#i accidentally deleted the original draft :(

[milk-ly]

Kotoko and her connection to Dante’s Inferno’s Satan

Disclaimer: This is just about symbolism and I know how it sounds but I promise I’m not trying to imply anything or demonize her! I love Kotoko! Ive just been repeatedly noticing details about the parallel for several months now and I just really want to bring it up! This is just an analysis of the details MILGRAM has provided for it. I’m incredibly sorry if I make a mistake!

Kotoko has a lot of parallels to Dante’s Inferno Satan, especially in relation to Es.

To make sure we’re all on the same page, Dante’s Inferno is a Christian poem that outlines the 9 circles of hell. MILGRAM directly references Dante’s Inferno by quoting it in all the t2 door arts.

“Abandon all hope, ye who enter.” A quote derived from a sign at the gate of hell in the poem.

Each ring of Hell contains sinners with different levels of sins, and each ring’s sin was meant to be worse the further inside you go. Ive seen a couple theories that each prisoner correlates with a specific ring of hell. (Ex: Haruka is ring 1, Limbo; Yuno is ring 2, lust; etc)

But Dante’s Inferno only outlines 9 rings, what about our 10th prisoner, Kotoko?

While it could be that she’s again the “outsider” to the other prisoners, the last section of the 9th ring of Hell is significant because it is the center of Hell, containing Satan. So it could be reasonably argued that Kotoko correlates with it.

MILGRAM already has a TON of religious references. One that I’ve seen pointed out is how it seems the cover art of each novel is a reference to a famous Christian art piece.

The Es in each novel seems to be where Jesus relatively is. Remember that Jesus is both the son of God AND God. God gives sinners their judgements which sounds very similar to Es and how they're giving the prisoners (the human sinners) their verdicts.

Plus, the quote Milgram quotes is on the doors the prisoners are entering, and in Dante’s inferno, it’s on the gate of hell so you can compare or theorize that MILGRAM is a parallel to (or straight up is) purgatory. And Es, being the one who decides the verdict, parallels God.

Also, her t2 VD is named “YONAH,” which is the masculine version of the name Jonah. Not only does this relate to her themes of masculinity again, Jonah is a name that originates from Hebrew origins which means “dove.”

It is also a reference to the book of Jonah. A main theme of this book is “Jonah wants God to operate on his timeline [...] He wanted God to dole out punishment on his clock instead of according to God's plan. Yet God showed Jonah that in his infinite wisdom, he can't and will not be rushed.” Which is pretty much exactly what happens in YONAH, and also once again compares Es to God.

Dante’s Inferno’s Satan was an angel, a splendid being, apparently the most perfect of God's creatures… an “Angel of light.” We/Es deemed Kotoko innocent in t1. She had the highest innocent percentage in t1 too because a lot of people thought her murder was justified. You know, the most perfect of God’s creatures. The most perfect out of the prisoners.

“We really can work together.”

But then Satan tried to usurp God.

“If you don’t have the strength on your own, let me take care of it. Es! I can do it in MILGRAM!”

Kotoko wants to be the prison guard because Es isn’t capable in her eyes.

Satan was ultimately sent to Hell and punished as "the ultimate sinner" for his betrayal of trying to usurp God.

We are now punishing Kotoko for her attempts to judge the prisoners herself and “usurp” Es. It works even better now that she has the highest guilty percentage in all of MILGRAM so far as the “ultimate sinner.”

As a lot know, Fuuta also has tons of religious references too. (Ex. His VD is titled Baptism by Fire) By him also passing judgements onto people, you could say that he was trying to play God.

What is that saying about us, the audience, then? And our parallel/foil to Fuuta/Kotoko?

Dante’s Inferno as a whole is very much based around the idea of “evil will be punished,” which not only encapsulates Kotoko’s ideals but MILGRAM’s as well. It makes sense that MILGRAM says that Kotoko is a perfect parallel to the facility.

(I also wanna mention that there's something that could be said about the holy trinity in relation to Es + the audience + jackalope. For example, how Jesus is God in the flesh and Es is the audience "in the flesh," by acting as a personified version of us to interact with the "human sinnners" but I feel like I might be going into tinfoil hat territory.)

[newtlesbian]

after observing dennis reynolds for years ive come to the conclusion all his problems boil down to the fact that he wishes he was born blonde like his sister and it kills him. i recommend we get this whitegirl to her salon

[metabolizemotions]

Maybe Station 19 was like an experimental cubist painting.

There were too many stories to be told and too many people trying to tell them, from too many perspectives, with too many styles…

Each viewer saw a different picture.

It was the show that tried to capture the zeitgeist and represent the under-represented. Also the show that often struggled. With the tones and textures. With representing w/o tokenizing. B/w laughing with and laughing at. B/w realism and romanticizing. B/w deliberate and arbitrary. B/w educating and entertaining. B/w what they consider profane and sacrosanct.

At times, it touched our hearts deeply. At times, it frustrated us to no end.

Not every story was given the respect, sensitivity and intricacy it was due.

One moment could lead to a profound understanding of an aspect of a lived life some of us had never known; while the next could be a moment that was beyond confounding - about an aspect of ourselves that made us feel slighted, diminished and even erased.

It had often been an exercise in empathy to find our common humanity at the intersectionality of stories. Yet, the scale of empathy often skewed too far in favor of some characters with the differing standards, narrative frames and plot armors. Ironically yet reasonably turning people off these very characters they wanted people to root for. A persistent dissonance and disconnect.

But it was also the show that didn’t shy away from the ugly, the raw, the uncomfortable and messy parts of our shared human experience. The tribulations of oppression. The perils of ambition. The tests of morality. The trials of friendship and love. That we would make mistakes, but we could also make amends. That we're not defined by our worst. That our best lives could still be in front of us despite the current struggles. That sometimes life sucks but having your people with you makes it more bearable.

I would think it an interesting journey for the diversity of people behind, on, and in front of the screen. The evolving stories, evolving characters, evolving storytellers, an evolving fandom - all amidst an evolving media landscape.

It was probably not an easy show to make. The show had a bewilderingly lack of support from abc or shondaland. Diversity seemed to be both good for promotion (when there was any) and the reason for the prejudice against it.

Just as it had not been an easy show to watch - so biased, inconsistent and self-contradictory. Like when they kept telling us about the family spirit and deep friendships yet somehow spent more time showing otherwise. Or when the writing of systemic sexism was somehow inherently sexist.

Personally, I don’t think characters belong to the writers alone. Besides the usual constraints, the characters were often adjusted back and forth to fit the plots. We’ve also learnt how network execs' dislikes, writers’ personal experiences were factored into the stories. I fully respect the writers’ artistic rights. But actors who embodied the characters for years have a unique understanding too. Viewers also have their personal takes about what were true to characters. It's ok to agree to disagree.

There had been sparks of brilliance, but often extinguished too soon. It has been confounding how the greys-verse did not capitalise on its vast potential, esp. S19. Even while both shows share a show-runner. Grey's anatomy could have lent its scale while Station 19 could have injected renewed energy back into its mothership. Both shows could have been better for it.

Although the characters have the foundation of distinct and interesting backstories, their development often did not fully utilise the narrative potential and the talents of the cast. I’m sure the crew was also competent and hardworking. But somehow some elements b/w n within the shows seemed to just cancel each other out instead of amplifying their impact. IMO 704 and 709 were a few exceptions.

But I'll always be glad S19 existed and we got a S7. I believe they had tried their best to wrap up and give closure to everyone invested in the show. I truly appreciated the hard work given the circumstances even when I personally didn't agree with some takes.

In the end, I really do want to remember it as the show with heart, the show that made us laugh and cry and the show that tried. The show that's unique - in both its merits and flaws. I’ll definitely miss the characters. One last time - 19!

[about-faces]

I’m so fascinated by this panel of li’l Harvey Dent.

First, that he was so overwhelmed by noise that he had to run out.

Second, the movie itself: why choose that? For the title alone?

Third, that Two-Face keeps mistaking the distinction between him and Harvey, because the truth is they’re truly two sides of the same coin.

Finally, that he went to the Monarch Theater in Crime Alley, and he’s running off to the alley where his darker side will be born.

[milverton]

This or that

Tagged by oneawkwardcookie a very long time ago

Writing habits

present tense or past tense / first person or third person / double spaced or 1.5-spaced or single spaced / action or emotion / similes or metaphors / OCs or existing characters / fluff or angst / music or white noise or silence / character or plot / make them cry or make them laugh / tea or coffee / happy ending or bittersweet / morning or afternoon or night / comic sans or times new roman or arial / google docs or word or other

Tagging five people from my notes (ignore if you’d like): @greatspacedustbin, @poetic-emptiness-fanfic, @fluffabutt, @myrskyisaa, @jake-and-amy-are-married

[izzyspussy]

Please show the **** posts as a new years gift to us

i will NOT you must solve the riddle first

[siren-of-agony]

I just answered an ask, that answer had a read more, that read more did not work, and bc tumblr works great, I coulnd't even delete the part that was suppossed to go into the readmore, so I had to just delete the whole thing.

Here it is again, this time without that info i guess -.-

@gritpyre

3. What was their most expensive purchase/where does their disposable income go? Where they are right now in the story, they don’t have any money or ability to spend it so as thanks for this ask I will give you little spoiler-y treats about what happens in the future and the far future 😀

Nero will realize quickly how much how you are dressed will influence how people will see you, so he’ll spend a fair amount on different clothes to be able to control how he comes across. Also, he just likes looking good. Alba will one day be gifted a hot chocolate and from that day on, a good chunk of any money she makes will go towards hot chocolate. She’ll be a hot chocolate connoisseur. Not a lot of luxury in her life but the expensive chocolate she gets. My girl will go feral for that. Their biggest purchase is like an end-of-story spoiler so I can't include that cause the read more didn't work. I did accidentally write a whole paragraph about it so I guess if anyone wants to know lmk and I'll dm you :D

8. Describe the place where they sleep.   I’m bad at imagining physical spaces, so I’m even worse at describing them. I am, however, great at wasting time by using a layout planner to show you their whole wagon:

They don’t really have a ton of stuff, or any decoration. In fact, half of the wagon is taken up by general storage of circus-stuff while they’re traveling. They do technically both have a pretty narrow bed next to a small window, but most of the time just sleep together in one. They also sit on the beds, use the nightstand/table to eat, etc. It’s a small and impersonal space, but the only private room they have, so they spend most of their free time there.

10. What objects do they always carry around with them?Again, currently, they don’t have much. Alba especially doesn’t like to actually possess things because when she does, she’s always just afraid of losing them. Nero almost always has a ribbon or strip of fabric on him. He knows Alba doesn’t actually like her long hair, so he makes sure to have something to tie it together with whenever they can.

Later, they each will have a platinum ring they stole. For anyone knowing DnD-spells, I hope I can preemptively break your heart with that :D (A lot of Alba’s character is actually inspired by that spell (Warding Bond, if you wanna look it up) specifically).

[mysticalbookkeeper]

A Special Meeting

When Lilac first appeared on the island, Id had witnessed her entrance from the trees, staying completely hidden. He didn’t quite see her face, but he noticed how strange she looked, with purple skin and purple clothes.

He watched her as she made her way along the dug out path towards the lumberjack’s house.

He noticed she had a sword on her and was careful not to get too close, for fear of being on the receiving end of the blade.

Lilac soon made it to the lumberjack’s house and Clover just happened to see her as she was carrying those millions of logs she had just chopped down to her house.

Lilac seemed to ask Clover about something, but Id didn’t quite hear.

“Oh, I’m sorry. If it’s any consolation, this isn’t the first time it’s happened. And I doubt it will be the last. I can’t help you return to your world. But there is a town over in the north east, where I’m sure they’ll be able to help you. Just…watch your step. Lots of monsters are out there.” Clover said.

“Thank you.” Lilac said and began walking towards the other side of the forest.

Id kept to the shrubs and bushes as he made his way, following Lilac.

She was soon confronted by the slimes that hang around the vending machine.

Id watched as they looked at her, before pouncing forth.

However, what Id did not expect was for Lilax to swiftly slice her sword through each one as if they were nothing but paper.

All of the slimes were gone and Id saw the dangerous look in her eyes and hid further.

The odd purple girl picked up the coins from the ground and inserted them into the vending machine. She ordered a soda and some sleepytime tea. Id stuck out his tongue in disgust.

She carried on.

Id watched as she walked passed the bridge (strangely, the kin that was usually there wasn’t present at the time).

Id flew high through the trees on the hills.

He wanted to use this chance to meet her face to face and do his usual antics and see if she would take him on.

So he tossed a rock onto the dirt road Lilac was on. Lilac saw this and approached the rock. She looked up into the trees, but of course, couldn’t see the demon. Id grinned and tossed another rock further ahead from the first one.

Lilac noticed this as well and followed the rock and inspected it. She drew her sword, seeming to be ready to fight whatever seemed to be throwing the rocks. Id kept tossing more and more rocks, leading Lilac up the hill and he soon made his way to the small clearing near the lakey lake and stood in his usual spot on a small little island that was nice and dry from the puddle forming around his feet.

Id waited patiently and began chuckling to himself. He couldn’t wait to meet this new comer and see what she was made of. That is…if she didn’t turn her back and walk away like everyone else did….

Id shook his head. He had to stay focused and not let thoughts like that bring him down.

Id heard gentle steps splashing through the water, creating small ripples around him.

“H…hello?” He heard a voice speak. He pretended not to hear, so he continued to chuckle. Silence for a moment, then more footsteps approaching towards him. He felt a light tap on his shoulder.

“H…hello?” Asked the same voice.

“I’m not poisoning the water supply! You’re poisoning the water supply!” Id said.

“Uhhh…”

Id turned around and opened his mouth to speak, but froze.

From afar, the purple girl had looked like no one special (aside from the whole sword swinging thing), but up close, he was surprised at just how stunned he was, seeing her face to face. He felt himself clam up and his face turn red. He almost forgot what he was about to say.

The girl was indeed purple all over, but she seemed not too frightened that she suddenly appeared on some island in the middle of nowhere surrounded by an endless void. She had a face that looked like it had seen many adventures and many rough and strong battles. Battles that lesser people wouldn’t even dare be apart of. Id was slightly intimidated by her gaze and yet….

She’s so pretty. I wonder if she’d…

Id shook his head from the thought and turned around again, trying to stay focused.

“Umm, excuse me, sir, but I got sucked in by this vortex thing and I was hoping if you knew a way to return home.” Lilac asked.

She sounded so genuine, so concerned, that Id couldn’t help relate. He remember when he found out he couldn’t return home and boy, was that a scary feeling. He wanted to help her feel welcome, rather than just start a fight with this newbie that was just another victim of unfortunate circumstances.

Id took a breath. He was wondering what her favourite hobbies were, her favourite animals, if she liked pranks, or…

He shook his head again and turned around, pretending to notice Lilac for the first time.

“Hm?” He asked.

“What. Is. THIS?”

He fully turned around and laughed, but it was more nervous than his usual maniacal laughter he practiced in the lake almost every day.

“And here I….”

Lilac looked at him with a curious glint in her eyes. As if this was something she wasn’t expecting at all. Yet she still didn’t make an excuse to leave, or sneak away.

Id was a little more shy now. But he kept speaking.

“…thought we were out of the kidnapping business! But here you are! And you are really pre…”

Id shook his head and averted his gaze.

“Really what?” Asked Lilac.

“Err…what I mean to say is, I’ve never seen anyone like you on the island. You must be new around here. But that’s okay! It isn’t so bad! There’s lots of stuff to do here and I think we can become really good acquaintances! And look! You have a sword! Oh, that’s cute. As for finding a way off this island, I’m not sure myself. Everyone, including me, is trapped here and no one knows why or how. Very crummy circumstances, I know, but this island is really nice once you get used to it, I even know some really cool places around here that aren’t completely monster filled. So, what do you say big shot hero? Wanna give me a run for my money?” Asked Id.

“Ummm…” Lilac looked confused. She seemed to not understand what exactly what was going on.

“Ah, I guess so?” She asked.

“Bully.”

Id teleported around and began his usual shtick of throwing items at her. However, once the first wrench was thrown, Lilac immediately was charging towards him and she took a swing at him.

Id nearly panicked, but kept fighting her and soon smoke spilled from his coat and coins dropped down.

“Ahh…” Id had never felt so much pain. He could swear he was actually bleeding in some areas.

“Ah ha ha! Finally! Someone who takes this seriously! But just so you know, the deeper you go, the stronger I’ll get! There’ll be no holding back next time! Oh, hey, wait. Here’s my card in case you need something! Just look me up in the yellow pages and ring me up! I’m sure there’s a telephone around here you can use, but as for now, see ya! It was nice meeting you~!” Id said and handed Lilac a card with his name and phone number on it. He looked at her for a little bit, before shaking his head again and immediately vanishing.

Lilac looked around, but didn’t see Id. She shrugged but seemed preoccupied as she picked up the coins.

“Id huh? Alright, sounds weird, but he is kinda funny. Wonder if I’ll see him around. Probably.” She muttered.

Id watched her from afar and felt his smile remain on his face. He hoped he’d get to see her soon as well and maybe things would be a little different that time around. He couldn’t wait to spend more time with her and he teleported somewhere on the island to start planning what pranks he was going to start pulling on Lilac and he hoped that they would get to be the bestest of friends.

[princesssarcastia]

.

[mrs-weasley-reid]

HUNDRED TWO POINT THREE

Aaron Hotchner x bau!reader

Synopsis: as they say, in sickness and in health, but Aaron Hotchner seems to take sickness too seriously. WARNING: a whole lot of nada (i hope). all fluff. overprotective!aaron (duh). not proofread !!!! Word Count: 912 A/N: THIS IS A REPOST of a req from my sweet, sweet lumi @egdropsoop when i was sick. i had to mourn accidentally deleting the original post. it felt so heart-wrenching. and i couldn't find the draft in my docs for almost a week, so it was another type of panic and heartbreak. this writer is such a dummy sometimes, but i hope rereading the fic in case it pops in your feed isn't so bad

 This week’s case, by far, has been the most difficult you have yet to experience. 

 Besides the buzzing summer heat of Los Angeles and the loud commotion in each corner of the local precinct, not only did you have to bring back sticky sweat and ringing ears, but you also brought back a mind-numbing body temperature of 102.3 degrees.

 With Emily’s driving and Spencer’s constant rambling, by the time you guys arrive at the airport, your body is creaking with chills and joint pain. 

 “Hey, hey, what’s going on?”

 You feel Hotch’s hands lay atop yours, prompting your brows to clash and your head to turn to your side where he towered over you. “What? I’m trying to make tea.” You say disorientedly, breathing quite ragged.

 It’s his turn to knit his brows. “Sounds reasonable, but don’t you think your cup has enough hot water?” You follow where he’s looking at your blushing red hand, steaming with heat. “You’re going to burn your hand at that rate.” He adds, lifting his gaze back at you. 

 He reads you for a moment. Your pinkish cheeks, heavy breathing, and disoriented state told him enough to make a deduction. They tell tales that are similar to those of a small Jack Hotchner after a venture in the rain or dry sweat over a fun visit to the park. 

 “You have a fever,” He informs you sternly.

 “No, I don’t.” Your nose crinkles, shaking his hands off yours and straightening up. The simple movement alone brings your head to spin, pushing you against the counter. You close your eyes, “M’kay, maybe I do.”

 Everything seems fuzzy, but you feel Hotch’s gentle hand over the small of your back, and you’re suddenly being led to one of the two couches in the jet, momentarily seeing a pouting Spencer Reid, woken up from his slumber as he mumbles to another seat.

 Hotch wraps his jacket around yours, squatting in front of you. "Honey, why don't you lay down? Get some shuteye." His voice is gentle in your ears. He squeezes your hand in his while the other brushes away loose strands off your burning face.

 “You okay, mama?” Derek turns from his seat, “Want some cocktail with that fun swirly straw you and Penelope love?” He jokes lightly in hopes that humor will lessen the throbbing in your head.

 “It’s not the time for jokes, Morgan. If you’d like to help, maybe stay quiet in your seat.”

 The entire jet shuts up.

 Emily and JJ’s low whispers halt as they shift their gaze from where Hotch blocks Derek’s view. Spencer tries his best to stifle his laugh, but Rossi only shakes his head.

 “She has a fever, Aaron. Not cancer. Let the lady sleep in peace.” Rossi interjects in defense of the team’s eye candy.

 Hotch ignores him, rolling his eyes. He maneuvers back to the kitchenette in search of some cloth and a bucket to fill with tepid water. 

 Derek settles back in his seat with a look of disbelief, “I thought I was dead for a second.” He mutters under his breath. “He’s gone full papa bear mode on her.”

 They watch as Hotch pulls heaven and hell in your favor. He makes tea. Even finds a can of soup from somewhere in the cabinets, wondering why none of them has ever seen that before. He goes back and forth, placing a cloth over your forehead.

 His goal is to get you out of feverish delirium by the time the jet lands back in Quantico. And Hotch is quite the mission-oriented guy.

 "Aaron..." You mumble almost unheard if only everyone isn't eavesdropping.

 "You need something, hon?" He gently blots the cloth over your face. His sleeves are rolled past his elbows, and a rivulet of sweat is over his temple from all the movement he's made in the past ten minutes.

 "Stop fussing and let me sleep, hmm? Go drink some scotch with Dave or something." You shoo him with one hand and steal the cloth from him with the other.

 Hotch shakes his head as if your eyes haven't been shut tight for a while now, prying the cloth off your hand. "Come on, now, sweetheart. I can't just leave you alone." He coos, successfully repossessing the damp fabric.

 It takes a toll on your body when you sit up, yanking the small towel a second time from his grasp, more aggressive this time.

 "Hey, be careful—"

 You raise a hand to shut him up, "Aaron Hotchner. Take a break, or I swear you won't have a bed to sleep in when we get home." You huff, willing your facial muscles to look as intimidating as you possibly can at your state. "And Jack will not side on you. We both know I'm his favorite. So get." You point at Rossi's direction.

 He sighs in defeat, leaving a kiss on the crown of your head. "Fine. But tell me when you need something—"

 "Start walking, Aaron," You shake your head, giving him a stern look.

 The unit chief trudges to the seat next to Rossi, where the older agents offer a glass. Before Hotch can even decline, you voice rings in the jet.

 "You better take that glass."

 He rolls his eyes, but does as you say.

 Everyone fights their will not to burst into laughter, or they just might get pushed off the jet.

hotch masterlist | masterlist

[nanamis-bigtie]

Out of Words

Character: Nanami Kento Reader: afab (aka reader with a vagina; ambiguous body descriptions, neutral words used regarding genitalia with an exception for word “cunt”) CW: explicit nsfw content, PWP, one shot, established relationship, plus size reader, vaginal sex Word Count: 1k Synopsis: Just Nanami asking his plus size partner to ride him. And being in awe. Based on prompt 13 from this list. A/N: The original version got deleted because I have quite...complicated relationship with this text. But encouraged by my partner I eventually decided to put it back into the wild. So, enjoy! maybe for the second time if you already saw it aklskljjhd

"Ride me."

It slips past Nanami's lips almost unwittingly, like a voice speaking straight from the depths of his subconsciousness. The rhythm breaks: the both of you are utterly confused in the best, most excited way possible, almost frozen in place for a few, heavy seconds. 

He releases your wrists, suddenly realizing he held them so hard there will be bruises shaped like his fingers, then shifts his body to the side, pulling yours with himself. You squeeze thighs around his hips for leverage and balance, and he can't help letting out a little, breathy groan of appreciation. He loves the softness, the rolls forming on them flush to his body, the yet tentative moves as you're looking for the most comfortable position for your knees. It's just the beginning and he's already entranced by the feel and views.

From comfortably nestled in pillows, your legs wide open to fit his wide body in between, you're above him now, in your wonderful glory, in power and control over him. As you ease into the new situation, your weight gradually presses close to his hips until you settle on the angle you like. Nanami clenches teeth, an inch away from successfully catching a moan; he's much deeper in your now, squeezed tight by your slick, hot walls, and sentenced to obediently awaiting your moves. 

The fear of accidentally hurting you, prior stirred by your wrists, fades now. He grabs your hips with all he's got for your—not to hurry you up nor to pull you closer, but to feel you, to sink his fingers into your softness and to feed his eyes with the dip of your silhouette around them. 

You shift on him for the last time, balance grabbed and checked, and lean slightly to the back, your eyes closed as you sink into the sensation. You start slowly, almost too slow for the both of you, either shy or testing the new waters. Nanami holds his breath back, irrationally worried a draft of air might interrupt you; his nails scratch deep at your skin, vertical lines right next to your stretch marks. He's going to kiss them with care later, insatiably sipping on your warmth, but now nothing can peel his attention away from desiring you. He's addicted to the sway of your hips, to the bouncing rhythm you soon pick up, to the flow of your body on top of him. 

Nanami can't possibly grow tired of the sight of you in your naked glory. Since the day he's been graced with it for the first time he only grows more and more hungry. He loves every inch of it, whether you love it yourself or not, and usually doesn't shy from praising and adoring it—but now, with you bouncing on his cock, something keeps his words in check. Everything he feels like saying seems inappropriate, too simple and too vulgar. All he can do is to stare, eyes wide open in wonder, lips heavy of breath, and hands full of your curves. He lets them wander at times, to knead your ass or to support you at the waist, but every time the sensation grows too strong to handle, and he returns to your hips in hurry. It can't end like this, not now, when he's still starved, when he knows you can still show him more. 

A rumble of your name follows an especially bold move of yours, and Nanami claws at your thighs with desperation. You've caught him off-guard this time, with his hands out of control when you suddenly clenched hard on him, squeezing him deep in your hot slick. He has to close eyes, to spare himself at least the delicious views, but the feeling is right there—your tight cunt, your big and soft ass, your thighs tensing under his fingertips and pressing flush to his sides.

"Fuck—" He desperately tries to keep his hips in check, fights with each desperate attempt to jerk up, fails. "Holy shit—"

He's ready to beg you to slow down and show him mercy, equally ashamed of himself and turned on by the thought alone. You coo something about him squirming and twitching but he can't quite tell words from the stream of your voice. Blindly, he reaches up, hands stopping before they can reach your middle and pawing at your soft tummy. Again, you speak to him, but he's deaf in his pleasure, maybe if he opened his eyes—

He can't open them. If he does, it's the end. If he sees you, messy, disheveled, tired and so beautiful, he won't be able to last any longer. If he takes one more peek of your body bouncing on top of him, of you using him to your pleasure—

"Kento—" You beg him first, your voice drenched with ecstasy and breaking.

Nanami can't resist such a melody. He snaps his eyes open as if under a spell.

Your name dies between slurred whimpers when his hold tightens, clawing its way into your skin, and Nanami, early, way too early, caves in to pleasure. Eyes plastered to your bouncing tum and his hands sinking in it, now determined to not miss anything if it's bound to happen anyway, he joins the stuttering rhythm of your hips, just on time to push you into orgasm. A few thrusts later, stirred by the tight spasming of your cunt, he follows suit with a loud, the loudest this night, groan. 

For a moment, reality around slurs too, and when he regains control over his senses, Nanami finds you in his arms, nestled on top of him, sweaty and breathing heavy. He runs hand up and down your back, smiling at the feel of rolls and softness underneath. 

Your body presses his tight—and yet again Nanami reasserts himself his life truly wouldn't be the same if cruel fate ever took this blessed feeling away from him.

"One more time?" He whispers, lips pressed to the crown of your head. "I'm not quite full of you yet, my love."

[morphodae]

Herman Greenhill | Headcanons

Including: general & relationship (x reader)

cw: none (but... they are a bit short since I accidentally deleted the original post and was unable to recover my original draft. Apologies <3)

Read more P4 headcanons here: 🪻x ,🦉 x , 🌹x

General:

Passionate, loud, and sometimes impetuous, Herman is a young man who holds himself and others to very high standards. Much of this was formed in his childhood and upbringing. 

When he attends Weston College for the first time he’s shocked at the variation of personalities in his classes and on campus. Particularly: the eccentrics of Violet Wolf House sure do give him the utter shock of his life.

In time, he learns to be a bit more accepting of different personalities and beliefs; he only hopes that everyone is able to be the best that they can possibly be.

From the English nobility, Herman was raised to be proper, do daily lessons, and learn about etiquette, language, history, and arithmetic – much like any other well-off boy in England. Still, as a boy, he was known to prefer being outside in short-sleeves even in colder weather. Despite so many reprimands, Herman continued to pursue a favorite pastime that quickly turned into a passionate hobby and thus, his parents ceased to scold him for his rambunctious ways as a child.

Herman has a special connection with his mother since the two are rather alike in personality. Whereas his father is strict and helped Herman with his interest in sports and physical activities, his mother is headstrong and hot-tempered; never allowing her son to stray from his ideals or those he sets for others.

After his time at Weston, he finds himself drawn to a side hobby of cultivating small plants. He starts off small — as he’s no green thumb by any means — and finds subtle enjoyment in nurturing something from his own hands. He nearly sheds a tear when his very first tomato plant (despite it being tiny and only producing one) grows to its fullness.

He's quite fond of dogs; particularly, any of the hunting dog breeds. But, his favorite is easily the Golden Retriever for its loyalty, kindness, but of course... because it's cute, sweet, and fluffy lol. In a more modern au, Herman's favorite dog variates between the Golden and the Bernese Mountain Dog (since the latter wasn't introduced to America and the UK until about 1936).

Relationship:

Out of the Four Prefects, Herman is the easiest to get to know and court. Much like the other three of his friend group, he’s quite transparent in how he clearly pines after you. He might try to put on a façade, a stoic persona, and brush off his strong crush, but it’s painfully obvious to those around him.

It doesn’t take long for this gentleman to properly ask if you’d like to court him and, to his surprise, you agree and reciprocate his feelings.

He’s calm, proper, and collected on the outside, but on the inside he’s clicking his shoes and celebrating lol.

Even with his confidence in motivating others around him and himself, he’s (to no surprise) lost in the realm of romance. For all he knows, he has a very, very proper view of Victorian courtship and will do just that when you and he begin dating.

Herman is not a fan of public displays of affection. He prefers displays of affection with just you and him, but even during those rare times, he’s awkward and formal. If he ever feels like he’s made you uncomfortable in any way, he’s apologizing profusely. He will even do this if it’s a minor accident such as accidentally brushing your hand. He views you highly and it might take some patience to assuage him into relaxing a bit. 

Herman cherishes all those close to him in his life, and you’re no different in that regard. However, you are different in the fact that he is noticeably softer and quieter around you. He’s had maybe 1-3 crushes in his entire life but never has he dated. He is the type that dates to marry, so be prepared for a very dedicated man.

Not one to shy away from fairness, Herman does his hardest to be diplomatic and thoughtful towards you. He will listen to what you have to say and remember seemingly benign details about you. He will hand you a gift that he specially picked with slightly shaking hands, blossoming vermillion cheeks, and eye contact that seems drawn to that oh-so-interesting wallpaper across the room. He’s too nervous to meet your face in those moments but, god above, he’s trying. It goes back to dissuading his fears about his lack of experience and awkwardness, but, for the most part, his efforts to make you happy are always from a heartfelt place.

Overall, Herman is a massive green flag who wants nothing more than to make you happy. Confident and more open-minded as a young man due to his experiences with Weston College and eventually Sphere Music Hall, he sees you nearly as his equal — despite the rough patches (of awkwardness and sometimes miscommunication). 

He sees a bright future with you and will fight for that future even harder than his physical challenges he has put himself through. His heart is yours and if he has to repent, has to do ridiculous things to see you as a permanent fixture in his life, he’d walk through hell and back over and over; if only to see something as benign as your beaming smile.

Herman Greenhill may not feel he deserves it with all that happened at Weston, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t make the most of his salvation with you by his side.

[jjkamochoso]

Okay guys I screwed this up yesterday!! This was a request from @killuagirly and was originally an ask but I accidentally posted it unfinished instead of saving as a draft and had to delete it lol SO here's the request: "Another Feitan request! Feitan with a Female Reader who's dying to 'pretty him up'! He's already gorgeous as is of course, but wouldn't it be so fun to do a morning & nightly routine with him? If she's lucky, Feitan will let her paint his nails! He goes for black when she asks what color he'd like, but maybe with a little pink heart on each ring finger! He wouldn't mind that much, so long as the Troupe doesn't see of course. He'd never hear the end of it."

Here's my answer to the ask: I loved this so much😭❤️ thank you for always bringing me your Feitan ideas, I absolutely love writing for this man🥺❤️ I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!!🫶

And finally, here's the fic:

Pretty in Portor

Fluff

Feitan Portor x f!reader

Warnings: slight mentions of violence

Feitan had no clue how he got so easily persuaded by you. It was like you put a spell on him or used some sort of crazy Nen technique to manipulate his actions. Of course, he knew that wasn’t the case—

He just really, really loved you.

That’s why he found himself in your room in the hideout of whatever city the Phantom Troupe had business in this time, wearing a fluffy headband pulling back his bangs while you applied a face mask to his pale skin. You already had your own on, sporting a fluffy headband matching his.

“Why you no ask Machi or Shizuku, even Pakunoda, to do this?”

“They’re not into this kind of stuff,” you whined.

“And I am?” he questioned, prompting you to jokingly swat at him. “You bring in water? I no going out to bathroom to wash off.”

“Of course. I’m not a monster,” you replied. “I won’t make you too uncomfortable as you so sweetly partake in my nightly routine with me.”

“Too late,” he grumbled, earning a gentle flick of the forehead.

After you both rinsed off the mask, you rummaged through your belongings to find the rest of your skincare items. You laid them out on the bed, all of the foreign labels piquing Feitan’s interest.

“What this?” he asked, picking up a small jar.

“I was just looking for that! Thank you,” you said as he handed it to you. “It’s exfoliation for your lips. It gets all the dead skin off and makes them smooth. You want some?”

“Looks sticky. Absolutely not.”

“Your loss.” You giggled mischievously before your voice gained a flirty tone. “You know, if you ever wanna kiss anyone, this is a great way to make sure your lips are smooth.”

Feitan glared at you mercilessly. “Don’t say stupid things.”

“Just a suggestion!” you exclaimed, putting your hands up in defense. You put some of the product on your lips and scrubbed with your finger, taking care to get your lips nice and soft. Feitan busied himself with looking at your array of items, thinking your words over and trying not to blush. His eyes trailed up, sneaking a glance at the way your finger ran over your now moisturized lips as his mind filled with what they might feel like against his own…

He quickly went back to his reading of ingredients on whatever bottle he picked up, trying to shake those thoughts out of his head. You were none the wiser of what he was thinking about, though you couldn’t help but notice that Feitan was a little too engrossed in the bottle of serum he was holding, especially after his not-so-subtle peek at you just a minute ago. You wondered if maybe that could mean he felt the same about you that you did about him? You hadn’t a clue and it didn’t help to ponder over questions you were sure you’d never have answers to, so you picked up a bottle of nail polish to forget your worries for the moment.

“You want your nails done too?” you asked.

“Only if you have black,” he snorted, figuring your girly, pink loving self wouldn’t be caught dead in black nail polish. To his horror, you procured a bottle of his color request and held it up.

“Perfect! I’ll do yours after I do mine.”

Feitan wanted to protest, but knew it was no use. He was a man of his word, after all, so he sat quietly, mindlessly flipping through a book he had brought into your room as you began to paint your nails.

“All done,” you had said after a few minutes. “Your turn!”

Feitan groaned but sat across from you anyway.

“Hand, please,” you told him. He held out his left hand first and you went to work, but not before he almost shivered at the skin-on-skin contact. When both hands were done, two coats of polish and one layer of lotion later, Feitan was impressed with the end result. He had to admit, he was a fan of the dark color contrasting against his skin.

“They look so pretty!” you gushed, fawning over the great job you did with his nails. You grasped his fingers and turned them every which way, inspecting them closely. They looked nice, sure, but they were missing something.

Your eyes lit up. “I know! I can paint a little heart on one of the nails.”

“Anatomical?” He smiled darkly. “Bloody?”

You screwed your nose up in disgust. “No, I was thinking something more like this.”

You picked up a small brush, used for creating tiny details, and dipped it into the pink polish bottle. You then carefully made a few strokes over each of his pinky nails, drawing a dainty heart on each one.

“There,” you said triumphantly. Feitan looked at his nails, confused at how he should feel. On one hand, it was sweet of you to include him in your hobbies and enthusiastically make him participate, but on the other hand, how could you not see how wildly ironic it was, painting cutesy hearts on the nails of a sadistic torturer? The same nails that were normally inflicting pain and misery, caked in blood and other bodily fluids, were now covered in nail polish and sweet smelling lotion, being treated with a tenderness he forgot he had craved for so long. Unfortunately, because there was a “no fighting your fellow Troupe members” rule, Feitan wouldn’t dare to walk out of your room with the nail art; he couldn’t bear the idea of being teased to no end and not being able to shut the person up with violence.

“Tch. Cover it with paint. I no need anyone seeing this.”

“Aww Fei, are you sure?” you pouted. “But you look adorable!”

“No want to look adorable when killing someone. That your job.”

You giggled as you opened the black polish bottle again while the man quickly looked away, trying to hide his sheepishness at the compliment he inadvertently gave you. Now that your last minute art additions were covered, it made it even more special to him. He loved knowing he had your heart, a little piece of you, hidden away in a place only he knew of.

“This is more your style anyway,” you said, smiling softly at his plain black nails. You were about to put the polish back in your bag but before you could do anything, Feitan stopped you.

“Wait. Sit.”

You obliged, curious to know what he was up to. Feitan himself seemed surprised that he spoke up, but nevertheless continued.

“Choose color and give me brush.”

Your stomach fluttered with excitement when you realized he was going to do some nail art on you as well.

“I’ll do black,” you said, “that way we’ll match each other.”

“Gross,” he muttered, feeling his cheeks warm as he studied your splayed out hands in front of him, not daring to peek at your gorgeous face in his flustered state. He busied himself with the brush, starting his art. You decided to wait until he was done before looking at your nails to keep it a surprise. Your eyelashes fluttered closed, enjoying the relaxing atmosphere. Feitan, now finished, was going to question why you hadn’t said anything yet but he looked up to see your shut eyes. You looked so peaceful that he wouldn’t be surprised if you were asleep. His gaze darted down to your lips, the skin softer than ever after your exfoliation, and he was so terribly tempted to kiss you. He stared you down, deathly still as he took this time to inspect all of your pretty facial features while he knew for sure you wouldn’t catch him doing so.

“Feitan,” you whispered, his skin erupting in goosebumps at the way you said his name, “are you all done?”

He wanted to say no, have you all to himself as he continued to commit your every fine line and curve of your expression to his memory, but as selfish of a man he was, he didn’t want to make you wait to see his work any longer.

“Open eyes.”

You did what he said, but instead of your nails, your vision was filled with the handsome face of the man you adored to no end.

“So pretty,” you breathed out, getting lost in his gray eyes.

“You haven’t seen nails yet, idiot,” he chided, wishing the acid in his stomach could dissolve the butterflies flying around in it.

“Hmm? Yeah, you’re right,” you replied, finally examining his artistry. You gasped with delight at what you saw. Feitan had drawn a skull, similar to the one on his cowl, on each of your ring fingers.

“They’re perfect! Feitan, I love it! Thank you!” you exclaimed. He was about to answer you but was dumbstruck when you planted a kiss at the corner of his lips before bringing him into a bone crushing hug.

“I’m just so excited! We look so good!” you continued, eventually pulling away from him with a big smile. “I’ll be right back, I’m going to show everyone!”

You ran off, your bunny slippers thumping against the hard floor. Feitan brought his polished fingers to his face where they rested against the spot you had just kissed, letting a lovestruck grin rest on his face.

Your lips were even softer than he dreamed of.

[mao22716]

bonus comic ( wooo clap clap clap)

no overlay ver:

can u even see the difference....

commenting on my drawing u can ignore (pls do)

omg all my comments r gone bc i accidentally posted and i deleted it out of panic 😭😭😭😭😭

overall im very happy with this its around 80% of what i originally had in mind

in my imaginagtion i wanted the picture to look more blue bc its morning and its bright but if i put a lot of overlay the colours wont look interesting anymore i am conflicted

so ill post both with some blue overlay and without it

im gonna wait until the day after i make this draft to post so that i can see if theres anything i can improve on it has been a few hrs since i first made the draft and i made some changes to the drawing

i actually changed a few things already like the hair ribbon (it was blue previously) and the umbrella handle (it was a dark brown like the bag)

i also put some pink in the umbrella bc i thought it was too plain i hope it looks good to everyone else who might be seeing it

i want kurikos face to be the focus but i find it hard to do that bc the umbrella is also a light colour so i tried to put more shadow & hopefully theres more contrast

the bag is easier to focus on.... this is sad

the ribbons on the bag r also sad but they look like ribbons so thats good

im not good at perspective so the bottom of the skirt might look out of place but i did my best to fix it by rendering

it looks messy but its supposed to be like that pls believe me

the hair was so fun to paint theres so many colours that go well tgt and looks pleasing

mao cafe hahhha im so funny lolol

i think i could have painted the nose better but idk how to make it look better

aaaa i wanna go back and change it & put bigger dust and sparkles around the character i looked at it too long and its boring

i should redo the mouth too maybe

also i have an idea that saiki was made to wear lolita dress as kuriko bc yumehara and aiura bribed him with expensive coffee jelly

i want to make small comic i dont have confidence but ill do my best

^^^ i did it..... i hope u will like it its very messy but i think it shows what is happening clearly

[luvfy0dor]

“Hes Not All Bad Like His Reputation ♡⁠˖” Dad!Fyodor w/ Alternative Child!Reader ੈ✩‧₊

Warnings: Done from memory of an ask,

Description: Headcannons for Fyodor with a teen!reader who has a bunch of piercings and dresses punk/grunge and often gets themselves into trouble without trying

A/n; I am SO incredibly sorry that I lost the ask- I accidentally posted it instead of saving to drafts and panic deleted it because it wouldn't let me private post. Anon, I hope you see this, I'm so sorry 😭🙏

Headcannons ★

• Fyodor has some thoughts about your piercings. He doesn't really like them and would tell you that if God wanted holes in your face, you would be born with them.

• As a matter of fact if you came home one day with a piercing that he didn't approve of (anything other than a standard ear piercing or two), he'd probably ground you. ESPECIALLY if it was done by a friend, he wouldn't want you to go out with that friend or invite them over for a long time.

• If you come to him with the complaint of being blamed for things for your appearance, he'd defend you and make sure you're not punished.

• He firmly believes you shouldn't get stereotyped for anything at all as a matter of fact- if someone says that they thought you were mean before meeting you in his presence, he'll start asking them questions.

• (Fyodor is pink) "Yeah, I thought you were a jerk before I met you-" "Why?" "I dunno, they just dress so intimidatingly." "That's very rude. You should really be more considerate."

• If you have crust pants or just any clothing with patches on them, he'll sew them on for you.

• He likes to help you pick out outfits for special events and such, sitting in a chair and watching you model them. If he thinks it's not fitting, he'll send you back off to the closet with a wave. He thinks you should wear clothes you feel comfortable in, but he wants them to be appropriate for the occasion.

• Original ask also said that reader preferred electric guitar over classical instruments - Fyodor would just be happy you're playing an instrument at all, even though he doesn't particularly enjoy the sound of it.

• He would like to learn a duet with you as a way of bonding, regardless of how different the instruments sound

A/n; I hope this feels somewhat accurate 😭 I'm sorry if it's not.

[chestnutisland]

8; A centaur and his naga girlfriend to @heimkoheimkofan , sorry i accidentally deleted the draft so I lost your original ask post T_T.

This was the actual last one!