the end of the ceremony.

“If you cry…” Mr. Katsuki whispers in your ear in a deep voice, and damn if that doesn’t do “things” to you. He also smells really nice up close.

Ahh, fuck. Since you met that fucking Bakugou doppelgänger you’ve been having confusing feelings towards this person next to you. It’s not like he’s the same person. Get your shit together, woman.

“I almost lost, dammit.” You grin at him, tears long gone and the closeness feels weirdly comfortable. He’s literally in front of your face, yet you don’t feel threatened. It’s just two wedding-hating idiots having a banter in the middle of the ceremony. No biggie.

“I bet that’s his girlfriend.” Comes a loud whisper from a pink haired girl behind you, her name is Mina if you remember it right.

“I bet he’s secretly gay.” Comes another whisper from a black haired guy. Bakugou called him soy sauce face, but you are quite sure that’s not his real name.

“You are both wrong.” You turn to them with a mischievous smile on your face and the two start giggling like two teenagers; it’s not like you actually now if Bakugou sways that way or not, but even if he does you are quite sure he doesn’t want anyone to know that.

“Guys, behave!” Comes Deku’s high voice from somewhere behind the two, so you turn back with a roll of your eyes.

“It’s really not fun.” You sigh and turn back to main event; you can’t wait until this shit is over. This dress is really uncomfortable.

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Bakugou Katsuki did not get to eat caviar today.

Also, this fucking afterparty sucks.

Everyone wants to talk to him. Everyone. Even the heroes he has never met in his goddamn life want to talk to him about the shitty weather.

Can’t they at least try to make a proper conversation? This is an absolute waste of time.

“If another extra comes over to tell me about the current stocks, I’ll catapult out of here through the window.” He grumbles to no one in particular, and to be fair, non of his friends care about him today anyway; they are all having fun and dancing while he’s stuck on the sofa with a bottle of champagne he’s stolen from the dining room after the hundredth small talk he had to suffer through.

He did such a good job in hiding from all the extras that he ended up alone in the far corner of the room, overlooking all the cheery people on the dance floor while drinking himself into a “sensitive bitch”.

He can’t take alcohol too well, okay?! Especially champagne and wine, but there isn’t anything else.

And now, after half of the bottle being gone, he is a little bit lonely, but not lonely enough to move from his comfortable hiding place.

His eyes wonder around the dance floor; he can see the Menace dancing with Kirishima in her motherfucking fancy dress; she works in unisex hoodies and massive boots, so this is the first time Katsuki realizes how stunning the Menace actually looks like behind all the oversized stuff she’s wearing. She did wear a skirt on her first day, now that Katsuki thinks about it, but he wasn’t really interested in her enough to take a good look back then; not like he’s interested now. He’s absolutely not.

There was also the fight two days ago when the Menace kicked his ass in a tiny sports bra but he was too angry to actually appreciate the view; not like he’s sad about it or anything. As he said, he doesn’t like the Menace that way.

He’s just… not blind.

Thanks to his drunk ass self, his staring got noticed by the demon itself and she’s coming over with a fond smile on her face.

Fuck.

Oh, fuck.

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While you enjoyed meeting all these new people, you couldn’t take your mind off your anti-social boss, especially after he disappeared into thin air in the middle of the after party.

Did he kill someone and fled the scene? He looked super intense and constipated the last time you saw him talking to a random guy. The fella looked super annoying and loud, and to be fair, you would have killed him too. You are just about to finish the conversation and look for Bakugou in case he needs help in hiding the body when you find his crimson eyes staring at you from the far corner of the hall, his face emotionless and bored. As you get closer you realize something’s wrong; he isn’t wearing his usual scowl and there is no indication of him being annoyed by your existence as you come closer and closer to his secret hideout.

When you see the bottle of champagne in his hands, you understand why.

Now here you are, face to face with the bane of your existence, and you are willingly sitting down next to him. Damn, things have changed, haven’t they?

“I’m tired. And it’s cold.” You announce, trying your hardest to get comfortable without showing off your favorite panties to the whole world. It’s a challenge, let me tell ya’.

Instead of a proper answer, the blonde takes off his suit jacket, and throws it in your lap in an unfriendly way.

“Put it on. I’m hot anyway.” He grumbles and looks to the other side; there is a slight blush on his cheeks thanks to the alcohol.

“Mind to share your stolen goods with me?” You grin at your companion, who answers you with an eye roll, but shares his drink anyway.

“I hate this so much.” He grumbles again, but this time, he doesn’t shy away from the eye contact. This might be the first time he actually looked into your eyes properly. No one can blame you when your heart skips a beat from the soft, drunk look in his eyes. “Why do people feel like they need to make such a big deal out of their stupid love? It’s not our business, is it?”

You are not sure if he’s jealous or just grumpy, but you do your best to answer as honestly as you can; seeing the amount of booze missing from his bottle, he’s probably drunk enough to be able to have some emotions to understand your answer.

Needless to say, you are extremely excited about this whole situation. Since the alternative universe shenanigans, having a drink with your grumpy boss was on the first place on your bucket list. It’s out of pure curiosity, really; you just want to know if there is any chance the Bakugou you’ve met back then is a part of this Bakugou too.

Since the accident, you’ve been wondering about Katsuki’s real thoughts; the ones hidden behind all the anger and ego. You have a feeling there is so much more to him than the pure aggression he shows to the world.

“They’ve been together for ages. They had their fair share of privacy already. Let them have some fun.” You answer. “This is a new beginning for them. It’s not my cup of tea either, but I think I can understand.” You sigh while you rest your cheeks on the backrest of the sofa. The blonde shuffles to mimic your pose; you are both facing each other now.

“I would never make such a big fuss out of my wedding.” He murmurs, deep in thought. “A small wedding in another country, with only the most important people in my life - the stupid hag, my father, Eijirou, Shitty Deku and Candy Cane face… my teachers, maybe.” He mumbles with a dreamy face; a face that painfully reminds you of the other version of him.

“Am I not invited?” You snuggle closer, the liquid courage in your veins doing a great job at tearing down all your protective walls.

“Do you think you are important enough to be there?” He scrunches his brows, but there is no edge to his voice. It’s an actual question.

“By the time you get married, I might be.” You smile and take the bottle from the blonde’s hands to take another sip. There a slight electricity going through your body as you touch his fingers in the process. “I don’t think I want to get married, to be honest.” You admit with a sigh. “I have impossibly high expectations for my significant other.” You giggle into the small space between you two.

“Like what?” He asks like he actually cares about your answer, and the curious glare makes your heart melt. You wish to be able to see this side of him every day.

“Like… I want my other half to be really close to me. Someone who I can talk to about anything. I also want them to be strong enough to talk back to me when I go overboard. I want them to be able to have an argument with me without stepping back and letting me have everything in my own way.” You are way too deep in your thoughts to realize the blonde snuggled closer. You are also too drunk to realize that your answer isn’t hypothetical anymore; you are describing someone who you already know. “I want them to challenge me every day. Keep me entertained. But I also want them to be able to communicate their feelings towards me, otherwise I’ll always think I’m not good enough.” You sigh and look up at the blonde who’s looking at you with wonder and true interest. You definitely can not ignore the way your heart skipped this time. “What about you?” You ask shyly, but you don’t move back; you can feel Katsuki’s breath on your lips as he answers.

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“What about you?”

Mr. Katsuki is way past his drinking limit; he’s drunk enough to not be able to contain his emotions, and he’s about to burst.

He wants to explode from all the confusing feelings; the way his heart is about to jump out of his rib cage from the closeness; the way he can’t stop snuggling closer and chase the warmth of Y/N’s body, the way he can’t help the shiver going down his spine when he can feel Y/N’s breath on his lips while she talks about her love interests.

For a weird reason, he wants to be that person; he wants to make Y/N’s dreams a reality and the sudden realization scares him deeply; he might be a sensitive drunk but he’s also a honest one; this is him, these are his real feelings coming up to the surface, even though he tried his best to push them under the rug for months. Now, with his emotions up his sleeve, he can’t lie to himself anymore. He will definitely deny everything, even to himself the next day when he sobers up, so this is his only opportunity to come clear.

“I want…”

What does he want? This right here, right now?

He can’t fucking say that.

Being so close to Y/N is extremely… uncomfortable, in a really weird way. His sober self wants to run away, snap this weird connection between them, even if it causes him pain, but his drunk self wants nothing more than to get sucked in by the abyss that’s calling him so desperately; it feels almost unbearable, the way his whole body just reacts to this person in front of him, like he can just mold into this person and be a whole; like the last puzzle piece in a massive picture finally being put in it’s right place.

“I want to feel a connection. I want to be pulled in, I want to feel like being close to someone isn’t a necessity, but the only way for me to finally breathe. I want to feel something that isn’t anger or frustration; find someone who can wash away my anger with a cheesy soft touch. Someone who can turn my fucking world upside down, twist it, untangle it, until I don’t even know who the fuck I am anymore.”

Katsuki is not sure if his words make any sense without seeing the full picture here, but he doesn’t care.

The truth is, Katsuki had his fair share of fooling around back when he was a teen. He forced himself out of his shell, tried everything to be able find out what makes his heart beat faster, but after all the meaningless make out sessions and unappreciated touches, he got to the conclusion that he just doesn’t have a heart.

Instead of a pleasant shiver, his mind was filled with disgust from the soft touches, he felt sick in his stomach when someone tried to caress his cheeks on a bad day, he broke so many hearts on his journey thanks to his inability to love that he decided to give up completely on it.

Bakugou Katsuki has never felt such a strong urge to pull someone closer, like he needs to close the distance, to chase the sweet release of this sudden tension or otherwise, he is going to die. He has never felt his chest this tight from the thought of someone, from the thought of being in someone’s arms; he has never craved the safety of a loving embrace as much as he is craving it now.

“Sounds like this person needs to move mountains to be able to get your attention.” Y/N comments, but there isn’t an edge in her voice when she says that.

“It’s impossible, I know.” He sighs, no offense taken by the harsh words. “No one would ever tolerate me enough to…”

“Kats.” Katsuki’s heart is about the explode by the nickname. He always hated it, hated the whole pet name thing, he wanted to throw up and run away, when anyone in his past ‘relationships’ - if you can call the few weeks of fooling around that - tried to call him anything else but his surname; but for a weird reason, right here, right now, his stomach is filled with butterflies from the sound of it. “There will be someone who will find their way into your heart, you know. You might be rough and angry on a normal day, but there is so much more in there.” Y/N’s hand caresses Katsuki’s chest, and the blonde wants nothing more than to put his hand over it, like a lovesick fool. “You are caring and sweet, always listening to everyone’s problems and trying to help in your own way. It’s a pain in the ass sometimes to understand you, but there is someone in this world who will see all the good things behind the mask you’re wearing. I can see it. I can also tolerate you… well, kinda.” She giggles, her face blushed and embarrassed. Katsuki can’t take this anymore.

“Y/N…” Katsuki leans in, their breaths mingled in the small space between them. Y/N pupils are blown wide from hearing her own name from the blonde’s mouth and also from the sudden closeness, but by the look of it, his presence isn’t unwelcome. “I…” Katsuki’s body moves on it’s own; his hands find their way into the back of Y/N’s head, caressing the soft hair, like it’s the fanciest silk Katsuki has ever touched and Y/N relaxes into his arms like she belongs here, she snuggles her nose to his own in a weird Eskimo kiss and Katsuki can’t stop himself anymore, he leans into the touch; their lips brush for a millisecond, for just enough to get lost in the feeling…

“No, no, no, fuck no” There is a fucking hand pushed in between his and Y/N’s lips, just when he was about to move them. Katsuki looks up at the intruder with murderous intent; Kirishima stares at him, his eyes blown wide, his face slightly mental from the utter embarrassment.

After a few moments, he looks to to other side of the couch; Y/N moved away, her face hot and red from the sudden realization.

This is when the happenings of the past few minutes hits Bakugo like a truck.

Oh.

Fuck.

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5 minutes before

Kirishima doesn’t want to pry.

He really does not.

He is about to come back from a quick toilet break, taking his time looking around the area; it’s such a rare occasion to have everyone together like this these days.

They are all busy, they are all pros, fighting against the evil with their lives on the line. They don’t have time for silly chit-chats and party games anymore; those few hours they have left from their day is usually used for taking care of their loved ones, or to be at the shrink’s office after having a massive meltdown/life crisis.

This is hero life for ya. Not all shit and giggles but shit piled up on another old pile of shit until you suffocate and die.

But don’t worry, you die with a smile on your face. Because you are a fucking hero from the beginning to the end.

No, Kirishima is not depressed. He’s just realistic.

As the redhead sighs into the void, his eyes wondering around the corner, he can’t believe what he’s seeing; Bakugou and Y/N is almost SNUGGLED UP on the sofa hiding in the corner of the hall, giggling and chatting away.

Kirishima has been Bakugou’s best friend for almost a decade, he knows this man as the back of his hands; it only takes him a few seconds to find the almost empty champagne bottle on the floor next to the blonde.

It’s not like he’s absolutely shocked by the scenario; he knew this will be the end game from the first second Y/N came into the office, but something just doesn’t feel right about this; it feels too sudden, too forced.

If this goes the way Kirishima thinks it will; because let’s be honest, he could feel the sexual tension between these two and it’s honestly unbearable at this point; Katsuki will ruin everything the day after, run away like the fool he is. He will run away from the responsibility, from the feelings, from the unnecessary complication that is Love, the second he sobers up.

So Kirishima says farewell to both of his balls as he sneaks closer to the two lovebirds, ready to act as a shield between them when it’s needed.

For his surprise, the conversation is nothing what he expected it to be; instead of shameless flirting his ears are met with reassurance and pure, heartfelt consolation. For a second, he thinks it would nice to just let have their way with each other; as we all know, Kirishima is an absolute softie and he can’t take this away from his explosive friend; he’s been praying every single to day for Bakugou to find someone who can appreciate him for who he is, and his prayers were clearly answered when Y/N came into their lives, even though this whole scenario wouldn’t have been possible a few months ago when the office was nothing but smoke and destruction when the two were in the same room for longer than 5 minutes.

By the end of his monologue the air got filled with tension and sparks; he only closed his eyes for a long second but when he opened them up again, he saw something he will never be able to unsee; the two drunk and emotionally overwhelmed idiots are a millimeter away from kissing each other in front of the whole hero industry.

Kirishima takes a moment to asses the situation.

With the alcohol melting their protective walls away, his two friends finally realized their feelings towards each other and that’s amazing and lovely and cute and Kirishima isn’t at all jealous right now.

But….

If Kirishima let’s this happen, Bakugou will be mortified tomorrow, his non-existent relationship with Y/N will be out in the open before they can properly talk about it, Bakugou will end everything the first second he wakes up to his friend’s stupid messages about his “new girlfriend” and he will never be able to face Y/N again. He will cause Y/N as much pain as he can chase them away; he will break Y/N’s heart into pieces and also his own, out of spite; Katsuki isn’t in deep enough to not run away from all these new feelings yet. It might already be too late, but fuck if Kirishima isn’t the best friend the world has ever seen when he moves his hand between the two just in time to stop their drunk shenanigans.

“No, no, no, fuck no”

Well, that’s a poor choice of words, but he’s freaking the shit out right now.

Can you blame him?

He’s probably about to get castrated by his own best buddy after what he’s done.

They both look like they’ve just woken up from a fever dream, barely knowing what’s happening around them.

Kirishima thanks God for sparing his balls today.

“Katsuki, we are going home.” Declares the redhead, grabbing the blonde’s shoulder to pull him up. “I’m calling you a taxi, Y/N. Please, give me a call when you get home, okay?” Wasted Dynamight on his shoulder and the phone in his hands, he orders 2 taxis on the app.

“Yes, mom.” She swallows loudly, and without a single other word or eye contact Y/N makes her way outside the building. The 2 stumble after her; he wants to make sure she actually takes the taxi and doesn’t wander away to clear her mind in the middle of the night.

“I can’t believe you cockblocked me, you fuck.” Slurs Bakugou, his eyes glaring daggers.

“You’ll thank me later.” He sighs into the void and makes his way to the second taxi after he made sure Y/N took the first one.

They don’t talk at the way home and let me tell you, nothing is scarier than a quiet Bakugou, but in this case, the quiet is a good sign; it means the blonde is willing to give his new feelings a chance; he probably won’t act on them yet, but he won’t ignore them either.

“Thanks, Ei.” Murmurs the blonde as Kirishima helps him to his bed with a bottle of water and an empty bucket ready by his bedside drawer. He puts his phone on charge as well to make sure it doesn’t die on him in case he needs help during the night.

“Thank me by not running away from this. You deserve it, whatever that was.” Answers the redhead with a fond smile on his face.

“Fuck off.” The blonde mumbles, his blushing cheeks safely hidden between his pillows.

Kirishima doesn’t answer, he only laughs.

He’s just happy to be able to be there for his best bud. “I can hear your disgustingly sappy thoughts, shut it. Just stay here for today, it’s late.”

Kirishima doesn’t need to be asked twice; he makes his way to the couch and falls into it face first.

Whatever will tomorrow bring, he’s ready for it.

… Next Chapter!

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*author is silently screaming into a pillow*

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oeight · 1 year

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HAYMITCH ABERNATHY IMAGINE

haymitch x f!oc: lorna harkner

summary: post-reaping goodbyes with 'his girl'

warnings: angst, swearing, inaccuracies from books/films (e.g. slight bending of post-reaping rules/age of minor characters)

She was the last one allowed in.

His mother and Gordy had left in a flood of tears, hands lingering over his chest as though to commit the thundering of his heart to memory before the inevitable chop, slice, or hit would quell the life coursing through his veins forever.

Quell. He chuckled bitterly, unable to help his lower lip wobble.

Their faces. He would never forget their faces in that moment, nor would he forget the sheer panic that gripped his heart – a cold, steely compression that sent shots of pain through his chest and up past his shoulder. Their watery blue eyes, so much like his own, and their tear-stained cheeks. His mother’s cries, begging the Peacekeepers just five more minutes before my boy leaves me.

He’d never really noticed it before, but his mother was going grey. Perhaps it was because they weren’t exactly a touchy-family – close like that – or perhaps it was because she was a tall, slender woman and he’d had his growth spurt late and only just begun to tower over her. But they were there, clear as day. Thick, wiry strands of grey that curled on the top of her head like broken strands. A reminder that he wouldn’t be there to see her grow into an old lady.

No, the Capitol took that right away from him. They made sure of that.

Fourty-eight fucking tributes. A death sentence. His predestined doomsday, or week, however the hell long he’d last in that bloodbath.

He’d been hounded with quick whispers of encouragement from a naive Gordy – who, bless his soul, at seven didn’t really know what the reaping was or what it would mean for Haymitch. If anything, Haymitch struggled to stomach looking at him for long periods of time. Where he sported a thick mess of wavy dark hair that curled slightly over his ears, Gordy had a curly mop of sandy hair on top of his head. He also had freckles – a star-shaped one under his left eye – and a brown splodge within his blue iris.

But Haymitch kind of hated his little brother in their last moments together. And then he hated himself for hating him in the first place, and his heart quickened when he remembered that in the last thirty seconds of blurred hysteria as he mumbled and blinked his way through a half-hearted conversation with his mother, that he didn’t even tell Gordy how much he loved him. Didn’t tell him that the front door had to be lifted up with his foot before it could be shut properly, or that Lorna leaves a rabbit on the back step each week expecting nothing but a quick doodle in return. Gordy couldn’t draw.

Not like Haymitch could.

And that was what was going through his mind when he felt a gentle, apprehensive hand cradle his bicep.

He hadn’t even realised that the heels of his palms had stuck themselves in his eye sockets, or that he’d fallen against a rickety table, his chest heaving and salty tears streaming down his face. In his haze of numbness and dissociation, he’d failed to recognise the door creaking open and the hurried, concerned footsteps of her boots crunch against the floor to reach him.

He’d never been a touchy person, but Lorna Harkner was, and when it came to her, he’d tolerate just about anything if it meant she’d be with him. In whatever way she wanted.

“Lor–” He gasped, his limbs locked in place as the pressure behind his eyeballs built up tremendously. He could see white worms in the darkness of his vision, and his elbows were digging into his thighs with such ferocity he knew there was no way he wouldn’t bruise. He’d hoped the pain in his thighs would distract him from the…everything, but it only seemed to amplify his confusion because the next thing he knew – for certain – was that her hands were everywhere.

A gentle tug on his wrist had his hands falling free from his eyes, and a soft push against his thighs had the backs of his legs scraping against the wooden floor, and a pleasant warmth blooming across his cheeks had his stinging eyes open a crack. She was blurry and there was an aura of green surrounding her as her fingers continued to lightly wipe away his tears.

Other than the raging tsunami of his heart hammering so painfully against his rubs; the panic that seemed to blaze every nerve in his body; the whirlwind of thoughts flying through his mind; the sudden desire to jump up off the floor and scream until his throat was raw; the heaviness of his eyelids; the hot tears still somehow leaking down his cheeks, he was still. So still Lorna paused her movements, her own bottom lip trembling as she fought not to break in front of him, and pressed two quick fingers to the inside of his wrist.

Through his frenzy, Haymitch felt his nose crinkle slightly as his cloudy eyes lazily dropped down to where she was touching his bare skin, “Did you just check my pulse?” He mumbled, brows going slack against his face as his eyelids half-closed.

He wanted to look at her – really look at her before time ran out, but it seemed his body had other plans. He was so tired.

“Yes.” She breathed, voice trembling.

“Why?” He blinked slowly, brows struggling to complete the furrow he was going for.

She swallowed, her fingers still pressed to his skin. The electrifying buzz that bubbled between them was somewhat hard to ignore. Haymitch revelled in it, holding his breath as he waited for her response.

“Because you stopped breathing.”

At this, the air locked in his lungs expelled, as if his body had just remembered what oxygen felt like, “I did?”

The blurry shape in front of him shifted slightly, and he could just make out the bounce of dark curls before she moved her hand away from his wrist, “You did.”

He caught a sniffle, and the next time he blinked, his vision cleared slightly. She wasn’t looking at him – that was the first thing he registered. The second thing was that her knee was pulled up under her chin, and clear droplets fell right onto the floor with the low angle her face was pointed. The silence between them almost made him forget why he was locked in that room in the first place.

At that moment, it was just Haymitch and Lorna. The girl he’d had his eye on since he was eight and only worked up the guts to talk to her not half a year ago.

She was his best friend.

And though he tried to deny it – that insatiable craving for her touch all the time – he liked her more than he should. And right now, even though he knew she was crying because of him, she was still the most beautiful person he’d ever seen. It was that paired with the knowledge that they were on a timer before she’d be ripped from him that sent a surge of courage through his entire body, the nerves at the tips of his fingers tingling as he reached a hand out to her.

He had nothing and everything to lose.

It was delicate, the way he lightly brushed her raven locks behind her ear to grab her attention, and it was delicate in the way she looked up at him, her eyes watery and bloodshot as she took in his equally dishevelled appearance. His blue shirt had been crumpled from the hands of his mother and brother, and his trouser legs had ruffled up his calves when he’d scrambled to the desk. Brunette locks hung in front of his eyes, highlighting his need for a haircut – and it stuck out at odd angles from when he must have run his hands through it. She could just make out the blonde strands shining in the sun, and wanted nothing more than to drag her hands through it and scope out how much of it would be left before he’d grow out of it.

It’d probably be dyed completely brown by the time he stepped into the arena.

His touch was featherlight as he traced her cheekbone, his eyelids heavy as his bottom lip wobbled once more.

She didn’t say anything, but gripped his wrist and relished in the warmth. She could feel his heart beating.

She could tell he needed the reassurance more than she did, and it was that thought that drove her forward and into his chest. Her arm wrapped around the back of his neck, hand just splaying over the hair that curled down his nape. Her other arm wrapped itself around his torso – lean. She could smell the musk aftershave that used to be his father’s clinging to his shirt, but it was the familiar waft of lavender that overpowered her senses.

He seemed to lean back against the table, dragging her with him, and in one swift motion, her head was on his shoulder and her body was draped across his lap. He brought one knee up, caging her in against his torso, and used one hand to smooth her hair down before pressing a quick kiss on her forehead and using the other hand to press her further into him.

They were quiet, every second tinged with morbid disdain.

“You’re smart.” She whispered, nudging his chin off the top of her head to look at him.

His blue eyes peered down at her – confusion evident.

“You’re intelligent, you need to use that.” She sat up, one leg swung around his waist and the other folded underneath her.

They’d barely poot a foot between them, but Haymitch was still uneasy with that.

“You think I’m intelligent?” His mouth dried up, and his cheeks flushed as he searched her face for any hint of a lie.

“No, I know you’re intelligent, that’s why—” She sighed – breath shaky, rolling her eyes, “You’re focusing on the wrong things here. What I’m trying to say is that your brain can get you further than you think. Use it. Please. Don’t make any rash decisions.”

He nodded, though she knew it was more for her own sake than his. Everyone knew that all sense went out of the window for the first few days – if you even made it that far.

“And find a knife, shelter, and try not to piss anyone off enough to make enemies before you’re thrown in there.”

“Of course.”

“Why aren’t you fighting back with me here?”

Haymitch looked down at her trembling hands, and the green ribbon on her wrist.

“Can I have that?” He asked, his own fingers automatically going to untie it before she could even answer.

She didn’t reply, just watched numbly as he untied it off her wrist and tied it back on his.

“Haymitch?”

“I’ve accepted my fate.” Was all he said, twisting his wrist to admire his handiwork.

Lorna tilted her head inquisitively, “You’ve given up already?”

He looked so utterly defeated, a stark contrast already to the state she previously found him in when she first entered the room.

“Accepting isn’t the same as giving up, Lor.”

“It is in there.”

He sighed, tongue darting out to wet his lips as he refrained from wanting to place both hands on the side of her head and just tug her into him for the rest of their time together. Was it so selfish of him to want to hold her when the end of his life was so near?

He didn’t think so. But he could read the room, and now wasn’t the right time to do such a thing when she was looking at him so devastatingly. Her lips seemed to be drawn into a frown, one that twitched as she wrestled to keep her emotions in check. Her brows were drawn together, creases on her forehead appearing as she blinked rapidly, looking to the ceiling to dispel the water gathering in her eyes.

He shook his head, unable to take it when she wasn’t looking at him. He had to memorise her as best as he could in the short time left.

He wasn’t entirely thinking straight when he encouraged her to look back at him by tapping the underneath of her chin and sitting up straighter. They were so close their noses bumped and he vaguely noticed the way her breath hitched in her chest for a millisecond when she realised it too, and he most certainly acted on sheer impulse when he wrapped his arms around her back and pulled her impossibly closer. So close that their chests bumped, so close that Lorna instinctively dipped her head down a little lower, and pressed a burning kiss against his cheek.

Then the other. Then against the bridge of his nose, his forehead, his chin, in between his eyebrows.

Until Haymitch couldn’t take it anymore and turned his head fractionally to the left and caught her.

He felt her inhale sharply, their lips slotting together so painfully perfectly. He took her by surprise, but she reacted quick enough. Quick enough to suggest that she’d been expecting him to do such a thing – that she’d drawn that reaction out of him on purpose.

One of her hands tentatively hovered in front of his face – he could see the shadow in his periphery – but she dropped it, almost as though she thought better of it, so he took the initiative to grab it and place it on the base of his neck, right where he felt it necessary. The way her fingers gently scraped the back of his neck up into his hair sent a shiver of excitement down his spine, and his jaw dropped in pleasant shock, their lips detaching.

It was over almost as quickly as it began.

He could feel his cheeks heat up as she slowly pulled away, though not too far. Her own cheeks were flushed and her eyes were wide.

He felt drunk on euphoria, and if he shut his eyes he knew he’d be able to feel the phantom touch of her on him again.

“Accepting my fate doesn’t mean I’ve given up,” he was breathless, but he still managed to convey the note of sincerity he wished to get across when he tilted his face up to hers, maintaining as much eye contact as he could, “It means that I know there’s nothing that I can do that will prevent me from being in there. It doesn’t mean I won’t fight like hell to get out.”

She crossed her arms, hand sliding off the back of his neck. He missed the warmth almost immediately after she removed it, “You’re good with knives.” She whispered.

“I know, Sunshine, I know. And I’ll—” he felt like a crazed man when he surged forward hungrily, hastily kissing her once more. He’d had a taste of her and now he couldn’t leave off. She was addictive and it killed him knowing he’d have to leave her so soon, “I’ll try and come back but I don’t want to make any promises I can’t keep.”

He felt her shake her head against his mouth as he pressed a hot kiss against her forehead, “This doesn’t feel real. Why did it have to be you?”

Haymitch pulled back, eyes scanning her green ones. His mind was stuck reciting the first part of what she just said, “What doesn’t feel real? Us?”

His heart hammered in his chest and he felt the sickening feeling of dread creep up the back of his throat. He was about to be sentenced to imminent death and he was worried about rejection. The idea of the hilarity of that was not lost on him at all.

“Us? I mean, I guess, but I meant The Games. It doesn’t feel real that you were picked. Out of everyone, it had to be you.”

Haymitch smiled bitterly at her words, his hand caressing the skin from her collarbone to her neck and then under her hair. Relief wasn’t the correct word to use to describe the way his body seemed to relax upon her confession, nor the way he melted into her touch when it was her that instigated their next kiss.

“It’s the Quarter Quell,” he breathed heavily, nudging his nose against her cheek, “double the tributes from each district significantly increases my chances at being picked.”

“I wish you weren’t such a hardheaded, miserable–”

“Sorry?”

“If you’d have told me you felt like this,” she gestured between them both, “then we could have been doing this much longer.”

“I’m not miserable–”

“Let’s not do this now.”

“When else are we going to do it?” His voice was sharp, and the mood instantaneously darkened.

A grey cloud hung over them, but they didn’t move away from each other or look away. Lorna’s gaze was full of sorrow, Haymitch’s equally as harrowing.

Something unspoken passed through them, and despite their rushed conversation and hurried movements, they chose to use the rest of their time to bask in each other’s presence. Haymitch was glad she didn’t continue giving him tips on how to survive. It gave him an opportunity to forget the horrors of what he was about to experience. He allowed himself to grasp onto the slither of hope she offered, that silent realisation that she’d be waiting for him if he ever made it back alive.

That was until multiple pairs of heavy footsteps were heard nearing the room, and Lorna scrambled to her feet, dragging him with her, before pulling him into a crushing hug so tight he could feel the ferocity of her heart pounding against her sternum through the material of her dress and his father’s shirt and he clutched her tighter, afraid to let her go and afraid to let his unadulterated terror consume him whole before he was reduced to a trembling mess.

When the door burst open she pressed one last chaste kiss to the side of his neck, before she was torn away.

She uttered her last words under her breath, but he caught them with ease, “Please try.”

He said nothing in return, but offered a short, sharp nod of his head as their hands were ripped apart. She was ushered out of the room without protest, but she caught his eye just before the door slammed shut in her face, locking them apart. Potentially forever.

He was terrified.

#haymitch abernathy x reader #haymitch abernathy imagine #haymitch abernathy oneshot #thg fic #the hunger games imagine #haymitch abernathy fic

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cursed-man-prayers · 2 years

Text

High Infidelity is about Miss Americana.

Notes before we begin: First, I can’t post screenshots from the doc bc Netflix, but I have pulled direct quotes and rewatched scenes over and over as I wrote this analysis. The more I watched, the more this theory made sense.

Second, while I obviously don’t know what Taylor Swift’s relationship with her dad is like, the clips in Miss American plus the song tolerate it are enough to convince me that he’s not/wouldn’t be accepting of Taylor being queer. There’s a reason she’s a mama’s girl. This is a Scott Swift hate account.

Let’s begin

Verse One

Lock broken,

A common interpretation of this lyric is the invasion of privacy that is someone reading your diary/journal. Having a locked diary is also something most common with young girls (only girls get privacy, sorry lads), and in Miss Americana, the first diary that Taylor shows in the first scene while she says the first words of the film is a diary that has a lock, and there’s also a closeup of another diary with a lock, as well as the words “bitch session.” There’s also the very common trope/reality of parents reading your diary. Speaking from personal experience, this can genuinely be traumatic, especially taking into consideration the next two words.

Slur Spoken

Seeing as Taylor is a white woman, I genuinely don’t know how else this can be interpreted besides a homophobic slur being spoken. $!u and b*!tch are derogatory, but that’s not the same thing as being a slur. Also, I’m not going to justify the “she’s talking about slurring words while drunk!!” interpretation bc that makes less sense than thinking the slur is “whore.” (I think the diary I mentioned that says “bitch session” is further proof that Taylor doesn’t consider ‘bitch’ to be a slur, even though she has called out the misogynistic way men use it in music.)

Wound open, game token

The person who is breaking this lock and speaking this slur and opening this wound is using Taylor’s pain as a means to get a prize. “You play stupid games you win stupid prizes” (MAATHBP), “You knew you won, so what’s the point of keeping score?” (hoax).

I didn't know you were keeping count

In the Man music video, during the tennis match, Scott Swift is playing the scorekeeper. This line is repeated multiple times in the song. The context of the repetition does change and develop throughout the song.

Rain soaking, blind hoping

I think this refers to the Lover era and how Taylor was not able to come out (specifically that video where she’s talking about ME! and looks sad as shit). I think it’s also a reference to Midnight Rain, rain being a metaphor for unexpected, unseen change, and also the isolation of staying hidden.

You said I was freeloading / I didn't know you were keeping count

As someone with a dad, I can confirm that this is very dad-coded. Like, I can’t think of a context in Taylor’s life where a romantic partner would’ve said this to her, especially considering how idk, rich and successful she’s been since she was a teenager? While I don’t think her dad would ever be justified in saying this to her either, it could be a reference to him throwing his role in her career in her face, the way we see in Miss Americana.

Chorus

This is where things come together in terms of being about Miss Americana.

High infidelity / Put on your records and regret me / I bent the truth too far tonight / I was dancing around, dancing around it

In order to produce a consumable product (the Lover journals) around her and her art, she had to dance around the full truth. The entries were meticulously chosen and most likely edited. In Miss Americana, the segment where she “comes out” as a democrat feels like it might’ve been a different kind of coming out story, especially when you factor in the creation of You Need To Calm Down. It comes across as extremely personal, and while there are multiple factors leading to the experience being emotionally charged for Taylor, I do think that her own queerness is one of those factors. The entire documentary feels like she’s dancing around a bent truth.

Put on your headphones and burn my city

Putting on headphones is shorthand for ignoring someone. “Burn my city” in the context of how Taylor equates her (former) lover with *a certain city* feels like an indication that the subject of the song did something to sabotage and burn down the relationship. I think this is a reference to how her career and the people controlling it (such as her father, but others as well) ruined the love she’s been singing about since reputation.

Your picket fence is sharp as knives

This also goes back to Midnight Rain (“my town was a wasteland, full of cages, full of fences”)

I was dancing around, dancing around it

Taylor has used dancing as a literary device throughout her discography. I believe it’s typically a metaphor for queerness.

Post Chorus

Do you really want to know where I was April 29th?

This goes back to the diaries from Miss Americana. This is Taylor being confronted about a journal entry from an April 29th where she wrote something gay. When *her dad* saw it, it led to a slur being spoken.

Do I really have to chart the constellations in his eyes?

This refers to the segment in Miss Americana that is allegedly all about Joe. Call It What You Want plays over a montage of videos filmed by an unseen lover. The only clip actually featuring Joe in the entire film is a single moment where Taylor and Joe look vaguely excited to see each other after one of the Rep shows. The way she wrote and sung this line makes it seem like charting constellations in some dude’s eyes is the last thing she wants to do.

Verse Two

Storm coming, good husband / Bad omen / Dragged my feet right down the aisle

This very much sounds like Taylor being forced to be romantically linked in a traditional, heterosexual way. The storm coming and bad omen are what led to her being pushed into this, likely the media storm that happened in 2016. It ties together the lines about pickets fences and how the rain referenced in the first verse is connected to Midnight Rain, because, as we learned with the very first track on Midnights, Taylor is not interested in 1950’s shit.

At the house lonely,

“To a house not a home all alone ‘cause nobody’s there,” Dear Reader

good money,

“the jokes weren’t funny, I took the money” from YOYOK is just one example of how the money comes at the cost of herself and who she is and her worth as a human being…

I'd pay if you'd just know me / Seemed like the right thing at the time

…but now she’s regretting paying that price, wishing that she could be truly known. It seemed like the right thing, but she’s realizing that it wasn’t. Alternatively, she regrets coming out to her and the price she now has to pay of knowing his love was conditional. She paid the price for being known. Also, during the clips that play during the segment allegedly about Joe, Taylor is singing Call It What You Want, specifically the lyric “At least I did one thing right” which is… devastating in this context. She also says:

But I wasn’t happy in the way that I was trained to be happy…It was happiness without anyone else’s input. It was just, we were happy.

Anyway she doesn’t seem happy anymore.

Pre Chorus

You know there's many different ways that you can kill the one you love / The slowest way is never loving them enough

This creates a strong connection to tolerate it. I feel like this lyric is the thesis of that song. Again, this is a very dad-coded lyric. It’s the slow realization that a parent’s love can be conditional. It’s like when a queer kid comes out and a parent says “I still love you, but…” There’s other contexts where that phrase could exist, but it’s an extremely common queer experience.

Do you really want to know where I was April 29th? / Do I really have to tell you how he brought me back to life?

I think this could refer to the narrative of Joe Alwyn being William Bowery (which is suspect at best and criminal at worst). She has to say that Joe helped her write devastating breakup songs like exile and champagne problems to keep up the narrative that they are in a VERY HAPPY relationship.

The next new lyric is in the third chorus and let’s just say I have thoughts about it.

Put on your records and regret meeting me

THIS LYRIC HAS BEEN DRIVING ME MAD FOR THREE MONTHS. In the other choruses she says “regret me,” but she changes it here to be “regret meeting me” in the last chorus. “Regret me” implies regretting the existence of Taylor Swift. It’s the people credited with kick-starting her career (such as her father!!!) putting on your records, a double-entendre for her albums + the awards and accolades she has earned for those albums. But! In this chorus! The lyric is! Regret meeting me! The promo for Midnights focused heavily on “meet me at midnight,” the concept that she would be showing who she really is with the album, so much so that people thought she might be coming out with this album. While I think this lyric is a reference to that narrative and the fear that her fans won’t get her or won’t like her after listening to Midnights, I also think it is about how her dad regrets learning who she really is, and how he therefore IGNORES IT by listening to the albums she wrote about me. This is the only lyric in the chorus that changes, and it’s seemingly such a small change, a single word added to the line, but that’s what makes it so massive. Because why would she change this lyric if not to completely change the meaning of the line? It’s drawing a distinction between regretting someone’s existence and regretting knowing the truth about them.

Oh, there's many different ways that you can kill the one you love

And it's never enough, it's never enough

I think the phrasing here implies that Taylor feels like she can never be good enough to earn the love she needs and deserves. This ties it, again, to the intro of Miss Americana where she’s going through her diaries and talks about how her main goal in life was to be a good girl.

Outro

The entire first chorus is repeated, and we have a new perspective.

You said I was freeloading

When it comes to this line specifically, I think it refers to the conversation about Taylor’s desire to speak publicly about politics, in which her dad throws in her face how he hired armored cars, essentially saying that she owes him something. It’s just phrased in an odd way and it makes everyone uncomfy.

I didn't know you were keeping count / But oh, you were keeping count

The repetition of the first chorus at the end of the song implies that this song is cyclical. It’s a loop that she’s trapped in. (If you put this song on repeat and turn up the crossfade, you can listen on a seamless loop). Tolerate It does the same thing. Repetition also draws attention to the lyrics while recontextualizing them. The last lyric (“but oh, you were keeping count”) is this acknowledgment that her relationship with this person was/is transactional.

What about the name of the song?

Okay, I’m convinced the only reason anyone would ever think this is a song about cheating is because of the title. Obviously, the primary definition of the word infidelity is cheating on a romantic or sexual partner. Nothing else in the song indicated cheating. SO. OBVIOUSLY. I GOOGLED. THE DEFINITION. TO SEE. WHAT. AN ALTERNATIVE. MIGHT. BE

unbelief in a particular religion, especially Christianity.

Jesus Fucking CHrist. Taylor Swift has called herself a Christian, and she has also written songs with overt religious themes, typically borrowing from Christianity specifically (Don’t Blame Me; False God; Would’ve, Could’ve, Should’ve; Soon You’ll Get Better). While I know that you can be queer and Christian, it is not unreasonable to conclude that coming out as queer to a conservative Christian (parent) would be considered a lack of belief in Christianity. Infidelity literally means “unfaithful.” To many people, Christianity and queerness are unreconcilable, to the point that they believe accepting yourself as queer can lead to you going to hell. While they won’t say this outloud, many Christians put “homosexuality” into a higher category of sin, meaning that being queer is HIGHLY UNCHRISTIAN, HIGHLY UNFAITHFUL, HIGH INFIDELITY.

One last thing. Miss Americana was released at midnight PST. Which is 3am EST. High Infidelity is a 3am track. So, yeah.

tl;dr

High Infidelity is about being considered unfaithful for being who you are. It’s about dying slowly because you are not loved (enough) for who you are. It’s about how the lies you’ve been forced to tell have forced you to be unfaithful to yourself. It’s about Miss Americana.

#gaylor #gaylor swift #taylor swift lyric analysis #high infidelity #midnights 3am edition #midnights #miss americana

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hazbinbossbrainrot · 8 months

Text

💖 Angel Dust 💖

VOs:

Michael Kovach (pilot)

Blake Roman (series)

Theme songs:

Canon:

AU:

Fave quote:

“IT’S NOT AN ACT!!! It's who I need to be. [Crosses arms to chest.] And this... [Gestures to the redlight street.] This is my escape! Where I can forget about it all! How much I hate... Everything. A place where I can get high, and not have to think about how much it hurts. And maybe... If I can ruin myself enough in the process, if I end up broken, I won't be his favorite toy anymore. And maybe he'll let me go...”

Basics:

True name: Anthony

Surname (AU): Romano-D'Amico

Birthday: 1st of April

Sex: Male

Year of Death: 1947

Cause of Death: Drug overdose (angel dust)

Sexuality: Gay

Age: 30s (biological)

Zodiac sign: Aries ♈️

Height: 8ft (including the heels he wears)

Nationality: Italian 🇮🇹

Bed type: Submissive

Species:

• Human being (formerly)

• Sinner Demon (jumping spider)

Style of speech: Slang

<> Accent(s):

<> New Yorker (standard)

<> Italian twang (when really emotional)

Occupation(s):

• Adult film star (pornography)

• Sex worker

• Drag queen

Other:

• Unnamed mafia (formerly 💀)

Likes:

• Husk (implied)

• Drugs

• Being abrasive

• Pranks

• Getting into scraps

• Cooking

• Flirting

• The colour pink

• Monetary gain

• Italian food

• Dancing (implied)

AU:

• Duets with Husk 🤭

• Pet names

<> Except for Whorebug (which is the only one he dislikes; most likely because that’s what Valentino calls him)

• Being called by his birth name

Dislikes:

• His feet

• Losing credibility

• Valentino’s abuse

• Memorising scripts

• Niffty getting into trouble

<> Niffty handling weapons

• Anyone pointing out his facade

<> Being called fake

• How expensive drugs & alcohol cost him

• Anyone else ending up like him

• Anyone discrediting his acting

• Charlie involving herself with Valentino’s affairs

• Forecast conditions

<> confirmed but not canonically shown yet ~ Viv stated that he doesn’t like weather the same way as a dog is scared of thunder

• Politics

AU:

• Being triggered when it comes to ownership of Angel & Husk’s (respective) “owners”

• Niffty being talked about (negatively)

• Kat’s life choices

<> Her occupation of being an exotic dancer (because it hits too close to home for Angel and wished she picked a more safer career)

<> Her doing drugs

<> Her rebellion

• Being called “kid” by Husk (considering technically Angel is older than him in Hell since he died first 🤣)

• People being ageist and vindictive about his relationship with Husk

Flaws:

• Agoraphobia (anxiety disorder)

<> PTSD

<> Panic disorder

<> Specific phobias

• Animotophobia (fear of emotions)

• Drug addict

• Victim of abuse (by Valentino)

<> Emotionally

<> Sexually (SA)

<> Mentally

<> Physically

• Neurotic

<> Particularly when really, really REALLY pissed off

• Alcoholic

• PTSD

<> Age regression (very common in people with PTSD)

• ADHD

• Self esteem issues (emotionally)

• Physical strength

• Low Frustrated Tolerance

• Self destructive

• Nymphomania (sex addict)

• Parasomnia

<> Night terrors

<> Insomnia

<> Sleep paralysis

<> Sexsomnia 🤣

• Borderline Personality Disorder (environmental)

Strengths:

• High alcohol tolerance

• Carnality

• Character growth (potentially)

<> To the point where Angel Dust may even drop his alias and just become “Anthony”

• Clean (drug-free)

• Physical attractiveness

Romantic interests:

Ex-boyfriend: Valentino (indirectly implied)

<> Definitely hinted at in the song “Poison” — obviously very early into the relationship before things went severely downhill

Husk (canonically implied)

AU/RP:

Stolas of the Ars Goetia (FWB / client)

Axel White (FWB / client)

Family:

Mother: Unnamed

Father: Henroin

(older) Brother: Arackniss

(fraternal) twin sister: Molly

Other (surrogate family):

(surrogate) Sister: Charlie Morningstar

(surrogate) Daughter: Niffty 😂

(surrogate) Daughter: Crymini (TBA)

Role-play (RP):

Husband: Husk 🤭

(surrogate) Sister: Snow Dust (OC)

(bio) Daughter 1#: Kat Dust (OC)

(Future) Daughter-in-law: T.J. Buckzo

(bio) Daughter 2#: Luster Dust (OC)

Aliases:

• Angie (by Cherri Bomb)

• Mi Amore (by Valentino 🤮)

<> Angel Cakes

• Whorebug (by Sir Pentious)

<> Spider

<> Striped Freak

• My Effeminate Fellow (by Alastor)

• Angel

• Slut (by Travis)

AU:

• Anthony (by Husk 🥰)

* Tony

* Ant

(Given the nickname because of how antsy Angel is and can be with his ADHD ~ also for the fact that it’s hilarious that he’s a spider only to be called another insect name)

<> Baby etc

<> Mama (affectionately)

<> Little Incubus

<> Loser (affectionately)

<> Baby doll / baby girl

• A.D. (by T.J., Snow Dust & Blitz)

• Papà (by Luster)

• Daddy (by Kat)

• Fratellino (by Arackniss)

Translation: “Little Brother”

<> Tony

• Romano-D’Amico (AU surname)

Affiliations:

• Hazbin Hotel (patron)

• Porn Studios (workplace)

• The Vee Tower (formerly residency)

<> Not confirmed but definitely implied in the music video “Poison” and “ADDICT”

Other:

• The Black Dot (1x04)

• Consent (1x06)

Friends:

• Charlie Morningstar

• Cherri Bomb (close friend)

• Niffty

• Husk (best friend — TBA)

<> Vivziepop has previously described Husk as Angel's "best friend" during later development streams for the pilot, suggesting that their relationship may be planned to greatly improve

Others:

• Fat Nuggets (pet)

Porn Studio employees (co-workers):

<> Dia

<> Summer

<> Kitty

<> Travis (client & director)

The Vees (acquainted):

<> Vox

<> Velvette

Hazbin Hotel employees (acquainted):

<> Alastor

<> Vaggie

• Sir Pentious (former enemy)

<> Egg Boiz (former enemies)

• Tiffany Titfucker (rival)

RP:

Axel (rival —> one sided)

Enemies:

• Valentino (boss, pimp, and owner)

• Sir Pentious (formerly)

• Exorcists

<> Adam

<> Lute

Abilities:

• Retractable set of arms

• Weapon proficiency

• Weather sensitivity

• Athleticism

• Cooking

• Bilingualism

<> Can speak one or two languages only; which is much different to multilingualism)

• Flexibility

Appearance & Personality:

Angel has a slender build and is the tallest of the main cast of characters. He is estimated to stand around 8 feet with his heels on.

His fur is white and he has a mop of fluffy white hair that extends from both the front and back of his head, with splotches of light-pink across it. He also has a distinctive and focal light-pink heart pattern on the back of his head. The light-pink outline of a heart also encircles his chest, the bottom point of which extends past his waistband and down to his crotch area.

His eyelids are light pink and the color extends up to his eyebrows, giving the effect of eyeshadow, and his lashes are dark and thick.

His irises are cerise pink. His right eye has a light yellow sclera, his left eye has a dark sclera. He has a wide mouth full of sharp, pointed teeth and possesses a single golden fang that sits slightly to his right of center, a feature he shares with his boss, Valentino. He has three cerise-pink dots under each of his eyes, which are intended to evoke freckles, although they are actually another set of smaller eyes.

One of Angel's most noticeable features is his prominent chest. The chest is actually composed entirely of fluffy fur, however, which Angel intentionally pushes up into a breast-like formation with his tightly pinned jacket for show.

Angel's everyday attire consists of a long light pink suit-blazer with horizontal white stripes down the length, reddish-grey miniskirt, and long reddish-grey thigh-high heeled boots, accessorized with a reddish-grey bowtie with a cerise pink center and a black choker. On his top set of arms he wears long cerise pink gloves with white detailing at the cuffs, on his bottom set of arms he wears long white gloves.

Though usually depicted with six limbs, Angel has a third retractable set of arms that he usually keeps hidden but can summon at will.

In background artwork seen in the pilot, Angel Dust's feet resemble those of a spider's.

How would you describe Angel Dust’s personality?

• Reckless

• Sexual (OTT)

• Sarcastic

• Sharp-witted

• Destructive

• Playful

• Vulgar

• Confident (excessive)

• Flippant

• Callous

• Cynical

<> Particularly about the idea of redemption however has a small hopeful part that it’s possible for him

As Anthony:

• Defensive

• Family orientated

• Shy

<> Through copping constant abuse from Valentino which would often make him nervous in his presence

• Hopeful

• Self assertive (outside the Porn Studios contract)

• Volatile

• Comedic (genuinely)

• Inferior

<> Seen when Charlie declared Sir Pentious as “official patron” at the Hazbin Hotel

• Attentive

<> Seen when Angel Dust rejected Cherri Bomb’s offered drugs after Husk mentioned about “undoing his progress”

• Protective

• Traumatised (via “Poison” at the end)

• Broken

Trivia:

• When it comes to physical contact Angel Dust always backs away (which is common in SA victims) seen with both Husk in “Masquerade” to bring him back to the hotel and Vaggie when throwing him off the building for a trust exercise

• The more Angel Dust (Anthony) gets upset the more his (New Yorker) accent gets thicker and automatically breaks out of his persona

• If Angel Dust hadn’t died at 30 years old he would have been around the same age as Husk if not somewhere between 12 years younger

<> However Angel is actually older than Husk down in Hell because he died first (which is kinda cool)

• Angel & Charlie have a “brother/sister” relationship (both Headcanon and implied but not confirmed)

• In a earlier draft of Angel’s character it appeared that when he blushed it showed on his upper body (face and chest area)

• Blake Roman (Angel Dust’s VA in the Hazbin Hotel series) is a huge Huskerdust fan

• Angel Dust’s birthday lands on April Fools Day (which explains he loves pranks so much 🤭)

• The name Anthony may come from the word "antonia", which means "priceless/praiseworthy and or beautiful".

<> His real name officially appears in the episode "Masquerade", signed on Valentino's soul contract.

• "Angel Dust" is Angel's chosen all-encompassing persona name, and one he uses exclusively in place of his actual name. It is intended as multipurpose for both his drag queen persona and his sex-work persona.[30] It is also a possible reference to his mode of death, a drug overdose.

* Whenever Angel is outside of work and doesn't feel the need to maintain his public persona, he prefers to dress in very cozy, comfortable, unsexualized clothing.

• In an earlier development stream, when asked if Angel is venomous, Vivziepop stated she did not think Angel was venomous due to being based on the jumping spider. However, she returns to this in a later stream, stating that Angel's bite may be venomous. But, that venom in Hell can't actually kill anyone, it just causes temporary pain or disfigurement and making them fall ill.

• During the gang war with Sir Pentious, when Angel's shadow is cast behind him, it appears much larger than him, with six arms and glowing red eyes. This implies that Angel can possibly transform into a larger form like other sinner demons.

References:

https://hazbinhotel.fandom.com/wiki/Angel_Dust

#SoundCloud #Spotify #angel dust #blake roman

19 notes · View notes

knifedancer · 11 months

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Hiccups (Part 2 of 2)

Tale of 'Hiccups' from Felix's POV.

Previous AO3 Link

~~~~~~~

Felix Graham de Vanily’s alarm went off at exactly 6:00am and he rose to greet the day with a stretch. He did his morning ablutions before heading to his closet to select his attire – his typical grey vest, dark dress slacks, and white long-sleeved shirt. He preferred a more monochrome palette as it gave him an air of authority and maturity. It helped that it also differentiated himself from his near identical cousin. Felix, the heir to the great Graham Films studio, had dealt with his fair share of grifters and manipulators even without – what did they call themselves again? Ah, yes…Adri-stans. He repressed a shudder as he tugged on a shirt cuff to straighten the sleeve.

He calmly went to the kitchen and retrieved his thermos of mint tea for the day. He basked in the quiet morning, the sound of a ticking grandfather clock’s metronome echoing against the mahogany walls was his only company. Felix preferred the quiet; enjoyed these little moments even if Paris was not where he would consider home. He missed the dreary atmosphere of London, which was perfect for curling up in a blanket in his reading nook to enjoy classic literature. Paris was far too warm, even with the autumn chill in the air. Nothing could compare to the warmth of his reading nook back home.

Once the driver had pulled around, Felix left the quiet house and slid into the backseat with a soft hum. He mentally prepared himself for another day at Francois Dupont. A school full of dullards, mountebanks, and potential exploiters. Not that he gave them any headway in discovering a weakness to take advantage of. He was a Graham de Vanily, they did not cave to pressure or manipulation. They were known for their self-discipline, self-restraint, and ruthlessness to those that tried to attack.

Years of would-be thimbleriggers disguising themselves as friends had resulted in impenetrable psychological walls of steel. While others thought he was condescending or disdainful, Felix viewed himself as the epitome of cool composure. His indifferent and haughty demeanor earned him the nickname of Ice King among those that considered themselves his peers. He was happily homeschooled until their move to Paris. Once settled, his mother had insisted that he should have the same public schooling experience as his cousin and, if possible, repair the rift between them. They were family after all.

The car arrived at the collège and he alighted with a swift nod in thanks to the driver. Heading into the still quiet school, Felix sighed inaudibly as he thought of the unfortunate event that occurred only a few months prior. His callous attitude only became worse when his father died of cancer. He had expected Adrien, a scion of the Graham de Vanily tree, to be supportive but was met with silence. He knew now that it was Gabriel’s fault, but Felix had felt abandoned in his time of need. A weakness like that would not be tolerated. He admitted now that his stunt had been cruel but only apologized to his cousin for acting out. Adrien’s supposed friends that were akumatized did not deserve an apology. They could not even tell their friend from a stranger! Little did he know that he would be stuck with them for however long his mother decided to entertain this schooling idea…

The only other person Felix would deign to apologize was Ladybug for his atrocious behavior towards her. From what he had seen online, she received enough unwanted advances from her own cat partner and did not need his ridiculous actions heaped onto that. Not that Felix had the chance to do so. It’s not as if the heroine of Paris had published her contact information! ‘Unlike Batman, she is not summoned by a spotlight with a bug on it,’ he thought with a chuckle. Plus she was professional and no nonsense during the akuma battles, which Felix respected. He could count the number of people he truly respected on one hand…in fact one of them, begrudgingly and unexpectedly, was in this very school.

He had entered Bustier’s classroom and sat at his desk, pulling out a book to look as if he were reading while other students filtered in slowly. He let his mind wander to the only other person at this school he could respect, not that Felix would admit it to anyone but himself. Who could this person be? Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Sure, he had seen that ridiculous confession video and mocked her, chalking her up to simply be yet another Adri-stan. He had scoffed at the thought that this wisp of a girl was class representative and presumed French schools had lower qualifications. From Adrien’s descriptions of her, she was clumsy, weak, and lacked confidence. Felix would crush her like a bug under his shoe if she tried to wheedle herself into his good graces.

However, Dupain-Cheng proved to be more than he expected…

~~Flashback~~

Madam Bustier beckoned him into the classroom, motioning for him to speak to the class. “My name is Felix Graham de Vanily, cousin to Adrien Agreste, and I’m not your friend. Do not flatter yourselves into thinking I will stoop to your level,” he introduced. He could see his cousin wince at his words and recognized a couple students that had been part of the incident as they began to protest his inclusion. The rest were making faces with varying degrees of anger or shock, except for two students. One was a sausage haired girl in the back that looked entirely too pleased and the other was a familiar dark-haired girl in the second row who seemed to be trying to plaster a polite smile on to her face.

Their teacher’s smile became tight and forced, “Marinette, would you please make sure that Felix is caught up on the notes and give him a tour of the school?” The dark haired, pigtailed girl stammered a bit but was cut off by the teacher before she could form a response, “Great! Felix, Marinette is our class rep and will make sure to take good care of you! Please take the empty seat behind her. Now class, if you will take out the reading…” Felix took his seat and settled in with a small, resigned sigh.

At first break, the bluenette girl met him at the door with an unreadable expression. “Welcome to Francois Dupont, Felix. I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng, but please call me Marinette. If you will follow me this wa—”

“You look familiar. Where have I seen you before?” Felix interrupted.

The girl smiled to hide a grimace, “I’m sorry, we have not met before. Now, if you would proceed this way, I would be happy to show—"

“Ah, I remember now! You’re the ‘I love you’ girl from the video,” he scoffed rudely. “Pathetic.”

Dupain-Cheng’s shoulders caved forward a bit, as if she were sinking in on herself. “You…you saw that?”

“Pfft, of course. I deleted it off my naïve cousin’s phone. He doesn’t need some gold-digging charlatan or super fan pretending to be in love with him.” Felix replied as he nonchalantly looked around, not noticing as the girl straightened and whirled around to face him until a finger was rudely jabbed into his chest. He followed the pale limb up until he met the eyes of the furious Franco-Chinese girl at the other end.

“Excuse me? I am not a gold digger, a charlatan, nor one of his crazed fans!” The offending appendage prodded his sternum to accentuate every word. The last had been strong enough to force him to take a single step back. Interesting.

“Really? I highly doubt that. Girls like you are just after fame and fortune. I’ve seen it a million times!” Felix rolled his eyes. “Don’t even bother to try to be nice to me in an effort to get to him or to be noticed by Gabriel.”

“For your information,” Dupain-Cheng stated blandly, crossing her arms and stuck a hip out in a defiant stance, “I don’t need your help. My parents are the best bakers in all of Paris, they do business with plenty of powerful people. And, before you even accuse me of using my parents for clout, I’d like to happily point out that I don’t need them to gain notoriety. I’ve won contests and praise from Gabriel Agreste and Audrey Bourgeois for my own designs. I get commissioned by celebrities for my skills on a regular basis. I don’t need to be nice to you to gain anything. I’m trying to be civil because I want to be, even if you don’t deserve it for what you pulled with Adrien’s friends. Not everyone is out to get something from you, Felix.” She took a deep breath and shook her head, her shoulders relaxed, and her voice returned to a pleasant tone but her eyes commanded his compliance. “We only have a few minutes left, let’s do this tour and then we can pretend this never happened.”

Felix watched as she spun on her heel and started the tour in earnest, gesturing towards various features of the school while giving a concise run down of services provided. He blinked a few times and followed. ‘Seems there’s some temerity hidden beneath the cloying exterior,’ a small smirk appeared on his face at the thought. ‘Perhaps school will be less banal than I anticipated.’

~~ End Flashback ~~

They had had several intellectual skirmishes since that first encounter and each time he would provoke her until she volleyed impertinent repartee back at him. She was not intimidated by him or his family name and it left him feeling a little thrill as she always seemed to have a biting retort at the ready. Not only had Dupain-Cheng proven to have stronger character than he expected but she was a competent leader and retained one of the highest GPAs in their grade level. From the few stolen glances at her designs, she was talented as well. The only things he could still criticize was her tardiness, clumsy nature, and lingering crush on his cousin that made her a stuttering mess with only a glance.

Felix pretended to turn the page while he glanced toward Dupain-Cheng’s empty seat. It seemed the tardiness was not going to be resolved today… Just then, the exhausted looking girl in question ran into the room and took her seat as the bell rang. As the substitute teacher started calling attendance, Dupain-Cheng made a loud hiccup that echoed through the room. Felix frowned while he watched her slump into her seat. The rest of the class simply laughed at her antics. He rolled his eyes, ‘at least it’s just hiccups. They should go away soon enough.’

Except the hiccups did not seem to be the common kind normal people had. They seemed to be incessant and frequent. Of course Dupain-Cheng would have the most annoying, over-the-top peculiarity! Each hiccup felt like someone was grating on his nerves; the sound becoming the equivalent of nails on a chalkboard in his mind. As the day progressed, Felix witnessed their classmates betting on and implementing multiple attempts to scare the girl’s hiccups away. At first he found the whole affair hilarious as he expected the class representative to wear down until she would snap and reveal some of that impertinent wit she kept well hidden. Much to his consternation, Dupain-Cheng seemed to take it in stride with a polite smile and dogged yet affectionate look at their attempts. For Felix, however, the commotion their classmates created had the opposite effect: it only increased his ire. Not wanting to attract an akuma, he retreated into the quiet library at lunch to calm his temper. ‘Just a few more class periods,’ he thought wearily, ‘I can persevere through the end of the day.’

Unfortunately for Felix, the hiccups from Dupain-Cheng only continued after lunch and quickly wore down his waning patience. He was ready to snap at her during Literature when her hiccups repeatedly distracted him from his book, he barely managed to smooth out the angry scowl he directed her way before he said something too harsh. He just had to remind himself that these hiccups were ultimately not her fault. She was not doing it with the express purpose of driving him mad. Felix focused on the words of Jane Austen’s Pride & Prejudice, once again set himself to the task of ignoring the girl while she huffed in her seat.

At least he tried to do so until free period, when every other student in the class seemed to crowd around and make even more noise than before. Felix nearly ripped the book in half in frustration. They were making Dupain-Cheng do the most ridiculous exercises and tasks in an effort to find a cure for what was ailing her. Was she really standing on her head and drinking water? Lê Chiến even tried to suggest running a marathon! Even Felix was slightly concerned when she tried to hold her breath and nearly fainted, catching herself on the edge of the desk before she could split her head open. Seemed these “cures” were hindering more than helping. It wasn’t until she spilled water on her shirt that she was able to get them to stop. She left during the afternoon break and he basked in the hiccup-less classroom for a moment, for once not minding the usual background chatter of Rossi and Bourgeois. Dupain-Cheng returned right before the bell rang and Felix gripped his pen with each hiccup, his eyebrow visibly ticking with irritation.

~~ Fast forward to the end of school ~~

The final bell rang, Felix delayed his departure in hopes that Dupain-Cheng would leave the school grounds before he needed to meet his driver out front. He held on to his patience and composure by a mere thread. It would not reflect well on his family if he were to overreact or attack the girl in front of the rest of the school for nothing more than a simple annoyance. It was just not done; he was a Graham de Vanily. He finished off the last of his mint tea before replacing the empty thermos in his bag. Taking a deep breath, he exited the classroom and was relieved to not see a pair of dark pigtails anywhere in sight.

Felix walked past Césaire, Lahiffe, and his cousin as they chatted about the Ladyblog. Truly, he could not fathom why his cousin wanted to be friends with these simpletons. As he had already completed his homework at lunch, he did not need to exchange books but he did want to place his borrowed novel into his locker so he could return it in the morning when the library reopened. As he was about to head out, he was disturbed once again by a hiccup and then a soft curse. Felix came around the corner to witness the bane of his existence stuffing a book back into her locker while still hiccupping.

Felix slid closer to Dupain-Cheng as she sleepily shuffled books in her bag and crinkled her brow. He decided to mess with her a little as she had unwittingly vexed him all day. His heart rate sped up; perhaps he could exasperate the girl enough to verbally spar! He slowly stalked towards his prey, keeping his footfalls as silent as possible. ‘What had Adrien called that move from the anime he forced me to watch? Ah, yes, the kabedon maneuver. Let’s see if this will rattle those hiccups out of her.’ He slammed her locker shut with his right hand and watched as she jumped back with no further reaction than a hiccup. He smoothly boxed her in with his body and leaned into her personal space. Surrounding noises seemed to drop down to a dull buzz from their close proximity, like distant cicada songs in summer.

“Your hiccups have been interrupting my peace of mind all day, Miss Dupain-Cheng,” he dropped his voice down low enough so that others would not overhear. With his right hand still firmly planted against the lockers, he lifted her chin with the tips of the fingers from his left. He was close enough to see the tiny smattering of freckles that graced the bridge of her nose and seemed to dance charmingly across her cheekbones. Felix stared into her bluebell eyes, noting for the first time that she had a slightly darker limbal ring around the iris and little flecks that sparkled like silver in the afternoon light. He would bet they would twinkle like stars when she laughed. Her long, curved eyelashes were as dark as her hair and her bone structure was delicate. Dupain-Cheng may not be a refined beauty like his mother, but he would concede that she was beautiful enough to tempt a lesser man. He murmured teasingly, “perhaps there might be one solution you have not yet tried.”

Felix’s gaze flickered to her lips to hint at his meaning, looking deeply into her eyes with the expectation that she would scoff and shove him away at any second. Dupain-Cheng’s breathing seemed to hitch with the smallest, cutest hiccup she had made all day. He watched as unreadable thoughts seemed to flicker through her eyes before she truly did something unexpected: her eyes closed in assent. ‘Is she… Is she calling my bluff?’ Felix wondered with mild dismay. ‘Or perhaps she wishes to make my dear cousin jealous of a little kiss?’ His lips stretched into a small, conspiratorial smile at the thought. ‘Either way, I’m not one to back down from a challenge!’

He leaned in and, for a fleeting second, her warm breath brushed against his face and wrist. With it came the scent of something irresistibly sweet. He felt the tingling sensation of gooseflesh running down his clothed forearm as the very air around them seemed to still with anticipation. With one last push he closed the gap between their lips and Felix felt a jolt of electricity through his whole body. Reality fell away and all that remained was the two of them in this moment. Felix’s whole world seemed to narrow to the girl in front of him, as if he were a compass centering on true north. Dupain-Cheng’s lips were softer than rose petals and the sweet scent seemed to overflow all his senses. It spurred a warmth that seemed to grow within his chest until it enveloped his entire being. It was as if his whole body was wrapped in a cozy blanket. He felt the overwhelming need to bury himself in this feeling!

Felix gave up all pretext of composure and pushed forward with a whisper of a moan, unable to resist seeking out that inexplicable feeling. His lips teased hers as if nibbling on a treat until his teeth raked across her bottom lip. She gasped into his mouth and he swallowed it eagerly, tasting something that was so indisputably her along with the sweet, beguiling scent that was driving him crazy. Felix supped on her lips like a starving man; savoring her like an exotic tea made of the most fragrant flowers. His hand slipped down her jaw to cup her cheek while his arms begged to pull her against him, to give in to this magnetism he felt deep in his bones that pulled him towards Dupain-Cheng. He would wager his entire family fortune that her slender figure would conform to his own, like two neighboring puzzle pieces. He wanted more…

Just as he was about to seek out the tantalizing taste of her mouth, a scandalized noise from the periphery startled him into releasing her. Felix watched as she slowly opened her eyes, noted that they had darkened into the color of the stormy sea and the silver specks flashed like lightning. Oh, how he wanted to drown in their depths! His lips and skin tingled from where he had touched her, as if lingering electricity was arcing between them. His tongue darted out to lick his bottom lip, tasting the residual sweetness captured there. “You taste like strawberries…,” he murmured absentmindedly, not realizing he had said it out loud.

Suddenly the bubble around them burst and he was thrust back into the present. A present where Felix was kissing Dupain-Cheng against the lockers of their school, surrounded by classmates witnessing his complete loss of composure. He quickly slammed down the walls around his heart that had crumbled like sandcastles at high tide. He wrapped himself back up in the supercilious armor that he donned each day to protect against those that sought out any weakness to exploit. He would be damned if any member of the cacophony around them would use the girl as a tool against him.

However, through the whooping and catcalls of the crowd around them, he realized one sound was silent…

Felix pushed away from the locker with great reluctance and stood straight. He addressed the stunned Dupain-Cheng with a satisfied yet mocking smirk. He forced his voice back into his usual haughty tone, tamping down on the trembling of his insides. “Seems your hiccups are gone, mademoiselle. I would appreciate if you would refrain from causing such a disturbance with your hiccups in the future.” He gripped his bag strap with the still tingling fingers, hoping that his classmates would not notice the way his knuckles turned white with the strength of his grasp. Felix then nodded his head towards her and walked away, forcing himself not to look back. He adopted his usual unaffected air, though everything inside him seemed to protest against the expanding distance between them. He just had to hold it together until he could get to the car.

He watched as Césaire glared at him and roughly bumped into his shoulder before running toward Dupain-Cheng, followed by a concerned looking Lahiffe. He broached the doorway to find Adrien in a bewildered state, a mixture of emotions flittering through his eyes. ‘Seems my dear cousin may be conflicted about his dear friend,’ he scoffed under his breath at the thought. ‘I wonder if his girlfriend, Tsurugi, has anything to worry about now.’ Felix hurried down the front steps and into the safety of his family’s awaiting car.

Back in the locker room, a dazed but now fully awakened Marinette rose from the floor with help from her friends. She murmured her thanks distractedly. Ignoring the excited questions and concerned looks of her peers, she evaluated Felix’s reaction to their kiss and wondered if he had felt even a fraction of what she had. Instinctually she followed the pull that led her out to the front of the school just in time to see Felix’s car depart. Only the small bug kwami saw the mischievous light and the steely resolve in her chosen’s eyes as she watched the car leave her line of sight. However, in the recesses of Adrien’s bag, Plagg sensed chaotic energy and shivered with anticipation…

~~ BONUS SCENE ~~

Having to fight an akuma after the incident at school was predictable, so predictable that Marinette transformed in an alleyway nearby before going home. Lila had stomped off with a screech and false tears, muttering something about Hawkmoth. ‘I swear Lie-la is working with Hawkmoth, I just don’t have the evidence to prove it!’ Ladybug thought as she swung along the rooftops in a faux patrol. There was a loud bang and a familiar screech that announced the appearance of Lila’s newest akumatization mere moments before the akuma alert notification popped up on her yo-yo.

Within a few minutes, a distracted Chat Noir had arrived and they were scoping out the area to make a plan. The Embarrassator was an odd opponent. Her outfit seemed to be luchador-esque but she had gained nothing of semblance to a wrestler’s physique. She was seeking out people on the streets, whom she would hit with a ray from a ring on her finger and bring to life their most embarrassing fears. Some felt especially targeted. Ladybug watched as Alya was hit with a ray, transforming her into a fumbling mess that increasingly tripped over her words as she tried to gain information about the akuma. This was obviously linked to Alya’s desire to be a great reporter but what was up with that outfit? Gone were her typical flannel and pants, replaced by a neon green and lavender tux with tails. She looked like a knock-off Riddler from discount comic books!

“Where is Marinette?!” The Embarrassator demanded. “I want to make her suffer!” Chat seemed to stiffen at the akuma’s words, a fiercely protective look in his eyes. She could swear she heard a faint growl come from his throat but was too far from him to be sure.

Ladybug and Chat were heading to their planned positions when a flash of familiar blond hair caught her eye. There was Felix running from the akuma! Her heart rate sped up as she watched him lose ground, mere centimeters from The Embarrassator’s clutches. She changed trajectory and swung down to intercept him, grabbing him just before he hit the ground mid-fall and launching them back into the air until they were a safe distance away. It was not until she set him on his feet that she took in his appearance while he muttered his thanks. Felix’s hair and face were windblown, giving him a tousled bedhead look, but his normal attire was transformed into an orange and hot pink jumpsuit. And…were those clown shoes?

“Did the akuma do this to you?” she asked with a smirk, barely restraining laughter while gesturing to his whole person.

“Yes, and the – HIC! – these dreaded – HIC! HIC! – hiccups!” Felix managed to get out.

‘It seems my hiccups were inadvertently contagious…,’ the heroine mockingly thought to herself. She heard Chat land softly a few meters behind her, likely due to her sudden departure from the plan. He must have finally seen Felix’s appearance because she could hear Chat snicker.

“You try – HIC! – getting hit – HIC! – by that damned – HIC! HIC! – akuma!” Felix yelled angrily, causing Chat to break out into loud guffaws that brought him to tears. Ladybug could see a shift in Felix’s eyes from embarrassed to displeased. She knew now would be the perfect time to get him back for earlier. Before he could bolt, she slammed her hand down onto the plaster of the chimney he was leaned against and boxed him in with her body. He seemed to jump in shock at her sudden actions.

He pressed himself back as he glanced towards her planted hand with a hard swallow, she used her yo-yo to tilt his face back towards her and meet her eyes. Ladybug leaned in and captured his lips in a heated kiss, pouring into it every emotion and sensation she had felt at the end of school. She vaguely heard Chat’s shocked “My Lady!” but she pressed on, devouring his lips with the same ardor that he had shown her in the locker room. Before the prickly boy could respond in kind, she broke away and watched as Felix dazedly chased after her lips. The rooftop was so silent, you could probably hear a pin drop.

“Just returning the favor, monsieur,” she murmured playfully with a confident smirk.

“I… what…” Felix seemed to stumble over his thoughts. She turned and sashayed over to the stunned Chat, bumping his shoulder to help him recalibrate his thoughts. It was time to get back to business. She nodded her head towards an explosion and screams in the distance. Ladybug glanced over her shoulder with a sultry smile and gave a two-fingered salute before launching herself away, leaving behind two confused teenage boys listening to her cry of “bug out!”

A few rooftops away stood a lone figure in blue and white, sipping her to-go cup of cappuccino. She stuck to the shadows to remain unseen by mini-bug and baby-cat; the less they knew about her mission, the better. Her long ears twitched as she watched Felix Graham de Vanily stumble a bit on the fire escape and mutter to himself as he walked away with a red face. The future hero glanced down at her pocket watch with a wicked grin. “Looks like this timeline is on the correct path again. The probability of Risk has been neutralized.” She called for her burrow and disappeared through the time portal. Bunnyx knew from personal experience that it would not be until much later that evening, after the akuma had been purified, that Tikki would remind her chosen that she was not Marinette when she kissed Felix on that rooftop.

The subsequent freak out could be heard for a two kilometer radius…

~Author's Notes: In the bonus, Risk is in reference to the akuma in the episode 'Risk', where Felix steals/trades the Miraculous to Hawkmoth.

I blame Pamela Aiden's Fitzwilliam Darcy, Gentleman trilogy for inspiring me to write a different POV for this. I wanted to play around with some cannon divergence and give insight into the mind of our favorite grumpy blond boy. Really tried to channel his attitude and superiority to change the tone of the writing. I also wanted to show just how much kissing Marinette wrecked him. I hope you enjoyed it.

PS: This was actually my first ever attempt at fanfiction writing. It caused me to write all the others I've since posted here.

TAG REQUEST: @babylovebug18

31 notes · View notes

romanceyourdemons · 5 months

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i really enjoyed coffy (1973), pam grier’s rightfully renowned revenge extraordinaire. relative to shaft (1971), which shows black people triumphing by earning respect and solidarity from white people, and sweet sweetback’s baadasssss song (1971), which shows its black protagonist becoming utterly disillusioned by the violent white-controlled system and leaving it at all costs to fight against it, this film is thematically much more in the vein of the latter, although its political statements are nowhere near as radical and its visual and narrative sensibilities are closer to those of the former. the film depicts a respectable black nurse who assists a respectable black doctor, is in a committed relationship with a respectable black politician, and has a close friendship with a respectable black cop. and yet their respectability and success cannot keep them far separated from the crime and addiction ridden world they left. as the eponymous coffy descends into a spree of vengeance in retaliation for her child sister being pushed into drug addiction, she finds that the exploitative system of the drug and sex trade—and the corrupt police and politicians who choose profit over reform—is full of people who choose to turn against those they should experience solidarity with and punch down to ingratiate themselves with the ones punching down on them. abused sex workers abuse each other for a chance at the relatively protected of unstable position of the pimp’s personal sex toy; the black pimp sacrifices and sells out in the hopes that the italian mafia boss taking over operations will tolerate him, only to find himself lynched at the first opportunity. coffy’s old flame, the good cop, refuses to take part in this system and gets beaten most of the way to death as punishment. her current boyfriend, by contrast, both literally and metaphorically gets into bed with whiteness to boost his political career, using the black people he speaks of as his brothers and sisters while acting directly against their interests in favor of his own. as in sweet sweetback (1971), coffy finds that in light of this knowledge she cannot remain in her safe and respectable life, and is compelled to abandon it in order to take direct action against the system, from street-corner drug seller to congressman. as an exploitation film, of course, the film also glamorizes that which it nominally criticizes, especially the suave pimp and his nubile, homoerotic whores (a setup iconic to the genre, despite the narrative’s insistence that the arrangement is cruel and unsustainable). but pam grier’s intense performance and the layered, driving narrative make coffy (1973) a truly engaging and compelling film, one that i would highly recommend

#ryddles

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lost-technology · 1 year

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I really don't like it when I browse a fandom-space, tags on tumblr or wherever and I see people dumping on any of the Trigun media. You know, the whole "My favorite part of the franchise is better, so this other part of the franchise sucks." (It's been like that for years, actually... I remember digging in my heels on my love for the '98 anime back in the day when I ran into some manga!only! snobs - despite absolutely loving the manga). We all have our favorite things, I just get a bit annoyed when people think expressing their affection has to come with a side of snide at something else adjacent to it. For instance, I recently re-watched Badlands Rumble after several years and found out - "Hey, I actually like this / still like this!" (I think people see BR as the black sheep of the franchise because Vash does his "fake perv / stupid annoyance act" a little too over the top in it and because its plot is simple and doesn't have any bearing on the rest of the narrative. (Which was actually the point of the movie - something non-lore heavy to bring in random new fans). And I see some people new to the fandom because of Stampede who don't like the '98 anime so well. It seems like everyone loves the manga, though, so there's at least that. (As well they SHOULD, the manga is awesome). Anyway, the Trigun franchise has core unifying themes and characters, but much like "the film of the book" or "the reboot of the old show" or "pick a Legend of Zelda game out of order in the canonically fucked up chronology" they're all fairly different. And people might just hardcore prefer one in particular over all others. And that's fine. My thoughts as an inveterate fan: I feel like Trigun Stampede is just so *different* from the 1998 anime that people brand new to the fandom coming in because of it might not actually vibe with the old anime. It draws more from the manga - has more of the serious and dark manga-vibe (and Orange's modern tech really allows those frenzied gun-battles that Nightow liked to draw that some of us COULDN'T EVEN FOLLOW without reading about 10 times to shine). But... the manga is black and white and also very long and also really goes off the rails in places. I feel like the different versions of the story take different tolerances: 1998 anime - Tolerance of a lot of goofy. I've been rewatching parts of it recently for fanart purposes and have been "Wow, sometimes I forget how FUNNY this show is!" You also have to have a tolerance for the goofy turning into the serious as the story goes on. Manga / Maximum - Tolerance for mood whiplashes (light to dark, often more dramatic than the first anime). Tolerance for (black and white) blood and a lot of it. Tolerance for the Western wending its way into deep science fiction lore / genre shift. Tolerance for "sometimes you aren't going to understand these 10-12 pages of straight action scene, just re-read it, honey." Stampede - Tolerance for sadness and brooding. It starts with some goofy, but quickly turns to the Holy Shit Quotient that the manga took a little time to introduce and poor babygirl Vash has such an obvious depression in this that he hurts to look at. Stampede = Trigun: The Emo Version. (I absolutely love, it, though - I'm allowed to rib it). So, you know, I can see if a given person has a particular attachment / came in with one version that they might not quite "get" the others. To love them all is a gift.

#trigun #trigun maximum #trigun stampede #trigun analysis #editing because as I was typing this my laptop ate some of my type #working with a very sensitive new laptop right now that acts like a cat if you touch it wrong

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seelix-blog · 1 year

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So, I've been thinking a lot about the Met Gala and the folks who are mad at everyone who showed up and I realized that there's a context that a lot of folks are missing: Skipping the Met Gala for people in fashion, music, art films, and other related fields is like skipping your biggest professional conference of the year and personally spitting in the face of your most powerful colleague (even if they're a complete nightmare like Anna Wintour). Only people of a certain status can do it - the Zendayas and Blake Livelys of the world. For a lot of the people who did show up - particularly the ones with various marginalized identities, they can't skip it and still have professional success. Because if Anna Wintour perceives a slight against herself and her precious empire, she will burn your shit entirely to the ground. Now, Kim K and the Jenners, etc? They could skip it! It would be a huge thing, and probably temporarily harm their invites to things, but they could do it! They made a choice to be there and I am absolutely side eying that choice. But there just aren't that many people with the personal power to go toe to toe with Anna Wintour and not have their entire careers ruined. Even someone like Janelle Monae can't really skip it. They're fairly newly out as a Queer Black Femme in a world that hates all three of those identities. And they've been very, very vocal about the choices they've had to make in their career to balance "career" with "personal truth". Janelle's career *needs* the good grace of Vogue. Overly online nerds know them and would die for them. But while they're very respected in their niche, they can't do what they do of fostering community and professional support of up and coming young Black femmes without playing along with the big players. Janelle is truly carrying the legacy of Prince forward, and knows the choices they need to make to do that. I would put Jenna Ortega in the same category, as well as Harvey Guillen. Lizzo absolutely could skip. But at the end of the day, Lizzo being there in her fat, Black, fucking gorgeous joy, eating fries in a kitchen is a bigger fuck you to Lagerfeld, Wintour, and the entire fashion industrial complex than her absence would have been In summary: Activism and ethics in this capitalist hellscape are hard and there are sliding scales to all of the choices we make. If you've ever sat through dinner during your work conference's keynote, trying to ignore the creepy well-known colleague who keeps rubbing his leg against yours while also holding a conversation with his buddy, who you need to tolerate in order to get a job, you know exactly how hard they are. But fuck the rich white ladies who showed up with "KARL" on their skirts like someone had a Cricut and too much time on their hands. They know what they're doing, and they're part of the problem. Go ahead and roast them to hell and back. I'll bring the marshmallows.

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gronzen · 1 month

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Diary of a Hungry Hunter: Gobul

"I'm not one to eat monsters, but I guess I'm not one to write in diaries either, so here we are. I was recently on a mission to a small village; they had trouble with a too-clever Gobul that had learned to wait for fishing boats to get a good haul then swallow the full nets whole. While nobody had died, they weren't waiting around until someone did, and thus I arrived on the scene. With a frog lure I was able to bring it ashore and slayed it, and bringing it back to the town I discovered why the mission was purely to slay it: they wanted to eat it.

Evidently this one Gobul would be more than enough to make up for all the fish they lost, and they invited me to join. It's not like had any pressing quests, plus I heard tale of Gobul being a… not delicacy, but at least having fans, so I figured why not. The first step you need to do is get salt. You might be thinking "no duh, every recipe needs salt."

No. Get as much salt as you have in the house.

Gobul skin has a natural film to it that you need to get rid of by vigorously rubbing and drying out with salt. From there you need to further dry out the meat: normally you'd do this by leaving cuts on a drying tray in your icebox for a day or so, but being a wetland village they had a small building made of waterproof hides with a special burner inside for this, and the process was done practically overnight. It was interesting to see the giant white cuts of meat shrink so much. According to the chief they'd normally season and smoke the tail and fins (legs?), but people were much too hungry to wait. The limbs were dredged in flour and spices and fried, but I was given the honor of a personal hotpot.

The bowl of broth was made using local plants, but also the Gobul's whiskers for a sort of bone broth, though I think it's mostly just muscle and cartilage? I was also given some fillets, some skin strips, a few blue mushrooms, and snakebee larva. Apparently these are all "health" ingredients, felt like I couldn't refuse either because they were sharing some of their needed food with me. Most of what I had went into the pot, but they told me to try boiling some and then dipping it in a sauce made from the local plants.

I decided to just get it out of the way and try the snakebee larva first, see what the goldenfish loved about it. I am sorry to report: I cannot say it was bad. By itself it was almost like biting into a glob of fatty honey, only enhanced by dipping it in the citrusy sauce. I guess the larva are mostly fed on honey and they aren't fully formed? I tried the skin next, and it was... okay. It wasn't as tough as I expected, which was nice, it actually tasted very fatty without the typical chewiness I expect out of fat, practically melted in my mouth. I can't say it's wowed me, but not bad.

The real meat was next, and it's nice. It was very firm, compared to what I expected since the Gobul is so flexible, not very fatty, a tiny bit chewy and faintly sweet. (Note: asked chief. Turns out the meat is normally chewy/watery unless you dry it out)

I admit I had taken some time to savor and taste-test the "dipped" foods, all but turning my hotpot into a straight up soup. The thing is though, I hate seafood, and this was actually tolerable for someone like me. All in all, I'd say if you want start somewhere with cooking monsters, you could do worse than a Gobul.

...You know, I did hear something about Gobul liver... hm.

#writing #creative writing #fantasy #monster hunter #gobul #dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #I love MH and DM

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hyodyton · 1 year

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Saw that you said you’ve seen 11 adaptations of Great Expectations? So curious on your rankings and which ones you like the most/reccomend!

OMG AHAH YES... It's even more than 11 now! Including theatre productions, even went to one recently :') English is not my native language, BUT..

I rank them, but mostly for myself, as the criteria is very specific.

But I can recommend them! I'll talk mostly about the ones I liked, because the ones I hated could be talked about forever.

Naturally, the 1946 version is good, even if it has a romantic ending (which I personally can't stand, but it's present in 90% of the adaptations, so if it happens in the final seconds, you can tolerate it). At least the atmosphere is retained and the film is really great.

I also really liked the 1922 silent black and white Danish film, there's something special about it. Naturally, it was quite shabby, but the actors show everything perfectly with their facial expressions. And most importantly, it's atmospheric and funny. I highly recommend watching it if only for the sake of the experience! I was especially hooked by the very first scene. It's very rare that an adaptation pays more attention to it than the scene where Pip and Magwitch meet. When, as in the book, it's quite sad, as Pip strokes tombstones and fantasises about what his parents might have looked like. So in the film it takes a certain amount of time and he just lies by the tombstones while the wind ripples the grass and you can see the gallows in the background.

For me in general, the most important thing about an adaptation of Great Expectations is that it has to be funny and tragic. Humour is such an important part of the book, and black humour at that.

The 1999 series isn't bad either, although it's quite dark. But here I was sometimes confused by the presentation of the characters, but it's definitely very good compared to many others.

But my personal favourite is the 1989 series, I like everything about this adaptation. And it's naturally tasteful, but all the characters behave the way I expect them to! Especially Pip, Estella and Herbert, they generally often screw up in their character writing in adaptations. In this version, Pip is literally the best I've ever seen.

And Miss Havisham, how gorgeous she is! She is, by the way, played by the actress who played Estella in the 1946 version! (and who better to play Miss Havisham than Estella, ahah).

There's a lot in this adaptation that's often cut or portrayed in a way that's better not tried. Hammersmith with the Pockets family, Wemmick's house is charming with A.P. and Miss Skiffins! What a delightful Joe and Biddy there...... And the fight scene between Pip and Herbert? Wonderful. Funny, ridiculous and with a complete lack of any aggression, as it should be. Pip and Herbert are great here in general, very nice.

In short, yes. Favourite adaptation.

The 1981 series isn't bad either!

In other adaptations I usually only like certain elements, or the way certain moments are played around.

And it's often just a shame that good actors are used so poorly.

I don't like the 2011 and 2012 versions at all, although I've seen 2012 occasionally praised. But how bad is it for me.... Such disrespect to Estella's character. Not to mention the others, Pip I can't digest here at all. Literally the only good thing I could see for myself was the use of Handel's nickname. But there's a very strange Herbert here and it looks very vulgar and not sincere.

In both these versions Miss Havisham is played by eminent admirable actresses, but how strangely the character of the heroine is turned out by the writers... Such wasted potential with such a cast. There are especially a lot of questions for 2011 in terms of Miss Havisham. Brr. I also hate it when Biddy is made whiny and helplessly in love with Pip. So does Estella...

( Also a shame about Harry Lloyd as Herbert, how little he was and how hastily he was cut. It's a strange desire to cut Herbert out of the plot, to fuse him somewhere. Often, he and Pip aren't even close friends, it's like they're no more than neighbours and drinking buddies. There is no deep connection and no tender loyal friendship).

The 1974 version is neither good nor bad, but rather odd. But I was amused by the scene where Molly is forced to show her strength. She and Drummle wrestle at arm's length and he, of course, shamefully loses.

Here I decided to slow down and not describe absolutely everything I've watched so the post doesn't get any longer. (God I hope you find this post at all useful... And I hope you'll respond.Honestly, if you get the urge to discuss it, I'd be delighted!)

Although it's impossible not to mention the Australian cartoon 1983. It's so bad it's good. It's so fucked up. Had the odd pleasure of watching it, but of course it's bad.

But. Most of all, I hate the 2023 version with all my heart. It doesn't have a single silver lining. It's just disgusting and unbearable to watch, they wanted to look at the story in a new way but fucked up absolutely everything. What a waste of cool cast, impossible.

#great expectations #text post

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mk-wizard · 2 years

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Race/Gender/Orientation/Etc-Bending: The Popular Characters are being replaced too now

I said a long time ago that I did not agree with “bending” existing characters because I believe in respecting them if they were specified to be a certain way and I believe it is better to use the existing characters of the group you’re trying to include/represent especially since they’ve waited long enough. I will not argue with mantle inheritors, AUs or characters who were never specified to be anything, but once we say the duck is a duck, it’s a duck. And my only half-argument towards people never saying that the character is straight/white/Christian/etc. is that lots of characters never say they are what they are, but we’re not dumb. We can see what they are by getting to know them. We can see that Leon Kennedy from Resident Evil is straight even though he never said he was. And we can see (very beautifully) that Ruby and Sapphire from Steven Universe are lesbians and monogamists even though they never say they are. Using the reason “but they never said they were _____” can come across as an excuse not a valid point.

More importantly, for every time we “bend” an established character, we are throwing away a chance to star an existing character of that group. And the reason for not giving them a chance is just as weak and sounds just as much like an excuse; “It’s because they’re not popular”. Pardon me, but why create new characters then? Why pass mantles onto characters who aren’t like their predecessors? Plus, the whole “they’re not popular” excuse was the reason people used back in the day and it was steeped in bigotry. It was not ok then and it is not ok now. If we’re not going to showcase these characters now when the world is craving them so deliciously, when are we? And as for not being popular...

We didn’t know who Black Panther was, but as soon as we met him, the world fell in love with him. He is noble, kind and badass. And evidently, irreplaceable.

Blade was not well known before his movie debut, but now, EVERYONE knows who he is and remembers his trilogy. Plus, it was thanks to his movie debut that the superhero movie genre had new life breathed into it.

Wonder Woman hasn’t had a solo piece in years, but once she finally did, she roared and soared (at least the first film did). She is an extremely positive female and bisexual icon because of her brave and beautiful soul.

However, not only are other great characters remaining on the shelf or second fiddle, Hollywood has reached a new kind of low. With the upcoming film, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Mutant Mayhem, they triple bent April O’Neal to be plus sized, plain and black.

When Hollywood did THIS, my last lingering bit of tolerance towards “bending” was broken and not because of what they did to April. It is what they did to existing characters in TMNT who are of the three groups and what’s worse is that... THEY ARE POPULAR!!

Irma Langinstein is plain and everyone knows who she is. Her personality, quips and role are legendary.

Beepop and Rocksteady are plus sized and even were so when human, and everyone knows who they are. They were the stars of the 80s cartoon.

And last but absolutely not least, there is Baxter Stockman who is black and not only does everyone know who he is, he is an iconic TMNT villain! One can even argue, he hits the notes for being body positive. He is not only plain, but unlike most black male characters, he is not tall, statuesque, muscular or has perfect teeth. He has big awkward teeth, he is either short or average, he is skinny and lanky, and his ears stick out. Yet even with all that, he is a frightening force to be reckoned with.

I can’t lie or hold it back anymore. When Hollywood decided to “bend” instead of using the existing characters, I was enraged. I’m STILL enraged because for once, the “they’re not popular” reason isn’t just a poor excuse, it’s a lie.

This is exactly how far across the line Hollywood has gone. It not only refuses to give the spotlight to existing characters, it is now kicking them off of the stage. Also, it is not going to stop at TMNT. It’s going to happen in DC, Marvel and more. One can even argue that it was already happening.

However, there is hope and this phenomena can be stopped if we stop accepting it. We have to say “no” to bending and speak louder when suggesting existing characters. And not just with our words. Our actions matter too. Stop watching and reading material that “bends” instead of using existing characters. After all, it is a business. If we stop consuming this kind of material, they’ll stop making it. Also, let’s show them what we want with fanart and bringing up the characters we want by their names. If representation and inclusion the right way are important to us, then let’s act like it is. Stop settling for “bending” and acknowledge the damage it is really doing. It’s no longer just lazy writing, it’s a disease that is killing characters.

Say no to lazy writing. Say no to saying great characters aren’t good enough especially when they’ve proven that they are. Say no to having to secretly be white/straight/Christina/etc. just to be accepted.

If you are beautiful and amazing enough to be shown to the world, so are the characters who are like you.

PS: If you agree with me, please reblog this.

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bb-editing · 2 years

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ROXANA (Chapter 21)

*TW: Self-harm

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“Are you going to visit the toy now, Miss Roxana?

“No, I’m going to stop by the poison butterfly hatchery first.”

Three days had passed since that day, and my daily routine had become quite predictable. I visited Cassis three times a day to deliver is meals- which also allowed him to gauge the passing of time- and I made sure to engage a physician anytime I was too busy to take care of his wounds.

I had many other tasks to complete besides visiting Cassis, one of which was caring for the poison butterflies. The hatchery was humid and warm, with the air inside flowing softly but heavily.

The space was originally a greenhouse to cultivate poisonous plants, but after obtaining a poison butterfly egg, it was converted into a hatchery. Still, it was covered in poisonous plants, and no ordinary person would be able to withstand being in this room for more than ten seconds without fainting. However, because of my poison tolerance, the poisonous air had little to no effect on me.

I walked deeper into the greenhouse, and after a while, a black egg wrapped in a thorn vine appeared in my sight. The poison butterfly’s egg was now almost the size of two fists.

I stood in front of it, pulling out a dagger from my clothes. I rolled up my sleeves and cut my skin with the blade. Blood dripped over the egg, which soon turned dark red.

“Eat well. And if you aren’t already, grow faster.”

At first, I had three eggs, but because the hatching success rate of poison butterflies is only around thirty percent, I only had the one egg left.

The poison butterflies were monstrous creatures, and were extremely difficult to find, not to mention tame. So in order for me to be imprinted as their master, they had to consume my blood regularly like this before hatching.

Another nutrient the butterflies consume is poison, as the name suggests, which makes this poison-filled room a good place for breeding them. The same was true for my blood, which has been infused with poison since childhood.

Originally, the butterfly egg should have been discovered by one of the male leads- the “White Beast.” He had the ability to deal with monsters, and he succeeded in locating and breeding the poisonous butterflies. Thankfully, I had remembered this scene in the novel, and told Emily the precise location so that she could bring the eggs to me.

Breeding and taming monsters was a rare ability to have. Obviously, I wasn’t the best at it, but it was good enough that I was being imprinted as the butterflies’ master. If I succeeded in hatching them, I had more means of protection; if I failed, I had nothing to lose.

After consuming my blood, the egg now seemed to be covered in a thin film. I reached my hand out to stroke the surface, and as if it were alive, a warmth immediately penetrated the tip of my fingers making contact with it.

Somehow, I had the feeling that the day of their hatching wasn’t far away.

* * *

After leaving the hatchery, I went to visit Cassis.

“Here’s your lunch.” Today, he was given chicken stew, wholegrain bread, and fruit. I still avoided providing him food that required the use of forks and knives, so the menu was slightly limited.

“It must be troublesome for you to have to come here all the time.” Cassis was still aloof, but seemed less uncomfortable with me than he was previously- he was more gentle and cooperative than I thought he’d be.

I’m sure I’ll be able to bring him food with forks and knives soon.

As per usual, he proceeded without saying anything.

After placing the tray on the bed and stepping back, I felt something rise in my throat. Oh. I felt nauseous and wanted to vomit.

Suddenly, dark red blood stained the palm of my hand clasped over my mouth. I suppose I’m reacting badly to the poison Emily brought me yesterday. I calmly wiped my lips with my sleeves.

Then I heard a sound in front of me. Looking up, I saw Cassis staring at me. His face was hardened and surprised- his widened eyes were a little unfamiliar to me. He lifted the tray from the bed and placed it beside him.

“You…” He spoke and faltered, as if unsure what to say. “… That blood…”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I apologized. It must have been strange for Cassis. “I brought you food, and now I’m ruining your appetite with the sight of blood.” I hope he doesn’t think it’s dirty.

Cassis’ facial expression changed with my reaction. He looked at me, half suspicious, half confused. “No… Didn’t you just vomit blood?”

“Yes, but… you don’t need to worry about it. It’s not a big deal.” I said, covering my lips with the back of my sleeves. There was no mirror here, so I couldn’t wipe the blood from my mouth and chin completely.

But my sleeves were already stained with blood, and Cassis’ eyes seemed nailed to the patches of red on my clothes.

“Vomiting blood isn’t considered a big deal?” Cassis’ face seemed harder than before. “Something like that…”

I thought a little about how to answer, before finally saying, “It’s fine; it’s happened a lot in the past.” Why would I need to explain why I’d vomited blood? On the contrary, it was the way of the Agriche to develop a tolerance to poison by consuming it from an early age.

Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to show such a scene here, but it wasn’t really a big deal in the eyes of the Agriche.

“So it turns out that last time…” Cassis drifted off.

Huh? Last time? When have I ever vomited blood in front of Cassis? I didn’t have any recollection of that happening, but Cassis didn’t elaborate.

But stranger than that… “Are you worried about me?” I looked at Cassis, and he flinched as if I’d just insulted him.

“Why would I be worried?” A chilly look was cast on his face. “Isn’t it natural to be surprised that someone’s vomiting blood in front of you?”

He may have denied it, but he also gave me an opportunity to dig deeper into this weakness of his. “Oh, I see… It’s a familiar sight to me, so I never thought that anyone else would be surprised.”

Looking at him, I realized that he was the type of person to maintain a strong appearance in front of the strong, and an air of vulnerability in front of the weak. If so, it would be alright- no, better- for me to show more vulnerability in front of him.

“But I thought you would hate me… It’s caring of you to worry about me like this. Thank you.” I smiled faintly, deliberately using a cool but bitter tone.

Cassis was rendered speechless, and I thought that it would be best to leave it at that.

“I’ll take my leave, then.” It would be better for him to eat in peace. “I’m sorry that I surprised you,” I told Cassis again, turning around.

Cassis stiffly shut his mouth, and I could still feel his gaze digging into me as I walked towards and out the door.

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nerendus · 7 months

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Okay, fuck it. Rogue Traders intro post.

Alwena Von Valancius (Iconoclast)

My first Rogue Trader, and by default, the 'canon' Rogue Trader.

She is a self-described "recovering serial killer," having spent her years on the voidship she was born to hunting and killing her fellows to "harvest" their organs. She's extremely farmercore because the other games I use her in are all farming sims. The organs mainly go to her cousin, Mianno, who runs a crime business in the system she often visits. Where do the others go? Don't worry about it.

Alwena is a "sanctioned" psyker, AKA, she was born with psychic powers but did not want to go through the trouble of sanctioning so she called upon her cousin to help her forge a new identity. Hence why her in-game portrait looks nothing like her. Perks of having white hair means that no one can question why she doesn't look like her portrait. It's from the stress, guys. The ambiguous stress she never elaborates on. What did she have to do for her cousin in order to get the new identity? .......Don't worry about it.

Her journey towards redemption begins the moment the game starts up, because her controller got Kim Kitsuragi'd so hard by Abelard that she had to immediately leave her ideals of mass destruction and become a goody two shoes. Which is why she uses the madwoman voice despite being the most normal person in the room. She is constantly thinking about murder and wanting to inflict chaos upon the galaxy, but every word that comes out of her mouth is based around helping others and making others lives more tolerable. By the end of Act 2, she's been completely converted into a Good Person. She's still a major sadist, but it's definitely something.

Her morals are still very loose, but only in terms of bits. She will abandon all her ideals if she thinks it would be funny. She would have done so many numbers on TikTok....

She makes a terrible girlfriend. She meets someone new and immediately starts flirting with them and calling them the love of her life. The next day, she breaks up with them, and the entire voidship has to deal with her Emotions. Music that plays at the end of a film about a monk killing himself plays on the vox for a week while she cries and rants about her love life to anyone that will listen--even to the person she is currently trying to kill. If someone tries to break up with her, it elicits no strong reaction out of her. If anything, she'd just say "Well I didn't love you anyway." And it would most certainly be the truth.

Heinrix and Jae are both of her exes. Heinrix didn't last two days before she broke up with him. Jae lasted two years, but that was mainly because she had access to a lot of Jae's "friends" to share with. She does have a real love--but it's for Pasqal and while in my heart of hearts AdMechfucking is real and possible, she never gets to marry her favourite coghead. :(

After the end of the game, she marries a noble from the Winterscale house that she had recently destablised by killing their leader in an attempt to reunite the unstable house under her rule. Roughly twenty years after the game, she is murdered in her sleep--an axe wound to her skull. Many believe she was killed by her power-hungry son who ended up taking her place as Rogue Trader, while others believe that it was all a fabrication and that she is still alive somewhere. Probably being a genuine farmer now.

In the Iconoclast society she created after her death, she becomes canonized as a saint--but only for the territory owned by the Von Valancius dynasty. She is often depicted with her prosthetic arm cradling her opposite hand engulfed in flames at her chest, blood running down her face from the wound, and wearing the simple nightgown she was murdered in. Other territories that align their ideals with the authoritarian Empire view her as a heretic and frequently try to purge those possessing talismans in her image.

Mianno Von Valancius (Heretic)

I have...significantly less information on Mianno since I have not done a complete heretical playthrough.

She is a crime boss in control of an entire system as well as some solitary planets across the galaxy. However despite this lofty status, she acts more like an underpaid intern instead of a terrifyingly powerful crime lord. She's in a constant state of staring dead eyed in front of her and speaks in an extremely monotone and exhausted voice. I do not think she has slept in her forty years of being alive.

Mianno had a...shaky relationship with Theodora. Her aunt occasionally came to her when she was in need of illegal goods, but she has a bad case of insulting everyone who tries to make conversation with her, and more than one interaction with the two has resulted in bloody threats.

The burn across her face marks her first exchange with the Chaos Gods. I have absolutely no idea what occurred, she won't tell me, but the moment they offered her violence, she just deadpanned "okay" and has been working on the side of Chaos ever since. All of the dialogue choices that involve her laughing, it's important for you to know that she is saying each individual "ha" with absolutely no emotion whatsoever.

Her relationship with her cousin Alwena is definitely shady. Suffice to say, they are not beating the cousinfucking allegations. Their relationship is basically this image:

With Mianno being Rogue Trader, Alwena essentially serves as her lap warmer. No one has ever seen them kiss...but the energy they exude is definitely not familial love. With Alwena as Rogue Trader, nothing major changes with Mianno. She continues being a crime boss and having no strong emotions towards anything around her.

In terms of her canon love....it's no one. She is physically emotionally mentally incapable of being in love with another person. She does fuck with Marazhai, but that's only so she can imagine all of the lower deck as the infuriating employees she had to deal with as a crime lord. She does not think about Marazhai outside of murder.

I haven't completed the heretic run, so I don't know what that one's ending looks like. But suffice to say, whenever her death comes, she greets it without much emotion and a simple "Okay."

#texts from the underbrush #So much information for Alwena and so little for Mianno....it's clear to see which one I prefer #warhammer 40k #rogue trader

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