#minus the change in fit at least

[employee052]

GIF I made for a class

[gutsby]

If You Like Piña Coladas

Pairing: Neighbor!Joel x Reader

Summary: You secretly make Joel a profile on Hinge. Then he shows you exactly why he doesn’t need one.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected p-in-v. Oral (f!receiving). Foodplay (i.e., Joel fucks you with a fruit popsicle). Girthy, unspecified age gap. Mentions of blood.

Note: Loosely inspired by ‘Escape (The Piña Colada Song)’ by Rupert Holmes…minus the part about mutual infidelity LOL

Word count: 8.0k

Joel Miller had been on his own for too long.

The least you could get him was a date. Or even just laid.

Likes: Long walks on the beach

Actually…he hadn’t seen a coastline in ten years, at least. You backspaced slowly and then lowered Joel’s phone.

What did that old grump like to do, anyway?

In all the years you’d been living next door to Mr. Miller, you hadn’t seen him take pleasure in much of anything besides mowing his lawn, rolling his eyes, and screaming like a fiend alongside your dad at whatever game was on.

Likes: College football. Quality time with friends :-)

Nope. Corny as fuck. Backbackbackback.

You wiggled your thumbs over the keyboard in muted concentration. You knew you didn’t have much longer. Joel was currently engrossed in one of the three things he loved most—mowing long, careful rows through his backyard—and you were supposed to be watching the season finale of the Mandalorian while he did. That had been the pretext of your visit, anyway. It’d been a little over an hour since he’d stepped outside and a little under thirty since you’d let your curiosity get the better of you and seized his phone, so you figured he’d be back soon.

You had to think of something witty, and do it quick.

Feeling inspiration strike a second later, you typed:

Likes: Piña Coladas. Getting caught in the rain. Making love at midnight in the dunes on the cape.

Perfect. Easy. Everybody loved that song in the ‘70s.

Having thus put the finishing touch on Joel’s profile, you leaned back and let out a contented sigh. You scrolled. Flicked through photo after photo of your very own hand-picked selection and smiled, feeling proud.

You’d started him off strong and suave with a picture from Tommy’s wedding, wearing a tux that fit him well. Then a cool, casual snap of him at a brewery. A photo taken out on the lake, life jacket snug and showing off a sliver of his broad, bare chest. Then a picture of him at your graduation—you made sure to crop yourself out—followed by a candid shot of him playing dress-up with his niece. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind that all the yet-unknown, lovely folks of Hinge would eat this shit up.

You set the radius to 100 miles. Beefed up the age range and gender preferences to include virtually every living soul over 30, tweaked a few more prompts to be cooler, then scrolled through his newly-minted profile. Again.

Oh, and— shit, wait.

Quickly, you toggled to the phone’s settings and disabled all notifications for Hinge. Then you grabbed the app and wrestled it somewhere deep within all the utilities ones that no one ever used. This had to stay hidden for now.

And, just as you stretched your thumb to make a couple last changes to his page, the back door thundered open.

Joel stumbled in, half-hunched. Rubbing his face with a towel and treading slow, heavy steps through the living room. With your heart about to burst from your throat and your impulses blown to shit, you panicked and crammed his phone in your shorts—like, in them.

Joel’s phone was just then settling above the groove of your ass when the man collapsed on the loveseat across the room. Instinctively, you drew your legs to your chest as Joel groaned and pulled the towel away from his face.

“The beast is at it again,” he declared, expression grim.

Before you could ask who ‘beast’ might be, he clarified:

“Marlene’s shit-for-brains labradoodle won’t quit diggin’ holes under my fence. Whole thing’s gonna fall if he—”

You didn’t mean to be rude, but you had to tune out the rest of what he said; your butt squirmed against the sofa as your neighbor’s phone traveled perilously down and took partial lodging between your cheeks. Then stuck.

There was no way you were getting caught like this. One stray phone call or text and you would have the world’s most jarring ringtone buzzing straight up your ass. And a very uncomfortable conversation with Joel, to be sure.

So, while he droned on about the chaos being wrought by the paws of old Sparky, you nodded to the window.

“Aw shit, Mr. Miller…did he just…dig up another?” You feigned surprise as you stared over Joel’s shoulder at a hole that didn’t even exist. Then, when he’d jumped to his feet and growled ‘No fuuuuuckin’ shot’ as he made his way over to the window, you acted fast and pulled the phone out of your ass and stuck the old, cracked thing on top of the coffee table where it’d been last and stood.

Before he could see—or say—anything else, you seized your own phone and made a swift beeline for the door.

Shouting over your shoulder, probably sounding like a fucking lunatic but not particularly caring either way:

“DAD’SCALLINGMEGOTTAGOMISTERMILLERBYE.”

And you left. You had no desire to explain your baseless, bullshit observation or why his phone was currently covered in a thin sheen of sweat from your butt.

You’d never seen so many roses in your life.

Joel Miller could legitimately give the whole Bachelor franchise a run for its money with all the goddamn virtual flowers he’d been getting from his Hinge admirers.

It’d been a week before you’d finally gotten the chance to abduct his phone again and check his ‘likes’ for yourself. Honestly, you hadn’t been expecting much—Joel was hot, but more so in a niche-ish sort of DILF-sexy way. You figured he’d be more of an acquired taste, really.

Once you’d scrolled through just over a hundred different messages, you realized at once how wrong you were.

‘GNAWING at the bars of my enclosure.’

‘Daddy? Sorry. Daddy? Sorry, I mean, Daddy?’

‘Need you in a way that is concerning to feminism.’

‘Pleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplease.’

And that was truly just the tip of the iceberg when it came to all the wild, chaotic, and horny messages Joel had received over the last week. You couldn’t believe it.

You got to firing off responses as fast as you could. Sitting cross-legged on the back porch while your dad, Joel, Tommy, and a dozen other neighbors were busy grilling burgers and soaking up as much sun as possible.

The only other person who hadn’t joined them was Tess.

She peered over your shoulder and fought back a laugh.

“That man is a fuckin’ menace to society, I swear.”

“No, we’re a menace to society. All about team effort,” you corrected her as you typed up a lightning-quick ‘Hey ;-)’ to each message, fingers moving fast.

“He doesn’t even know you’re doing this!”

“He will soon enough,” you mumbled. Grinning. Then, “Mission’s not over until that old man gets his dick wet.”

You’d probably made it through seventy or so replies and got to go back-and-forth with a couple hot prospects by the time you heard footsteps trailing up the steps—heavy ones that you instantly recognized as Joel’s. Without another word, you exited the app, turned the phone off, and chucked it to Tess, who placed it discreetly onto the porch railing where Joel had left it.

That phone really should have had a passcode on it.

Two weeks later, it did.

You saw it as soon as you’d slid your thumb up the screen in the comfort of Joel’s living room—over at his place pretending to be watching your Star Wars spin-off again—and you felt your heart jump up in your throat.

Your passcode is required to enable Face ID.

Since when the fuck did your neighbor have a passcode? Or even know how to make Face ID a thing? Or use it?

These questions and a dozen more were thrumming through your skull when you heard the screech of the back door once again. This time, instead of taking his sweet time on his yard work, Joel had only been gone five minutes. You swallowed a scream and did that dumb, reflexive thing you had before: shoved his phone in your shorts and thrust yourself back into the couch.

Practically shaking when Joel stepped into the room.

Of course, he wasn’t sweaty. His shirt wasn’t smudged with flecks of dirt or swaths of green from the grass outdoors, nor were his Wranglers the slightest bit muddied. He was perfectly clean in a plain white tee, jeans, and boots. You couldn’t help but notice how tight the short sleeves of his shirt hugged his biceps, and then you realized it was because his arms were crossed.

Joel regarded you with a look as long and as careful as the rows he was supposed to be mowing out in the middle of his backyard right now, and he let out a breath.

“Guess what,” he said.

“What?” you squeaked.

Your eyes widened without meaning to, and when Joel plopped down on the sofa beside you, you felt a shiver pulse through your body. Joel stretched his big, wide, denim-clad legs out as he leaned back, and you had to force yourself not to jump when his knee struck yours.

“I’ve gotta brush up on my Gen Z lingo,” he announced.

Wh— okay? What the fuck?

Just as you opened your mouth to speak, and feeling the slightest twinge of relief at this declaration, Joel started to tug something out of his pocket. It took you several seconds to see it, then a couple more just to work out what it was, then Joel was squeezing it. Flipping it open.

An old Motorola Razr? When did he get that?

“See, I, uh— met a girl last week,” Joel resumed, plainly careless in the way he fingered the thing in his grip.

Your chest tightened. Had he really?

“She’s a little on the…younger side. You might know her.”

Oh shit. Was Joel banging one of your friends?

You swallowed hard and nodded for him to continue. You pretended not to notice when he flipped the phone open and left it that way—starting to thumb through the keys to do something on it. You fought the urge to take a look.

To distract yourself, you watched his face instead. It was lax.

“She said somethin’ kinda funny last night, and I—” Joel paused to let out a breath of a laugh, and you nearly broke down to steal a glance at what he was looking at.

Narrowly, you resisted. And it was a lucky thing, too—the next thing you knew, Joel’s gaze was fixed right on you.

“Y’know what she said to me?” he asked.

“What?”

Joel blinked. You probably should’ve heard the click of a little button on the phone he was holding, but you didn’t.

You did feel the vibration of another phone under your ass a second later, though. That one was unmistakable.

That one was Joel’s.

Out of one more stupid, senseless instinct, you coughed. Loud. Like the momentary scratch in your throat might reasonably mask the sound and sensation of a small hunk of metal buzzing between your butt and the couch.

It didn’t, of course. You sat and stared at Joel as it rang.

Slowly, he brought the Razr to his ear. At one corner of his mouth, you could discern the first inklings of a smirk.

“Wanna answer that?” he hummed, nodding to your rear.

Fuuuuuuuuuck.

You weren’t sure how you even had the strength to do it, but you reached back and plucked his phone out of your shorts. With your gaze still stuck to his, you answered it. Put it to your own ear out of habit—and a little bit of fear.

“Hello?” you said, stupidly.

“Hey.”

The second you heard Joel’s voice rumble out beside you on the couch and across the line, your heart dropped. Ironclad confirmation of all you didn’t want to believe.

You squeezed his phone even tighter and sincerely hoped the man couldn’t hear the wild, erratic beat of your heart as it throbbed and thudded in your chest. The noise was almost too loud for you to hear anything else, too fast-paced and frantic to discern another word until:

“Can you tell me what a ‘Hinge DILF’ is, darlin’?”

You rose to your feet, scarcely even realizing it.

You had to get off of that couch, had to get away from him and come clean, as calmly as you possibly could. The phone fell out of your grasp just as he ended the call.

“Shit— Mr. Miller— I-I-I-I can explain.”

Swiftly, suddenly, Joel recovered his phone from the floor. He set the other device aside and propped his feet on the coffee table, lounging a little more comfortably now that he could scroll the phone at his leisure. Before he did, though, he made a point to wipe the screen.

“Nothin’ I love more than ass sweat on my phone.”

Your cheeks heated to a thousand degrees.

You wished the ground below your feet would open up and swallow you whole. It was like you were floating somewhere over your own body, unable to move or speak. From this vantage point, and still paralyzed with fear, you could see Joel opening Hinge on his phone.

“Crazy how long the stuff sticks,” he mused aloud, starting to peruse his likes, “When you got up and high-tailed it outta my place that first day, I thought I must’ve been seein’ things—what with how wet my phone was.”

You would’ve closed your eyes in utter resignation if you’d had the strength. Joel had known this entire time.

The old man continued to scroll, cavalier as ever.

“I figured ya might’ve been havin’ some…personal time of your own on my phone—maybe your old man blocked PornHub on the home WiFi or somethin’—but then I kept diggin’ around…” As Joel spoke, his actions seemed to mirror his words, and he was really scoping out the app. Combing through profiles and roses and streams of old messages that you had sent, then shrugged to himself.

“…and all I found added up to jackshit,” he concluded.

This time, you managed to meet his gaze when he looked back up, but really, you hardly saw him at all.

Joel was smiling.

“I did see a text, though.”

He waved his phone, where a few messages were visible, though not legible, to you. You didn’t try to read them.

“‘Welcome to Hinge! Reply ‘C’ to confirm your phone number and get started,’” Joel rattled the first one off.

Of course you’d forgotten to delete the fucking text.

“And I know my memory’s all but gone to shit, but I didn’t remember ever replying ‘C’ myself, so then—”

“It was a joke,” you choked out, cutting him off.

Joel cocked a brow. He leaned even further back in his seat and crossed his feet. You were already vomiting words before he could attempt to get one out himself.

“N-Not a funny joke,” you clarified, voice shaking, “Fuckin’ stupid as shit, I just wanted to see— y’know— me and Tess were talkin’ ‘bout how hard it must be…in your…in your fifties— it’s just hard finding somebody.”

Joel didn’t know what you were trying to say, and his face showed it. You didn’t know what you were saying.

“So you think my sex life is a joke?” Mr. Miller quipped.

“NO!”

You hadn’t meant to say it so loudly. You quieted down:

“No. I didn’t…no. I just wanted to see who would…”

“…wanna fuck me?” he finished, blunt as ever.

If your face had been hot before, surely it was about to burst into flames right now. You didn’t get like this—not around Joel Miller, not around anybody—but here you were, chest constricting with humiliation and shame, wishing you were anywhere in the world but the place you were, and Mr. Miller was smiling, he was still smiling, and it was all you could do to just stand there and…stare.

And wince when tears started to prick at your waterline.

As if this day couldn’t get any more mortifying, you were actually crying in front of your neighbor, nose stinging and beginning to leak. Stupid, stuttered gasps leaving your lungs like you’d just learned to breathe yesterday, vision blurring the man in front of you and then dimming, momentarily, as you brought your hands up to your eyes and tried to shield this wretched display from his view.

You paced a couple hasty, blind steps away. You pressed the heels of your palms so hard into your sockets that stars started to dance behind your lids and a pain began to stab your brain. You continued to sob. It was just then dawning on you that you’d have to make a run for it now and never set foot near this man’s property again. You’d have to lock yourself away, never get to go to a barbecue again, probably face a restraining order from Joel and—

“FUCK!” you shrieked.

With all the grace of a giraffe on roller skates, you tumbled over Joel’s end table and took a nosedive into the floor. Your hands had no choice but to fly out in front of you in an effort to break your fall, and of course, they had to land on a lone, stray beer bottle on the ground.

One lovely little container of Corona Extra went splintering under the weight of your whole body, and briefly, before the thing exploded beneath your palm, you swore you could’ve heard a tiny, self-righteous voice:

‘¡La Vida Más Fina!’

Fuck you, Corona.

You’d never been more embarrassed in your life. Even if the bottle had managed to roll far enough to nick just the edge of your hand, slicing a minuscule strip of skin beneath your thumb, you still wanted to cry even harder. You looked pathetic, crumpled up beside this man’s couch with your wrist pinched between your fingers and your tears paving two steady streams down your cheeks. Hedged in by a field of shattered glass, you cast a look around yourself and whimpered. Then cursed. And cried.

You heard the shards around you crackle and snap even more when a pair of boots stepped in and crushed them.

Joel made easy work of your deadweight frame—your body hanging limply in his grip as he hoisted you up to your feet. Your vision was still as bleary as it had ever been, nose running and stinging and still struggling to take in breaths, but Mr. Miller’s hold was steady. He guided you into the kitchen and straight over to the sink.

Water ran. Wounds stung. A couple more sobs clawed out of your throat while Joel held your hand under the faucet, dabbed a paper towel across your hand to dry it off, then disappeared, momentarily, to retrieve what you assumed would be a first aid kit from the other room.

Instead, Mr. Miller returned with a fifth of Maker’s Mark. You eyed the bottle of whiskey in his hand and grimaced.

“N-Nuh-uh,” you blubbered, emphatic, “No way, man.”

“Uh, yes way, man,” Joel mimicked your voice, nose scrunching for dramatic effect as he elevated the pitch, “Like, you totally need this antiseptic so you don’t die.”

“I don’t s-sound like that!”

“I don’t so-o-und like that!”

Of course your neighbor couldn’t be assed to show an ounce of compassion to another person for more than two minutes. He drew closer with the whiskey. When he grabbed your wrist, you huffed and shook your head.

“That’s gonna hurt. I don’t want it.”

“Oh, cry me a fuckin’ river.”

Though as soon as he’d said it, the man winced a little. Maybe that had been a bit too harsh. You sniffled hard.

“Fuck you, Miller— I-I was doin’ you a favor!” you spat.

Tears and snot becoming the fuel for part of your newfound indignation, you shot Joel a look and scowled. You wrenched your hand out of his grip and made a point to rebuff the bottle of liquor as you moved back, shaking your head again. Mr. Miller stood there and watched you.

“Only time you ever leave this fuckin’ house is when you’re hangin’ out with my dad or your brother, you haven’t got shit else to do around here but mow that fuckass lawn and jerk off— I was tryin’ to help you out! Get you laid like any normal guy would like, but no, no— you’ve gotta go and be the world’s biggest ASSHOLE about it, just like you are with everything else. I’m sorry.”

Deep down, you were and weren’t remorseful at all.

You were sorry you’d gotten caught, ate shit over a side table and got your palm fucked up by a bottle of beer.

You weren’t as sorry that Joel seemed to be regarding you as a joke now—something to tease and poke fun at. Trying to pour his makeshift disinfectant over your cut and force you to obey his orders because you were just too dumb to figure it out yourself, then mock your voice.

Then watch you with tightly knit brows, eyes scanning your face with a skepticism that was almost palpable.

Condescending old fuck.

“What? Ain’t got nothin’ to say to that?” you seethed. Emotions running high—and humiliation momentarily usurped by anger—you stared him down and dared him to speak. You didn’t care what he thought of you now.

If it had been in your interest to care, you probably would’ve looked a little harder at what the man’s body language was communicating to you in the meantime. What his mouth was evidently loath to say, his hands and feet hardly displayed the same reticence: he set the bottle aside and stepped closer to you. He stared back.

It wasn’t until he’d approached near enough, had closed the space between your body and his with barely more than an inch or two to spare, and glowered down at you, face frozen with a frown, that your brain got the hint that he might not be the type to chicken out. Or back down.

He reached behind you and opened a cabinet.

“A favor,” Joel echoed, and you could tell he was trying his hardest not to replicate your intonation as he said it.

He’d just marginally checked his douchebag predilection, was closing the cabinet door beside your head and was starting to rock back on his heels, when a little cylindrical glass swung low in your line of vision. Joel held the tumbler loosely, then lifted it and pointed with his pinky.

“You,” he said, accusing, “fuckin’ suck at those—favors.”

Your stomach clenched at the sight of a slight, impish smile just then starting to frame the sides of his mouth. The featherlight grip he kept fastened on the glass, the ease of his stance, even the jab of that stupid, rough finger, still pointing at you, all bordered on nauseating. You fixed him with a pitiless look as he leaned in again.

And when his knuckles brushed your side, you tried not to flinch. You arrested his gaze without a word and let the smug, sun-tanned, sweet-as-shit-pie son of a bitch have his fill ogling you back and closing in on the bottle.

“What? Having half the tri-county population on Hinge ready to suck you off isn’t really your style?” you jeered.

Joel popped the cap and poured his drink. He shrugged.

“They ain’t you.”

As casual as if he’d just told you the weather forecast for the week ahead, his favorite place to eat, or the mundane specs on a construction project he’d been saddled with for months. Nothing of note. Nothing unknown. Just a routine admission of truth that sent your head reeling.

“You wh— w— well that’s—” you stammered, equal parts astonishment and exasperation as he continued to feed you steady, unrelenting doses of that look: “GROSS!”

You were standing stock-still, forced to watch that blip of a grin morph into a full smirk, slowly. He had to be joking.

“You are…fucked in the head, Miller. That’s not funny.”

Now you were the one pointing. Joel was drinking.

“—and I’d never in a million years even think—”

The side of your palm began to throb. It bled.

Blood was trickling down your wrist, roaring like thunder in your skull as your heart thudded away, impatient.

Impatient.

Impatient, impatient, impleeeeeeeeease fuck me, Joel, PLEASE!

Your libido a filthy, rotten traitor to all the rest of your better sense, you continued to stand there and suffocate on words like something akin to acid reflux in the throat. Your thighs snapped together, your back collapsed with equal force against the rigid set of cabinets behind it, and slowly, almost excruciating this time, you felt the pulse between your legs give way to a bout of warmth.

That cockhungry slut governing your bodily functions was actually getting wet for this asshole, and you were powerless to the effects of her wily, DILF-lusting ways.

“Gross,” you uttered out loud, again, reflexively—face overlaid with a look of horror as the heat began to pool.

And, as though the man had been endowed with the gift of infrared vision, or else just an external thermostat to gauge how hot you’d gotten between your two sweating legs, Joel brightened. His gaze flirted down to that soft, unseasonably tepid spot with a knowing look and then—

“Gross,” he parroted back. The smile behind his eyes said he wasn’t disgusted at all, just teasing some more.

When he pinched your wrist to get back to the business of blotting out blood with a paper towel, he kept that smug look painted across his creased, ancient face.

“‘S’that why ya made a Hinge for me? ‘Cause I’m gross?” Mr. Miller applied pressure to the still-bleeding cut, then directed your other hand to hold the paper towel in place.

You shook your head.

“No,” you started, trying not to wince before he turned. Again, the man ambled out of the kitchen, only to come back momentarily—finally—with a long-awaited bandaid.

“I mean…yeah, you’re a perv, but that’s beside the point.”

Joel exhaled a little harder through his nose. He pressed the underside of your palm again, ensuring the bloodflow had stopped, then swapped the napkin for the bandage. The adhesive might’ve been in place for two seconds before he was retreating again; this time, to the fridge.

“Then what was the point?”

Joel yanked one door open. You glanced over your shoulder to the one that led out to the back porch.

The longer you stayed, the harder it would be to go.

Go.

GO!

“I don’t know,” you answered honestly.

From where you were standing, you weren’t sure why you’d decided to make Joel the profile in the first place. Your curiosity, for one thing, had been one hell of a persuasive motivator to getting you scrolling on Joel’s behalf, but why did you care one way or another if your neighbor was drowning in pussy or enduring Sahara desert-levels of dick deprivation at his big age? It sure as fuck wasn’t your business to care, and nothing about Joel Miller had ever intrigued you consistently enough to venture an inquiry about his personal life before, so…

“Why?”

Joel was looming overhead again, the force of his presence like a fist through your chest. In an effort to steady your breaths, you turned your gaze away from his.

“I should go.” You couldn’t have dodged his last question more clumsily, or pathetically, if you’d tried, “It’s…late.”

Outside, the midday sun was still high in the sky, and there was nowhere in the world you had to be, Joel knew.

“Okay,” he said at length.

Then he leaned in closer and held something out.

“At least take one for the road, alright?”

And he was smiling, almost kind.

You looked down and—shit.

There it was, clear as day: a creamy piña colada popsicle.

The sneaky, conceited motherfucker had remembered what you’d written in his dating profile. You winced.

You accepted the cocktail popsicle without a word.

‘Thanks’ or ‘You’re a fucking pig, Miller’ likely would’ve sufficed for a farewell on any account, but by then, you were far too shell-shocked—and frankly, incredulous—of everything that had just transpired over the course of the last thirty minutes. You didn’t thank Mr. Miller, nor insult him by likening him to swine or any other thing; you left.

Your feet carried you fast out of his house.

Down the steps of his back porch, across pristine, power-washed concrete, past seemingly endless beds of hibiscus blossoms, marigolds, cape plumbago, and those god-awful periwinkle plants—who the fuck enjoyed gardening in a heatwave, anyway?—you practically sprinted away in a fugue state until the toes of your shoes hit the edge of your lawn, then you stopped.

“FUCK!”

You’d forgotten your phone.

It felt as though your body were turning in slow motion, and for a second, you seriously considered abandoning the device altogether and begging your dad for another. Then you set your sights on the wide, uninviting exterior of the back of your neighbor’s house, the place you’d just been hauling ass to escape, and almost rolled your eyes.

Joel was leaning back against the frame of his open back door, arms crossed, expression smug as he watched you.

It was extraordinarily difficult to throw a half-decent punch at a man while wielding a popsicle in your hand.

“Give it back!” you barked.

“Give what back?” Joel grinned, easily side-stepping what struck him as neither a punch nor a slap—in fact, the hit never struck him at all. He laughed as it missed.

“You know what.”

Of course, you’d gone back. Of course, Joel had tried to play dumb and pretend like you’d never left your phone behind at all. And of course, he hadn’t budged until you’d threatened to shove your left foot so far up his ass his dentist would be picking toes out of his teeth for weeks.

‘Violent little thing, ain’t ya?’ Joel had replied, chuckling.

Then, when he’d attempted to brush you aside with a patronizing wave of his hand and an admonition to run on back to daddy and quit buggin’ me, all bets were off. You’d aimed right for center mass and nearly dropped your frozen treat with how hard you’d shoved his chest.

That was how the conversation had started.

That was how the so-called ‘altercation’ had come to be—Joel easily swatting you off and indulging you no further than to chuckle and laugh and taunt you like an older brother who was faced with a sibling half his size—and all the while, your injured hand was throbbing again. White, sticky rivers of melted popsicle now trickled down your wrist instead of blood, and you were just as pissed.

“Listen—” Joel began, catching a fist meant for his face.

“Gimme my fuckin’ phone, Miller!”

“—you—”

“Can go to hell.”

“—owe me.”

“Owe you?!”

You stopped. Your weak, one-handed assault was halted just long enough to peer into Joel’s eyes, and the gaze that met yours was solid. Sincere as you’d ever seen it and blinking slow as the chocolate browns of his irises moved lower over you. Whether they were drinking you in, sizing you up, or merely plotting your demise by calculated turns, you could have been no more certain, or prepared to hear, what came out of his mouth next:

“Wanted to do me a favor, didn’t ya? C’mere.”

And the next thing you knew—or felt—was one thick finger hooking into your belt loops. One swift tug in his direction, another light push toward the old wood railing to your side, and then more fingers crowding in, crawling over, seizing the coarse denim material and pulling hard like the thing was the single most annoying impediment.

“Take these off,” Joel grunted.

You were too stunned to move. Even breathing felt like a chore, every last sense elevated to impossible heights, it wasn’t surprising at all when Joel just went and did it all himself. In a blink, your shorts were yanked down and then dropped to your ankles, your legs guided backward in shuffled steps, and then, nearly tripping in the fabric at your feet, you fell back, ass smacking the flat railing. You winced at the warm, knotty texture of the cedar beneath you and, out of habit, shot the old man a look.

Joel cocked a brow in response, likely already knowing what that glare from you was intended to convey, and instead of giving voice to any words himself, just sank.

Lower and lower and lower, until his knees were the only things holding him upright on the floor before you and his hands were pressing—melting—into your thighs.

Audibly, his kneecaps cracked.

You couldn’t help but giggle.

While Mr. Miller’s mouth moved dangerously close to a place you should’ve been appalled to see him go, all you felt capable of doing in that absurd moment, it seemed, was laugh. You gripped the thick white column beside you, scooted back slightly until you were in a comfier seated position, then snagged your lower lip between your teeth to contain the sound, but it was of no use.

Joel was both drooling and scowling between your legs.

“That funny, huh?” he managed in a low, ragged breath, “Sound’a some crackin’ joints on a man as old as me?”

“Yeah,” you said. Smug, for once.

Admittedly, any other normal person in your position would’ve been concerned with about a million different, more pressing issues—namely, your neighbor and dad’s best friend sticking his face between your legs—but really, after all the frivolity, commotion, and fucking insane behavior the two of you that day, it was like your brain had logged off and left the body to its own devices.

You didn’t mind that for right now.

When Joel’s tongue grazed the space between the cusp of your panties and inner thigh, you really didn’t mind.

Fuck it. If this was the favor he’d wanted after all, so be it.

As if reconsidering the foray of his mouth for the time being, Joel tilted back a little: just far enough to get his hands on your underwear and start tearing those down your hips too. One short, hot puff of air from his lips was a bliss unto itself, and your knees instinctively kicked up. With the thin white fabric barely halfway down one calf, you hooked your ankle over Joel’s shoulder and cursed.

“My daddy’s gonna kill you for this, Mr. Miller.”

And, for what felt like the thousandth time, Joel smiled.

Bigger this time, as if to show he didn’t really care at all what the man next door was liable to say or do about his present endeavor as long as he got to stay. You let him.

He pressed a kiss to your slick, puffy lips and hummed.

“Fine by me.”

Without another word the tip of the man’s tongue glided up the length of your slit and curled in, drawing your arousal between his lips in a hungry sort of kiss, and then sank even deeper. Going nose-deep in just one go, the old man looked positively obscene burying his face so far inside; his features alone a cruel, unseemly sort of fixture between legs as smooth and supple and warm as yours—how did a man so many years your senior get to be so lucky?—and somewhere further, in the darkest recesses of your mind, the sight sparked desire. A hunger, really.

Seeing that silver, stubbled chin getting drenched in your wetness, the weathered lines of his face growing even deeper with each new movement of his tongue, the strain in his neck with muscles that were firm and taut and so visibly aged with decades and decades of life—

You adored it.

A man Joel’s age never looked more out of place and still somehow perfectly fit for the space between your thighs.

You lowered the hand that was cradling your popsicle, braced your weight against the railing with the other, and then pressed on either side of his skull with your legs, quiet moans tumbling one after the next off your tongue.

“‘S’all for me?” Joel breathed, licking and suckling kisses along your clit, “This sweet, needy pussy’s all mine?”

“All yours.”

You scarcely recognized the sound of your own voice. Your legs were shaking. Though you loved to see him make you come undone, piece-by-piece, you also couldn’t bring yourself to stare a second longer, stimulation too great and his tongue too good.

If he kept going at a rate like this, you’d have no choice but to cum, and you didn’t want to be done just yet. Or ever. You refocused your gaze to look down and tell him as much, when your mouth fell open around a gasp, rather than words, and the weight in your hand fell away.

Swiftly, Joel took the popsicle in his own grasp and slid it down to the vicinity of his lips and tongue, now grinning.

The thing was half-melted by now, having sufficiently soaked half your forearm and leaving a vague, sugary aroma in its wake, but it was still intact. Still unlicked—unlike you—and still perfectly cool and light and long. The off-white hue was almost taunting in the way it winked and caught rays of the sunlight shining behind you, and as the man slid it even lower, you jumped back.

“Joel,” you hissed.

“What?” he hummed.

“That’s not—” You blinked, swallowing a moan.

“Not what?”

One warm, callused hand pressed the tip of the frozen thing to your bundle of nerves—the first contact it had had since Joel’s tongue—and you let out a low whine.

Even after all that time in the sun, the popsicle seared your soft, wet, aching parts with a biting cold you’d never thought possible. It sent waves of a strange, trembling pleasure coursing through your lower half and left your head with no choice but to moan. And fist Joel’s hair in a vice-like grip when he angled the wooden stick lower.

Suddenly, the white, sticky head slipped from your clit to the rim of your yet-untouched entrance, and that made your muscles leap to attention once again. You cursed.

“Not what, honey?” Joel pressed, with affection—and as he did, sank the tip of the popsicle deeper inside you.

“Th— that’s not—” You were shaking your head, racking your brain for any trace of the English language and failing miserably, “Not…doesn’t…g-go there, fuck.”

Joel sank the pretty, dribbling popsicle another inch inside your pussy and sucked a whistle through his teeth. If your senses weren’t as raw and utterly shot as they were, you likely would’ve seen the expression on his face transform from one of pleasure and amusement to awe, eyes darkening at the sight of your hole opening wider.

“That’s it, baby, take it,” he cooed, voice low.

Another couple soft utterances of ‘Joel,’ and your legs only parted wider. Free to grip his hair, the railing, the column beside you, or just the insides of your own palm as the icy sensation sank inwards and into your body, you whimpered. Your hips, instinctively, bucked toward the source, and you heard Joel’s groan join your sounds.

He withdrew his new toy just far enough to make you mewl for him again, then drove it deeper. With the friction of that, a stream of white went trickling out.

Joel couldn’t help himself; he flattened his tongue against the stream and licked you clean from the spot where he’d split you open to the cusp of your clit. He circled that place over and over, worked the object in his hand even further inside and back out again, then, getting a taste of your arousal with the white, wet, sticky-sweet juices starting to mix together, he moaned.

It was a guttural sound, something just shy of the ‘feral’ demarcation but at least ten steps ahead of desperate. You relished the gruff, throaty sound reverberating from his lips to your cunt, the way your walls fluttered around it and for him, and were just about to throw your head back and grind your hips even harder when it stopped.

Joel stopped. He started to get up.

Quickly for him, but slow as molasses from your point of view, the man straightened from his place on the hard wooden floor and expelled a breath. His chest heaved, and his torso twisted to one side, momentarily, to get the strain out of his back as best he could. From where you sat, the spattering of grey in his beard seemed to glisten even brighter with the sheen of your arousal now sticking in it. He wiped his chin and reached in between your legs.

“Got any favors left in ya, sweet pea?” he smirked.

Fortunately for you, it didn’t sound like a question at all, and didn’t appear to be intended that way, as the next second had Joel pulling the largely-spent popsicle out of your slick and straight into your mouth. He didn’t inquire whether he could push it down on your tongue and make you taste your own cunt on the thin wooden stick, but the smile on your lips assured him that was fine by you.

Nor did he ask for your permission to flip you around, bend you over his porch railing, and take your hips in his hands. You were still sucking down the last traces of sugar and citrus and a vaguely tangy taste when you felt the head of something else prod your soft, wet folds.

Much bigger—and warmer—than the thing that had breached you before, Joel nudged at your hole with the tip of his cock, coated the head of it in light, gentle circles, and sucked in a breath. He didn’t have to ask, and you didn’t need to answer; he just parted your walls with the force of one steadying thrust, and the pulse of that sharp, dizzying pleasure was back in an instant.

Shared this time, and manifesting in sounds from you and Joel alike: you gritting the stick between your teeth and managing muffled cries of his name and whatever expletives you could scream, Joel with ragged breaths.

For a man who ostensibly hadn’t fucked since the Clinton administration, he was off to a pretty good start.

Joel gripped your hip even tighter and started to saw his cock in and out of your dripping, pliant hole, his other fist finding purchase in your hair for more leverage. His thrusts were shallow enough at first to get you used to the new stretch, and you could feel him making space in a way no man’s girth ever had before. You couldn’t see his face, but you imagined it had come to settle into a mix of guilt, rigid composure, and pussydrunk pleasure.

“Good girl,” Joel murmured behind you. Then, groaning, “Good fuckin’ girl, keep squeezin’ my cock just like that.”

You felt a slap on the ass and the speed of his thrusts pick up in turn. Your mouth fell open in a moan, and the stick on your tongue almost slipped out of place when, shortly, Joel leaned over your body and pulled you back. He snagged the popsicle stick between his teeth just in time to get your back flush with his front—in perfect position to get fucked against the nearest column.

Breaths coming out in short, ragged grunts in your ear, Joel teased the side of your face with the stick, then nudged it back in your mouth. You sucked it softly.

“One more favor, baby?” he panted against your cheek.

You nodded, not knowing what it was but that you wanted to be the one giving it. Joel pulsed inside you.

With every stab of his cock, every string of your wet, messy, combined arousals making the most profane noises imaginable between your body and his, you were squeezing him tighter and teetering on release. Joel’s hand snaked down between your legs, and just as the head of his cock nudged against that spot, you keened.

“Any favor?” Joel groaned and nipped at your earlobe.

The heft of his stomach and chest made for a warm, sturdy place to start rocking your hips, greying peach fuzz at the base of his belly a small comfort as you writhed against his body and whined that you’d do anything, anything he wanted, as long as he let you cum.

Joel’s middle finger found your clit, and you nearly screamed at the welt of pleasure coming to a head. Again, the popsicle stick tumbled out, but neither one of you could be bothered to try and keep it in this time.

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

The man behind you didn’t even attempt to conceal his grin as he leaned closer, hugging your body to his while he circled your clit and fucked you harder, lips straying every now and then to press a kiss on your shoulder. He plunged his cock deeper and was met with a squeezing, leaking mess trickling down his length and onto his balls, growing louder with each new wet slap against your ass. The old man was a tease, but he couldn’t hold on forever.

“Wanna fill you up,” Joel groaned.

“Cum inside?” you murmured.

You were barely able to tilt your chin to him, but when you did, he held it—made you look him in the eyes and, for once, give your unequivocal permission to do it then.

And you did.

You were startled to find Joel’s lips crashing against yours in the next second, mouth overwhelmed with the remains of your own taste, his tongue, and a series of relentless, hammering thrusts. It was only a matter of moments, then, before your resolve gave way and his followed suit, and the waves of pleasure between you both manifested in ropes of sticky, hot cum painting your walls. Joel held you closer, as though needing to feel his seed as he fucked you through it, groaning when he felt it start to move with each sharp, stuttered thrust.

You panted in his mouth coming down. You kissed him back. You almost couldn’t believe the sensation between your legs, soon to come dripping out and undoubtedly bound to make a mess all over the floor of Joel’s porch.

Equally unbelievable was the fact that you’d just fucked your neighbor in broad daylight, outside, with Marlene’s house directly to your left and your own on the right.

You stared out at the sprawling expanse in front of you—Joel’s impeccably kempt yard, one of the reasons why you were standing where you were just then—and, as you’d found yourself before, you felt the urge to laugh.

Not on account of Joel’s old, ailing knees, this time.

Clearly, the man still trying to catch his breath behind you suspected that that might’ve been the case, though, because you felt him shift his weight and grunt, lightly.

“What’s so funny? My knees crack when I cum, too?”

You could feel the smallest of scowls start to take shape, muted momentarily with kisses that he pressed on your cheek, and others, still more teasing, down your neck.

You let him, unfazed and still giggling. Then pointing.

It seemed Joel was loath to detach his lips from your neck—or his cock from the place he’d just stuffed full—but when you lifted your finger to indicate a direction toward the side of his backyard, his senses perked up.

There, along the white picket fence between his yard and Marlene’s, was the furry, merciless, lawn-destroying labradoodle that had been plaguing Joel’s life for years.

The man was out of you in an instant. He yanked his jeans up even quicker, tucking his dick back, clumsily, into its place in a fit of rage, then cupping his hands:

“WILL YOU FUCK THE HELL OFF, SPARKY?!”

[zvezdacito]

Ranking Malleus's Valentines Messages from 2021-2024🔥

People finally got the 2024 ones so I decided to make a list like this. Mostly based off which ones have both the most interesting contents and which ones are the sweetest(?) in a sense to Yuu lol. Terminal Malleyuu brain + and I mean they are Valentines cards after all.

Going from least to most personally favored:

4th: 2023

Text: "To my dear friend-

Thank you. Never did I envision someone presenting me with the gift of sweet treats. It would be a shame for me to eat them all by myself. I think I'll share them with you. Would you be willing to provide the tea to go with them?"

Very broadly friendly and nice I guess, but the message of the text is basic and the design of the letter card is also kinda basic🥀 like tbh if you changed the color of this card you could mistake this for something Riddle wrote instead. The ones for this year really just felt like they ran out of ideas and gave up, this is the only one on this list I can say I definitely don't really like that much

3rd: 2022

Text: "To my good friend-

A gift? For me, of all people? Your tastes are...distinctive, I must say. Worry not, though- I enjoyed it, of course. What would you like in return, I wonder? I shall take great pleasure in speculating the answer to that question."

Definitely more interesting than the 2023 one and his personality really comes out in the writing here. Though because of how his closeness to Yuu is characterized here I now feel like it would make more sense if this was the first card and the 2021 was the second one, since if you take the cards to be written in a chronological timeline it kinda feels like Malleus's closeness to Yuu regressed out of nowhere

Not saying people can't change or grow apart later on, but here it kinda has the vibe that he straight up hasn't met them much yet so its as if this was earlier into their relationship. Basically feels if Book 3-4 Malleus got the gift, while 2021 is like Book 6 and onwards Malleus getting the gift.

I really like this one both for the yuu crumbs and it's characterization of Malleus himself, but it's number 3 simply by default of me personally liking the next two more. The gap between it and 2023 is huge😭

2nd: 2024

Text: "To my good friend-

Thank you for your gift. Hmm... This fragrance is meant for pleasure and relaxation? What a tasteful choice. I rather like it; perhaps I shall take more of an interest in these things. You would be welcome to pay me a visit, by the way, should you feel so inclined. I would enjoy sharing an old tale or two."

These are probably the most fun design for the letter cards so far. I think after last year (the 2023 one) they realized they really did run out of ideas for box shaped letters lol.

In general I just like the very sweet and casual friendship implied in this card. As usual he is doing everything in his power to invite Yuu to his place at any given opportunity. Cute how when they hang out they'll tell each other chismis stories, and that Malleus is gonna commit to getting into something just because Yuu gifted it to him. TLDR he's very comfortable around Yuu here that's awesome

1st: 2021

Text: "Dearest,

My thanks for such a truly wonderful present. It is only fitting that I should give you something in return. How about the gift of beauty? Perhaps the gift of song? Or... Well, never mind. Just a joke based on the legends, you know. I shall give you something I picked out myself."

I don't really think anything will ever fully top this one tbh. The greeting just being "Dearest" was so powerful they had to pull bro to the side and tell him to tone it down for the next 3 years🥀

The "gift of beauty song or..." lines can be taken as just him being 3 seconds away from jumping to smooch Yuu (given in the movie the last gift was true loves kiss related after maleficent cursed the baby) which is honestly kinda funny. Down bad /j

Ok back to the main point and minus speculations. This is tied with the 2024 one with showing how close and comfortable (shown by how forward and playful he is here no concern of maintaing image or such) this point of his relationship with Yuu is. This is also the card where he feels the most excited and energetic I guess which is why it's still my overall favorite. Displex had no choice contain the raw Malleyuu power in this one to avoid bias accusations idk

If you want to read into it more I think it's also kinda funny that this could lowkey be taken as him saying we suck at singing/look ugly. And the reason he stopped before revealing the last line is because he realize the joke had already come off as insulting to a human not familiar with the Briar Valley even if his intention was just to be playful as friends do.

Although that would be consistent with the characterization of Malleus as being honest if anyone's performance in something (even Yuu from what we see in voicelines) is lackluster.

He is constructive tho. In these same voicelines usually offers to help teach them to get better and acknowledging it as a feat/compliment itself when they slightly improve, instead of the fanon characterization (usually for masterchef comics) that once he finds out Yuu is behind something he will autonomatically just see it as good quality already.

So yeah idk that's nice and awesome

↑ Drive compiling of the rest of the 2024 Valentines letter pics I found on twitter. There's still some characters missing + trying to look for a clearer picture of the Malleus one lol

[lexo-is-pesto]

I'm so excited to finally post this.

My full Murder Drones reference! so hopefully I can keep up consistency

Obviously, this is full of my own head canons so close ups and explanations under the cut (it's a LOT) >;]

To be totally honest my focus was on the main characters, and I think that shows in the designs of the Manor Drones and Cabin Fever Squad. BUT I'll still do my best to explain my process here.

For the Disassemblers I decided to do very different builds for each but the same color pallet.

My idea here was that since each have a different designation letter, that was akin to their model type. That's also why "the company" was able to clone J so easily, they just had her model on file. (also like to imagine there are 26 different forms of the Disassemblers Imao).

I had all the colors remain the same to show their unity and of course the Absolute Solver-ification of the basic Worker Drone color scheme. Essentially, I just took the monochromatic WD colors and put the highlighter yellow over it that Cyn loves so much.

For J I did a more lean and strong build. I wanted her to exude that leader energy. I also made her Core a star shape for similar reasons and then I also noticed that N and V had caution stripes at the top of their legs but as far as I could see J didn't, so I decided to add those to the very top of her legs to finish the garter belt look she's got going on. For her hair, I actually really like the pigtails I just flattened them out a bit because the big cutesy poof they had didn't fit her style in my opinion. I brought it back for her worker form though.

With V I gave her a round yet sharp look. (My favorite added detail is the sharp shoulders) I did make her the shortest of the DD because everyone loves the small but vicious archetype. For her core I made it a sword or spear shape, because she's extra violent. And finally, I made her legs a little more pointed than J's to finish off the sharp look.

Last but CERTAINLY not least, N's design is meant to be soft and plushy but still has a little edge to it. His hair is fluffy but the tufts curl to be sharp, His core is meant to look like a heart but it's upside down so the point is still facing the top (which makes it look more like a club but whatever) I gave him a rounder torso than the other two and his elbow and kneecaps are softer too. His general construction is still menacing, though, so don't get too comfortable with all the fluff. I also spent a LONG time contemplating if I should make his thighs black to look like little biker shorts to contrast with J and V's sock looks but went against it because I love how the hazard stripes stand out against the white.

For N and V's worker forms I basically took out all the sharp edges and rounded them out. J's still a little sharp though not as much.

With the Workers I did the opposite of the DD. They have the EXACT same body types (minus Uzi because she's little) and instead I changed their color schemes to all be unique to their eye lights

Since Worker Drones were made to... well... WORK I think their initial manufacturing would be pretty uniform. A copy and paste if you will. It was only when they were left to their own devices that the WD started to customize themselves. Thus came the wigs and clothes.

I like to think the color started with those infected with the Solver, so Yeva and Nori gained color and then passed that on to their kids. Thats also why Alice has color, but Khan, The Manor Squad, and some other drones in the colony don't. Does not explain Lizzy and Thad though (maybe they have a distant relative that had the solver idk)

It was a lot harder to infer about what a base WD body would look like Maybe I was just looking in the wrong places, but I had to infer with things like the worker helmets, we see every WD except Uzi wear one but they seem more coordinated with their outfits so I decided to just continue my color head-canon that its naturally monochrome and you can customize it if you want to!

I added a light to the feet of the worker drones to match the hand lights. I don't think there's a canon reason for the lights but, on the workers at least. I think they're there to help them do grunt work in the dark! to light their ways in caves or tight spaces so they could do their job better. Now they're just another robot cosmetic

For the Parents, I gave them wrinkles because I thought it was unfair that Khan was the only one who got them. So, Nori gets crow's feet hurray! No but I probably had the most difficult time with these drones. It was hard to separate the canon from fanon since we know so little about them, but I fought off all the demons to keep their designs relatively grounded. Minus Khan's scar. And Alice's more natural horns. and-

I also gave some drones eyelashes. just cause. if I thought it fit, I added it and if it didn't, I didn't add it.

Now you may be wondering "Lexo what's up with all the cracks!?" the idea here is that it's the solver taking over. We see in Cabin Fever and Home that the solver virus fundamentally changes the body of a drone. The crack in the casing is basically this process. Depending on the stage of which your drone is at it changes the intensity. We see Cyn being the main host and essentially patient 0, so she has the most cracks. It starts at the core then spreads until it reshapes you entirely and you become a Disassembly Drone. Unless you stop it in time. Thats why J, V, and N have the pale lines on the bottom of their torso, they're more pretty and cleaner since they achieved the solvers "final form" so to speak. Nori and Yeva on the other hand, have repaired cracks but they're still messy since they were stopped mid-way. Alice, however, did not stop the spread with the solver cure since she was "abandoned" so instead she just cut out her core entirely. Yup. Shes functioning on pure insanity and spite at this point. And then of course with the new hosts, there is light spreading. TL: DR the cracks are a zombie bite.

But that's it for my Murder Drones head canons and designs! If you read all the way to the end, you're a champ and I love you. Have a cookie superstar <3🍪

[still-a-morosexual-help]

God, this man has the absolute worst case of nostalgia based rose tinted glasses

In nightbringer itself Asmo says the day before they Fell he was hiding from Raphael for messing with him/pissing him off

All of Lucifer's siblings (minus Levi, as far as we know) were frequently sneaking into the human world while they were actively at war with the Devildom and while it was forbidden to interact with humans

Mammon used the angels as his own giant chess set????

Mammon used to sneak into the human world to collect pigeon feathers and sell them to angels by saying they were Raphael's feathers, which is hilarious but is also A FUCKING SCAM THAT CURRENT MAMMON WOULD ABSOLUTELY PULL

The others actually thought Mammon would Fall long before he did because he was such a shit head

Asmo used to have his Asmo parties or Asmo nights or whatever up in the Celestial Realm despite Raphael saying parties are bad (I feel like the actual word he used was "immoral"? )

Asmo used to sneak into the human world to go partying with humans

It is heavily implied in s3 that asmo was fucking & sucking his way through the celestial realm (good for him btw get those sticks outta the angels' asses babe i believe in you <3 )

The twins and Lilith used to frequently sneak into the human world

Lilith started a whole ass relationship with a human and lied her ass off about it so that she could keep it secret

Lilith compared Michael to a jellyfish???? the first time she met him and that pissed him off

Lilith held a hell of a grudge

Belphie used to skip work so he could go nap

The brothers, as a team, used to catch frogs, cut holes in books, put the frogs into them and wait for Raphael to open them

The brothers, as a team, used to dig pits in the ground and cover them up so that other angels would fall into them (at least the frog thing was kinda funny this is just them being straight up dicks)

Raphael was constantly chasing them around with his spears and getting on Lucifer's ass about them because of how troublesome they were

S4 implies that the reason the brothers' pranks are more refined as demons, compared to when they were angels, is because they now have Satan

So yeah, they were always asses

But even if there is some truth in what Lucifer said about them being kind & sincere (and honestly, there is. We've seen more than enough evidence of it in the events, devilgrams, chats & s1-4) :

Levi says he was depressed in the Celestial Realm and felt like he didn't fit in.

Both Mammon & Beel didn't fit in until Lucifer found them.

Lilith definitely didn't feel like she fit in.

Lucifer, as a demon, says he'll never want to go back. Talking with Diavolo as an angel made him lose a little faith in the Celestial Realm. His greatest fear is possibly his father. Even before they Fell something in the Celestial Realm was pissing him off so much that he managed to spawn a whole other conscious life form - Satan says he gained his own consciousness even before Asmo was created meaning that anger had been festering for a long time.

As far as we know Asmo & Belphie were the only ones who were genuinely happy throughout their entire time in the Celestial Realm (and I think once Asmo gets used to his demon form he'll appreciate the freedom in the devildom over the strictness of the celestial realm)

Mammon, in Nightbringer, says that they know there's no real difference between being an angel or a demon and that they're all just labels.

Whatever sincerity and kindness they, may or may not have, had in the Celestial Realm wasn't because they were angels. Or because of the Celestial Realm.

It was in spite of all that.

It was just what they are like as people.

And of course that sincerity and kindness aren't gonna shine through right after a horribly traumatic event that killed their sister and permanently changed their bodies. And due to such an event & their Sins becoming more...more, they'll obviously be different and treat each other differently as demons.

But at the end of the day they are good, kind people, even as demons.

Like we've seen that.

[codgod]

y’know generally i try to limit colour palettes to as few colours as possible to make things more cohesive but despite my best efforts only jay ended up being able to stick to that </3

ANYWAYS here’s the as-of-right-now fully updated designs for these dickheads. these will no doubt undergo even more tweaking as i draw them more but this is a start i guess. also pls open the pictures to look at them properly i worked so hard LOL

some random notes under the cut yaaaay

chip —

he jingles when he walks. somehow he’s still stealthy. i do not know how

kept the platinum ring that bonded him to gillion in the block! because hey he doesn’t really have a reason to take it off (and it’s a nice reminder of how much gill cares about him, and how far their friendship has come since that ice arena)

his tattoos shift and flicker like actual flames, and sometimes (harmless, purely aesthetic) sparks fly off them when he’s excited

i just think smoke coming out of his mouth when he’s angry would be cool :]

chipped teeth from biting rocks and coins all the time :/

he has scars from the red lightning, they’re just mostly contained to his back and shoulders. they’re a similar red to his coat even once they’ve healed

gillion —

the tail sleeve thing is so he can rest it on the ground without damaging his scales, he doesn’t usually wear it when he’s just on the ship because the wood is soft enough that it’s usually fine + it can hinder swimming a bit. it’s mostly meant for places where there’s cobblestone or gravel streets and such. i think his armour would probably have a version that looks similar but covers the whole tail minus the fins, maybe with some armour plating of its own. i didn’t draw it because there wasn’t any room lol

his scars from the lightning are pink mostly because red stood out too much tbh. they softly glow in the dark the same as his coral and the pink parts of his fins

also kept his ring! his hands aren’t really made for jewellery, though, because the webbing means it won’t sit very secure on his finger. so he keeps it on the same chain as the necklace he got from aslana to keep it safe

tried to make him look a bit bulkier and more his age than in my original design? i feel like i was leaning too much into the naivety and. shortness. originally lol. he also has thicker eyebrows now and i’m still trying to decide how i feel about them but i think? i like it? i don’t tend to give many character thin eyebrows so it could’ve been a unique thing for him but alas

i think i made the sword too small but like ignore that

also forgor to include pretzel </3 that’s okay though she can get her own design sheet later. she’s special like that

jay —

i believe in tall jay supremacy

blue magic! i was considering gold but that’d look a bit more like a canary than i wanted for her wings so. blue jay :]

her hair is supposed to look kinda like fire to mimic her dad ! kinda showing that even if she runs from her family and the navy they’ll always be a part of her. and also i just like drawing messy hair

i gave her sturdier gloves just because i feel like it fits her better. also changed up the shirt to more of a button up solely because i don’t like tank tops very much LOL

i did WANT to make her outfit a bit flashier to match the boys better but i couldn’t quite figure out where to Put the flash. maybe that’ll come later, the way the story’s going i might get to design some cool prosthetics for her or something

overall —

because there’s just so many fucking colours i triiied to add at least one or two colours from each of them into the others designs. jay has her necklace with each of their main colours on it, her wings are the same blue as gillions eyes, her jacket and right eye are the same dark blue as destiny’s blade, her hair is the same orange as the lighter part of chips tattoos. chip has a dark green sash under all the belts, the same as the hilt of destiny’s blade. they all use the same shades of black, gold, and brown

the only real exception is gillion doesn’t have anything from the other two because he has Such a specific colour palette and he already had so much going on as-is orz jay was obviously the easiest to do this with because she has both warm and cool colours in her palette by default lol (and i did her design last, so that helps)

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

While I don’t think the senti-kid story necessarily works if the writers wanted to keep the show focused on kids, I think it would’ve gone over a bit better if it was just Felix who was the senti, rather than also Adrien and Kagami (especially Kagami, she was a complete retcon in that regard).

Picture this:

Gabriel, Emilie, and Natalie find the Miraculous (Butterfly and Peacock) because they have an expensive hobby (archeology/collecting rare items, as wealthy people like to do), not because they need the magic at all. They just heard a rumor of an old Tibetan monastery and wanted to check it out, got lucky in finding the two jewels. The Peacock doesn’t even have to be broken.

We can keep the basics of the backstory shown in Representation- minus the detail of Adrien being made with the Peacock. Gabriel and Emilie conceive Adrien normally, but Colt and Amelie aren’t able to like in canon, so Colt has that same jealous outburst at Gabriel. Because Emilie feels bad for her sister, and Gabriel sees an opportunity to make a deal, they lend, or maybe trade, the Peacock to them to create a child. As in canon, Colt uses it, and his jealousy makes Felix a physical copy of Adrien.

Emilie gets sick for non-magical reasons. (I wouldn’t mind having her use it for funsies and not realizing it was broken, but it’s very obviously cracked, and I can’t imagine at least one of their two kwamis not giving them a warning.) As for what happens to Colt, I’m on the fence about him being alive in present times because that kind of abuse is really heavy, so maybe he just dies for unsaid reasons (though I vote Amelie poisoned him or something).

This version would allow for a really cool contrast between Adrien and Felix’s stories and characters. You have Adrien, a normal human, capable of disobedience, but who bends easily under others and is a people-pleaser. Versus Felix, a senti being magically compelled to obey orders of whoever has his amok, but fights to be free every chance he gets. That contrast would also further Felix’s frustration and jealousy of Adrien, in addition to his own father’s hatred of him and being identical to his cousin, because Felix would kill for Adrien’s free will, but he squanders it. But then there’s also the issue that he’s essentially victim blaming Adrien, not realizing that magic isn’t the only way to force obedience- not to mention ignoring the times that Adrien did stand up for himself (like running away to school). I think that would be a really great discussion of free will, how jealousy can blind you, family conflict (and resolution), and how different kinds of abuse/trauma aren’t automatically better than each other just because they’re opposites (ex: someone with heatstroke shouldn’t be jealous of someone with frostbite. Both suck.) The intensity might be worse for each circumstance (since Felix has magical abuse and physical+verbal abuse), but he would be in the wrong for saying Adrien has it easy.

(I think at this point my ADHD is over-explaining, so I’ll leave it at that lol)

Do you think a route like that would’ve improved the show at all? I’d love to hear your thoughts!

The sentiplot has many issues and one of the big ones is that it's not a great fit for a show where Marinette is the one and only main character. They've given Kagami, Felix, and Adrien this massive weight that begs for them to take center stage for at least a few episodes, but probably a whole season or two. The show isn't going to do that, so it's near impossible to really fix the sentiplot without truly massive changes to canon.

That being said, I think that this idea would have vastly improved the sentiplot in its current form! Right now, the senti thing truly doesn't matter to Adrien's character. His mom could have gotten sick for any random reason and the only meaningful change would be that Gabriel couldn't use the rings to keep Adrienette from kissing that one time. Outside of that, Adrien's status has no meaningful effect on the story. It doesn't even keep him out of the final! He does that on his own! The senti thing is just there for cheap drama.

There's also the issue that the current storyline makes the Agreste's look awful which is clearly not the story's goal. Emilie is supposed to be an angel and Gabriel is supposed to be a grief-stricken man who loves his family. That doesn't fit with the kind of monsters who would make a magical designer slave to be their child and then wear his control rings around as daily accessories. Remember, they picked their freaking wedding rings for his slave collars! Most people wear those every day. The implications are nasty!

It makes way more sense for the Agreste's to have the peacock for more mundane reasons and for Colt to get it somehow. Maybe even have him steal it after he finds out about it to really remove the Ageste's from the perfect slave child issue. This allows for the contrast between Gabriel and Colt that canon so clearly wanted, but failed to write. It also makes Felix's actions towards Adrien make way more sense. It feels like canon Felix hates Adrien and we still don't know why that is.

As nebulous as Felix's character is, he still feels like the kind of character who needs to be tied to something like the sentiplot. It's part of the reason I don't think I can use him in my own stuff. The sentiplot is - or at least should be - such a major, defining thing for him that the only possible way to use him is to keep that plot or to give him a plot about freeing the Kwamis since they're also slaves and his abusive childhood could make him feel a bond with them.

Focusing the sentistruggle on Felix instead of spreading it out to include Adrien and Kagami would also keep the sentistuff from dominating the story. Making the male romantic lead an artificial being without true free will whose creation killed his mother is a massive thing that needs to be the focus of his character for the rest of the story. People are on the edge of their seats waiting for Adrien to learn the truth and want this to be a big plot. I do not think they're going to get that, but they should.

Having a side character be the artificial human allows this to be something that is dealt with and then Felix either leaves or fades into the background once his story is over because his story allowed to have an ending whenever they want it to. That's not true for Adrien. Adrien's ending is happily every after with Marinette and the sentiplot needlessly complicates that plan because it means that Adrien's character is always going to be center stage, making people want the sentiplot to mean something since it's apparently impossible for him to ever be a real boy who has true free will. That's such a massive thing that it begs for Adrien to be the main character, which is an asinine writing choice. I have no idea why they keep giving Adrien all this massive narrative weight. You don't do that if you want the female romantic lead to be the main focus! You do it if you want them to be true costars or if you want the male lead to get the majority of the focus. This is writing 101!

As you said at the top, I'm not sure how well this works for a show aimed at five-year-olds because it's still a pretty heavy stuff, but as a general idea, I'd be down to watch it! I didn't have a ton to add to this one because your pitch was already excellent!

[vroombeams]

Hey ho! Challenge time 😉 open your Spotify Daylist, find the 6th song on the list and write a quick drabble based on the 9th line of lyrics 🎵

Send this to 5 friends and feel free to change the song or lyric number. Have fun! 🖋️

love you in a panic because i prefer to sit on fences

Across the club, Lando's talking to a girl.

Talking is a generous way of putting it—they're pulled together so close that they might as well be making out already, Lando's crooked, drunken grin pressed up against the girl's flushed cheek. He's pretending to listen. Max knows how he is, the kind of mind he's got, and he knows that exact expression. The smile-and-nod minus the nod.

Max isn't disgusted but he's distinctly annoyed, because Lando does this every time. Invites Max out to Monaco, invites Max out to the club, ditches Max in the VIP booth like free liquor and people Max barely knows could be a replacement for Lando himself.

It's just irritating, is all. Why bother? Why is he even here? He could be home. He could be out somewhere else, with P or with friends who aren't going to swerve him to get laid. P's been texting him, too. Don't do anything I wouldn't do type shit, complete with suggestive emojis and followed up by a fresh lingerie pic. She's been shopping, clearly. That'll be nice to come home to at the very least.

He sends 😍😍😍, and then taps into his texts with Lando. The girl is leaning over the bar when Max glances over, and Lando's got an unsubtle hand around her thigh, thumb tucked under the bottom of her minidress.

dipping, Max types and sends. He's got a key to Lando's flat, all the security codes memorized by now. He should've gotten a hotel. A peaceful night's sleep is almost certainly not in the cards at this point.

He's honestly not expecting Lando to check his phone, not until later. But as Max is standing up and saying his goodbyes—he literally doesn't know anyone at this table, he's realizing, and he's pretty sure none of them know Lando either—he catches Lando slipping his phone out of his pocket and then squinting down at it. Blinking, tapping, squinting some more before he lifts his head and whips it around comically. Like Max is going to be anywhere other than the booth. Dickhead.

Max gives him a little wave that he turns into a middle finger as he scoots his way out of the booth. Doesn't need to be more than that, does it? Lando would've Irish goodbyed anyway, slipped out the door with his girl to grab a car without saying a word to Max or anyone at all. Probably Max wouldn't even have gotten a courtesy text about it.

He's not expecting a hand around his wrist as he's headed for the door. He knows it's Lando before he turns—he knows exactly how his he fits into Lando's hand, how the circle of his thumb and index make a perfect shackle around his wrist.

"Where are you going?" Lando shouts. It's too loud, even over the music. Loud enough that a few people actually turn to look. Max lost count of how many shots Lando's been slamming hours ago.

"Home," Max says, at a much more reasonable volume. "Like I said."

Lando frowns, so distraught and pouty that Max almost wants to laugh. Almost.

"But it's early," Lando says, like he's legitimately confused as to why Max could possibly want to dip. It's really not all that early. Gone two in the morning at least, and they've been here since midnight.

"Just not feeling it," Max says. It's not a lie. "Sorry, Bob, I'll catch you later."

He moves to leave, but Lando's not letting go of him. His grip around Max's wrist goes tighter. His eyes go wider, wilder. Lando's not unlike a dog with separation anxiety a lot of the time. Liable to wail about it if he's left alone, even in a room full of people.

"You can't go," Lando says. He sounds a bit panicked, unsteady on his feet, swaying around in place. "You—you're supposed to stay. With me."

He's too drunk to be anything but honest, but his brain is obviously not connecting properly to his mouth. Max has known him long enough that it's not hard to fill in the blanks. Max has known him long enough to also know that sometimes—not always, but sometimes—Lando really does look at him like a piece of property. Like Max belongs to him.

Maybe he does. Sometimes.

"You can come home with me," Max offers, because he's too exhausted to pick the fight he wants to pick right now. Sometimes he'll lean into it. Sometimes he'll tell Lando off for his shit behaviour, tell him exactly what he thinks, which is—well. You don't own me. You're fine on your own. You don't get to keep me like a Pomeranian in a fucking handbag.

Lando makes a noise so close to desperation that Max actually feels his ears go red. He doesn't have it in him to push away the connections. The way Lando sounds when he drags Max to bed. The way Lando sounds when he's getting what he wants, or close to it.

"But—" Lando hesitates. His palm is slick-sweaty against Max's wrist and this time when he sways he comes so close to Max that it's going to go extremely badly for them both if there are any paps around.

"Won't be mad if you stay," Max says. Which isn't fully true, but it's not fully untrue. He's used to this by now.

Lando gives him the full puppy eyes. "You promise," he says, leaning in even fucking closer, enough that Max goes a bit cross-eyed for a second trying to keep up.

He knows how this is going to go. Lando will go back inside, and he'll get his girl if she's still there, or a different one if she's not. Max will wake up at half-four to Lando slamming through the front door of the flat, giggling his way down the hall, unselfconsciously loud like he's forgotten Max is there at all.

And then in the morning, once the girl's been safely removed, Lando will crawl into bed with Max, and he'll give him those exact eyes again. Big and wide and pathetic, whining at Max not to be mad, wriggling a hand into Max's boxers to 'make it up to him'.

That's how it'll go. That's how it always goes.

"Promise," Max says.

Lando grins, and he lets go of Max's wrist.

[drabblesandimagines]

Bedside Manner

Cloud Strife x fem reader Word count: 2,531

--

You’re going to die here. You knew your line of work left you open to the threat of death more often than not, always the chance the next monster encounter would be your last… But you hadn’t expected it to end like this – sweaty from fever, a horrible chesty cough, every breath feeling a struggle and surrounded by used tissues on your sofa.

But the worst part of it all? You’re going to die without kissing Cloud Strife.

There were always ailments going around the slums – it was par for the course with so many people living in close quarters, sunlight obscured by a metal sky. There were rumours that this particular one had stemmed from Shinra HQ and thus it had become nicknamed the Shinra Flu, much to the company’s chagrin. It’d floored you from day one. There had been no build-up, no telltale sniffle or scratch in your throat, you’d just woken up feeling like death and that’s how you continued to feel the past four days. Tifa - bless her heart - was straight round the moment you’d not shown up for the Avalanche meeting. You think she must’ve knocked but she was in possession of a spare key and that’s where she’d found you, wheezing away in the bed. What had followed were clean sheets on your bed, water, soup and medicine.

She’d been round morning and evening since, going through the same routine. You’d never felt so pathetic in your life. Every night you’d drift off to sleep hoping you’d feel better in the morning but nothing seemed to be easing despite the numerous combinations of medicine you were taking and the hours of bedrest.

There’s a hesitant knock at the door. Tifa is going to be annoyed you’re on the couch, but you’d split your water in your bed in the night reaching for it after a coughing fit and didn’t have the strength to deal with the situation, so you’d decamped. At least it gave you a different view of the water-stained ceiling.

The key twists in the lock and the door opens and you brace yourself.

“Hi.”

You know you’re still burning up with fever, but that’s definitely not Tifa’s voice. You turn your head towards the door and Cloud Strife is standing there, minus his sword for a change, a paper bag in hand and looking incredibly awkward.

“Cloud?” You rasp out, which was a mistake. Speaking sets a coughing fit off and you sit upright awkwardly, the blankets spilling off your lap – you wished you were wearing nice pyjamas - trying to catch your breath. You hear the door close, footsteps, and the sound of running water. As the coughing subsides, Cloud is now crouched in front of you, holding a glass of water out.

“That sounds nasty.”

You nod, and regret it instantly because it makes you feel dizzy. You reach out to take the glass but your stupid hand is trembling. Could you stop being so pathetic for one moment? Cloud notices and supports the glass as you take it to your lips for tentative sips. This is not how you ever imagined the ex-Soldier being in your home.

“Thanks.” Your voice sounds tight. He nods.

“So,” he gets to his feet, “I guess you’re wondering why I’m here and not Tifa.”

“Hallucination?”

“Not quite.” Cloud smiles slightly, glad to see your particular sense of humour hasn’t been lost, but it isn’t long before he resumes his usual serious expression. “This virus is really contagious. Tifa’s lucky she’s not caught it from coming round here. I said I’d check on you instead.”

You frown at him, positive you’ve misheard. “You wanna get sick?”

“I can’t get sick - not like that anyway. Mako gives you quite the immune system.”

“Oh. Lucky.” You pull the blankets back over you from where they’d fell off in your coughing fit. You’re feeling cold now, though you’re painfully aware your forehead is covered in sweat in front of your crush.

“Wouldn’t you be more comfortable in your bed?” He looks at it pointedly - it’s only a few steps away in your studio apartment after all.

“It’s wet.” The blonde raises an eyebrow at that. “I spilled water on it.”

“Ah. I can help with that. Tifa wrote me a list. Starting with…” he produces the paper from his pocket, “..have you taken medicine recently?”

“Last night. Is it morning now?” Time has lost all meaning.

“Mm-mm, afternoon.” His hand is in the paper bag – you recognise the logo from Wall Market – and he withdraws a small vial holding a luminous green liquid.

“Oh.”

“Drink the whole thing. Apparently the latest in Shinra flu fighting technology, whatever that means.” He twists the lid off and hands it to you. It smells foul so it doesn’t bode well for the taste, but you down it in one with a slight grimace. You’d drink all manner of disgusting things if it made you feel a little better. “I could only get two – supply and demand.”

“Thanks.”

Cloud’s already looking at the next step on Tifa’s list. You can’t imagine how many instructions are on there. “Medicine, check. ‘Temperature – thermometer in bathroom cabinet.’ Okay…”

He’s striding over to your bathroom now, and you hear the bathroom cabinet open and close and he emerges as quickly as he left, thermometer in hand.

“Wait, you don’t have to do this, Clo-“ your sentence is cut off as he slides the device under your tongue and waits for the beep, before retrieving it and scrutinizing the number.

“Fever still - makes sense. And I do have to do this.”

“Just leave me the list, I can do it.”

He stares down at you, hands on his hips, crushing the list ever so slightly. “Uh-huh…” You know you look awful, you couldn’t even hold a glass of water earlier, you haven’t washed your hair in days, and you’d made the couch your bed. Trying to convince this man that you were capable of looking after yourself is an argument you weren’t going to win.

“Right. ‘Change bedsheets. Clean sheets in the basket, wash used sheets in communal washroom downstairs…’ ” He’s heading off towards the bed, still reading aloud. You sink back on the sofa and close your eyes, willing the medicine to kick in and make you feel normal for at least five minutes and save some face in front of him…

--

Cloud was used to making his bed during training, so it doesn’t take him long for him to strip yours and put clean sheets on, but apparently it was long enough for you to doze off.

This wasn’t on Tifa’s list. You’d be better off in bed – it must be more comfortable than the thing you call your couch. He crouches down besides you, debating if he should wake you up. You look so peaceful though and he hopes that means the medicine must’ve kicked in. It’s only a few metres between the couch and your bed and sleep is important in recovery, after all…

He slides an arm under your knees and another around your waist, picking you up off the sofa in one fluid motion, your head lolling back . You mumble and he freezes, but you nuzzle your cheek into him and your breathing remains in its steady rhythm. He takes a tentative step forward, then another before he makes it over to your bed and carefully places you down on your mattress and tucks the blanket over you. You unconsciously snuggle into the clean sheets and your hair falls over your eyes. Without thinking, he automatically reaches out and tucks it behind your ear, his touch lingering a moment too long.

“Cloud…” you mumble happily into the pillow, cuddling it.

His face goes red, but not from fever.

--

You awake to a cool hand on your forehead. Everything aches and you desperately want to return to the comfort of sleep, but you’re so hot and there’s a one-sided conversation going on.

“No, she’s still really feverish.”

Cloud’s on the phone – you can hear Tifa’s voice from the tinny phone speakers, though not well enough to hear her side of the conversation.

“No, not since just after I got here. She’s asleep at the moment, but her forehead feels hot.”

Another pause. The cooling hand is removed and you let out a whimper, missing it immediately.

“And that’s all I can do?”

A sigh. “No, don’t come here. I told you, you’re lucky you haven’t caught it. I’ll stay the night and ring you in the morning, okay? Thanks. Night.”

You drift off again in the silence for a few minutes before there’s a gentle shake of your shoulder. It feels a monumental effort to open your eyes but you manage it, though your breaths are feeling laboured again.

“Sorry,” Cloud whispers, looking apologetic. He has the thermometer in his hand. “I just need to check your temperature again, then you can go back to sleep, okay?”

“Mm-hm.” You open your mouth and the device is slipped under your tongue. It beeps moments later and he frowns at the results. “Higher than last time – damn.”

“Bad?” You mumble.

“No, you’ll be fine. You just need to take some medicine and have some water. Can you sit up for me?”

“Yeah…” He can’t help but smile as your eyes close again and you make no sign of even trying to sit up. It’s pathetically sweet.

“Here, let me help,” he slips an arm around your waist and lifts you up slightly, leaning you back against the pillows. “You good there?”

“Uh-huh.” You don’t even sound convincing to your own ears.

“Okay, let me grab some more water.” Cloud’s gone for what feels like no time at all when a glass of water is held up in your face. “Small sips.” You take the glass and he places his hand over yours, supporting it as you dutifully drink.

As you do so, you become more awake and you can see he’s tidied up your living space - the couch is clear of your blankets, the tissues, the glasses…

“You cleaned up.” You say.

“Er, yeah,” he shrugs. “Hope that’s okay. It didn’t take long.”

“That’s embarrassing.”

He looks confused. “Why?”

“Cos I’m pathetic. You’ll never want to go out with me now.” The words tumble out of your mouth with no reasoning behind them.

“I… wouldn’t?” He’s trying hard to hide the smile on his face.

“Who wants to go out with someone who can’t look after themselves?”

“You’re sick.”

“I know – who lives like this?”

“No.” Cloud says, gently, “I mean, you’re sick - ill, poorly, feverish. Besides, I don’t pick who I want to go out with by how clear their floor is of clutter.”

“You don’t?” You sound hopeful.

“Do you?”

“I don’t know – I haven’t seen your floor.”

He laughs. If you weren’t feverish you would’ve been astounded you’d got the stoic Cloud Strife to laugh, but the moment flies well and truly over your head.

“Well, it’s not cluttered, but I don’t have a lot of stuff.” He admits, before retrieving the second vial he got from Wall Market.

“You might just be saying that.”

“Tell you what, when you’re better you can come and take a look.”

“Is that a date?” You sound so hopeful.

“Let’s say it can be a part of it. Now,” he twists the cap off as before and hands it to you. “Drink this, then you can go back to sleep.”

“Okay, only cos you’re so cute.” You down it in one again.

“Well, I’ll need to remember that one.” He takes the empty vial from your hands and places his hand on your shoulder, encouraging you to lie back down. “Try and get some more sleep, okay?”

“Okay…” It isn’t long before you’re enveloped in sleep again.

--

Through the night, Cloud doesn’t leave your side. He sits on the floor besides your bed, keeping a watchful eye. The fever was proving persistent and you had been tossing and turning, throwing the blankets this way and that in an attempt to stabilise your temperature in a fitful sleep. He remembered his mother looking after him when he was sick as a child, pressing a cool washcloth to his forehead to try and soothe him. Luckily, he found one in the bathroom cabinet, soaked it in tepid water before he placed it on your forehead. At first you tried to shuffle away, but he held it in place, words coming out of his mouth before he can even think. “It’s all right, sweetheart.” He wasn’t sure if it was the words or the washcloth that soothed you more.

Through the night, he’d take it back and resoak it, and when he pressed it once more against your burning skin you’d let out a sigh of content.

“You’ll be okay,” he mumbled – aware he was saying it more to reassure himself. He always hid his emotions well, but he’d been shocked by how sick you were. Although the two of you hadn’t known each other long, he’d grown fond of you more than he’d been willing to admit to himself. Seeing how open and vulnerable you’d been had only endeared you to him more.

Towards the morning, when he’d checked your temperature to find that you finally felt cooler, you’d rolled closer to his touch, causing your hand to drop down from the bed. He grasped it, trying to gently tuck it back under the covers but you wouldn’t let go though, unconsciously linking your fingers with his in a fierce grip and mumbling something. He doesn’t fight it, only smiles and leans his head back against the wall, closing his eyes for a moment.

--

When you next open your eyes, it’s to the relief that the horrible pressure that had been on your chest for days has finally alleviated, the fluctuating temperature stabilised. There’s a weight to your hand, and you look through bleary eyes to see Cloud’s head bowed as he’s leant against the wall, your fingers firmly intertwined.

You let go in embarrassment more than anything, not sure how it had occurred. The motion is enough to wake the blonde, who smiles seeing you’re awake.

“Morning,” his voice is husky with sleep, and you feel warm once more – though this time it’s not from sickness.

“Hi.”

He frowns, probably noticing the colour in your cheeks. “How are you feeling?”

“No, I feel better. So much better.”

“Good,” Cloud smiles, before getting to his feet and stretching his arms over his head, showing off his muscular forearms. “You must be hungry, right? I realised I never got you to eat anything yesterday. I’ll go grab something light from the store for us.”

“You don’t h-…”

“I know, I want to.” In a few steps he's already opening the front door before hesitating, turning back to you and grinning, slyly. “Besides, you need to eat so you can build your strength back up ahead of our date.”

“Our… date?” Are you having a fever dream?

“We’ll talk about it more when I get back. Won’t be long… cutie.”

-- Sorry this isn't Rei Suwa-centric as promised, I finished this one first so out it goes into the world x

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Ko-fi

Details for my event celebrating 200 followers.

[sneakyparsnipslicer]

Birthday Transformation

Michael was on his last day of being 29, in just a handful of hours, he would be 30 years old, which isn't the end of the world, but to some it spells 'Twink Death'

And that's just what Michael had been, at least for the past decade; a blonde-haired twink. Of course it wasn't always that way. At one point Michael was a gangly ginger guy, and the change wasn't one he'd intended to go about.

On the night Michael turned 20, his body had completely transformed, the curly ginger hair shortening and becoming blonde, his body structure shortening and his body becoming more taught, even the goofy face and teeth had changed. It had baffled many who had known him in his college years, and it had changed him in a big way, no longer the unpopular art student, but a studly young man who changed courses for sports and fitness. He definitely became popular with the college athletes, though it was safe to say he'd spent a lot more of the past decade bottoming rather than topping. For a confident guy, his slim build didn't particularly scream dominating.

Of course as times had rolled on, more tools became useful to him, the invention of TikTok and OnlyFans had helped Michael build a following, even an income. He frequented the gyms in town to maintain his slim yet stocky build, for some it only made him more irresistable. In the year leading up to his 30th birthday however, close friends had begun talking about what turning 30 could mean for this career he'd built up. It's true many gay men lose interest in twinks when they turn 30, no longer as boyish-looking as they used to be, and Michael was no exception. Even he had begun to notice the wrinkles on his forehead when he raised his eyebrows. But who knows, maybe that miracle that happened 10 years ago might happen again.

Michael finished his day and headed home, made himself some dinner, had a shower and took off his clothing, looking at his body in the mirror in his bedroom. He'd put a lot of work into his appearance, keeping up with popular haircuts, wearing clothing that was in fashion, ensuring he kept some muscle despite the slim body. He thought back to his reaction when he'd woken up on his 20th birthday and his body had completely changed overnight, he was completely different, but it was still him. He massaged his smooth cheeks and chiseled jaw, he'd strangely never been able to grow facial hair. His pecs felt nice, if flat, his abs on point, his dick was pretty average, but then it wasn't like it mattered to the guys he'd slept with over the past decade, they were more busy pounding the bubble butt he called an ass. He took his phone off charge and took one last selfie, captioning it.

'Twink Death in T-Minus 2 Hours!'

He chuckled as he posted it, watching as it got reactions from the regulars on his social pages. Just then his phone began to ring, it was his friend Ryan. He swiped up and put the phone to his ear. 'Hey Ryan, what's up?' Michael asked. 'Hey Mike, I'm good. Just saw your post, you're not still hung up on that whole Twink Death thing are you?' Ryan asked. 'Oh, nah, it's all good. I'll just be turning 30, no biggie!' replied Michael, shrugging. 'Good mate, it's just I want you to know no matter what people say, you're still a gorgeous guy. That's not gonna change overnight' said Ryan. Michael looked back to his reflection and thought for a moment, what if this change he was thinking of didn't happen. 'You still there Mike?' asked Ryan, jumping Michael out of his trance. 'Oh, yeah, sorry just getting ready for bed. Look, shall we meet up for coffee tomorrow?' asked Michael. 'Yeah sounds good, maybe I can get some extra cream for the Birthday Boy' replied Ryan seductively. Michael laughed. 'Shut up Ryan! You get some sleep buddy. See you tomorrow!' chuckled Michael. Ryan wasn't bad really, he'd always had a soft spot for him. He was one of the few friends that knew Michael before his first transformation, and what a revelation that had been for both of them. Michael put his phone on his bedside desk and put a sheet over his mirror, he wanted to be surprised if a change did infact happen. He turned the lights out, sighed happily and snuggled up warm in his bed.

Michael had fallen deep asleep by midnight and that was when the magic began. It started with a growling in his gut as his stomach began to push out against his abs. Hair began to sprout out from his clean-shaven chest and arms as they began to bulk up and his shoulders became more broader and muscular. His hands grew and became more calloused, his legs and feet lengthened and became more hairier, hair was just growing from everywhere. Michael had taken to keeping everything clean-shaven, even his ass and groin, but these tiny dark hairs were coming from everywhere. His dick began to widen and lengthen, becoming a 7-inch girthy fuckstick with some pretty nice balls and his ass became two hefty, hairy melons that filled out his boxers better than before. Despite his body becoming bigger, his muscle definition didn't grant him too big of a gut, he wasn't skin and bones anymore, but he had a pretty huggable frame. Michael's neck began to fill out and dark facial hair began to sprout out, covering his chin, cheeks and jawline. His blonde hair grew out and became a dark brown, as did his eyebrows, becoming bushier and his face restructured granting him a sharp nose with some pretty kissable lips nestled nicely in his beard. The hair on his head kept it's relatively side-swept style, but it became a lot thicker and bushier, and there he laid in his bed, a changed man and yet unaware.

Michael woke up with a yawn, stretching and moving his hands down below the covers to stroke his morning wood under his boxers. 'Mmmm, nice' murmured Michael, feeling his new dick and snapping his eyes open in realisation, sitting upright and examining his new body. He was hairy to say the least, and he actually had a chest that a man could rest their head on now. He couldn't believe it had actually happened again! 'Holy fucking shit!' Michael gasped excitedly, feeling his throat realising his voice had become deeper. He sprang out of bed and tore the sheet off the mirror, being greeted by the man he had become overnight. He examined his face closely in the mirror, feeling his facial hair as it bristled against his fingers. The face itself looked strangely youthful, but worn. Honestly it was a look that Michael didn't mind, it was an experienced look. 'Goodbye Twink, Hello Daddy!' Michael said, laughing. He looked to his fully erect dick and then back to his reflection, wiggling his eyebrows and biting his lip, smiling. 'Guess we're not bottoming anymore huh? Unless someone's feeling brave!' Michael chuckled, feeling his dick again. He lowered his boxers and grabbed his shaft, enjoying the sight of himself masturbating. He began to work up a sweat and after some choice filthy talk, he came over his reflection in the mirror. Panting and leaning on the mirror, he looked his face up and down and smiled. 'We hit the fucking jackpot this time!' he whispered excitedly, kissing his reflection passionately. He was interrupted by the sound of his phone buzzing, it was Ryan.

'Hey Mike! Happy Birthday man!' said Ryan happily. 'Ryan! Dude! It's so good to hear you! Thanks!' replied Michael breathily. 'Whoa man, you sound groggy as fuck! You just woke up?' asked Ryan. 'Uh, yeah. Something like that. We still on for coffee?' asked Michael, eyeing his wardrobe. 'Yeah, I can get to our usual spot in half an hour, sound good?' asked Ryan. 'Perfect! I'll see you soon. Got a few surprises for you!' said Michael, grinning and hanging up before Ryan could respond. He opened his wardrobe doors and grabbed a shirt, but then hesitated. He looked at the shirt and his reflection, he just wasn't feeling it. The styles he'd grown to wear just weren't doing it for him anymore, he searched his wardrobe for something grittier, leathery. He settled on a pair of ripped jeans, brown boots, white t-shirt and a leather jacket. He ruffled up his hair, this was a look he was vibing with. He used to be neat and fancy, but now he just wanted to be laid-back, smoky and seductive, like a Greaser. He pocketed his phone and headed out to the carpark to his car. Again he had a small car that did the job, but what he was really craving was a motorbike. He shook his head, he could sell his car later and get a motorbike, right now he had a date with Ryan, maybe he could get some cigarettes on the way.

Michael was still Michael and had always been him, the sporty fashion twink was gone now, a memory of a past life alongside the nerdy artist before him. This decade he was gonna be a lean leather daddy, and he was gonna love every day of it.

[averysherwood]

Huntl0w isn't good and that's why

A general compilation of all the problems that do not allow me to treat Huntl0w at least neutrally:

1. Distortion of characters. Do you remember Hunter from the beginning of season 2? And that's it, he is no longer with you. Now he is not a soldier who has been training all his life, he is a cute awkward blushing boy who can't do anything without his boss girlfriend. And do you remember Willow, a kind soul who uses her powers only against enemies? Forget, she'll drive a new acquaintance into the ground and won't let him go. They are trying to forcibly fit them into the girlboss x malewife dynamic, and for this they have to change their characters.

2. Lack of chemistry. The same problem as Lumity: all romantic interactions are embarrassments and red cheeks. But if the girls had a Grom dance and more time together, then Huntl0w has nothing.

3. Willow's attitude. She treats him the same way she treats all her other friends right up to the moment when he saved her with the help of the power of the Flapjack. I'm sure the writers didn't do it on purpose, but it turned out that way - Willow fell in love with Hunter only after he stopped being magically disabled. Or in gratitude for the rescue. One is no better than the other.

4. Hunter's awkwardness. The guy has known her for the fourth year, three of which they are clearly together, but still confused as the first time. He's obviously uncomfortable with her. But who is he comfortable with? With Luz and Gus! It is with Luz that he shares secrets, she understands him like no one else. With Gus, Hunter found the best common language, common interests, and in general they are on the same wavelength. Willow and Hunter don't have either. They were able to prescribe normal interaction with everyone except the love interest, and it's so fucked up.

5. The uselessness for the plot. They don't bring anything, even the very parallel with Caleb and Evelyn is ignored. It feels like they got together just to "pair every character" (except for Gus, of course, Gus is our black best friend, he doesn't deserve our attention).

6. Willow is Hunter's authority figure. There is nothing wrong with the fact that a girl can be a leader in a relationship. But when a guy just starts separating from his uncle, whom he considered an authority all his life, and immediately falls in love with a girl who commands him... This is a very bad parallel. Hunter just changed his boss. TOH is not so deep to develop this topic, and it don’t have enough time, so this is definitely a minus for them.

7. Lack of development. Yes, the series was cut. And now you say that this justifies everything. And I will say that it only makes it worse. Already knowing that the series would be shortened, Dana and co pushed a new love line, which "developed" behind the scenes, did nothing for the plot, but spoiled the characters' characters (as if Amity alone was not enough for us).

8. Hunter is the second Caleb. Yes, Hunter's arc has come to the same place where it began. This applies to a lesser extent to Huntlow, it is rather a sin of the plot itself, but in total with the rest of the problems it becomes no less infuriating.

In conclusion, I can say that this ship is definitely not problematic, it's just bad. No one is forbidden to love them, but they should understend why people may not like Huntl0w.

Maybe I'll write the same thing with Lumity, but I'm not sure.

[ash-asteroid]

Hi, I redesigned the season 7 causal fits + Roxy

Redesigns

Og (based Roxy's off of this outfit)

Feel free to do whatever if the designs (just don't take the art without asking.) And if you make fanart or anything I'd like credit and maybe tell me because I'd love to see it 👀

Anyway

Gonna ramble on the designs I did for a bit because I feel like it. Sorry for bad writing. I don't write often and can't put my thoughts into words.

Aisha- I wanted that sporty girl vibe and found sporty clothing with a sports jacket. I think she's slays in it. Didn't change her hair because I liked how it was.

Stella- Wasn't sure what vibe I wanted, so I just looked up "leo outfits" on pintrest. Stuff like this popped up everywhere, and I think it would be nice if Stella wore something other than dresses and skirts. Because as the queen of fashion, she can and will rock everything. I accidentally made her hair more wavy because I'm used to drawing wavy hair. But maybe it's just a change of pace for her.

Bloom- Okay, so I might have based this Bloom off Unicorn of War's Bloom. So she's a tired artist. Wearing more comfy than fashionable clothes.Flora- Not much to say. I just wanted Flora in a big dress because she deserves it. Cottagecore Flora vibes.

Musa- For Musa, I based her outfit off of Chinese street fashion because, in my opinion, it fits her. I also changed her main color of the designs from blue and pinks back to red. Because I think she works better in reds.

Tecna- First, I wanted to change Tecna's hair. Since Believix she's had the same hairstyle minus a few differences. So I just made it shorter, because we need a least one girl without stupidly long hair. I losely based her outfit off a business causal vibe. She has a T in her jacket for Tecna/Technology (She thinks it's neat).

Roxy- Roxy is a little different from her usual vibe. But I wanted to call back to the school uniforms in Roxy because she would be in her 3rd year of Alfea at this point. So it would make the most sense for her to wear it. So I gave her more of an academia vibe but tried giving it Roxy's vibe. I made her hair a little redder because she looked too much like Tecna.

Hi, thanks for reading my rambles. I did this because I accidentally rewriting some of season 7 causally in my head. And sometime after Halloween, I'll share my thoughts in a big post, hopefully. It's not a full rewrite, mainly the transformations. And a little on the villains and charcter arcs.

[pastel-charm-14]

aesthetic ideas + tips for your phone

step 1: update your phone

make sure your phone is up to date and charged at least 80% before you begin! oh yeah and i should mention that this tutorial is for apple phones :)

settings >> general >> software updates >> install

step 2: declutter

clutter literally scares me, so i always try and keep everything (including my phone) clutter free!

remove ever single app that you can, not delete, remove. you can do this by:

hold down any random app button >> click edit home screen >> click the little minus sign at the top left of the app button you want to remove >> click move to app library >> you can now only view it in your app library if you scroll all the way to the right from your home screen

step 3: find inspiration

pinterest and yt are great places to look! i got these off of pinterest

you could also go on google and just type in the theme/color/whatever you're looking for.

step 4: home screen formatting

this part is a lil overwhelming but that's why i'm here! this is about customizing and decorating your home screen.

first off, look for design formats. you want it to be functional AND aesthetic. take out a sheet of paper or a digital whiteboard or whatever and sketch out what you want your home screen to look like. i find it really helpful to just go "okay, i want a small widget there there and there, my most used apps there, my social media here," etc. remember, it can't just be pretty, it also has to be functional.

step 5: add widgets

now you might be thinking, "how the heck do i do that?" don't worry i'll tell you right now :)

app store >> download widgetsmith >> choose from small, medium, or large widget >> click add widget >> tap it to see all the optiona and pick the one that best fits you (in this case i'm doing photo) >> select the picture you want >> go back to main screen, leave the app >> hold home screen >> press + >> scroll all the way down to widgetsmith >> hold down small >> place it >> hit done >> edit widget >> select the new small widget you created >> untap

don't worry, it's a lot easier once you start doing it!

step 6: customize your app icons

open shortcut app >> click create shortcut >> click add action >> type in open app (multi-colored little squares) >> click choose, look up the app you want and click the 3 dots at the top right >> title the new shortcut >> click add to home screen, rename again >> change image/picture >> click add

[gojoevers]

UMINEKO??!!

so, I’ve just finished episode 1 of Umineko and the first tea party. I am probably even more confused than I was when I first started - I refuse to put up on reddit my thoughts because it seems everyone posts the same thing when they get this far so under the cut is my initial thoughts, questions and feelings on Umineko episode 1!! I’m hoping I don't make this too long, but I have SO MUCH I need to get out. Please do not read below the cut if you have not finished at least episode one as the post contains spoilers!

so, I’m gonna start with the characters. I absolutely love, love, LOVE this cast.

battler? love of my entire life. he was a character made to fit in my specific niche and I NEED to put him in my mouth. Jessica? my sweet, lovely girl who only deserves the best. maria? I will NOT take maria slander. she's just a kid and I was just like her when I was 9. minus the freaky laughing and like ominous-ness. George? I knew from the second I saw him that he'd be my lawfully wedded wife. enough said.

the parents, I’m a bit more swayed to dislike them, but at the same time, I don’t. I can't really explain my feelings for the parents. I do really like Natsuhi. She deserved more respect, and her conversation with Kinzo when she went to his study was a scene I really enjoyed. Krauss is ugly and he has no right to act the way he does idk he ANNOYED me. Rudolf and Kyrie? Loves of my life, despite what battler expresses about his father, I really like whatever dynamic they have going on, it's entertaining. and Kyrie is just wonderful. Eva, smash, next question. (I love my women MEAN and awful.) Hideyoshi, another sweetheart, like how he will stand up to his wife and take her side and is just a cool guy. also love my delusional king Kinzo. like I said, the scene with Natsuhi was emotional to me, and I thoroughly enjoyed it, it changed my opinion on him for sure. Who’s next? servants? Kumasawa is annoying, I’m sorry. I like how she's held incredibly special to the family, but she'd just not up on my list of faves. same with Ghoda. something about him I just don't like. he's off. Shannon, Kanon, and Genji however, I ADORE them. despite the circumstances, I did like the way we saw Kanon change throughout the chapter, but I didn't really pay much attention to him.

I sobbed like a BABY when George proposed to Shannon, when she was one of the ones said to have gone missing AND when she was found with the ring on her engagement finger. I was distraught - my life was genuinely over. the scene between them was so tender and sweet, and as I’d grown to really like both, it really broke my heart watching him discover her and ask about the ring. like I’m talking crying so hard I wanted to throw up. I could come up with something more constructive about each character we are introduced to but I think I'll leave that for another post.

Now, the actual events we see are a different story. Because what the actual fuck happened. I have no idea. 17 hours of my life and I came out of the tea party with more questions than I started with. What do u mean they all got FUCKED UP at the end and maria wrote a letter asking for someone to find the truth like what the FUCK SHE WAS THERE WHY ARE YOU PISSING ME OFF. I loved the story either way, I went into it expecting a murder mystery with Beatrice as the culprit, but what I got was a mass murder spree mystery with no visuals of Beatrice and probably my favourite ending for a chapter/episode 1.

I think the tea party confused me even more, because it was framed as an OOC, behind-the-scenes bit but... It wasn't? And all the kids are there, Shannon and George have a tender moment but by the end when Beatrice appears and challenges Battler as well as flirts with him (obsessed w her btw), I was just a bit confused? This was our intro to Beatrice? It made no sense to me but I suppose if you view the tea party as simply a continuation/after-story, it checks out. Like the tea party is some purgatory they're in? I still need to watch "???" which I assume is the witches tea party from the point 5 seconds I saw before I passed out.

Overall I think Umineko is the most fun I have ever had reading a Visual Novel. The music is delicious, it has a genuinely amazing cast and story. I am so, so excited to read Episode 2, and hopefully compile my thoughts a little better.

[dave-me0wstaine]

MORE BAD BOY DAVE BC ITS DRIVINF ME INSANE... SO BASICALLY IMAGINE YOUR INNOCENTLY LIKE CLOTHES SHOPPING WITH DAVE AND YOU PICK SOME CLOTHES JUST SOME DRESSES BUT HE GIVES YOU ONE ALSO. YOUR TRYING THEM ON TELLING DAVE TO COME LOOK AFTER EVERY ONE TO SEE IF HE LIKED THEM AND THOUGHT THEY LOOKED OK... WHEN YOU TRY ON THE DRESS HE GAVE YOU, YOUR EMBARRASSED ITS TIGHTER AND SHORTER THEN ANYTHINF YOU WOULD EVER WEAR AND WHEN HE COMES IN AND SEES YOU HE GOES *FEARL* AND CLOSES THE CHANGING ROOM DOOR N YK 🤭🤭🤭

OMG UR READING MY MIND !!!!! i work retail and literally all day i'll be thinking about domestic shit like shopping with dave but this!!! this will plague my mind at work from now on like omg.

you'd probably be shopping for a new dress, maybe because there's an event or something coming up idk. but you take dave with you because you want his opinion! and he always seems really interested in your clothes so why not take him?

and he behaves himself for the most part, aside from the casual, thinly veiled sexual remark that floats right over your head. but things change when he sees you in a short, babydoll dress that accentuates your breasts. it's not something you would typically gravitate towards, and you're hesitant on even showing dave, but he comes toward you in the dressing room so fast you can barely process it. it's not until you feel his hands snake up underneath your dress and make a b-line for your panties that you realize he's in the small fitting room with you.

omg and he would be so feral. fervently kissing your neck, sucking marks into your skin, his fingers tugging your pretty panties to the side so he can plunge his fingers inside to get you ready for him. you try (in vain) to convince him to at least wait until you get home, or out of the store, but all he does is shush you, pulling your panties down and pushing the fabric in your mouth as a makeshift gag.

i'm fully convinced he would fuck you within an inch of your life in that dressing room lol. and he doesn't care how loud the clapping of skin and fluids together sounds, or how loud his grunts and growls of praise are. and when he's done? he's making you walk out in your original clothes, minus your panties, which are hanging loosely out of his back pocket, and he's got a huge shit eating grin on his face.

ily bad boy! dave <33

[stuffnthangsss]

Gravity Falls x Percy Jackson: GF Characters as Demigods Pt. 4

Pt. 1, Pt. 2, Pt. 3, Pt. 5

Soos as a kid of Hephaestus (kinda changes canon tho but hey another Hispanic Hephaestus kid alongside Leo).

Soos is a handyman and Hephaestus was considered the god of artisans aka craftsmen and carpenters.

Hephaestus was also described to have a lack of social skills which we can see Soos have throughout the show especially in the “Soos and the real girl” episode! I think Soos and his personalities match quite a bit minus Hephaestus’ resentfulness since we don’t rly see Soos hold a grudge. Some also describe Hephaestus as friendly and peaceful which are some of Soos’ greatest qualities.

Wendy as a maiden/hunter of Artemis!

I couldn’t think of any other demigod possibility beside maybe Demeter?? But I was talking to my friend about her being an Artemis kid and they said that “Robbie would be her turning point definitely 😭” so credits to them for that!! And they also that they thought Wendy’d be like Thalia and against becoming a hunter for a while (hence her becoming a maiden at 15 rather than 12).

I also searched it up and not only is Artemis the god of archery/hunting, she also had to do with the wilderness and FORESTS which works for Wendy! Being of a lumberjack family.

EDIT: I wrote these posts before watching weirdmaggedeon and now after watching s2ep18, I noticed Wendy literally using a crossbow lol so yay Artemis Wendy.

In PJO at least, Artemis has authority over wolves and I found this image of Wendy in a wolf shirt lol.

Onto to some more minor characters…

Robbie as a kid of Hecate (necromancy/magic) maybe?? Due to that time he tried to mind control Wendy into being with him LMAO

Or hades ?? Since his parents are funeral home directors/morticians. And his emo-ness fits with Hades and is kinda like Nico lol.

Oh actually maybe Thanatos!! Bc idk if Robbie would be a kid of the big 3. Thanks to my friend again who mentioned him as the god of death itself as I forgot who Thanatos was lmao

EDIT: finished s2 and found out about the whole Zodiac thing which Robbie *is* a part of sooo Hades Robbie is more plausible I suppose!

Or maybe even Apollo? He’s seen w a guitar often and has a band. But im more torn between Hecate and Thanatos.

I think ppl would first think of Pacifica as a Aphrodite kid but I raise you Hermes! Pacifica.

Hermes was the god of wealth and luck (and also associated with business) which goes well with Pacifica’s rich upbringing

Also similar to what I said about Stan in the previous post and Hermes kids (Luke), Pacifica started off as a misunderstood character

Hermes is also the patron of athletics and we know Pacifica is at the very least, good, at mini golf

I like Pacifica as Hermes but can’t properly express why 😭😭. She’s wealthy and lucky obv but she’s also misunderstood as conceitful? I also think she could be really playful and fun if her parents weren’t overbearing. So this is mostly headcanon LMAO

From my friend: “her parents conceit is real but hers is to protect herself” ; “she’s shown she likes to let go and all but yeah, her parents suck”

I said how “she’d def be thought of as a possible traitor in that book where there was the traitor subplot” & “she prolly would be connected to Luke… and the fact that they’re both blonde”

Please share ur thoughts!! <3