#this isn't all of it just what i used to display and wear more frequently

[cyberneticdryad]

very important move in additions

[taintedbenevolence]

YAN! WRIOTHESLEY X FEM! READER

m i n o r s d o n o t i n t e r a c t !

" 𝐍𝐎 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐄𝐋𝐒𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐄𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒. "

— 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 — 

do not interact/read if the following triggers you! MENTIONS OF / IMPLIED STALKING, IMPLIED MURDER, MENTIONS OF BLOOD, USE OF APHRODISIACS, ODAXELAGNIA, NON-CONSENSUAL DISPLAY OF AFFECTION, IMPLIED MASTURBATION, UNPROTECTED SEX, BREEDING KINK, ORAL SEX [RECEIVING], AND FINGERING IMPLIED / DESCRIBED.

OVERPROTECTIVE AND TOXIC / OBSESSIVE / POSSESSIVE BEHAVIOR.

        •,¸,.·' '·.,¸,••,¸,.·' '·.,¸,••,¸,.·' '·.,¸,••,¸,.·' '·.,¸,••,¸,.·' '·.,¸,••,¸,.·' '·.,¸,• You should've known better than to blindly follow an order to enter Wriothesley's office that day.

Your morning had started off rather normal, with the exception of Sigewinne visiting you to leave you a letter written by none other than the Duke. At first, you thought it was just a notice for you, one related to business matters, or one about ordeals within the Fortress.

The letter resulted to be nothing at all what you expected it to be.

It was merely a note. "Please pass by my quarters when you have time today. Preferably during evening hours. I'd like to have a chat with you." That was it. Nothing more, nothing less. Simple, direct, and straight to the point. Just like the man himself.

The little Melusine who handed you the letter wore a bright yet small smile on her face as she stood up straight. "It seems you've caught the eye of His Grace," she says, almost teasingly, though you shook your head. "I wouldn't go as far as to say I've caught the attention of someone like him," you reply with a wry smile, though a part of you silently wishes it were otherwise.

But you had caught his eye, and from far early on too. The Lord of the Fortress of Meropide rarely traveled to the surface. It wasn't every once in a million years, naturally, but, it wasn't a common sight. Most cases, he was there strictly on business and other important matters rather than on vacation.

That, however, changed the moment he saw you. You were breathtaking, and better yet, you were not intimidated by his presence alone. Most people would keep their distance, look away, unable to meet his gaze, and lack the ability to keep their composure around him. But you?

You were perfectly fine being near him, wearing small smiles that gave him absolute butterflies, as much as he hated to admit. You were honest and though maybe partly reserved, still willing to share a proper chat when he approached you. He liked that. Sigewinne noticed.

And he wasn't sure whether he liked the little Melusine nosing around whenever he met you, because for all he knew, she could start getting ideas, and that... wouldn't have been ideal, put it lightly.

Nevertheless, it's easy to say that his visits to the surface became more frequent. He made your acquaintance and quickly enough became friends with you. It was smooth riding so far, and he was finding that the situation was going well for him.

Occasionally, the two of you would talk over a cup of tea and you'd chat about how things had been in your lives, whether maybe you'd lost a pendant you liked, or how there was a coffee you tried somewhere that was rather bitter, or how he had less work than usual, so he decided to spare some time to relax on the surface.

It was fine.

That is until he found out you had fallen in love the past days. But oh no, you were not in love with him. You were in love with someone else. That was the issue. So he began to inquire. How did this person act? How did you meet them? Do you think they'd make a great partner?

Simple questions just to see what was your view of them. 

Don't get him wrong — he's glad that you've found someone you love. He's just upset that the person you've fallen for isn't him. So he then decides to find the person for whom you fell for. It doesn't take long for him to find them, and it's not much effort to convince them that he's only visiting on behalf of business matters.

He returns every so often back to the surface to  meet with you and to keep eyes on your interest, making sure there are no "unwanted" advances between the two of you, and when he's at the Fortress, he simply has to hope that nothing occurs. Having someone work for this type of thing would be rather inefficient and would raise unnecessary suspicions.

Sure, people don't really need to understand what the Duke's motives are, but that doesn't refrain them from filing a report to the Chief Justice about unusual behavior. The two are acquainted, after all, and Neuvillette is more than adept at reading the behavior of humans.

So with that in mind, he decided it was best to do things himself. After all, if you want a job done right, you have to do it yourself. One day, whilst you conversed with Wriothesley, you spoke of how you planned to finally confess. He was immediately interested, and he, of course, listened, even if deep in his mind the person whom you treasured was a pool of blood.

If your confession proved to be successful, he'd have to find a way to slowly seed problems into the relationship. He isn't fond of what he'd have to do, but unfortunately enough, the small feeling of jealousy that has wrapped itself around his heart is eating away at him. 

He'd find the little details that bring you and your significant other apart and slowly begin to rip those traits up to the surface. He'd at times advise you that there were things you should watch out for, given this would be your first time in a relationship (or he'd assume so), and most likely, he'll find a way to tear down the relationship bit by bit and make it seem like it wasn't even his fault. It will appear as if it was just that you were mistaken, that this relationship wouldn't really work out.

That being said, if your confession resulted in a rejection, he'd comfort you. He knows how much it'd hurt having your feelings being rejected like that, and he especially doesn't want you crying for someone else who isn't deserving of causing your sorrow. He wouldn't want you tearing up to the one who had the audacity of even making you cry. He'd probably be mad at the person, but not enough to walk back at them and talk to them about it, as much as he'd wish to rip them into two. He exercises self-control, and somehow manages to control himself.

Depending how the person reacted to your confession, would Wriothesley's anger be gauged. Unfortunately enough for you, and much to Wriothesley's pleasure, you were rejected. Now, don't get him wrong; he wants you to have a successful relationship, but he also doesn't want you being with someone that doesn't deserve you.

So the moment that you come to him, your expression more solemn and down than usual, he already knows what's happened. He invites you over to the Fortress inside to cheer you up and for a change in atmosphere. While taking you to a place meant for imprisonment isn't exactly one's definition of "fun," you were rather curious to see what was the place this man called home.

To your surprise, it was well kept, and didn't look like it was rotting as you thought it would be. He also showed you around his quarters, to let you know where he'd be, and of course he introduced you to Sigewinne, who was more than happy to meet you.

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[| "Y/N, this is Sigewinne, our head nurse."[| "Oh, is this the person you've been rambling on about lately, Your Grace?"[| "... Sigewinne."

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You could've sworn that you saw a small smirk on the Melusine's face because she knew that His Grace was head over heels for you. Of course, you didn't know that, but... she did. You were later on dismissed, and for the next weeks, you stayed at the Fortress, given you met several new people in there and wished to get to know them better.

Wriothesley being the busy man he is, doesn't always have time to get out of his quarters, but god, with you around he can't help but give a few more rounds to the Fortress just to watch you as you go about your day. How he remembers your smiles, when you mentioned to some your hobbies, your interests, and so on so forth...

His gaze often falls on your small frame and his mind will wander to how perfectly it will fit against his larger figure when he's deep inside of you and—

Wriothesley thinks this is wrong. He thinks this is twisted in more ways than one, but he can't bring himself to stop it. He's helpless to the thought of you running your hands through the soft tufts of his hair whilst he holds you to himself, the way your lips would feel when matches them with his own, or how beautiful you'd sound when he inserts his digits into you as you struggle to not moan out his name.

He hates that he can't feel you. It's driving him mad.

Sometimes he's filling in and signing the mountain of paperwork he has on his desk and his mind trails off to you, and archons it's not even a minute before he has to stand up and drink some tea to clear his head. On some occasions, he'll feel so utterly pent up that there's nothing left for him to do than to lock his doors and let his hand soothe his frustrations and urges while he wishes his hand were your own or your mouth instead.

His mind is clouded with thoughts he wouldn't speak of in front of the rest and a part of him feels guilty about feeling in such a way towards you, yet he knows he wouldn't have it any other way. He's completely enthralled by you and obsessed by the thought of being able to claim you as his own.

It grows to the point that every day he sees you becomes unbearable. He can't stand how your sweet voice falls on those who don't deserve to hear it, how you smile at the prisoners whenever you get to speak with them and help them out during their shifts, how your hands sometimes barely brush together when you walk amidst crowds and he swears that a single touch of yours is enough to make him want to pick you up right then and there and fuck you raw away from prying eyes.

He is desperate. And he needs you.

So he decides that today is that day. After a few days of spending time with Sigewinne in order to mix in certain herbs with tea, he ends up with a particularly sweet tea. He reserves it for you. He's pacing in his office before he sits down in a relaxed manner, waiting for you to enter.

And the moment he hears the gentle knocking on his door accompanied by your voice asking for permission to enter, he can already feel his heart hammering. Allowing you to enter, you close the doors behind you, and for a man who's obsessed in every sense of the word, he's certainly composed.

He gestures for you to take a seat, to which you comply, and then he goes off to get the tea. After all, what better way to host a small meeting like this than to talk over a cup of tea? You're able to take in its sweet aroma and taste, and to say you liked it may have been an understatement.

"So how have you been finding the Fortress?" he muses, one leg crossed comfortably over the other. You only smile softly as you respond, taking a quick sip of your tea before answering. "Certainly different than what I expected it to be, but it seems to be managed well."

His Grace only smiles in return, and he then clicks tongue. "Say, have you enjoyed your stay here?" he asks, taking a sip as he waits. "It's been great. While some have a sharp tongue, there are a couple of people who have been good company, even if most of the time I'm around Sigewinne," you answer.

"Speaking of, where has she been?" you state, because now that you thought about it, you hadn't seen the little Melusine around the Fortress recently. Wriothesley just blinks as he then slightly mouths an 'oh.' "She's been off gathering herbs for medicine and treatment," he replies, before finishing the rest of the tea in his cup.

You hum in understanding as you stay still, having finished your own cup as well. "I see. Anyways, thank you for the tea," you reply in gratitude. The Duke only nods, as he remains there, seemingly observing you for any changes.

The two of you keep conversing, but throughout the conversation, you start to take note of something. You feel a little... moist. Perhaps you were exerting yourself too much recently?.. No, that couldn't be it — you felt as if you were getting warm all of a sudden. You couldn't exactly place your finger on what the sensation was.

Additionally, you couldn't exactly shake off the feeling no matter how hard you tried to focus on the man in front of you, and as time passed, you began to lose focus on the conversation you held with Wriothesley and your attention shifted to yourself, your gaze falling in between your thighs, the space feeling rather wet, for a lack of better words, the only thing in your mind being how unusually much you wished to be—

"Y/N?"

Wriothesley's voice snapped you back to the present as you felt blood rush to your face. No, that wasn't right, why were you feeling like this...? This was wrong... The man in front of you could only pretend for so long that he didn't know what was happening, but he wasn't in a far too different situation. The seemingly faint bulge in his pants grew ever slightly, and he was already starting to feel a little trapped and tight in his coat. He knew that you were starting to receive the effects already, so it was only a matter of time.

"Are you feeling well?" He murmurs, placing a hand on your shoulder before giving it a light squeeze, and you can swear that for a split moment you almost shiver. "... I.. it's.. sorry," you manage to murmur as you sigh quietly as you shook your head. "Is it just me, or.. is it getting rather hot in here..?"

Oh, how he wants to laugh.

You almost feel stupid having asked something of the like, and Wriothesley's barely holding himself together as he breathes quietly and calmly. He's on the verge of taking you right here and then, but he decides against it just to see what you'll do. "I feel it too," he replies relaxed, and your eyes seem to slightly light up. "Oh, so it's not just me..? That's at least a bit reassuring..."

He's so fucking desperate. Can't you tell?

And then he asks the magical question. "Why do you think I asked you to come in here?"

You blink, thinking through the question, before answering, a bit perplexed. "Because you wanted to talk...?" you reply. The man chuckles softly, though he shakes his head. "More than that, there was... something else." Confusion begins to run through your mind as you try to inquire as to what he means but before you can say another word, he picks you up, and carries you away as if you were nothing but a feather.

He locks the door to his office, and he walks up the stairs with you in his arms. "Wriothesley, what're you doing?—" you can barely say, your face pressed up against his clothed chest, but he silences you as he lays you flat on his desk.

His firm hands are quick to undo your clothing in your lower body, as he he carefully but easily slides off your undergarments. You can only feel the heat rush through you as your heart pounds. "Wriothesley, what are you—"

And your voice leaves you as you feel him spread apart your legs with his cold fingers, a bitter chill running through your spine as his tongue only starts to tease you by dampening furthermore your already wet folds. You can only bite your tongue to hold in a moan, though it proves futile when he begins to work on your clit, teasing and tracing faint circles with his tongue, causing a few whines to escape your mouth.

You can't tell whether to feel pleasured or scared. Wriothesley gives you no time to think.

He makes no effort to stop whilst you can only grasp and tug his hair, while you nervously and shakily run your hands down his smooth, black locks that glisten beneath the amber lights of his office. It doesn't take much longer for him to reach your entrance, and you clasp your mouth with your hand as you inevitably moan involuntarily. You feel your eyes practically roll back as you try to maintain your gaze focused on the raven-haired male, feeling the wet muscle continuously slipping in and out of your tightened entrance and you're certainly grateful the walls of his office are soundproof.

"Wriothesley, I can't— f-fuck!"

You can't help but squirm, your heart racing as your chest heaves up and down. Your vision is somewhat hazed, your attempts to shift comfortably failing as a new wave of pleasure surges through you as your entrance and clit are endlessly teased and caressed, a pressure building up inside you.

He's eating you out, and you're not even exactly sure if your mind would agree that you enjoy it, but your body sure as hell is, because your senses are getting stimulated beyond possibility. Your breathing is definitely evident and no longer quiet, and you can barely muffle how vocal you're growing until at a moment, you feel him retract at last.

Yet before you're able to question it, he repositions himself above you, and he's pinning your wrists above your head, his knees at either side of you as his imposing figure looms over your body, casting a slight shadow on you. "You sure are — hah — quite loud," he whispers with a teasing smirk edging on his face, his tone of voice growing a bit rasped as he reaches for an item that dangles on his hips — one you're quite familiar with.

Handcuffs.

And before you know it he's clipped them onto you and bound your wrists to his desk above your head, not allowing you to move them, their silver hue glister, glimmering in the dark shadows. "You're fucking mine," he snarls before he kisses you on the lips with fervor, almost as if he might just devour you on the spot if you don't do anything about it.

He's rough and passionate, not giving you a chance to breathe. The sudden ferocity and intensity in his act is more than enough to leave you breathless whilst you try to get used to it, to which he responds with a low growl. It's as if he's been starved for ages and his hunger is to never be sated. He bites down softly on your lower lip, effectively causing you to part your lips, giving him a chance to slide his tongue within.

The rush it gave you was almost feverish, even if it was wrong at its core. He tastes sweet, you think, as your tongues mingle together, the sweetness flooding your palates. Your train of thought was interrupted once more when he finally separated, and you breathed heavily. He was catching his breath, his mouth slightly hung open, giving you a view of the sharp canines he possesses. A small, barely noticeable trail of saliva connected your lips to his own, and he stared down at you, licking his lips to rid the saliva before his gaze landed on your neck. His hands, even with wraps and binds, were cold to the touch as he caressed your soft skin.

You're still catching your breath, blood rushing to your face when you feel him bite into your flesh, a quiet cry akin to a whine leaving you, only fueling his desire. He quietly growls, and he almost seems feral as he licks over the wound, moving quickly to other uncovered areas in your neck as he litters kisses around it. He bites hard and deep, sucking on the skin just enough to leave a couple of hickeys on you.

"You're all mine."

No words are required to be exchanged as he pauses, just leaning back. Seeing your taken-aback expression, he just chuckles softly, his icy gaze combined with the ever earnest smirk he wears already enough to keep you still beneath his iron grip. "I could just eat you up and you'd beg for more, wouldn't you, huh?" He states, his voice sounding like music to your ears.

"Bet you'd want me to fuck you dumb too."

He tugs on his tie, letting it fall loose untied with ease as his coat soon follows, allowing you to gain an exposed view of his scarred body. There's nothing more you'd like than to run your hands through his chest but the handcuffs don't allow you to move your arms in the slightest. He's depriving you of one pleasure, and he relishes in that.

"My eyes are up here, sweetheart."

And god does he love it when you try to avert your gaze in embarrassment, knowing that your eyes had solely been focused on his body. He takes his hand and tilts your chin so you're forced to meet his gaze, and he delights in the way you shudder at his mere touch — he has you at the mercy of his fingertips, he'd bet.

You're being driven mad, something he enjoys — he's no sadist, but he definitely likes seeing you having to put up with the building pressure and urges he held back on this entire time. He decides to toy furthermore with you, as he slowly begins to unclasp the belt around his waist as his pants come off loose.

You know what the man wants.

It doesn't take much time for the rest to come off, and it's very clear to you where this is going. The back of your mind is screaming at you to run, to move, anything, but your body just lies and stays still without making a sound. His hips are pressed into yours, and he has zero hesitation as he begins to slide himself inside you, positioning himself as you whimper, tears beginning to prick at the corners of your eyes as you feel your walls stretching to accommodate to the sudden, large length that was pushed inside of you. It's too much for you, but he hushes you, caressing your face softly and wiping your tears.

"You're going to take all of it in for me, aren't you? Hah, so fuckin' tight..."

It hurts, and his gentle caresses are a sharp contrast to how he continuously pushes inside you until he finally reaches that place that would make you scream out in pleasure. And he knows it. He's impatient, and won't waste another second, and in just a few more seconds, he's already ramming his hips against yours, bulging cock sliding in and out at a pace you can no longer register.

"God — you're so good for me — no one else is allowed to see you like this, understood?"

The both of you are lost in lust, and your heart hammers in you whilst fear and pleasure courses right through your veins. You get the feeling he's not just pleasuring you — he's marking you, through and through, making sure that by the time you're walking out, people will only perceive his scent on you wherever you go. He wants you and you alone. 

Anyone who wishes to debate his posture is more than welcome to have a word with him in the ring.

You're barely able to choke out his name as he fucks you senseless, giving you no space to plead or speak at all, for that matter. The only noise you get out are your helpless moans as you shudder from each thrust. He's feral, hungry and starved for your love, and he wants to consume every bit of it.

"Wriothesley — fuck — I-"

If it weren't for the fact he's fucking you to oblivion on his desk, he'd probably find it amusing how helpless you've become in the span of a few minutes. He loves it. Your eyes are half-lidded and brimming with tears, your moans resounding through the entirety of his office, to which thankfully, there is no one else within except the two of you. You might've not registered it but you're sure he's already torn through all the clothes covering your chest too, leaving you now entirely exposed and vulnerable to his touch.

You start to feel the building pressure you had before, and your breathing is labored, heavy. You don't think you can take this for much longer, your folds wet and walls tightening around his cock. You really weren't sure how in hell you were going to fit all of it in, but you seemed to be taking it rather well.

Your synchronized moans and his groans paired together combine, slowing into a perfectioned, rhythmic catharsis as you finally reach your climax, your fluids coating him and staining the firm material beneath you, to which you can't help but wonder how exactly does he plan to clean.

Yet as you finally release, he still doesn't stop. He's not stopping, not yet, not when he's finally got you fucked over and whimpering, helplessly begging him to cum inside of you. All of your senses and inhibitions have been tossed aside, leaving you a forlorn, flustered mess. He craves you, he might just devour you, he's unable to contain himself.

"You look so adorable when you beg, yeah? So wet and tight for me, 'M just gonna have to keep going for you..."

He is relentless. By the time he cums, you're already left breathless, voice broken and unable to say a thing other than a quiet whine. He's breathing heavily, letting his seed settle within you as his residual flows leak through your thighs, painting you as his own.

"Hah... that look in your eyes.. you wanna be rewarded, don't you? 'M just gonna have to stuff you full, hm?"

He nuzzles his head in your neck, letting the soft tufts of his hair caress your skin softly. He's still inside you, his cum still leaking through your thighs and out of your worn-out, throbbing pussy. Slowly, he slides out of you, earning a faint, muffled hum akin to that of a moan as you catch your breath. "Wrio..." you mumble out, and he presses a light kiss to your neck, right on a mark he left by earlier.

"'M gonna fill you up and make you cum 'till you can't think..." he murmured, one of his hands soothingly caressing your neck as he runs his hand through your back, his other, free hand reaching down towards your wet folds, his fingertips tracing lazy circles on your clit as he teases you gently, causing a few moans and whimpers to escape you. "'M gonna breed you.. make you all mine, darlin'."

He inserts two of his digits inside you fervently, fingering you, keeping you wet and tight as you squirm from his touch. He pulls in and out, unending and denying your pleads to stop. "P-please, Wrio — fuck — I can't-" He ignores your cries. Instead, he presses kisses across your jawline until meeting your lips, keeping you encased, trapped in a passionate kiss whilst being pleasured to no end.

"You can take it. Easy there, love."

You only respond with a whine as you feel yourself slowly reach your climax again, fluids seeping through your body and covering his digits, that slowly pull out with a wet sound. Your mouth is slightly hung open, your face with faint tints of red hidden by your disheveled hair, your body numb and almost limp.

The black-haired man simply held you tight, holding you close, never letting go, his voice whispering to you sweet nothings. His grip was tight, and unbeknownst to you, tears slowly smeared, falling across your face. You felt filthy. You felt violated. Anything but loved. And you knew more than ever, that from this day forth, you'd only ever be his.

His to love. His to hold.

For a night and forevermore, you were solely his to behold.

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A/N - I am utterly in love with this man. This prompt was also meant for yesterday bc Halloween n all, but I didn't make it- so- here you are- a little belated but still here! Same applies to the Imbibitor Lunae prompt that is soon to come! Love you all, remember to stay safe.

[jjkamochoso]

Hii again! Question, would you write requests for any other Hunter x Hunter characters? I know a lot of people (including myself) would prefer to only write for characters they like so I wanted to ask beforehand!! Anyways onto my request, could you write a Feitan x Reader who really likes 'cute and pretty' things, and ends up finding a boutique that specializes in sweet & cute gothic lolita fashion after a mission? Maybe on a walk back to the base, it catches her eye, and she just has to stop by while Feitan just sighs and follows along. Take your time and thank you!!(´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)

Hello!!! So glad to see you’ve requested something else, I’ve been itching to write for Feitan some more and you always have the best ideas!! In regard to your question, I would definitely write for other HxH characters! I won't write for Killua or Gon but I’m open to Kurapika, Leorio, or any of the Phantom Troupe! I can’t guarantee they’ll be the most in character the first time I write but I’ll try my best :)

Thank you so much for your request, I hope you like what I’ve written for you!!! Much love🫶❤️

Girly Girl!

Fluff

Feitan Portor x f!reader

Warnings: small mentions of violence

You walked down the busy street, your fluffy skirt swishing against your legs with every bounce of your steps. Your companion was quietly striding next to you, his hands hidden away in his pockets and his mouth covered by his cowl. To everyone passing you on the street, you were sure you couldn't have looked more out of place, but that couldn't have bothered you two less. Your style was one that garnered attention everywhere you went; you were always adorned in things like pretty bows and sweet dresses that highlighted your equally adorable personality. Even as a member of the Phantom Troupe, your enemies seemed to frequently underestimate you because of your appearance, but that didn't deter you, especially when it was their blood splattered on the floor by the end of each mission, not yours.

"Oh my gosh, Feitan!" you exclaimed, gasping loudly. "Look at this cat! Isn't she the cutest?"

You picked up the small creature in your gentle grasp, holding it up to your face to get a better look at it as it pawed at your long and sparkly dangle earrings.

"Street vermin. Has fleas and now so do you," he stated plainly, his eyes blinking with boredom.

"Aww, you're no fun," you moaned, giving the cat a few scratches under the chin before setting it back on the ground. You continued on your silent journey back to base, stealing glances at Feitan every once in awhile. You had always found him to be extremely handsome and, as a self proclaimed lover of pretty things, what better way to spend your time than gazing at the prettiest man you knew?

"You stare too much."

"It's not my fault you're just so cute that I can't look away."

"Disgusting," he said, doing his best to hide any exposed skin under his cowl so you didn't see the blush reddening his cheeks.

"It's such a nice day out," you blabbered on, "with so many gorgeous flowers surrounding us. Did you see them?"

"Mhmm."

"Oh!" You tugged on Feitan's sleeve, an action he would gladly slice someone's arm off for—if they weren't you, of course. "Can we go in here? This bakery is just so quaint!"

"No." His reply was as short as he was.

"How about here? You can't deny that a trip to the bookstore would do us both some good."

"I no need more books."

"Everyone needs more books," you muttered, watching all the city's best shops pass you by. All of a sudden, you caught a glimpse of an extravagant window display and let out your second loud gasp of the day.

"I. Have. To. Go. In. This. Instant," you said, your eyes alight with wonder. Feitan furrowed his brow. You were practically salivating in front of a boutique that had mannequins dressed in gothic lolita outfits, much like the one you were currently wearing.

"What wrong with clothes you have now?"

"Nothing," you whined, trying to convince him with your best pleading eyes and pouty lips, "but I want to shop around for a few minutes. Please?"

Feitan was certainly no pushover, but there was no way he could deny you anything when you were looking at him like that.

"Fine," he grumbled, trailing after your cotton candy perfume that signaled you were already through the store's doorway, "you lucky I like you."

When your eyes landed on all the different racks of clothes and accessories, you had to fight the urge to squeal in excitement. Without any hesitation, you scooped up as many articles of clothing that your arms could wrap around and immediately ran into the dressing room. Feitan rolled his eyes at your childish behavior, but he was secretly interested to see how everything looked on you. He stood as still as a statue, his gray eyes locked on the dressing room curtain you had disappeared behind.

“Hello sir! Finding everything okay?”

One of the store’s workers had approached him, making him scowl. He hated socializing.

“Yes. Waiting for her.” He nodded in your direction.

“Great!” exclaimed the woman. “Let your girlfriend know it’s buy one get one 40% off on everything in the store. I’ll be happy to help if you need me!”

His fingers twitched with the urge to slit the worker’s throat for her nosiness and unwelcome assumption, but with much reluctance, he resisted and opted to nod in acknowledgement instead. He didn’t want you to be banned from a store that brought you so much joy.

“Okay! What do you think? This was my favorite out of everything,” you said, emerging from the dressing room in a black dress with white lace trim and a white petticoat peeking out from under the voluminous skirt. Feitan didn’t believe in gods or heavens, but he could’ve sworn he was staring at an angel.

“Tch. It okay, I guess,” he said, averting his gaze from your figure to focus on something to the side of him. He didn’t like the effect you were having on him in that new dress. His heart never beat that quick unless he was met with the tantalizing promise of torturing some poor soul; there was no reason for him to get so worked over some girl. The thing was, unfortunately, you weren’t just some girl to him; you were his whole world, his greatest treasure. He’d rather die a thousand miserable deaths than ever admit that out loud, but it was the truth.

“I’m gonna buy it,” you decided, yanking the curtain closed again. Feitan wanted to slam his head against the nearest shelf out of frustration; how was he supposed to focus on a mission if you were wearing that?

After you got dressed in your own outfit, you hung up the other clothes on the return rack and hugged the dress you chose close to your chest, giddy to have a new item for your closet. You raced to the check stand and before you knew it, you were a proud owner of a new dress.

“Thanks for letting me stop there, that was very sweet of you,” you told Feitan, the pavement of the street leading you back towards the base once more. He was seemingly ignoring you until he spoke up again a few minutes later.

“There was sale happening. Buy one get one 40% off.”

You scoffed, a frown appearing on your face. “Feitan! I would’ve gotten something else then, you should’ve told me.”

Much to your surprise, he procured something from his pocket. You were met with a new pair of gloves being thrust into your view.

“These free. Better deal,” he said, dropping them into your shopping bag.

You broke out into a huge smile. “You stole those just for me? You do have a heart beneath that cold exterior of yours, don’t you?”

“Say something else and they become fuel for fire tonight.”

You snickered, knowing he was bluffing. He could be crueler than you could ever imagine, inflicting pain and misery on whomever he desired, but not you; never you.

“How did you know I’ve been searching for those exact gloves all over the place?” you eventually questioned.

Because I pay attention. Because I know everything about you.

He shrugged. “I don’t know, I guessed you would like. You just like Phinks: girly girls.”

“And I know you love that about me,” you teased with a giggle, swinging your shopping bag without a care in the world. Feitan released an annoyed huff of air.

You were definitely right about that.

[averageh0tmenenjoyer]

✨🚗My Head-canons for Bo Sinclair with a short and chubby grungy s/o💕🚗✨

Characters used/mentioned: Bo Sinclair, Y/N A/N: I might write a Vincent one, I understand why so many people adore him💕 TW: bo being bo, a bitch lmao (he's a bit ooc), a very small mention of PTSD (I have it and I have strong feeling that he does too but he refuses to acknowledge it) A/N: Y/n is gender neutral lmfao, The relationship is established and very very deep in (not marriage levels but almost)

Headcanon 1: He can and will steal borrow anything to spite you with love, your favorite Nirvana shirt? It's his Nirvana shirt now. Which is just his size and it hugs oddly nice on his chest and torso, yes he does in fact wear it so you can ogle at him all day, if you ask him why, he'll just chuckle at you

Headcanon 2: Uses your lighters all the time, why? he wont tell you, he'll smirk and scoff at you, turning his head away to light a cigarette only to wink at you with a sly smile because he's a bitch

Headcanon 3: Makes fun of your music taste, you listen to Nirvana? he hates that band not really... But if you listen to KoRn or Slipknot or Metallica- He will be shocked and will stfu for the rest of the day

Headcanon 4: the kind of mf to deny being a personal attention whore AS he is wrapped up in your arms snuggling into you as if you were a pillow for him and him only. Then he'll bite your thighs and chest to show you his way of affection because he's a rat

Headcanon 5: This bastard will make out with you for 6 hours and then walk away as if nothing happened. Yes you will ask what the kiss was for, he will not answer you unless you fight earn the answer, the answer was "no reason... jus' wanted ta see your face become red fer me~"

Headcanon 6: You know how to act? amazing! now you can help out dealing with the tourists! Now stand there and look pretty as Bo does everything else- What? one of the tourists made a nasty commit about your body? they're dead now. No Vincent isn't going to make them into a statue. They don't deserve to be displayed in the House of Wax.

Headcanon 7: At night this man will PRAISE you, he will unironically call you pet names like 'honeybun' or 'bunny' simply because he thinks you're so cute and lovely, these pet names will soon become frequent and more- gentle when he refers to you, he will become more cuddly

Headcanon 8: If you are an artist he will demand a drawing of him from you, no questions asked, when or if you do this mf will be giddy and giggly like a child. Will hang it up in his room and admire it, not because it's him but because you drew it for him.

Headcanon 9: He has PTSD and has frequent flashbacks, you're there to try and ground him and comfort him. Most of those flashbacks are in night terrors usually, but there's times where he's awake, he's dazed, he's confused and tired. He will need that support from you at all times.

Headcanon 10: LOVES TO HOLD YOUR HANDS, his big and calloused hands are perfectly bigger than your small, soft, and dainty hands. Loves to kiss them and nuzzle his face into them as he flutters his lashes at you teasingly

[nil-nothing-nada]

IMPORTANT NOTICE: This post is now considered outdated due to recent developments in my Stardew Valley AU. Please refer to this more recent post for information!

Mr. Qi Headcanons

(A lot of these are based around the idea that he's secretly super powerful and is restraining himself most of the time because that's one of my favorite traits in a character, hehehe. Also, I am a sucker for freaky, supernatural biological traits if you can't tell by my ocs...)

"Immortal"

Agender (Any Pronouns)

Bisexual

Full name is Adam Qi. (First name is by his mother, last name is inherited from his father)

Uses any pronouns, but if often referred to as a male since that's what he's used to. He's all around pretty relaxed about his gender.

Doesn't like his first name because it reminds him of his past humanity, so he never tells it to anyone. He prefers that people refer to him as Mr. Qi or just Qi.

Frighteningly good at masking and pushing down his emotions so that all he displays is cool confidence. Even in the worst situations he seems incredibly diplomatic and slow to anger, though if you somehow happen to see past this facade, you can tell that he is extremely volatile and barely able to restrain himself. Only a few specific things will ever cause the mask to slip, but when it does, he'll explode with uncharacteristically violent anger. Cheating at any of his games especially pisses him off, and he has "disposed" of the worst offenders.

Tries to keep a smile on his face all the time to better hide his intentions. (No, this isn't a reference to Alastor from Hazbin Hotel, sadly.)

Was human at one point, but is completely unwilling to talk about it. He becomes aggressive if he's pushed too much on this topic.

Around the time he turned 19, Mr. Qi was unwillingly possessed by a sort of "will of the universe" that has been jumping from person to person for eons. At first he was terrified, but since then he has grown to enjoy the power he received from it, despite the loss of his humanity.

Mr. Qi himself is only 32 years old, but he has memories and knowledge from countless centuries of lifetimes so he's often referred to as immortal.

The universe's will is always searching for its next heir, and Mr. Qi believes the farmer could be a perfect fit if they are given the right encouragement.

His clothes are made of an enchanted fabric that slightly shimmers like the night sky. It's also quite light and comfortable, as he is picky about the textures of the clothes he wears.

Very sensitive to touch, and hates when people touch him without permission.

Geiger counters and other sensors for hazardous materials go off around him, detecting him as the element polonium or the chemical hydrogen cyanide. Despite this, he is not actually harmful to be around in any way.

If he's angry he creates a static-y aura that can cause unprotected machinery around him to glitch and short circuit. He can also use this power on command, but he has to focus on it. (For visual reference, think about how Mono from Little Nightmares II tunes into the TV transmissions.)

Is fully immune to radiation. Additionally, all toxins have minimal effect on him and cannot kill him, although they might make him sick for a bit.

Regenerates from any damage immediately. He still feels pain like a normal person, but he usually just pushes past it.

He can't really control his strength, but he's usually only about as strong as a decently-exercised human. However, he becomes much stronger when he's truly angry, to the point where he'll clench his fists hard enough to break his bones. This power usually only lasts for very short bursts, though.

Is inhumanly agile and very quiet when moving. He frequently sneaks up on people unintentionally and startles them.

Has pointed, shark-like teeth and small, sharp claws. His claws are always partially out, but he can extend them further if he needs to.

Has a split tongue that is a bit longer than a normal human's.

His skin glitters and looks slightly iridescent in certain lights.

His eyes are impossibly dark, yet seem to sparkle like they contain small universes. Looking in them without preparation causes immense cosmic dread in the viewer, so he wears his reflective sunglasses to cover them.

His blood is dark like space and has a slimy texture.

Growls when he's angry and purrs when he's content. However, he hates purring around other people because it ruins his mysterious, threatening persona. (If I headcanon that someone growls threateningly I gotta make it so they purr too. Sorry, I don't make the rules...)

[somewhere-on-knowhere]

Random Starbula Headcanons

Nebula is super touch-starved and has a very sensitive body. Peter quickly gets into the habit of giving her shoulder rubs and casually caressing her arms and legs when they're sitting together.

Peter gets lost in Nebula's eyes frequently. Nebs loves the dopey, lovestruck expression he gets when this happens.

Peter confesses first despite Nebula having feelings for longer. When he does, she's floored because she assumed he would never reciprocate.

Nebula kisses him first however.

Peter is a tea drinker and Nebula is a coffee drinker.

For date nights, Peter and Nebula sometimes watch movies and shows from Peter's childhood. This leads to them binge-watching all of Cheers. They also end up watching its (better) spinoff, Frasier, which Peter can't believe even exists when he discovers it.

Nebula doesn't really do pet names but over time she begins calling him Star-Lord when she's being flirty (she continues to call him that when she's mad at him too though xD)

Peter isn't much of a pet name person either but that doesn't mean he never uses them. His favorite things to call her are "sweetheart", "hon/honey", and "blueberry". Nebula acts like she hates all of these but they actually make her feel so loved.

Nebula can paint pretty well (stealing this headcanon from the video game xD) and offers to teach Peter how to improve his art after seeing his doodle in Volume 3. Peter isn't that interested but you fucking bet that after learning about her talent he'd get her to draw him.

Nebula prefers dressing in a masc way but Peter helps her feel comfortable wearing more feminine clothes and dresses. He thinks she's hot no matter what she wears though.

Peter's grandpa likes to team up with Nebula to roast Peter. He pretends that it bugs him but is just happy that his girlfriend and his grandfather get along so well.

Mantis plays up the overprotective sister act around them sometimes (jokingly telling them to be home by curfew when they go on dates, threatening to murder Nebula if she hurts Peter, etc.)

The sound of Peter's laugh makes Nebula's knees go weak. Especially when she's the one who made him laugh.

Peter loves public displays of affection while Nebula is shy about them. I adore the idea of Peter being super affectionate to her in public and Nebula wants to maintain her stoic reputation so she gets flustered. Her automatic response is to say something bitchy when he does this but actually enjoys the affection and loves that Peter is so open to showing off that she's his girlfriend.

Nebula still bridal carries Peter sometimes. Only now it's not because he's wasted; it's just because he enjoys it and she's happy to do it.

[our-blood-is-our-ink]

Snapshot Two

Ship: Hela Odinsdottir x Agatha Harkness

Summary: Agatha needs a break from thinking, and her wife helps out.

Word Count: 1k

Disclaimer: 18+ ONLY, minors dni

Warnings: mistress kink, implied pet play, use of bunny as a pet-name, titty sucking (nursing), dumbification, implied fingering, mostly fluff

The moment Agatha enters the apartment she strips.

She's exhausted from today's work, the pointless meetings, the constant need to be diplomatic lest she accidentally spark a war, and all she wants to do now is turn her thoughts off.

Days like today make her wish she never accepted Mother’s ultimatum.

“Rough day?”

Her wife's voice rings out from the kitchen, and Agatha gathers her clothes into her arms.

“I wanna be braindead.” Agatha complains, headed towards the bedroom in order to deposit her clothes into the laundry bin.

“Must've been really rough if you're begging to be fucked stupid like this.”

Agatha turns around and a whine slips out at the sight of her wife leaning against the door frame.

Hela’s wearing loose pants and nothing else, her lean muscles on blatant display, and Agatha feels flushed with heat as she stares at the older woman’s chest with undisguised want.

“Come here, pet.”

Agatha stumbles forward, her head beginning to spin with exhaustion and lust.

Hela runs a gentle hand through her hair and down her back, before she pulls Agatha flush against her body.

“You just want something simple to do, hm? Something easy, something that doesn't require Mistress’s little one to think?”

Agatha whimpers against Hela’s warm skin, her eyes slipping shut as her mind fuzzes.

Her wife’s hands dip low, cupping her ass, and Agatha allows herself to be lifted up, wrapping her legs around Hela's waist.

She takes a deep, slow breath as the goddess starts to walk, burying her face against the crook of Hela’s shoulder, inhaling the mixed scent of fresh linen, and something earthy that's unique to only her wife.

When Hela settles back against the couch cushions, Agatha shifts, curling up within her wife’s embrace, and the low chuckle that emits from the older woman vibrates against her.

Tender fingers gently run across the simple band that rests on Agatha’s forehead, and she can't help how she goes limp with relief when her wife dissolves it into the ether of magic.

Only Hela is permitted to even merely touch the sign of Agatha's right to rule, and it's only Hela who Agatha will ever wholly submit to.

When Hela dips her head down in order to press a kiss against Agatha's lips, her body buzzes, and she feels untethered, adrift in the dark sea of calm that is her wife’s presence.

“There isn't anyone home behind those pretty eyes, is there, pet?” Hela smirks as she pulls away, one of her thumbs tugging down on Agatha's bottom lip, keeping her mouth slightly agape.

When all Agatha can do is whine in response, Hela shakes her head.

“I don't know why you insist on working yourself so hard like this, bunny. Mistress could take over for you. Wouldn't that be nice? To never have to worry about a thing again?”

Hela frequently does this, frequently attempts to use Agatha's need against her, to gain more power.

And the truth is, it would be nice to simply hand over her crown and throne and call it a day, it would be nice to never have to think a thought of her own again.

But Hela, while technically a witch, is not of the people Agatha rules over, and does not have the right blood or magic running through her veins.

Even in her fuzzed out headspace, she's aware enough to shake her head in clear rejection.

Hela huffs, but she's well used to Agatha's refusal, and only pinches the soft skin of her upper arm in a reprimand for not agreeing to her.

Agatha squirms, but doesn't protest.

“Tired.” She manages to get out.

Hela sighs, and then shifts her arms, so that she's cradling Agatha instead of merely holding her.

When her wife guides her head towards a breast, Agatha knows what she wants, and obediently parts her lips as it meets warm flesh, and her eyes flutter closed as she begins to suckle.

It's soothing, and it completely shuts her mind off, and when Hela slides into her with two fingers, she relaxes into the sensation of being completely at Mistress’s mercy.

“There's a good little bunny.”

Mistress's honey-smooth voice sends Agatha further into the empty bliss that's blanketing her mind, and she doesn't need to do anything but bask in the warmth that is Mistress.

All she has to do is let herself be cared for.

She doesn't have to think, she doesn't have to speak, she doesn't have to move.

She only needs to be.

She floats for a long time, finding comfort in the utter emptiness her mind has become, and she's entirely unaware of the passage of time.

It doesn't really matter, it's not something necessary for her to keep track of.

That's what Mistress is for, to take care of her.

Because Agatha is Mistress’s, and Mistress always takes care of her property.

It isn't until Hela is tucking her in that Agatha realizes she's been moved at all.

When she makes a noise of confusion her wife shushes her, soothing a hand over the top of her hair, brushing it back.

“As much as I would like to use your pretty body for myself, you need proper rest more, pet. You really have been working that poor little brain of yours too hard.”

Agatha whines, struggling to move her arms upwards, wanting the warmth of Hela’s body, craving the skin to skin contact.

“Hush, bunny.”

Despite the reprimand, Agatha can feel the bed dip, and then her wife's arms are encircling her, tugging her close, and she sighs with content, her eyes once more slipping shut.

She's lucky, she knows.

Hela may be the only person Agatha will allow to see her vulnerable, but Agatha is the only person Hela ever treats with any sort of tenderness.

In that way, they have marked each other as special.

As equal.

There's a rumble that vibrates from Hela’s chest as she hums a chant softly.

Agatha relaxes, and she falls peacefully asleep to the calming sound.

[racefortheironthrone]

How would you characterize Ziggy from the Wire? After several rewatches he's probably the character I've changed my mind the most about. The man is a goof, but he's not exactly dumb. Reckless, misguided and desperate for approval in a class clown way, but he was pretty smart when come to down business with the cameras and how to steal the cars.

Fucking Ziggy, man. Often dismissed, frequent target of ire from the fandom, and yet...I absolutely understand what the writers were doing with this character and I think that in his own way, Ziggy is one of the most poignant tragedies in Season 2.

Because the thing about Ziggy is how close he is to escaping the downward gyre and yet his ultimate fate is completely unavoidable, given his circumstances. As you say, Ziggy isn't dumb - unlike most of the dockers, he knows how to use computers and other tech, he's been to community college, he's wired into current events. If he was less of a self-destructive fuckup, and if he wasn't a Sobatka, you could imagine him eventually getting a white collar office job and being able to afford an apartment out in the county, settle down and start a family, and live a very comfortable white middle class suburban existence.

But unfortunately, Ziggy is a self-destructive fuckup and he is a Sobatka, and those things are very much related.

See, the problem is that Ziggy adores the social world of the longshoremen, the premorning drink at the local's bar, the nicknames and the stories, the historical memories - hence his whole conversation with his dad about "back in the day" - and he wants nothing more to be one of the guys. And at moments in the bar, you can even see that he's got a kind of charisma that the other dockers can respond to, he can be the fun guy at the party.

But the problem is that Ziggy just isn't cut out for that world and the longshoremen can sense it. He doesn't have the work ethic for it, he doesn't pay attention and gets bored too easily and would rather run some get-rich-quick-scheme than take an extra shift. He doesn't have either the physicality to pull off the macho shit that's always been a big part of longshoremen culture, or the interior sense of self-worth that would allow him to laugh off jokes at his expense, which is absolutely vital for a work culture where a big part of everyone breaking each other's balls all the time is the social contract that you have to take as well as you can give.

But because he feels this pressure to live up to the standards of his father and the Sobatkas before him, he won't leave. Instead, he develops some really unhealthy social tendencies. The first of which is that he's a relentless showoff, trying to make up for his personal deficiencies by driving a classic muscle car that's supposed to make you a Real Man like in the movies, or a fancy leather coat when everyone else is wearing hard-wearing work clothes - and this prompts his hapless feud with Maui, who has no patience for this kind of display. And because Ziggy's ego is both incredibly large and extremely brittle, he reacts to every putdown and social setback like it's the end of the fucking world.

The second one is that he becomes a class clown. He starts out as the fun guy at the party, but he's a complete addict to positive attention, so he doesn't know when to stop. He keeps the joke going long after it's stopped being funny, he keeps drinking after he's reached the fun drunk phase until he gets completely sloppy and starts taking his dick out - because the fact that he's got a big dick is one of the few areas in which he measures up to conventional masculinity, so why not show it off?

And all this would add up to a life of quiet desperation, if it weren't for the fact that Ziggy gets involved in crime. The allure is quite tempting; it absolutely fits into his get-rich-quick, self-worth-through-possession mentality, and it's this entirely different cultural world of machismo that he can try to flourish in. But the same problems that he faced within the Local reassert themselves out on the streets.

The corner boys, black and white, sense that Ziggy is weak - that he can't handle himself in confrontations - and when he comes to them to sell the drugs he's bought on credit, they rip him off with the barest pretense. And pretty soon he's in debt to people who aren't going to put up with his bullshit and they start putting the loanshark's squeeze on him. Even when Nick solves his problems, this only makes matters worse because it only highlights that Nick can manage himself on the corners in a way that Ziggy can't.

And thus Ziggy starts getting more and more self-destructive - he starts ripping off bigger and bigger-ticket items off the ships, the kind of expensive merchandise that will bring heat down on the port and the Local, because the suits notice a whole bunch of cars or high-end digital cameras going missing in a way that they won't a few cases of booze. He takes that stolen merchandise to the Greek's people, but because he's a class clown who doesn't engender respect, they decide to short-change him. And Ziggy has decided to prop up his ego by buying a gun, and the rest is history.

[37sqrt2]

A week or two ago there was a community discussion going on about enstars names, so naturally, I had to pitch in with my tinfoil hat and corkboard, to make it all about akatsuki.

The lotus analogy is frequently used with Keito, to describe his unwavering resolve and morals. I know most people don't think of Keito when they think of snakes (they tend to think of Ibara, who fits the Christian Snake-Person archetype) but in Buddhism, Snakes are a symbol of rebirth.

蓮巳 敬人 (Hasumi Keito) can be directly translated to something like: "Lotus Snake Respected Person"

They're also heavily associated with bodies of water, something that you might see crop up with him a lot. As for his first name, the Respect part is pretty obvious, referencing his strict personality, but what I really like is the little 人 character. Recognize it? Yup its the symbol that's used in-game for fans. It basically just means 'person'.

There's the undeniably human part of Keito Hasumi, the one that he can never escape, and that encapsulates him. Maybe at a time it filled him with despair, but what is mankind if not propelled by Hubris?

He's the Guy Ever.

Souma's name is interesting (神崎 颯馬) Because Kanzaki is a real last name. There isn't much connection to his character as far as I've looked into the origins of it though.

You could translate Souma's name directly into something like: Coastal God Swift Horse

神 is literally the character for God (kami). 崎 means peninsula, but coast also works. This is pretty blatantly a reference to his family's entanglement with the Shinkai Cult. It's impressive to see the foreshadowing with his name.

颯馬 (swift horse) referencing his affinity for horses. Also neat that he owns and rides one (shout out to saigo-don) . 馬 also generally means 'steed', which ties into his tendency to become a vehicle for other people's wishes. His lack of independence, his desire to be relied upon. He's good at doing what he's told, just like a well tamed horse.

鬼龍 紅郎 can literally be translated to (Oni Dragon Crimson Guy)

Okay so Oni are an interesting creature mythologically speaking, because firstly, they're intelligent 'evils', and their symbolic meaning varies largely. I'll jot down the possible connections to Kuro in bullets.

• Come in the color red

• Humanoid, scary, intimidating

• Can be reformed and converted into Buddhism (we'll discuss this later)

• sometimes used as a guardian symbol

Dragons are also similarly intimidating creatures but they have more positive connotations! They're viewed as Guardians and symbols of strength. They're also associated with guarding water bodies (I hope you're picking up what I'm putting down)

The 紅 in Kuro is a character you'll find appears frequently in Akatsuki's discography and name. I like to theorize that Kuro was the reason Keito named it 紅月 and not 赤月, even though they basically both mean 'red moon' and 赤月 is the more Obvious name choice.

Kuro's name is also a bit of a pun, because although it means red, kuro (黒) means black. His hair. Leo calls him 黒 when he's gloomy lol.

Trivia/Symbolism corner! A lot of this is just my theories.

Oni are commonly depicted wearing tiger skin clothing and carrying an iron club. Sound familiar? Tetora's name (鉄虎) literally means Iron Tiger.

Souma displays an affinity for sea and water animals, Kanata has the kanji for 'deep-sea' in his name (深海) Keito is more representative of shallow waters (think of a Lotus filled pond). Souma has his loyalties torn between two water bodies, which is very neat.

Souma switches loyalties from Kanata to Keito... he's 'surfacing'

(Kind of like a turtle)

Summer bird features this huge swathe of shallow water and a bird taking flight into the sky, maybe Because he's becoming independent of those figures and exploring his own aspirations.

The fact that 鬼 in Chinese means 'ghost' and then you have akatsuki mortality trio again with 鬼 (ghost/soul) 神 (god/immortal) 人 (mortal)

Coming back to akatsuki and Water, there's 蓮巳 which evokes the image of a pond, 龍 which guard bodies of water.

Kind of like how Kuro was Keito's physical shield during the war. Both snakes and dragons are used interchangeably on occasion as 'guardian' motifs in temples.

of course 紅蓮, which means red lotus or just a way to refer to a layer of hell in Buddhism. Hell couple

The idea that Oni can be converted to Buddhism, kind of parallels Kuro leaving his delinquent lifestyle behind to follow Keito, the Buddhism Guy. In Unification by force, Souma even points out that Kuro has been copying keito and saying prayers before he eats.

Kuro's themes of self-improvement and his 'Soul' motif. the Buddhist idea of refining the immortal soul into its best self.

That's all I can think of, feel free to point out any inaccuracies and I'll edit the post ASAP.

[byanyan]

@lee-sol sent:ㅤwhen they climb through his window, he’s nowhere to be seen, having left for work hours ago. however, there’s something sitting on his pillow, laid out specifically so it’d get their attention. it’s a homemade bouquet, but the flowers are replaced with an assortment of sanrio plushies, with multiples of hello kitty, my melody, and kuromi plushies. the bouquet is decorated with colorful stickers, and the bouquet itself is bright pink, close to the shade they frequently wear. and attached to the bouquet, there’s a neatly handwritten note that reads: i wanted to do something special for you, so i got some of your favorites. i should be home by 6:30pm, if you’re still here by the time i get back, we should go and grab dinner. my treat. - love, sol <3.

ㅤfamiliar as they are with sol's work schedule, it isn't until just before six that they show up at the window to his bedroom, pushing it open to climb inside in what has become their usual routine. thick sole of their boot hits the carpet first, the rest of their body pulled over the sill until their second foot follows and they can push the glass shut again against the cool autumn air. backpack dropped to the ground without any ceremony whatsoever, byan raises their arms over the head in a broad stretch, lifting the bottom of their top higher and exposing more of their stomach as they barely stifle a yawn. ...a nap sounds nice right about now. they should have time for a quick one before sol gets home, right?

gaze drifting toward the bed, arms dropping back to their sides, there's a pause as their attention is caught by a vibrant pink and many familiar faces. although confusion tugs at their brow, a smile begins to form as they step around to the head of the bed to get a closer look at the display which certainly wasn't there yesterday. eyes trace the fuzzy shapes of their three favourite sanrio characters, the pull at their lips only spreading wider as they catch more of the details — from the arrangement to the stickers, right down to the shade of pink used as a base, everything about the strange but cute little bouquet is so clearly geared toward them. did he... put this whole thing together himself?

leaning in closer and catching sight of the note attached, byan grabs it between two fingers and plucks it free, lifting it toward their face. eyes scan the words scrawled across it slowly, carefully taking each one in so they don't get ahead of themself and miss anything. by the time they reach the little heart at the end, their smile has grown into a soft grin full of nothing but fondness, and an uncontrollable hint of warmth has even crept its way across their cheeks. a quiet breath escapes — an affectionate, if somewhat disbelieving laugh — and they turn on their heel to drop down onto the bed, reaching over to pull the full bouquet into their lap.

it's so... sweet. no one has ever done something like this for them just because. hell, no one has ever done something like this for them, period. it's almost hard to believe that someone would not only put the money in to purchase all of these plushies, but also put in all the time and effort of putting it together, from creating the base to arranging each plush... all just for them. thinking about it brings back that odd, giddy, fluttery feeling inside their chest which only sol has ever managed to cause.

ㅤ—god, he's so fucking cute.

suddenly, it's feeling a lot harder to wait the half hour for him to get home. they want to see him now, want to cover his stupid adorable face in kisses, to go to dinner with him and hold him real close for the rest of the night. patience never has been one of their strong suits, but for him... they can wait. impatiently, to be sure, but they can do it. rather than that nap they were originally thinking of, however, maybe they'll freshen up a little instead — spend a bit of time getting ready so they can look extra good for their date.

giving one of the kuromi plushies a little poke on the nose, byan sets their gift back down against sol's pillow. the note, on the other hand, they skim over one more time with warm eyes before tucking it neatly into their pants pocket and moving toward their backpack in order to dig out their makeup bag and a bottle of perfume. if he's not going to be able to pull them off of himself tonight, and he certainly won't be if they have any say in the matter, they might as well at least smell good for him, right?

[inconveniently-discorporated]

So I rewatched this scene with this new lens, and the first thing I noticed about it is that Aziraphale is quietly panicking the entire time.

I mean, he looks more annoyed than panicked at first, but the moment he starts speaking he's only taking short, shallow breaths, like he can't really breathe properly. This whole scene is about him both setting boundaries and breaking them down at the same time, both of which are terrifying things for someone who primarily sees their role as a subservient rule follower.

And, not only that, but it's a very loud, very obvious, very much not allowed in every way declaration of love. "I love you so much I'm willing to give you my whole heart in this flask." Like you said, it's incredibly, deeply vulnerable.

It's also entirely out of character and against the rules.

I noticed that, for the most part, angels and demons are frequently wearing various sorts of cravats, and it usually aligns in some way with following the rules, or doing their job. So maybe if we take a deeper look at that...

The archangels are all wearing something loose and frilly, but still fashionable and proper-looking. We know that they all give the appearance of following the rules, but subvert them however it suits them. Sometimes they'll even go and do something that seems way beyond the rules (like physically assaulting an angel).

The exception is Gabriel, who is almost always wearing a tie. He is the face of the Host, and he doesn't do any of the dirty work himself. He has this brilliant way of making it clear what he wants, while every piece of his picture is clean and pristine. As he said, "There are no back channels, Michael."

The demons are always wearing some sort of scarves or sashes, and they're gritty and grungy. I noticed that in the scene with Crowley presenting the M25, they're wearing tighter ones, as if they're being restricted, and only there because they're following the rules. It's their job.

When they bring the antichrist, they're very open and casual. They're taking great joy in it. Perhaps Ligur's is a little tighter, but he's also not super duper familiar with Earth. He's a little out of his depth. When they come to collect Crowley at his flat, they're wearing their scarves (cozy) really tight and bundled up. It's not like wearing a tie, but they seem to relish in doing their job just then and punishing Crowley for breaking Hell's rules.

Speaking of Crowley, he's usually wearing something that always reminded me of a chain locked around his neck. I know in at least one scene, he's literally wearing an actual chain.

And this scene is the one in which he is most chained to his destiny as a demon. He is a prisoner, and he's trying to break free.

But in any case, what he's wearing isn't really at all like what the other demons are wearing. Just like how no other angel really has a bow tie like his.

Bringing us back to this scene...

So it's really too dark on my screen to see the details of Crowley's outfit, but it looks like he's not wearing anything EXCEPT for the turtleneck. He's usually wearing plunging, revealing things (aw, kind of like his heart is on display for Aziraphale), but not here. He's not wearing a scarf or anything, but he is very very much breaking the rules and going way beyond the boundaries of his job. He's ALSO under cover (lol).

And Aziraphale... Usually the studious rule-follower, he is shirking the rules here. Not completely, but he knows he's way out of bounds here. And he shows it with the complete and utter panic.

(alright @ineffablebookgirl I hope I did you proud!)

Um I just noticed while rewatching my "ugh good omens" fanvid playlist -- Aziraphale's not wearing a bowtie in the "You go too fast for me" scene, in the Bentley in the 60s. He's wearing a looser tie, like maybe an ascot? Still tartan, of course. But it's the only time in the 20th century he deviates from the bowtie.

I've written about the significance of the coat changing in the Blitz scene, and I have to think that this tie is meaningful somehow too. Aziraphale's look changes so subtly, every detail matters.

Maybe the more open collar signifies his deep vulnerability in this scene where he hands the holy water over to Crowley.

[levi-supreme]

REI!! UR PROF. LEVI THREAD IS JUST AMAZING I NEED MOREEEE.

stg i took stats this year and if i had read this sometime earlier in the school year i would've been motivated to do well on all my fucking tests :,D

en ee wayz, do u have more prof. levi brain rot pretty please ><

Anon!! Aww thank you so much for the love for stats prof Levi <3 also, don't worry. I am with you anon!!! I hope stats prof Levi can still motivate you to practise your stats and do well ^^

Also I know you sent this during May which was my exam period, and I'm so sorry for getting to this so late!!! >//< enjoy some Stats Prof Levi headcanons!!

Characters: Statistics Professor!Levi x University student fem!reader

Warnings: Not SFW below the cut, minors and ageless blogs dni. Characters are based off my statistics professor Levi writings. Mentions of kinks.

SFW

Professor Ackerman always has a cup of hot tea and your favourite biscuits waiting for you when you come over every Saturday; it's like his way of showing you how excited he is to see you. Although his house is already extremely neat and dust-free, he still vacuums the entire house before you come over, turns on his aroma diffuser, and even changed the water in his goldfish bowl because he knows how much you love looking at his goldfish.

As your visits to his home became more frequent, and you started coming over for reasons outside of getting those extra statistics lessons, Professor Ackerman started making his home a little more accommodating and conducive for you. He kept a space for you to put some clothes in his cupboard, he got you a pink toothbrush to match his green one, and he got you your own mug even though you insisted you could just use one of his many mugs in his collection.

Professor Ackerman doesn't display his affection through words often, but he shows his love for you in his own way. He buys you dinner when you come for your night classes after work, he allows you to doze off during his lectures. He also makes sure to drive you home so that you can sleep in his car on the way back. Sometimes, Professor Ackerman would just tell you to stay over because it's too late.

Professor Ackerman loves seeing you wear his clothes, especially wearing them for classes in university because if you two can't go public with your relationship, this is the best way for him to flaunt that you're his, and you are off-limits. He loves hearing the whispers of your classmates, murmurs of "isn't that Professor Ackerman's sweater?", "I saw her alighting from his car today", "are they wearing matching clothes?" making his feel extremely smug.

Not SFW

He goes absolutely w e a k when he hears you call him by his title; 'Professor' or 'Sir'. Hearing you address him by these titles only reminds him of how you two obviously have a different social status, and the imbalance between you two only makes him crave and want you more.

He loves your thighs. Always has his hands on your thighs whenever he can. Loves worshipping your thighs too. Featherlight kisses, wet and slow kisses, bites, hickies, marks left by his nails, imprints from the grabs and smacks. He goes unhinged whenever you wear shorts that flaunt your thighs and skin. Marks your thighs with bruises and demand you wear shorts the next day, letting him see his work of art.

Professor Ackerman loves it when you're the one in control. When you call the shots in bed, the power imbalance drives him mad. He loves seeing you dominate over him, telling him to do things to pleasure you, ordering him to do better, and praising him for doing a good job. "Feels good, sir", "You're doing fantastic", "Hmm, what a good boy for me", he can never get enough of your praises and words.

Professor Ackerman thrives in seeing you a hot sticky mess after rounds of passionate love making. Usually he would have gone for a shower immediately, but with you around, he found a newfound intimacy with simple acts such as cuddling. Feeling your skin against his, roaming his hands around your body to cup your breast, feeling your mixed juices flow down your thighs, Levi wished he can hold you in his arms like this forever.

Tagging: @hashaneeee @ack3rlady @roralore @imkumichan @kristinecharmm @notgoodforlife @jean-prettyboy-kirschtein @michiboo @sweet-assh0le @hannie2kay @ack3rlevi @levislovingwife @galactict3a @hauntedhousecat @sckerman @thesimpsstuff @ackermandick @greenfurret @levisbrat25

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[gucciwins]

Are you Angel?

Harry gets hurt while on the job and Y/N gets a phone call she was not prepared for.

Word count: 7413

A/N: hello friends, it's been a while :) this is a continuation to my story Trouble Follows. You don't have to read but it will give you an insight of how Y/N and Harry met. I am thrilled to share more of firefighter harry with you. I adore him and I hope you do as well.

please do let me know what you thought of the story and please reblog! <333

Warnings: angst, breakups, hospitals

A firefighter will always run into a burning building with not a hint of hesitation. All their focus is on saving the people stuck inside.

Running towards trouble is second nature to them.

She knew that.

She also knew what it meant to date a firefighter.

The unreliable hours, the non-frequent communication, the many failed dinner dates. The twenty-four hours shifts when he would then arrive home to just sleep.

Harry had begun to give her a constant comfort that he would eventually come home and climb into bed behind her. He would then gently nuzzle his face in her neck, taking in her sweet honey scent. In contrast, she took in the woody ashy smell that seems to be permanently stained on him.

So trust her when she said she knew what she was in for when Harry asked her to be his girlfriend.

Four months in, she knew she would be here for a long time, maybe forever, if life would allow it.

She was sure; she knew what to expect.

But she didn't, not until she got the call.

The call that would shatter her heart.

The call that would lead her to be sitting in this uncomfortable, ugly brown hospital chair, holding tightly onto his ashy hand. As she prayed on and on to a God, she no longer held close but wished for Harry they were real and would bring Harry back to her.

Y/N prayed for Harry to finally open his eyes and give her a reassuring smile that he would be okay.

That they would be okay.

Until then, she'll wait.

Harry being Lieutenant allowed him to have a consistent schedule. That did not mean there weren't days where he had to pull a double shift or stay back to finish paperwork; he let it pile up.

The one day that was Y/N's was Sunday.

She got him an entire day to lay in bed together and eat all the baked goods she baked for him to try. It was becoming their day. Everyone at the station knew Harry could not be disturbed on Sundays unless it was the end of the world, and even then, they'd have to pry him away from Y/N.

He feels safe in her arms. Harry had never felt that before. Sure, he was surrounded by his firehouse family, but he had never felt so loved in two arms as if she could take all his problems and stresses away. Still, she did exactly that when she would flash him her gorgeous smile and hold her arms open for him to fall into at the end of every day.

Harry knows he's never felt this way, and he won't ever take it for granted.

This Sunday will be different, and she feels it as soon as she wakes up because, in her queen-sized bed, she's alone. No arms wrapped around her waist; no head tucked into her necks as he places soft open kisses to wake her from her sleep gently.

Already, she knows this is going to be a bad day. She feels it in her bones. Having been around trouble for so long, she knows the difference between good and bad. The feelings she has made her want to find Harry and pull him back into bed where she can keep him safe.

Y/N gets out of bed, throwing the warm sheets off her body going to the bathroom to do her morning skin routine, wanting to feel refreshed for when Harry breaks the news; he's going to leave her alone on their day. She knows him well enough; he's cooking her breakfast to make up for leaving her so early in the morning.

She walks out of her bathroom, going straight to her closet and taking out the first sweater she saw. It's a baby blue color and stitched on the left side on top of her heart is: "love me please?" It's Harry's favorite sweater of hers because it's an oversized sweater that fits him well. The only reason she has it back is that he wanted her to wash it and wear it until it got her smell again. Y/N kissed him silly when he told her that, plus she loves that it smells like him now.

Y/N takes one look at her unmade bed and walks away, knowing she's going to crawl back in after Harry leaves her. She walks out and, from the hallway, can hear Harry humming away. If she's honest, she doesn't recognize the song. As she has come to learn, Harry has an interesting taste in music; he has basically heard every song ever to exist. It's a reason they are so good at Four Clovers Thursday Trivia night. She dominates pop culture and films, and Harry takes on music. She's also better at history than him. Their friends love trivia night because their winning always gets them free drinks. It's something she looks forward to each week.

"Morning, H," Y/N says as she approaches him from behind and wraps her arms around his waist. Harry smiles, instantly feeling warm with her arms around him.

"Morning, firebug. Sleep well?"

She mumbles a no, causing Harry to laugh, and she feels it vibrate through her.

"Awe, upset I wasn't wrapped around you." He teases. "I'm making up to you by making breakfast."

She pulls away, spotting blackberries on the counter. "Sure, Jan."

Harry can hear the change in her tone and knows she's still goofing off with him but knows she's upset.

"Angel, come sit. Coffee is ready."

She shakes her head but makes her way over to the chair he pulled out for her. "No coffee. I'll be going back to bed soon." Y/N waits to see if he'll correct her, but he doesn't.

"I'm sorry." He begins.

"No apologies."

"Please let me. I'm leaving you on our day." He pouts.

"As much as I don't want you to go, I'm sure they need you more than I do."

Harry frowns, "I hope you'll never stop needing me." He whispers against her lips before closing the gap. Y/N hums against his soft lips allowing herself to get lost in the moment; she loves his kisses, soft and gentle just as he is despite what his sharp eyes might have one believe.

Harry pulls away after pressing one final kiss on her pouted lips. "I'm sorry I have to go to work, but I know for certain that I can meet you for a late lunch."

"Lunch?" She repeats, arms wrapped around his waist, hoping he was serious with his offer.

He hums. "Yes, 2:30, that bistro with that avocado dressing you like for your sandwich."

"It's a date." She grins, laying her head on his chest letting him hold her tight. He unwraps his arms, letting her go.

"I've got to get going, firebug, but I'll see you later."

"Stay safe, Styles." She tells him as she does every time he leaves.

"Try my best, angel."

With that, he slips his beat-up white Vans with lilac laces and walks out the door; it shuts it behind him. Just as Y/N steps towards it to lock up, it opens back up, startling her. Harry steps back in, and before she can question him, he places both faces on the side of her face and kisses her breathless. Y/N is quick to react, allowing their lips to move in perfect harmony, not as smooth but perfect, nonetheless.

"I--" Harry begins before he clears his throat. "I'll miss you, angel."

Y/N feels the heat rush to her cheeks because, for a moment, she thought he'd say another three words. "And I'll miss you, H. Now get out of here; I don't need you showing up late to our lunch date."

Harry smiles, dimples on full display, hugging her before walking out a skip in his step. She peaks her head out, making sure he gets in the car safely before he drives off. He sits there for a moment, and she knows he is letting his Bluetooth connect as he waits for his drive-to-work playlist titled "it's time" to start playing. He takes a look at his mirrors before backing out and driving. That's when Y/N closes and locks the door.

Time to go back to bed for a few more hours; what else is there to do on a Sunday when she's left alone.

Harry genuinely did not want to go to work today, but it's not like he could say no to his Chief. His Chief was never one to call in favor unless it was an emergency. He didn't ask, knowing he'd get the full story Monday, but for now, he gets on his pants, t-shirt, and boots and hopes there are no fires today.

The only thing is that Harry isn't used to working with the B-shift, sure he knows everyone's name and a little of their lives, but they aren't his usual team. He shakes that off because he knows he would do anything to help a team member and knows they would do the same in return.

Harry is lost in thought, wondering what Y/N was going to do today. He knows she planned to take him to a butterfly pavilion today even told him the outfit she had planned out for it. A pair of jeans that had flowers embroidered all over something she added, saying she thought they looked a bit plain, pairing it with a pastel pink top. Harry was surprised with her style after meeting her various times in different outfits. He was surprised at how soft she dressed in pastels. She may have a bold personality, but her fashion was delicate and warm. It was a nice balance.

He nearly runs into Carols as he made his way to his office, too busy thinking of the girl he left at home. "Sorry, bud."

"No problem, Harry. Surprised to see you here," Carols tells him, everyone knowing Sunday was Harry's day off.

"Chief had something come up and asked me to come in. I should be out of here by eight tonight if we're lucky."

Carlos smiles, "with you around, we usually are."

Harry chuckles, telling him he'll be in his office if he needs anything. He looks around his desk and sighs at how much has piled up already.

Might as well get ahead.

It's a few hours when Harry realizes the house is quiet. He peaks around the window and figures they are all in the common room. It's only one, and thankfully there have been no calls, and if it continues, then he will make it to lunch with his angel.

He shoots her a text.

Angel

13:24 PM

I miss you. Counting down the minutes until I get to see you xxx

Harry clicks send and smiles down at his phone. 2:30 couldn't come fast enough.

As he gets up to stretch and go for a snack in the kitchen, he takes a deep breath because as confident as he may seem, he isn't around the second shift. They don't know him so well, and Harry ultimately is shy. He may be able to hide it, but he has small quicks that others pick up on. Something he knows Y/N spotted quickly, like when he toes his foot into the ground or when he begins to chip at his nails, and Y/N's favorite is when he moves his hands behind his back and sways side to side. She finds it endearing, but others might not think it's leadership material.

He walks into the lounge to cross to the kitchen when a few heads turn to him, but before they can say a word, the alarm rings, and Harry is literally saved by the bell.

Not a second to waste, everyone heads over to the rig and quickly suits up. Harry is Lieutenant meaning he's in charge of the scene today, seeing as their captain and Chief aren't here today. Harry respects all the firefighters and knows this will go well if everyone carries out their job.

It's a factory fire, and as soon as they arrive, Harry can see it's burning fast. He's not sure how many people are there, but he calls in for reinforcements knowing they will need all the manpower they can get.

"This is House 102; please send more units available. The factory fire is burning at a faster rate than we can control. My team is going in now. There are five people unaccounted for; the left side of the building is clear." Harry speaks into his two-way radio.

"Carlos," the young firefighter jogs over, eyes on Harry, no longer staring at the roaring fire. "You're going in with Baz. Stay close and don't go up the second floor; you need to be quick in and out."

"Who's going with you, Lieutenant?" Carlos asks, clearly worried.

"Jameson and Rey are coming with me; stay safe, and if anything happens, just radio in."

"You got it!" Harry pats his shoulder and walks off towards the two waiting men.

Harry knows the men well, he trained them when they came into the house, but they preferred B-shift instead of being with him. One spot was available, and he knew they didn't want to be separated. Rey and Jameson have been dating for two years, but that's a secret only very few know. It's not prohibited, but if it gets more serious, one will have to relocate to a new station. They simply aren't ready for that, and indeed Harry would be sad not to have them around the house or hearing their stories. It just adds a more considerable risk because, at the end of the day, the job is first.

Rey walks towards the entrance with Harry following right behind. Jameson, a few feet back, calling out for anyone in there that needs help.

"Fire department, call out." Echoes out as much as it can as the fire begins to roar louder.

The heat gets worse the further they walk in; they turn right at the edge of a desk labeled "Torres."

"H, there!" Rey shouts, rushing over to a man knocked unconscious and had heavy storage struck over his legs, pinning him down. Harry and Jameson run over, assessing the man before making any sudden moves.

Jameson finds a pulse, weak but there. He gets the extra mask over the man's face hoping it'll wake him up soon.

"On the count of three, we lift," Harry tells the two men standing to a stand as the others do the same.

They nod. "One, two, three." They grunt in unison, pushing the container to a standing position. Harry looks over the man's legs and is thankful there is no blood, but there will be swelling and bruises. "Right, Rey, take him out. We'll keep searching."

Rey nods, lifting the man over his shoulder as he was trained to do, and rushes out of the burning building. Harry and Jameson have just learned a new area when the radio comes on. "Lieutenant Styles, it's Carlos. We found two men; only one remains unaccounted for."

Harry nods. "Got it, no one comes back in. We'll be out soon."

He now leads the way, making his way towards a stairway. There's no fire here, but it's moving faster, and smoke is thick. Whoever is in here might not last much longer without oxygen.

"Fire department, call out," Harry shouts, voice firm.

"Here.." a whisper is heard, both Harry and Jameson freeze. Once more, "here" is yelled but sounds muffled.

Harry looks around, not seeing anything but fire, and fears the structure will collapse soon. Just as he was about to yell again, he sees a can knocked, and a man hidden under a black rag is seen. Jameson rushes over, helping the man sit up. He's older, well into his sixties. He doesn't look too well; he has a few scapes.

"Right, we need to head out," Jameson tells Harry, helping the man stand up who is fighting consciousness.

"This is Lieutenant Styles; on our way out found the last man. Have paramedics on standby."

"Got it, Styles. Get out quick."

Jameson and Harry get the man up and head to exit. Harry can see the light of day and knows he will be late for lunch, but thankful Y/N is understanding and very forgiving. He'll make it up to her by buying dessert.

Just as they almost reach the door, a piece of dry wood comes falling down, separating Harry and Jameson; luckily, it did not hit them, but now Harry has to find a new way out. It's not looking good.

"Harry," Jameson looks panicked, but Harry stays calm.

"Get him out, now," Harry tells him, looking in every direction for what to do.

"No, I won't-" Harry cuts him off.

"Jameson, get this man out. He needs medical attention. That's an order." Voice full of authority with no room to argue.

Jameson nods and heads out. "I'm coming back for you."

Harry chuckles. He sees a small path, but it'd be a more extended way out. He debates what to do. He could wait, but the longer he stays, the quicker this building is beginning to collapse.

It takes him two seconds to decide to go right and find a new route out instead of staying put. He walks and only gets hotter as the fire begins to surround him. He's good at not panicking, always thinks better under pressure, but this is getting intense. Harry climbs over a crate and bends low to go through this tight space. He sees the exit, it's still a bit away, but he knows he is in the clear.

That's when he hears a big explosion knocking him forward. His oxygen masks flys off, landing a few feet away. As Harry reaches his hand out to get it, he's pulled back. He looks behind and sees he's stuck. There are crates stacked on top of him. The air is thick of smoke, and with no oxygen, it seems like the fire will soon enough engulf him.

Shit.

He's really in trouble now.

Harry presses his radio, holding it, hoping it's still working. "This is Harry," He coughs. "I'm trapped under a few crates. I can't reach my ask. I'm west of the building."

"Harry, hold on. We're going in." Harry hears Jameson reply, but he's fading quickly.

He shakes his head. "Can't go to sleep, but this smoke is too thick to actually see anything, let alone for his team to find him.

"Tell…" He coughs again, and this time doesn't stop for what feels like five minutes but is only a few seconds. "Tell angel, I'm sorry."

A voice comes over the speaker, but Harry's eyelids are fluttering shut, the weight of the crates is too much, and the smoke only gets deeper in his lungs if he keeps speaking.

Harry welcomes the darkness as he sees the one person he was supposed to meet for lunch. She's holding an outstretched hand for him to take and who is he to ever say no to her.

Real or not, he goes to her, and soon enough, he falls unconscious, not feeling when his team lifts him out and puts him in the back of an ambulance.

Y/N decided to show up a bit earlier for their lunch date, putting in their order early, wanting to maximize all their time together. She wouldn't see him until late that night, and honestly, she wasn't a fan of being separated on her favorite day of the week.

She sits on a bench right outside, both sandwiches wrapped tucked away in a brown paper bag and a lemonade sitting next to her untouched. It was his favorite, too sweet in her opinion. Still, Harry loved it, especially since he wasn't one to indulge in sweets unless they were hers.

Knowing Harry could be running late, she pulls out a book from her orange tote bag that Harry gifted to her. The book was Beach Read, Frankie recommended it to her then gave her the book saying she needed to read more romance books and not just poetry and nonfiction books. She actually enjoyed it, which surprised her, but even if she didn't, she's too invested to not find out the ending.

She was just starting chapter five when she feels too much time has passed and glances down at her phone.

2:55

25 minutes late isn't bad or unusual even; she decides to put the book away and keep an eye out for him. Usually, when he keeps her waiting, he makes up for it with a long kiss that never fails to take her breath away; she's excited about it now.

Time seems to go slower when she just sits waiting. She debates beginning to eat her sandwich when her stomach starts to growl. It's low, but she would feel bad if she began to eat, and that's when he shows up. She settles for waiting and instead takes a drink of the sweet lemonade.

As Y/N sits waiting for Harry, her phone begins to ring and displays an unknown number but the city's area code. Every bone in her body tells her to prepare for the worst but hopes she's paranoid.

She takes a deep breath before answering and bringing the phone up to her ear.

"Hello, are you angel?" A deep voice man asks.

"It's Y/N. Actually, can I ask who's calling?" She's holding her breath; only one person calls her angel.

"I'm calling on behalf of Lieutenant Harry Styles. Harry has been in an accident and was taken to the hospital. He asked us to call an angel on his way to the hospital. We assumed you were one of his emergency contacts."

Y/N feels her hands begin to shake. "What hospital?"

The man on the phone rattles the information, and she lets it all sink in. He hangs up, and she sits there waiting on the bench for her date that will not be showing up.

Her phone rings again, she answers without looking at the caller.

"Y/N," she recognized the voice; it's Mitch, and if he's calling, then it must be true.

"Mitch," she whispers, not recognizing her own voice. It's shaky, tears beginning to well up.

"Where are you?"

"At the bistro a street down from the station." She replies, hoping he's coming for her.

"I'm close; we'll pick you up and go see him, darling." She nods but remembers he can't see her.

Y/N isn't sure why she's not crying. She feels the tears, but it's like they are stuck; her heart hurts, and she knows that says enough. "We were supposed to meet for lunch. I got worried when he didn't show up, but I didn't think--" he interrupts her.

"Harry is going to be fine, trust me. He's okay, and he needs us there."

Y/N doesn't reply because she sees him pulling in. Mitch is in the passenger seat, Sarah is driving. She doesn't say a word as she swings open the door and settles in the back.

She sets her hands in her lap; she can feel herself trembling. She can feel herself breaking because she won't know if he's okay until she sees him. Mitch can say he's fine, but she needs to see for herself.

Sarah and Mitch share a concerned look; Y/N doesn't notice her eyes looking out the window.

"Y/N?" Mitch begins, voice full of concern. "Do you- are you okay to go see him?"

"Of course." She replies quickly. "He needs me; well, I hope he does."

"Course he needs you. Needs his angel by his side." Sarah tells her calmly, wanting to see her smile, but it doesn't work because only Harry should be calling her that. She shouldn't be on her way to see him in a hospital bed. She should have seen him next to her on that bench as he ate his sandwich and gave her kiss and kiss as she told him stories.

They are silent the rest of the way. Sarah pulls into an empty parking space, and she rushes after Mitch, who seems to know exactly where Harry is as he rushes past the front desk. The only thing that slows them down is waiting for the elevator; she gladly would have taken the stairs if Mitch didn't tell her that he's on the sixth floor. Instead, she waits impatiently for the old elevator that will take her to see her love.

He is going to be okay. He has to be okay. Y/N keeps those thoughts running through her head as Mitch and Sarah guide her to room 613.

Mitch walks in first, holding the door open, Sarah places a comforting hand on her back, and Y/N feels supported and loved, but nothing prepares her for what she is about to walk into.

The constant beep of Harry's heart monitor is the only thing that can be heard in his private room. The beep is steady; it makes her let out a deep breath. The monitor already calming her down, she approaches slowly as if he'd wake if she'd walk any faster.

She sits in the uncomfortable chair next to his bed and pulls it as close as she can.

Y/N just stares at him, taking it all in. He looks like he's resting peacefully like he should originally have been when they started this day together. His curls are disheveled, his face dirty with smoke stains and a few gauzes wrapped around his arms. She can't see much else but knows he's got a road of recovery still ahead of him.

"Hi, Harry," she whispers, her hand slowly reaching under the white sheet to grab hold of his right hand. "I'm right here, okay. Take your time waking up; there's no rush. Just know that I'm not going anywhere."

She pauses, hoping for a reply even though she knows she won't get one. "We can also discuss how I'm sort of one of your emergency contacts."

Y/N presses her lips to his hand. "Need you to wake up, want to see those Rapunzal eyes." She sits back, not removing her hand from his. Sarah has not taken her eyes off of her, Sarah might feel like she might blow up soon, but being at his side, she has begun to feel better.

"Harry, we're here for you. The whole team is outside in the lobby, probably why they sent us to the floor with the biggest waiting area. Even young Carlos is out there, saying you gave them a scare but really hopes you never pick up another B-shift again." Mitch sniffles before stepping out of the room. Sarah walks over to where he was standing.

"Hey Harold, it's trivia night in a few days, and kind of counting on you to get us those free drinks." Sarah chuckles. "It's been a while since we've been in the hospital. I think it was when I made you all donate blood for that ambulance competition. Fun times, now you rest and get better. The good thing is you have the best nurse looking out for you." Sarah glances at Y/N, sending her a small smile.

Y/N sits back in her chair as Sarah sits in one by the window. She knows she's in for a long afternoon and an even longer night.

Harry's head is throbbing.

He's not sure why. The last he remembers is leaving Y/N's house to go for his shift at the station.

They were meeting for lunch; he's sure she wouldn't let him drink any alcohol on the job.

Harry slowly opens his eyes and is blinded by the bright light. He sees a photo of the sunset right in front of him, and a tv hung up; if he's not mistaken, he's in a hospital room, primarily due to being in an uncomfortable bed. The oxygen mask over his face is also a dead giveaway he was in an accident.

He looks around, and he sees he is not alone. His angel is sleeping, a tight grip on his right hand; she looks exhausted. Mitch walks in just as Harry was about to wake her. Y/N mumbles and sits up, pulling her hand away from his to rub the sleep away. Harry wants to tell her to stop knowing how much it actually irritates her eyes, especially when she tubs a little harsher than usual.

"Were you able to find tea, Mitch?" Y/N asks, looking over at him.

"Sarah's bringing it over." Mitch's gaze never turns to her staying on Harry; this confuses Y/N and turns back around in her seat to look at a resting Harry but instead finds his eyes on her.

"Harry!" Y/N scoots forward, grasps his hand in hers. "You're awake. Mitch, the nurse, please."

Harry raises his free hand to take off the mask. He wants to speak, but this won't allow him. "No, love. Got to keep it on."

Harry's eyes close, then flutter open. He stares at Y/N, his eyes kind but defiant. He takes the mask off, coughing a bit; it makes Y/N feel nauseous, knowing he's not doing so well.

"I think you need to keep it on, Harry." She says, "the nurse needs to see it when she comes in soon."

"Hey, angel," he says in a raspy voice. It sounds like he's in pain when he talks.

"Yes?" She asks.

"I'm sorry for scaring you."

Y/N shrugs, "no big deal. I wasn't even scared."

Harry smiles, showering her his dimples since she last saw him this morning. He begins to laugh but stops when it causes him to cough. Y/N lets him settle down before bending down to gently kiss him.

"Now, let that hold you over, and put the mask pack on."

Harry nods. "Anything for you, my angel."

It's a half-hour before the doctor comes in, and by that time, Harry had fallen back asleep, only just waking up a few minutes before the man walked through the door. Mitch alerted everyone outside he was awake and doing good.

Dr. Vazquez walked white coat open, displaying a purple button-up and a bright yellow tie. It puts a smile on Y/N's face.

"Hello, Mr. Styles. Glad you're awake."

"Me too, Doc. Nice tie."

Dr. Vaquez smiles, looking down at himself, "Thank you, my wife picks out my tie every morning before she heads off to work."

"Lucky man," Harry tells him.

"That I am." Dr. Vazquez replies. "You've got a mild concussion, nothing serious, but you are allowed to sleep while you're here. We've got a good team looking out for you. You've got a few burns, but those will heal nicely if properly cared for. A few deep bruises on your leg and one on your rib cage, no blood clots. It will hurt to walk for a few days."

"Nothing too bad, then," Harry sighs, relaxing in bed.

"I've looked at your charts, and it looks like you will be making a full recovery and should be back on the job in three or four weeks. In the meantime, you will need to stay overnight and keep taking in oxygen. I see the nurse changed your mask. Please don't remove this one." Harry nods. "Any questions?"

Harry shakes his head no, "Not at the moment."

"Alright, I'll be off then. I'll come to see you tomorrow midday, and we'll talk about going home. I hear you have a waiting room full of people dying to see; just be aware that visiting hours end at nine, but if you're kind to Nurse Lucy, she'll be lenient to ten."

"Thank you, Dr. Vazquez." Mitch and Y/N say in unison as the man exits the room.

"That's the quietest I've ever seen you, firebug." Harry teases.

"You hush." She lightly pats his arm.

Mitch laughs, "going to go tell them you're allowed, visitors."

Y/N and Harry sit in silence. He can tell she has something on her mind, a slight frown on her face. He wonders if it's about him if she won't be able to handle dating someone who can be hurt by the job. Harry honestly does not want to lose her.

"I'm going to step out," Y/N tells him, looking down at their joined hands, not wanting to meet his eyes.

"Y/N," Harry sighs.

"You've got lots of people waiting to see you and roughly have an hour to see them all. I'll be close by." She leans down, presses a kiss to his cheek, and walks out before he can reach out to stop her.

She steps out while a few members of his team come in to see him offering her a smile as she passes them. As much as she didn't want to leave him, she needed a moment away, and he needed a moment with his family.

God, Y/N has never felt so scared, and now a minute alone, everything is beginning to set in. She has no idea where the restroom is, and the next thing she knows, she's running into someone, but it seems they recognize her because they say her name, and the next thing she knows, she's crying, sinking to the floor. She feels arms wrap around her.

Shushes in her ear, brushing the ends of her hair. It's calming, but she needs to let all the tears she's been holding in.

"Y/N," she can now recognize the voice as Sarah's, "I'm going to help you stand and sit you in the chair.

Y/N feels herself nod.

She begins taking deep breaths, never letting Sarah pull her hand away. It is the only thing keeping her grounded.

"I got her some water." Y/N hears Frankie whisper handing it to Sarah before taking the seat to the left of her.

"I'm okay," she repeats. "I'm okay."

"Y/N," Sarah begins.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize, sweetie." Frankie brushes her hair back.

"I'm supposed to be strong; I have to be strong to do this to stand by his side," Y/N tells them, beginning to let her emotions out.

"No one is expecting you not to cry."

"Bu-" Sarah interrupts her.

"No. stop. Accidents happen, and so do injuries. It's okay to be scared and hurt."

"I want to be strong for him." She whispers.

"You are. You never left his side; you talked to him. You're crying now because you care."

She wipes her eyes with her sweater sleeves. "I love him, and I was so scared that when I got the call, I'd never get to tell Harry."

"Then you tell him as soon as you walk back into his room."

"Thank you."

"Nothing to thank, I care about you, and I know Harry would be grateful to know you're not alone. You've always got us. Now let's grab something to eat, and we'll come back in an hour once all of them go home."

She chuckles. "Alright."

"Text me where you're sitting. I'll pop in to see Harry, then meet you."

"You don't have to," Y/N tells Frankie because she knows she is just as concerned about her friend.

"Are you kidding me? You're my friend first, always."

Sarah and Y/N walk down to the cafeteria. She knows she isn't okay but is feeling better, finally letting emotion out. It was only a matter of time before she let the dam break; she's just happy it was not in front of Harry.

The girls sit in the cafeteria munching on snacks for well over an hour. Mitch sends them a message letting them know all the crew has left and it's time to say goodbye for the night. Frankie wishes her goodnight downstairs with promises to come to see her tomorrow and bring her a change of clothes.

"Let's walk you back," Sarah tells her, linking their arms together.

"Do you think he'll know?" Sarah takes a good look at her and grimaces. "I'll just say I tripped, and it made me cry." Y/N jokes.

"I don't think he'll believe that."

"Yeah, me either." The girls walk out of the elevator as their laughter dies down.

They settle in silence as they make their way to his room, Sarah holding her hand leading the way. Mitch is in the chair she was in for so many hours before waiting for him to wake up. Mitch hears their footsteps and turns his head, but Harry is frowning, looking out the window at the dark sky.

Y/N doesn't know what to say, but one look at him has her heart filling up with relief; he's okay.

He's fine, and he gets to go home soon, and she gets to love him all she wants.

Harry turns his head as she steps forward. "Angel," he breathes out.

It makes her eyes well up with tears again. "I love you," she just lets it out, as if she's told Harry this every day as if she never went a moment not saying it.

"Oh my angel," Harry begins to cry, feeling overwhelmed and incredibly happy. His angel loves him, and although this isn't a perfect day, the moment is.

Mitch and Sarah sneak out quietly, shutting the door behind them to give them their privacy.

"I love you so much. Please come here." Harry replies, voice shaky.

In the next second, she's moving forward, pulling the chair as close as she can as he grabs her hands, squeezing them tightly. She leans down and presses her lips to his chapped pink lips. They move gently, pouring all their love and fears into the kiss. Telling each other that the worst is over and they are together, and they are fine. Y/N pulls back, knowing she can't kiss him as long as she'd like due to his sensitive lungs.

"Harry, I love you, and I was so scared I'd never get to say it."

"I'm sorry, angel; I never wanted you to get a call like this, at least not before talking about it."

"Me either," She sniffles, no longer able to control her tears, "but it happened, and I'm just happy you're okay."

"I'm okay," he repeats. She smiles, taking one of her hands out of his hold to wipe his tears away; Harry can't help but lean his head into her gentle touch. "I'm okay because my angel is always looking after me.

"Harry."

"It's true. I've never been luckier and safer since you came into my life." She smiles. "But there's something we have to talk about." He continues, and by the tone of his voice, it's going to be serious.

"Are you okay?"

"What? I'm fine. You're the one in a hospital bed." Her tone is defensive.

"There's something wrong. I can see it."

Y/n sighs, taking a deep breath. She takes her hand out of his hold.

Harry is quick to mask his hurt.

"I don't like that you're hurt. I hate that we aren't at home in the kitchen dancing around to your Sunday playlist as I bake you a new treat." She says in a rush.

"Hey, love, relax," he says and gestures for her to move in closer. She does so, allowing him to take hold of her hands with a firm grip this time.

"You're upset because I got hurt?" She nods in reply to his question. It's stupid because, of course, he's going to get hurt; it'd be naive to think he wouldn't in his job.

"It's part of the job." He says simply. It's something he wants her to accept and remember. She thinks back to a month into dating when he told her about his ex-girlfriend and how she couldn't handle the unknown of the job each day he left her. Y/N thought she'd be fine, but she loves him, and losing him would be something she could never recover from.

"I know. It's just not easy to see." Her voice was quiet and defeated.

"What do we do?" Harry asks, and Y/N freezes; she can feel her heart beating in her ears.

What do we do?

"What do you mean?" She can feel her hands begin to shake.

"This can happen again." He gestures to him in the hospital bed.

"I know." She says softly.

"Is this something you can handle or not?" He asks very direct. She knows this might not be the first time he's had the conversation, but she just told him she loved him, and he's questioning her. She's allowed to feel this way, but it doesn't mean she can't handle it.

"Y/N," he begins, "I'm incredibly happy with you. I see you and me together for a long time. You're it for me, but this job is my life."

"I know," she repeats. "I would never ask you to give up your job."

Harry stares at her; heartbreak passes through his eyes. "Are you asking me to give you up?

She shakes her and begs for the tears not to fall, but it's no use. She feels them falling and can't wipe them as Harry has a hold of her hands.

"Harry, I love you." He frowns as if fearing the worst. "I love you, and I'd rather love you every moment I have you than let you go now and never know what could have been."

"Oh, thank god." Harry lets out a deep breath. She giggles. "I'm sorry we couldn't have this conversation earlier; honestly, I feared if I brought it up, you could possibly break up with me, and I selfishly wanted to have you longer."

"Well, I'm not going anywhere, not if it's up to me. Seeing you laid up is hard but knowing I get to be there for you makes up for it. Also helps that I'm a nurse."

"That it does."

Y/n grins at Harry, leaning in to kiss him, short and sweet for now. Each kiss never fails to make her heart race, and due to Harry's heart monitor, she knows it does the same to him. They sit in silence, staring at each other as Harry traces small shapes against Y/N's cheeks, loving the feeling of her in his hand. Especially when she lets out a soft giggle when he hits a sensitive spot.

"Move in with me," Y/N blurts out after a while of silence.

It shocks Harry. "What?"

"Until you're better. That way, I can be your in-home nurse."

"Only until I'm better?" She nods. "So, you'll give me the boot after." Harry teases.

Y/N can feel her cheeks warming up but pushes through, "Only if you're a bad patient."

Harry smiles, dimples on full display for her, always for her. "Okay, I can be good and naughty only when you ask."

"Harry!" She gasps.

He throws his head back, laughing.

"God, I'm so lucky to love you." His words warm her heart, and she promises to tell him every day from now on.

"Now get up here and cuddle me. I got Mitch to cue up Netflix."

"Are you sure?" She stands slipping her shoes off, knowing he won't be taking no for an answer.

"Going to deprive an injured man of what he wants most?"

"Guess not."

"Good."

Y/N crawls on and lays on his side, carefully resting her head on his chest. Harry presses kiss after kiss for his comfort, knowing he will be okay and has his favorite person by his side. She chooses Legally Blonde knowing it's Harry's comfort movie as much as he tries to deny it.

For an unusual start to their Sunday, it ends right; together in bed, a hospital bed but nonetheless a bed, together arms wrapped tight around each other.

Y/N might not have liked that Harry got hurt, but he's okay, and he will recover.

That's all she could ever ask for.

thank you so much for reading!

please send me a message of what you thought or if you'd like to see more firefighter harry

I adore you. take care xx

[anieastonbaker]

photo by Sela Shiloni

hair, makeup & styling by me

i should tell the story of this haircut at some point. i was in a very abusive relationship and chopped all my hair off in one bout of particularly painful distress because i thought it would make him stop being attracted to me and leave me alone. i drove to a barber shop in long beach to do it, a recommendation from a friend, and just told her to take it all off. the heart-racing idea that this single external change may set me free outweighed my fear of losing the shield of my hair. he demanded conventional beauty; the more unattainable, the more frequent the demand, i was working so hard yet always behind. i wan't out of the race. cutting my hair did make him less attracted to me, he told me directly and often. but it didn't make him leave me alone. he needed me around for a sinister purpose and nothing i tried, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing released his grip on me. there was no where i could run to that he wouldn't find me and use his abundantly packed tool belt to wear me down and further down and further down until i was weak enough for him to drag me back to his cave.

after a month or so, i started to love my hair. i loved it on other girls before me and i thought it was chic as hell, actually. "i told him i loved the short hair and i "i wish you could recognize how cute it is" having reached the part of the abuse cycle where i am desperate to be back in his favor. "Sorry, I just can't. I like long hair."

he started buying me wigs. expensive wigs, like nothing i'd ever been around. the novelty of it stopped me from understanding what was happening to me. "What a cool adventure I wouldn't otherwise be able to afford! How fun!" is how i explained it to myself. once it was clear to me that there was no leaving, i tapped into the skills i learned as a child. "this isn't bad and i'm not scared. this is good, even. there's so much more i can try that i haven't tried yet. i can make this work. i have to."

i was taught no practical skills as a child, but i did develop quite a few in order to survive. like finding the lesson in everything, finding the flaw in yourself which explains why somebody is hurting you. if it's in you then you can fix it. if it's in you, you can make things better. it's what a child does when leaving isn't an option. it's what an adult does who has learned this as a child.

he bought me so many wigs i considered buying styrofoam heads to display them all. they'd get tangled in the back and forth between my place and his. i wore wigs on our vacations, to his parties, to his dinners. mere weeks prior i cut my hair off, trying to be a women he could never desire and so quickly i was back lamenting the fact that i couldn't be all of them. back to being sure i was the problem and trying to fix myself. i didn't know who i was, or who i had just been, or who i would have to be the next day. what i did know was that i was determined, to make it good. yes i cried to everyone who would listen, but ~love is pain~. yes the pain was unfathomable, but i had been trained my whole life to endure it.

[your-sweet-cookies]

Not moving an inch from her spot and seeming rather unphased and unimpressed by what she thought must've been the man's poorly executed attempt at flirting with her, Kukki shrugged her shoulders and took another sip from her bland orange juice. "Fascinating... You must be really acquainted with this place then. Don't you just get bored of remixing the same songs over and over again?" Her knowledge on the topic was sparse, considering that she wasn't much into dance music, so all she though about dj-ing was that a guy plays the same popular songs over and over again, changing the tuning and adding some extra sounds on the side. His comment made her roll her eyes, seemingly starting to get annoyed by this guy and his blunt mannerisms she pretty much considered to be savagely. To say the least, Kukki was never a woman to be impressed by a though man with a tough and bad boyish behavior. Frankly, she was hardly impressed by anything as a matter of fact.

"Yes, orange juice. Not all of us are fans of losing their minds over some stupid drink and doing shit they might regret afterwards." She kept it simple, concluding that telling a complete stranger about her poor alcohol tolerance might have not been a wise idea. "That's the point, I am not here to 'have fun' or 'having fun' as a whole. This isn't my cup of tea and I'd much rather be home right now, but it so happens that my dumb friends wanted to go clubbing and they needed someone to keep an eye out for them, you know? We girls must stick together and look after one another and with the whole spike in drugging and rape cases occurring in night clubs in the recent years, only an idiot would go by herself in a place like this." She was probably making a reference to that really recent case with the human trafficking ring masked as a fancy nightclub from Korea. The silver haired then shrugged her shoulders and returned her gaze to the crowds of people dancing and having the time of their lives.

She had thought that that will be that, but when Fuji mentioned that he liked looking at people to analyze and observe them, Kukki's ears seemed to perk up. Something so insignificant and apparently meaningless, yet the only thing that they probably had in common at this given moment and the only saving grace for their conversation. "Then I guess we have something in common. I may not like frequenting this kind of places, but observing the behavioral patterns and displays of human nature that occur in such environments can be interesting at times." Big words... This probably served as a good indication that this girl wasn't exactly like the typical female customer coming to the club. She was more... refined, so to speak. "When they are drunk and in a public, crowded place like this, people will usually shed their inhibitions and show their true natures, their real selves so to speak, so it's fun playing the guessing game of what the less obvious ones are actually like. For example, that dude there..." She pointed at a middle age looking guy, dressed in a casual office wear, swaying to the rhythm of the music close to a group of women much younger than him. "When he first came into the club, he was very much reserved and somewhat cautious, but after a few beers, he started inching closer and closer to the woman in the skimpy red dress, eyeing her up. I bet that he's probably the director of some respectable company, who is secretly a pervert who likes hitting on women half his age." Kukki rolls her eyes and chuckles.

"My type of great night would be one I spend back at home, bundled up into my fluffy blanket, with my cat next to me and a warm cup of tea in my hands as I watch my favorite show or read a good book." She turns back to looking at Fuji. "I'm sure nothing that you would label as 'fun' anyways."

[@anemia-rp]

'The best nights are the ones you never plan.' (from Fuji)

more tumblr quote prompts pt. 2

The party life was never Kukki's cup of tea so to speak, she was more of a house body, who enjoys spending time by herself in the company of her cat and a good book instead of partying and drinking away god knows where, in a loud and noisy club. And neither was she a fan of socializing, being an introvert by nature who got easily drained by social interactions, yet here she was, in a night club on a late Saturday evening, having been dragged along by a friend to act as their chaperon. Since Kukki never drank and she was a very serious person, her friends often used her to keep an eye out for them in case there where creeps lurking around or they got too drunk.

"Huh?" The silver haired raised her eyes to meet those of the person, whom the voice from earlier belonged to. 'The best night are the ones you never plan'... The words echoed in her mind, making her snort. "Maybe, but so far this is far from what I would normally call 'a great night'. This place is soo packed and loud I feel I could end up losing myself in this sea of people if I get up from here." Kukki replied and took a sip from her nonalcoholic orange juice. She never drank alcohol, given that her tolerance was very low and she could easily get drunk.

Eyeing the man sat next to her, a tall, intimidating looking guy with long hair and tattoos, Kukki took some quick mental notes on him, making an analysis of what she thought his personality might've been like. So far, he didn't struck her as dangerous or sleazy, so she could tolerate him. "What about you? Having a good night so far?"

[alastanor]

In less than a week my feed has been plagued by the "hot takes" of entitled fans of the Hazbin and Helluva universe.

As a result, I know I promised some analytical information regarding what we know of Hazbin's version of hell thus far, which will be included in this post. But there will be some other things added as well to address some of the more frequently expressed "concerns" I have seen being (rather rudely) expressed in posts.

Some of the things I will be talking about in these posts, so while I will be utilizing quotes or things said in @total-mal 's very well articulated response post, I recommend going to read that response post in it's entirety. Like... now.

The complaints I tend to see typically fall along these lines.

So in this post I will be addressing these things and other things I typically see.

Story

As was very well put in the aforementioned post, the series of Hazbin barely has an hour of content. Yet for some reason people complain that it's a mess. How?

The Pilot itself is meant to establish the setting, who the characters are, what their relationships to each other are, establishing dynamic, and establish the premise of future story that is meant to follow. All of these things the pilot did exceedingly well. A pilot is NOT meant to drop dozens of hours worth of world lore and future plot points in one half hour segment. It is supposed to hook people into being interested in and watching the follow up episodes. Which, considering the rather quick cult following that preceded the pilot debut, I would say it did that and more even without the world lore dump people are demanding.

No story is going to give you every facet of the characters and the world they inhabit in the first episode or the first novel. No story worth it's weight in salt, that is. Any good story teller will tell you that content needs to be put on an IV drip as the story progresses, or else you will lose the majority of your audience's interest.

Helluva Boss is it's own standalone project set in the same universe as Hazbin, but it's job is not to provide lore for Hazbin. The kernel of lore we got from episode two was great. But that is very likely not going to be the norm every episode. Nor should anyone expect otherwise.

The comics were also their own projects, meant to strengthen an already existing narrative with Hazbin and establish both Angel and Alastor's motives for joining the Hotel. They are not meant to expand on the lore. Their existence could also very likely be overlooked by fans who only pay attention to what is popping up on Youtube or on their Twitter feed.

As for Addict, that began as a fan-created song Vivzie liked enough to animate into a music video which expanded on Angel and Cherri's relationship. It was not meant to be an entry to any Vivziepop Hell lore.

Hazbin is a story driven by its characters. This is why the characters are the focus and take up the majority of any screen time given to any entry of Hazbin. Mal puts it very well:

World

So this is where we will be getting into what we know so far about the world of Vivzie's hell.

So Vivzie's hell is, from what we understand, loosely based on Dante's inferno with other inspirations and deviations mixed in. For example, there are only seven circles of hell as opposed to 9.

In Dante's inferno only circle two through five are after the Seven Deadly Sins. Whereas in Vivziepop's version of hell, every circle is for one of the Seven Deadly Sins.

From what we understand so far, Pride is the top circle, or Ring. Sinners, AKA those who were alive prior to becoming demons, are only allowed to exist in Pride.

We do not know what "can only exist" means. As this doesn't imply that sinners can't leave Pride. Simply that they cannot exist anywhere else.

And also from what we understand, the big marker that differentiates each of the circles is the colors of the sky.

Pride, from what we have seen thus far, has a red sky.

While Greed has a green sky.

This is further confirmed on Twitter, however whether it was confirmed by Vivzie or one of the other official Twitters, I cannot recall.

Now, I know there are quite a few who keep asking this question.

And there are many who seem to think that this little detail means that the fact dump from official Twitters means the story and lore are ruined. This is actually false. Especially when you consider that Sinners are not a finite population. Nor is their influx a small trickle. So expanding Sinners into other parts of hell is only a temporary solution to a more overarching problem. It may slow down the necessity for purges, but it would also increase the number needed to be purged each time a purge was necessary. Further, it is doubtful that Lucifer would be keen on the idea of angels traveling deeper into Hell just as it is doubtful that he sees a reason to be exceedingly merciful to sinners- the creation he detests and is more or less what brought him to Hell to begin with. It also would erase any place to escape for Hell-born demons.

So in this regard, no. Nothing is ruined. People just aren't paying attention. The devil is in the details, after all.

As for what the difference is between circles and rings, perhaps this will shed some light.

Rings seem to be segments of a circle that separate sinners by the subcategory of their sin in each circle. Whether or not Vivziepop's version of hell follows this, I personally doubt it. Ring and Circle, from observation, seem to be used interchangeably. So the two could very well be the same thing.

The other bits we know are lore facts Vivzie has given previously that may no longer be true as the world exists now. For example, previously Alastor was scared of dogs. But more recently, Vivzie said that is no longer true and Alastor simply just does not like them. So any older facts should be taken with a grain of salt until they are reconfirmed.

Switching gears on the world, there have been complaints popping up that Vivziepop's hell is not "hell-y" enough because there is not enough fire and brimstone.

To take a phrase from total-mal once more, there are countless alternate depictions of hell as hell being other people instead of the place itself. The phrase exists from Sartre's No Exit, but has been revisited numerous times in other media depictions of hell to display that the definition of "punishment" can be broadened to a much larger spectrum than originally imagined.

In the Hazbin universe of Hell, punishment is the constant threat of physical and emotional harm from those around you, not unlike being in prison or living in a ghetto. You have the increased potential to be abused or taken advantage of if you show a moment's weakness.

And while some in the demon hierarchy might have it better than others, there is still the constant threat of being killed or overthrown by someone stronger or someone just wanting to prove themselves.

In the Hazbin universe of hell, you wear clues to your life, your sins, and your death on the outside for all to see (and in some cases, manipulate). You are thrust into a demon hierarchy one wrung up from the lowest class, unless you are lucky and strong enough to become an overlord. In which case, then you are two wrungs up from the lowest class. And your punishment is living every day with the constant threat of those around you. Of always needing to have your guard up because someone will take advantage of you or worse. That isn't even mentioning the annual threat of the purge.

Livestreams

This is another one that I see get mentioned and awful fucking lot in the complaint/concern/hot take posts.

There are always complaints about how the livestreams are useless, serve no purpose, or are just "jerkoff sessions." Mind, these same complaints almost always seem to come from the same people complaining about having no information about the show or having no lore surrounding the universe or the story.

Nevermind that Vivzie and the cast are all under NDA and cannot disclose much that isn't already known about the show and, where VAs are concerned, cannot do any voice lines that go beyond what has already been said in the pilot lines.

The Livestreams serve SEVERAL purposes, however. One of those purposes is to drum up interest surrounding Hazbin and Helluva, as well as to advertise and to disclose any lore that they have permission to disclose to the audience. Something to whet their appetites as they wait for the small Indie studio A24 to finish production of Hazbin's first season in the middle of a pandemic. Because that last bit people seem to forget is still ongoing.

Without those livestreams done by Viv and the cast, many of the impatient fans in this fandom would be practically breaking down the door on Vivzie's DMs demanding to know where Hazbin is or why she seems to have given up on it. Or at least, more than what is currently going on now anyway.

People need to calm down, let the Devs do their job, and pay more attention to the details given in what we have thus far. Vivzie has done a GREAT job at eluding to the bigger picture in her details. Particularly where her characters are concerned. And I for one am here for it.