#take a shot every time i say 'but'

[xxplastic-cubexx]

Marvel's Squirrel Girl: The Unbeatable Radio Show! | All of Erik Lehnsherr's Call-In's

Episodes featured: The Fate of My Universe The Sinister Six Are No More Who Would Win In A Fight? Unbeatable

Full Podcast Playlist (Spotify)

Credits below:

Written by: Ryan North

Directed by: Giovanna Sardelli

Voice Cast: Milana Vayntrub - Squirrel Girl/Doreen Green Crystal Lucas Perry - Nancy Whitehead Leo Sheng - Koi Boi/Ken Shiga Davied Morales - Chipmunk Hunk/Tomas Lara-Perez Erica Schroeder - Tippy T. Squirrel Rob Nagle - Erik Lehnsherr

Key Art: "Squirrel Girl Infinity Comic (2022)" by Derek Charm - Doreen, Nancy, Ken, Tomas, Tippy "Magneto (2023)" by Todd Nauck - Erik

[rius-cave]

i’m in love with ur adamsapple art!! i keep imagining a scenario where luci grabs adam by the horns and the demon isn’t used to them having actual sensation instead of being a piece of his mask 👁️

..........Oh.

[zhukzucraft]

watching Zedaph's/Tango's latest episode be like:

uncensored version under cut

[cupcakeinat0r]

Your middle-aged, loser Genetics professor who has a dad bod <3

Part 9

Wc. 7.7k

Miguel waits in his car, his gaze not fixated on anything specific; simply forward. He rests his forearm on the car door, window down. The thick hairs of his arm raise as his mind ventures, replaying the past few hours in his mind. A low hum stirs against his chest. There’s a sort of glow he emulates as he sits there idly, smizing at nothing in particular. He probably looks like a total creep with how he’s grinning in his car, alone, looking off into space. No passenger. You've sat there for the past few months, from campus to your place, and vice versa. But today, you aren’t there, yet he’s happy. His heartbeat intensifies, his stomach contracting once or twice due to unfiltered chuckles. As he waits patiently in the car, he lets it consume him, the memory of that morning, and he closes his eyes.

“Okay, what do you think?” you reach your arms out as if to present a prize, and the winner is Miguel. Miguel, who looks uncomfortable in your too-small-for-him lounge chair but shows no sign of strain on his face, fixes his glasses and observes with love-sickened eyes. After a simple, romantic breakfast at his place, he insisted on taking you back home so that you could get ready. Then after dropping you off, you figured he might as well stay so he can take you to the ceremony, too.

“Is it too much?” You give a little twirl.

His eyes scan thoroughly scan you. “Jesus… How’d I get so lucky?” The question sounds genuine, as if needing an actual answer. “You’re beautiful, mama.”

This makes you smile in return. You look to the mirror to see if Miguel is right (obviously, he is), running your hands over your pre-planned graduation outfit. Today, you receive your hard-earned Master’s Degree, and even though throughout the year you were convinced you wouldn’t be, you’re feeling more nervous than ever. “Picked it myself.” Your voice wavers just a hint. Has two years really gone by so fast? More specifically, the second year of your grad. The first one felt like eons. Maybe it’s just because you didn’t score an Adonis of a professor that year.

Miguel stands from his chair and comes from behind, his hands snaking through the gap between your arms and waist, holding you tightly against his plush exterior, “I just wish I was the one who got it for you.” and a kiss is pressed to your temple. His grasp seemed to soothe your nerves a bit, your body sinking into his natural warmth and plush. You can see his face through the mirror, the absence of doubt and judgment in his expression making you fall all over again. You really were a lucky girl. He looks at you with such reverence. And maybe a touch of arousal. Those aren’t his keys you feel on your backside.

“Oh, stop. You’ve given me more than enough, Miguel. All I need is you.” With his chin resting on the top of your head, you reach to cup his face, a picture-perfect moment displayed on the full-length mirror. He whispers into your ear, “Giving you lessons doesn’t count, that’s just my job. te voy a dar el mundo, mi Vida.”

“Right, right, and I’m guessing giving me that necklace was a part of your job description?”

You win a rich, dark chuckle from him, but he ignores you, still sprinkling kisses on your skin, his bifocals bending out of place at times. You giggle and even try to break away, but he doesn’t budge. You fight the urge to kiss back just to spite him.

“Or that skirt? Or those shoes? Or that one purse? Damn, how much does the school pay you?”

And before you can further argue, he presses more kisses onto you, almost sending both of you to topple over. “Just let me spoil you, mama.” He speaks against your jaw.

“Miguel!” the gravel chuckle of his voice continues to rumble against the side of your neck. You can’t complain and never will, but the difference between Miguel now versus the Miguel you met still leaves you baffled to this day. Or it isn’t much of a difference or change, really, but rather an unmasking. This Miguel was just stowed away until further notice; placed in the backest corner of the freezer to never see the light of day. This is the person Miguel was dying to show, he just needed the right person to coax it out of him. Now you have him attacking you with wet kisses in the middle of your living room, his hulking arms locked around you with no chance at an escape.

“Right, enough fooling around and help me into this, will you!” Reluctantly, he’ll let you move your hair for better access to the still-open zipper of your outfit.

“Fine. On one condition.”

Sigh. “Yes?”

“Un besito.”

“Oh my God.”

“Take it or leave it. Last offer. Don’t make me make it two.”

“Given there’s no one else around to zip me up, I guess I have no choice. Just my luck.” you joke, eagerly leaning your head back against his chest, granting his kiss entry to your neck, your chin, and then lastly, your lip. And then one kiss turned to multiple. If you weren’t so completely lost in his tongue and lips, you’d notice his hand rested and wrapped around your neck. The minor callouses provided a sensation that only added to the fervor of the exchange. Once y’all finally pull away, low eyes traveling in triangles, he politely requests, “Step forward for me.”

You move forward slightly so as to give him space to zip you up. But before he can do the job, he takes a second to look over the details of your back, a part of your body his hands have gotten to know very well, but his eyes haven’t gotten the same pleasure of. Miguel was very good at respecting your boundaries and wishes, which meant a lot (a lot) of making out, but nothing further than that. He notes to himself how soft it looks, the hills and curves of your spine creating a Grecian masterpiece.

And you can practically feel his eyes roam every inch of exposed skin, making you feel like art. You think to say something, but you’d rather let Miguel have this moment, and you let yourself have it, too. You’d often think about what it’d be like to see Miguel’s reaction to you. All of you. He’s made you feel nothing but like a deity for the duration of your budding, unlabeled relationship, and you’ve been fully clothed at all times. You can only imagine how he’ll act when you’re completely bare.

You know for sure he loves you. He said so. And he’s shown it to you. You’ve decided that being that vulnerable with him is something you want, it’s only a matter of when.

You start to hear the friction of the tab pulling the teeth together, one by one, that’s how slow Miguel was going. Unable to resist the urge, he stops the zipper and reaches to plant a tender kiss on the back of what’s left of your exposed neck. “I could do this every day, you know?” he admits softly, like a hymn. You turn, not completely, just so that your face is to him, “‘Everyday’? For how long?” You know the answer, kind of, but there’s still curiosity in what he’ll say. There are so many instances where you wait for Miguel to say the wrong thing; to do something that’ll break this spell, but he hasn’t. He just doesn’t have the capacity to. He’s perfect in your eyes.

“For however long you’ll have me. Which I’m really hoping is forever or else this’ll be extremely embarrassing.”

Damn, he said the right thing. People can say his stab at humor is mediocre all they want, but Miguel never ceases to make you snicker. If you opened an Oxford Dictionary to ‘adorable’, it’d have his picture.

“Who am I kidding, you could absolutely humiliate me and I’d still say ‘thank you’.”

“Oh, this’ll make some good blackmail.” you finally turn around to tauntingly wave your index finger at his amused expression.

“Oye, Final exam grades aren’t due ‘til next month, so I’d be careful if I were you.” his brow perks when he says ‘you’, and your only response is a sarcastic ‘Oooooo’ before you’re muffled by the millionth kiss of the day, but who’s counting?

“There. Secured. Anything else, princesa?”

You take a deep breath, getting in one last overall look in the mirror before facing him, “Okay, yeah, I’m ready. Just need my chauffeur.” You look over at Miguel, who looks back at you confused, then looks around knowing fully well there’s no one else except the two of you.

“Oh, yeah? Who?”

Ha ha ha. Very Funny. If expressions could talk, this is what yours would’ve said.

Miguel smiles, taking your hand to kiss the back of it, and rubs your knuckles with his thumb as an apology. “Your chariot awaits, your majesty.”

Wait, where is he going?

“Mig, stadium’s that way.” your thumb points toward the window next to you, the street that leads to the graduation growing farther and farther.

Despite that a mistake has obviously been made, Miguel looks indifferent, eyes aimed straight at the road before them with no sign of a doubt. He huffs from his nose before responding, “I know,” his thumb runs across the back of your hand, “I have something for you, though.” He takes your hand up to his lips, a smile creeping up on your features.

“At your office?”

“Accidentally left it there.”

What is he up to?

His crooked smile tells you a different story. Miguel can feel you questioning him. You can see him physically gather his words in the driver's seat.

“Remember when… we were in the library one of those first nights and we exchanged books?”

You nod. How could you forget?

“And I told you about Gabriella?”

You nod again. He’s asking obvious questions here, it’s sort of scaring you.

“That was my first time talking about her with someone. In years.” His chest and belly deflate as if releasing a weight he’s held onto, “And you’re also the first person who’s said her name out loud. Someone other than me. In a very long time.”

You listen intently, everything that has happened up until now making more sense with this piece of information. You always knew the painful fact that Miguel has been by himself mostly since starting teaching, but it stings even more knowing that he’s never opened up to anyone about this. No one to turn to. No one to be soft with. Sure, he had his friends, from what you remember him telling you about his hero, multi-dimension, whatever-it-was days, but to your understanding, they all left him alone. By means of Miguel’s requests. He wanted those days to be over completely.

“She was beginning to feel like- I don’t know. Like a figment of my imagination. Photos and videos that I rewatch and stare at every single day were starting to… go stale,” this admission makes him wince in shame, “I replay them over and over again… and nothing new. I know what happens in each and every single one of them. And it ends up hurting every single time. I didn’t know how much more I could’ve taken before stopping altogether.” His lips purse, the guilt seeping from every inch of him. “Well, at some point, I even became afraid. Terrified that I was starting to forget the little things about her, or worse, that I’d move on,”

You didn’t even notice, but the car had been parked minutes ago, it’s only when he turns his face to look at you, eyes beginning to gloss, when you realize the car had stopped.

“Until that night.” His narrow gaze softens.

“The night at the library… I told you things that I hadn’t even thought about until that night. Like, for example, how she liked to match the color of her hair ties to her shirt,” Miguel allows himself to softly beam with this memory, “or whenever I’d fall asleep on the couch, she’d always, always, place a blanket on my feet so that ‘the monsters don’t get me’,” you both giggle at this, “Like those things? They had just come back to me in that moment.”

You both had entered campus grounds and turned to his office door, and he whipped out his keys, the metal hitting against the doorknob. The halls are quiet and hollow. It feels like the end of an academic year.

“I just never thought I could possibly let those things slip.” His voice lowers, an air of disbelief in his words.

“Will you ever stop loving her?”

“Of course not. Never.”

“Then she will live on forever. You’ve proven to yourself that you’ll never let the small things leave. They’ll always come back to you.”

Miguel smiles to himself, thinking about this.

He heads toward his bookshelf, reaching for something, but you can’t see given that he himself blocks the entire view of it. “When I hear you say her name,” you see his head bow down at something in his hand, “You sound so… lively... If that makes sense? Like… as if she were still here, as if you knew her. It meant a lot to me. Even in the way you talked about her. Maybe it explains why I was able to recall so much.”

He turns around to you, and you can only make out something small in his hand; something blue?

“I figured that, if she were still here, she’d want you to have this.”

He unfurls his hand and out blossoms a satin blue ribbon formed in a rosette; the words ‘first place’ are displayed in the center. “Wear it today?” He stands before you, the dwarfed ribbon sitting in his hand. His request sounds more like a plea.

“Her teammates gave it to her when she scored their winning goal. She was so happy. It was her last game before she-” Both gazes leave the ribbon and land on each other, glossed and daring to well.

He clears his throat, “She used to- used to show it off any chance she could,” His eyes well up, but regardless of presuming tears, he looks down at the ribbon with a soft smile.

“Miguel,” Your head slowly shakes from side to side, “I can’t.”

“Yes you can,” he persists, “Take it, it’s yours.” He insists through choked words. He places the ribbon in your hand, folding your fingers in, hoping that you’ll accept his gift.

Here stands a man you’ve been falling so hard for for the past year, who is not only giving you a piece of his late daughter’s life, but insisting you take it. You haven’t been around enough to know what love is, but with what Miguel is doing right now, you’re starting to think maybe this is what it might look like. When you started seeing Miguel, who was your professor, you didn’t think all those thoughts of him being yours would ever have come true. You knew it was silly, childish, and most importantly, out of the question. Yet here he is, giving you a piece of himself. This isn’t casual anymore. So he did really mean those three sacred words said last night and this morning.

After letting the ribbon sit there for just seconds but what feels like minutes, you take his hand back, but the ribbon is now pressed between you and Miguel’s palms. You give it a tight squeeze, taking in a deep breath. “It’s ours.”

You look up at him, a trail of a tear down your cheek. “Because I’m yours, if you’ll have me,” a bright smile grows behind your wet eyes. “And I’m really hoping it’s forever, or else this’ll be extremely embarrassing.” You actually laugh, and so does he, pooling eyes and all.

“You’re stuck with me. I love you.”

With those words, it was like the past five years of being alone became all worth it. All the lonely nights, all the predictive mornings, and the dune of a civilian life he was leading came crashing down on him because he knew a new one was dawning. Still civilian, but now, he has someone to put all the love he has to offer into. All his fears, all his insecurities, it all dissolved. The label of your relationship was blurry, uncertain if this was the kind of thing you entertained for only a bit and never spoke of again or something worthwhile. If last night wasn’t a confirmation of the answer, then this moment was, marking it as the official beginning of a romantic, exclusive, official relationship.

“I love you. I love you. Te amo. Te quiero. I love you. I love you… I love you…” his soft declarations are muffled in kisses on any spot he could get to. All those fantasies he’s conjured in his mind where you two live together, share a life, make a life… or two… or three… or however many you’re willing to carry, he doesn’t care, all of those scenarios now seem like promises. Like a nearby reality. Solitary nights dreaming about you in ways that leave him hot and bothered will finally come to an end. On a more suggestive note, He’ll finally be able to get through class without raging hard-ons again.

“I love you.” You manage to breathe out between kisses. Arms wrap around the back, hands wrap around the neck, fingers rake through tussles of hair, and legs begin to lose balance and find their way to the edge of Miguel’s desk. Visions become blurred, ears begin to grow hot, and heart rates quicken with beats large enough to feel on each other’s chests. You two are much too deep in it that you don’t hear the creaking of the wood underneath you. “Yes. Please.” Miguel hears your whisper, moving his head to look you in the eye. “You mean…?” He asks gently, to which you nod, repeating your plea. Without much thinking, Miguel taps your thigh. This was it. Miguel didn’t hear you say the exact words, but he knew. He knew what you were saying yes to. You, much less thinking, instinctively raise your leg, allowing Miguel to prop you onto the desk. “I love you. So much, it’s crazy, Miguel. God, I wanna spend the rest of my life with you.” You mewl in his ear, and in return, Miguel, with softly knitted brows, lets out a pathetic groan. Miguel may be quiet in everyday life, but when it came to the two of you, alone, he wasn’t afraid of being vocal about what he liked, and right now, with what you’re saying plus your legs wrapping securely around his waist seemed to have both an audible and physical effect on him. A big physical effect.

Is this the right spot to do this right now? Couldn’t y’all get in trouble? Was this even a good time?

These are questions that a sane person would probably think of, but with the current circumstances, you simply couldn’t give a damn, let alone Miguel. Even if you tried, you don’t think you would’ve even had enough brain wattage to string a single thought with Miguel touching you like this. However, if you had the luxury of logic, you’d know that:

1. Getting in trouble isn’t of concern since faculty are either at home starting the Summer they’ve been so impatiently waiting for, and students are at home doing the same or at the stadium.

2. Given that the ceremony won’t start until another 2 hours from now, it’ll give you both plenty of time. The traffic would’ve been dreadful anyway, so might as well just show up at the last minute.

3. What better place than here… where you two met.

You breathe heavily along with Miguel, “Remember… the first meeting… I sat right in front of this desk,” Miguel makes an effort to listen, but he’s currently too occupied with straining his hard-on against your heat, “Mm-oh…now look at us.” your breathless voice and coquettish smirk goes straight to Miguel’s cock, the feeling of his pants shrinking in size making him hot all over. Trapping your lips between his over and over again. You're pretty much without oxygen at this point, but you don’t care, it feels amazing. His teeth on your lips, his hands squeezing the flesh of your ass deeper against his length. Your fingers tugged onto his now disheveled curls and he whined. He whined.

“Mama, you don’t wanna know how many times I’ve imagined this moment. Fuck, am I dreaming again?” His words hit your skin like the thick air after a calm rain.

You cup his face in your hands, pulling him from your neck, and you’re met with a lust-drunken, devoted worshipper; a big man that’s been stricken of sex for far too long. In doing so, you notice the ribbon still in your hand, which knocks a bit of sobriety back into you. It’s almost like Miguel read your mind because the same alarm goes off in his head. With that, the two of you are quick to mend one tiny problem.

Miguel, still between your legs, reaches over to lower any pictures he has of Gabriella, faced down on the shelf. As for you, you stash the ribbon safely in a drawer right behind you. Gabriella shouldn’t be present for this.

Capturing you in a kiss again, your hand ends up untucking his shirt, resting on his stomach, your fingers caressing his skin. He huffs, slightly tickled by your soft touch along his belly. The corner of his lip curves into a dorky smirk as you sneak your hand into the waistband of his slacks and boxers, pushing past his dark happy trail. “Oh fuck. Haven’t been touched like this in so long,” The clank of his belt buckle rings in your ears, making you pulsate, “I need you. So fucking badly.”

“Keep talking. Please.” You murmur, unbuttoning his shirt, unveiling a plethora of chest hair covering a body fit to raise your future children.

“So lonely, honey… miss you every night when I come home. Miss you so much in the mornings, it hurts.”

Once his shirt is on the floor, with hands and eyes, you revel in all his glory: six feet and nine inches of caramel deliciousness, coated in equal parts of muscle and fluff. You could come undone just from this sight.

His hand holds your chin with a soft caress of his thumb, “I used to look a lot better back then. I’ll work on it.”

You pull him down by his neck to eye level in protest. “Don’t you dare change a single thing on this body. You’re perfect. You’re beautiful. Finest man I’ve ever laid eyes on.” Oh, that made his dick twitch. Your free hand wraps around his broad shoulders while the other is in his hair, smashing faces. Miguel, with no hesitation, swipes everything off the desk and instantly pushes you onto your back, his soft husky exterior pressing you against the cold wood. Tongues are down throats. He stutters as his dick twitches, “Tell me I can eat you out.” The question and tone of voice alone make your back arch. You kiss even deeper, tongues intertwining as he moans in your mouth.

“God, yes, please, Mig, please-”

He gives a vicious squeeze to your ass, reminding you of his pure strength, “That’s not what I want. Usa tus palabras, mamita.” Your begging makes his cock ache, but he needs to hear the words. He needs to know you want this as much as he does. He needs your permission.

Your top lip curls before you speak again through hooded eyes, “Professor,” the name catches him off guard, “please… fuck me with your mouth.”

You were playing a dangerous game. Before you was a sexually deprived middle-aged man who’d been silently pining for you since day one, and you were begging him to treat your cunt like a 5-star meal. Having a gorgeous girl like you pleading for him to tongue fuck you like you deserved, it was driving him crazy. He wasted no time going down to the most sacred corner of this divine body.

“Funny… I zipped this up not even half an hour ago.”

“Hey, hey, careful, I still have a ceremony to wear this to.”

You had a point. And as if you were a gift, he bunches the fabric high enough to reveal some panties he’d recently given you. If it wasn’t for him wanting to last for both hours until the ceremony, he would’ve came right then and there. He looks at you with darkened eyes, a gaze intense enough to strip the cockiness from you, your cheeks growing hot from the act, “What? I assumed this was gonna happen later-”

Miguel cuts your sentence short with a French kiss to your clit through the thin lace, the combination of his nose, tongue, and breath on your heat making your thighs shake. “ So wet… you always this wet during class? Fuck.” With how Miguel was moaning and groaning against your sensitive skin, you’d assume he got more pleasure in giving you head than you did receiving it. Your hand darts for his scalp, the other holding onto the edge of the desk for dear life once he hooks the panty with his finger to move it out of the way, pursuing even more thirstily now. The wood creaks with each buck of your hips, but with the way Miguel’s arms hold your weight on his wide shoulders effortlessly, it doesn’t phase you. Breathless prayers of his name left your lips, panting softly as your head fell back against the table. You can feel the bundle in your core form as your whimpers turn to wails.

“Mig, s’good, feels so good. I’m close, pleasepleaseplease-”

Meanwhile, his eyes were practically to the back of his head, hips pathetically bucking to the matching rhythm of your hips as he took turns treating your clit like a lollipop and your entrance like a fleshlight. “M’gonna- aw fuck… voy a cuidarte, mamita, don’t you worry your pretty little head.” you hear through a whine before his tongue is back at it again. His hands take turns squeezing your thighs tighter around his head and occasionally using his forefingers to stimulate your sensitive bud. His glasses start to fog, and his eyes are covered by humid lenses. This was starting to obscure his perfect view of you and your euphoric expressions, and he just couldn’t have that. So, he pulled away for only a millisecond just to basically rip them off and he was right back to devouring your weeping cunt. There’s no way he was missing this.

You’re choked whines signify the peak, your body trembling uncontrollably. This will be the first of many, and he’s only getting started. When the man promises to take care of you, he’s gonna take care of you.

He spends the remainder of your climax lovingly rubbing his fingers up and down your pussy, making sure you ride it out all the way to the very end.

“Good, baby? You okay?” he purs back into your ear, tenderly caressing your thighs and planting gentle kisses of reassurance on your face. You nod with half-lidded eyes, catching your breath before replying ‘yes’.

“Tell me what you want, mama.”

“Fuck me, professor. Please?”

“Say that again.”

You look at him above you, your legs pulling his waist closer so that his aching length meets your pulsing core, “Please, I want you to fuck me, professor.” Whilst maintaining eye contact, Miguel reaches down to put your hand on the bulge. “Look what you do to me.” Your theory of his size is confirmed.

“This what you wanted?”

“Need it.”

“C’mere.”

Miguel sits you up, telling you to relax since ‘he’ll do all the work’. He carries you to his office couch. He plops onto the cushions with you straddled on his lap. While he has your tongue entwined with his, he releases his cock from the restraints of his boxers, the base erects against his lower belly. Not wanting to waste another second, although the view of it was mesmerizing, you sit up on your knees to line yourself up with him, but Miguel sits you back down, “No hay prisa, mamita, need to get you ready, but first,” His hand snakes to the back of the zipper, and the dress unveils, “Need to see all of you, beautiful.” you seem to knock the air out of him as he lets his hands explore you, your breasts the perfect hand full. “You’re so fucking hot.” He even looks up for a moment and thanks God for blessing him with someone like you, making you look down at the endearing gesture.

Your body goes limp once he laps at your chest, sucking and pulling like it was his first meal in ages. The feeling of his tongue circulating your hardened buds made you clench around nothing. He has you in a bear hug, front sides pressed against each other. The small room seems to disappear around the two of you, totally forgetting where you are, in both space and time. It’s just you, Miguel, and the beautiful sounds of pure, raw pleasure.

“Mig, wanna make you feel good, too.”

Miguel unwillingly pulls away, only half-hearing what you said, and not given even a chance to process. You’ve already positioned yourself on your hands and knees next to him on the couch. Kitten licks and tender sucks to the tip send Miguel’s head falling against the back of the couch. You know he’s needing more when his hips buck upward, and you’re more than willing to give it to him. Occasionally, you’d rest your head against his stomach chub to give him a few rewarding strokes, admiring his size, just to let it sink back into your hollowed mouth. You managed to get Miguel growling, hoarse moans spilling from his bitten lips as you tend to his stiffened cock that you’ve daydreamed of tasting.

“Baby, please, slow down, not gonna last long.” But it was no use. You were relentless on his aching manhood. The only way to get you to go easy on him was to reach over your ass and pump his fingers into you, so that’s exactly what he did. You whine with his tip in the back of your throat, but you’re able to still keep him in. To Miguel’s hopes, you do slow down, the mutual pleasure putting both of you in sync.

“Let’s come together, mamita, hm? Can I put another one in, baby?”

He takes your eye contact as a cue to put in a third, thick finger, eliciting a high-pitched moan against his veiny shaft. Having both ends of you completely filled was, in all honesty, a bit overwhelming, but it’s the best feeling you’ve ever felt. There’s no one else you would’ve rathered have you like this than your Mig.

His fingers get faster, and your strength to keep his cock inside is dwindling, but for him, you try, nonetheless.

“That’s it, mamita, that’s it…” His fingers are unbelievably fast at the point, droplets sent flying and falling onto the fabric of the couch. That’s something he’ll worry about later, but right now, his goal was to get you absolutely fucked out and coming all over his hand. Unable to hold it anymore, you free him from your mouth, letting yourself cry and whine freely as he finger fucks your second orgasm out of you. Still determined to have him come with you, you pump him with your hand as you ride off your high on his hand. Miguel wants to praise you, but his panting and mewling get in the way. You had this gentle giant making what would be considered embarrassing noises, but symphonic music to your ears. At the first sign of his juices, you place him back into your mouth, but this time, he holds your hair and fucks up into your mouth in short, fast, desperate thrusts until he’s finished.

You don’t even let him have a moment to breathe once you start kissing up his happy trail and to his stomach; what once was a pack of abs has given way to pudge. You kiss a little higher, giving his pec a gentle lick where it’s most sensitive, making him sharply inhale as a result. They proceed to the valley of his pecs, up his neck, to his jaw, and cheek. If Miguel still had doubts in the back of his mind about your love for his body, they’ve vanished now.

Your lips meet now, and various soft ‘I love you’s’ are exchanged.

“Just want you to sit back n’ relax now, mami. Wanna see that gorgeous face,” Holding onto your head and lower back, he carefully lays you on the couch, “Can I?” The gentle dominance this man radiated was good enough to make you already contemplate marriage. The expression on his face reflected utter devotion and praise. You thought his kind were only written in books.

“Of course, professor. Gotta repay you for all those private sessions.” Even after two orgasms, you still had to keep the cliche going. Miguel was unable to help a small chuckle. He had no problem playing right along, though. “You made it so hard to focus in class, you know that?��� His voice is dark and low, a stark contrast to the noises he was making just a minute ago. He speaks while spreading your legs like precious artifacts, lining himself up. Finally.

“Sitting there all gorgeous n’ smart. Drove me insane.” He whispers into your ear, his leaking tip making a connection to your entrance. “And then having the audacity to help your classmates? How dare you have a heart just as beautiful.” He kisses you while sliding inside, muffling your gasp.

He tuts against your mouth, “Yo se, bebita, me too…mmnnshit,” His hand caresses your hair in an effort to soothe at least some tension, “I’ll go slow, mama, m’kay? Gonna take care of y- oh fuck,” His forehead presses against yours, his free hand holding onto yours as he slowly slides in and out, gauging how deep you can take him. The stretch induces a euphoric pain, causing you to squeeze his hand, but he squeezes right back, your cunt sucking him in all too well.

Miguel starts to go stupid once he’s halfway in. The sensation has him beginning to babble, choked words coming out in a gentle lull.“Que rico…Feel good, mamita? It’s okay mama, let me hear you. Please, let me hear you.” He talks delicately as he continues to go in and slowly draw out with only half of himself, just to be sure you're warmed up enough for all of him. Your eyes are closed, trying to focus on breathing, but it only makes it more difficult. It worries Miguel. “Too much, baby? I’ll stop.” And just as he’s about to pull out, you use your other hand that was clinging onto the arm of the chair to stop him, “Nonono, please,” He lowers himself, still connected, “Need you, Mig. Please, keep going, don’t stop.” You beg, the undeniable need in your voice making Miguel go weak. He puts all his weight on you, cautiously going all the way inside. When he gets as deep as he possibly can, his tip kissing you right in the perfect spot, he pecks your forehead before telling you, “You look so pretty taking it, beba.”

Miguel’s words are slurred as he begins fucking you, thick fingers playing at your clit as he does. He can’t help but prop himself on his elbow just to get a look of himself going in and out of you, the slick sounds and what looks like a bulge of his cock sending him into insanity, driving him to go desperately faster. He gets lost in the way every time he pumps in, he creates a hill in your stomach. You look down, too, seeing what he’s seeing, and it only makes his name fall from your mouth embarrassingly loud, as well as telling him how good he feels and how much you love him, every syllable coming out with pure verity.

Not now since you’re too busy getting amazingly fucked, but later on, you’ll surely think about how good of stamina Miguel has for his age. He should’ve been tired by now, but the man was rutting and there was no sign of him slowing down anytime soon. When his mouth wasn’t latched onto yours, he’d speak nonsense to you. He’d let out long, exasperated ‘Yes’s’ into your ear, unafraid to let his unfiltered noises fill the room. When he knew he was being too rough, he’d slow his thrusts until he was dragging his dick in and out of you, pumping ever so slowly and lovingly. It was then he’d be able to coherently form sweet words of nothings, “I’m obsessed with you. Wanna keep you like this forever.”

Whether he was going rabid or making sweet love, Miguel still made sure to hold your hand through it all.

He can feel himself coming soon. As if he needed to be deeper into you, he only stops for a nanosecond to bring your knees over you, pressing you even deeper into the couch, so as to better ram your already abused pussy. Your panting heightens in pitch. “Right there, sweetheart? Aww Fuck, there it is.” His big, strong hands hold your knees in place where they frame your head. Your bodies are sweaty, only enhancing the lewd sounds of his hips smacking your ass with each thrust. When your pussy flutters around him, it makes his eyes roll back. He’s already made you orgasm twice by now, getting his juices all over you, but he needs more. “I can’t stop.” He stammers through a slack jaw.

“Mig…dunno if I c-can… going-”

He slows down his rhythm, hands cupping your face to make eye contact, “Baby, please, gimme one more, just one more. Promise.”

With a nod of your head, he buries you in his arms, his face in your neck, body on body, leaving no space between you, and he rams into you like no tomorrow, luring one last orgasm from you. The way the curve of his belly and muscles rubbed against you was the icing on the cake. You feel Miguel getting closer with the way he moans into the crook of your neck. You are, too.

The dam breaks loose with an outcry of his name, to which Miguel lifts his head to kiss your tears as you peak, his own following right behind. Once it starts to descend, a rain of butterfly kisses fall on your face, “I’ve got you, sweetie,” he coos, “I love you so much… mamita,” he gently calls to get your attention, “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

You at least accomplish a weak smile, requiting the love with a kiss to his swollen lips.

There was no need to rush, so the two of you just lay there, embracing each other.

“Miguel,”

“Hm?” He hums against your skin.

“I feel like I’m in a fairytale.”

“Me too.”

6:49 PM.

You don’t know how, but in one hour, Miguel and you were able to go back to your place, shower (separately. You two knew a joint shower would’ve most definitely led to other things.), redo your makeup, fix your and Miguel’s hair, and leave to the stadium with moderate traffic. You look in the passenger seat mirror for the last touch-ups.

“Praying I don’t trip on that stage. If I do, it’s your fault.”

“I’ll happily take the blame.” He gives your thigh a small squeeze, in which you glare at him in return. The shit-eating grin on his face still made you smile, though.

You sit in your assigned seat among a sea of students, dawning the traditional cap and gown, with numerous achieved stoles and ropes around your neck, but only one stands out from them all, and one that you consider your best achievement: Gabriella’s Blue Ribbon.

You look down at it, giving it a little tug to straighten it out. You look up to search for Miguel in the enormous mass of seats, but it isn’t too hard. All you had to do was find the freakishly tall man with glasses, and when you do, you smile at him. As subtly as possible, he mouths ‘I love you’, and you do it back. You think to blow him a kiss, but given the situation, you also think it better not to in public. You still don’t have that degree in your hand, and you can’t risk anything, especially not when you’re so close. But trust, the second that piece of paper is in your hand, Miguel is all yours, no shame attached.

You’re on the edge of your seat the entirety of waiting for your name to be called, and once it is, you feel you could cry. You walk across the stage, a sense of accomplishment and fulfillment filling you to the brim. Miguel watches on, a prideful expression on his face. You shake hands with a few faculty members, some you grew to love and will cherish, some you secretly wished would accidentally fall through a manhole, before you get to the dean, who currently holds your degree in their hand. You’re congratulated once it’s in your hand, the feeling of two very difficult years weighing down on your hand. It feels good. Smiling ear-to-ear, you look out into the audience as you walk across, degree facing outward for the whole stadium to see because one thing for sure is that everyone in the establishment will know that you did that. Your smile shines like a thousand stars, at least to Miguel. His heart could explode with how much love and awe he feels for you. Heaven knows he tried to make a new life for himself by putting the Spider-Man title to rest, and though he was successful, he was still missing a piece of himself. In this moment, he’s thanking you for taking a chance on him; for letting a different man, a happy man, come out for a while, and hopefully, for the rest of his life.

And that’s where he sits now, in the car, waiting for you in the parking lot. Prior to the ceremony, it was agreed that Miguel would slip away just a couple of minutes early (basically skip the dean’s farewell speech) so that you and Miguel could beat the crowds and go celebrate wherever he had planned for you. Hoards of crying mothers and cheering students catch his attention. It must’ve ended. It only takes a moment for him to pick you out from the crowd, immediately exiting the car to open the passenger door for you.

“Congratulations, mi vida.” He calls out, leaning against the car.

Elated, you crash into him, arms around his neck, legs lifted in the air, and you kiss him. You pull away with a joyous mwah.

You both retreat into the car. “You helped, my cute lil geneticist.” Giddiness beams from your voice. You reach over the center console to cup his chin and squeeze it, puckering his lips to kiss him again and again. This makes him chuckle. He may be older and bigger in every sense of the word, but at the end of the day, he is and always will be your dork. Your teddy bear.

“I just taught you a few formulas. This was all you, mama,” he starts the car but glances at you for a second. “What?” You tilt your head.

“I wanna thank you.”

“For what?” Every time Miguel opens his mouth, you’re reminded of what a lottery win you’ve made. You grab his hand to hold it up to your heart; the same spot where Gabriella’s ribbon is pinned.

“For loving me. The way you do.”

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For letting me.”

His brows furrowed, his lips curled into a soft smile. He notices the blue ribbon. He caresses one of its tails, and a few of his heartstrings pull at the sight. He knows that if Gabriella were there, she would’ve been the loudest in the stands. “Wish she could’ve been here.”

You press his hand against your heart.

“She is.”

Miguel has told you so much about her that at this point, she feels like yours, and you feel that she’s there. You know with your whole heart that she is.

You both share one more tender kiss before Miguel pulls out of the lot.

“Well, it’s official. I am no longer your student. How do you feel about that?” you smirk, relaxed in your assigned seat; your rightful throne as passenger princess.

“Speaking of which, I hope you know that that degree is for decoration purposes from this day forward.”

You roll your eyes, “You’re quite the comedian today, huh?”

“You think I’m kidding? I want you home 24/7, you hear me? In the kitchen, an apron and all. I’m dead serious.” The sarcastic tone in his voice sends you chuckling through the nose.

“I’ll stay home and be your housewife if you give me a perfect score, how about that?”

“Deal.”

“Ok, no, but seriously, baby, please score my paper accurately.”

“Of course, beba. Just jokes. I’m kidding about the staying-home thing, too. You can do whatever you want,” He looks over at you at a red light, “Just as long as you always come back home to me.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

You two snuggle in Miguel’s bed after a nice dinner celebrating you. The sheets are warm and soft, but it doesn’t compare to the warmth and softness of Miguel’s body on yours; skin to skin. You’re both entangled and nude, having just had another (or a few) rounds of passionate love. Sleep looms over both you and Miguel, a little heavier on you. You’re quickly learning that Miguel does not have the endurance of an average man.

Knowing how much you loved his speaking voice, he decided to finish and read aloud to you Pride and Prejudice, a book you recommended to him and has become a new favorite of his. A king of aftercare. How more perfect can he be?

Miguel, seeing your eyes grow heavy, kisses your temple and smiles before starting again, “ ‘I love you. You have bewitched me, mind, body, and soul. And wish from this day forth never to be parted from you.’” He recites the notorious line written by Austen, but not for the sake of reading aloud anymore, no. This line was directed to you. And only for you.

“And I love you.” You whisper back.

And for the first time in much more than just 5 years, Miguel didn’t have to go to bed alone. And he won’t have to ever again.

Miguel hasn’t thought about the canon theory in a very, very long time, but a fleeting thought went through his mind before drifting away:

If going through everything that he had to, may it be the day his genetic makeup was altered, the spider-verse, Gabriella, trading in the suit for a life of solitude, everything; Despite the pain, if it all had to happen in order to have met you.

Then it’ll all have been worth it.

<3 Tags <3

@mukeovernetflix @mochikisses @miguels-cock-piercings @miranexx @bunnibitez @deepdiveintothedeephive @faretheeoscar @sillygardeneggperson @librababe99 @sariespi @little-lovelace @monstersimp @oharasfilipinawife @obi-mom-kenobi @hyjionie @maomaimao @pomakori @pinkhelados @mochimoqa @princesatracionera @queerponcho @walmaerts @froggygal @yaysposts @koko-1025 @kikaaauu @lauraolar14 @anotherprettyprincess @kaidxra @farrowroyale @pigeonmama @exactlyyoungchaos @fayeofthenightingale @s4dow @safixiovi

@hartsucks @amberbalcom14 @wait2nourh @tatooieve @helen-j-magnus @cl3stevu

@mintssanctuary @ghost-lantern @snails-doodles22 @tinythebunni @shaquilles-0atmeal @nina-from-317 @exoticb-utters @sugurusyndrome @aphinthestars

A/N: Fav chapter I've ever written. It was made with love <3 Really hoped you guys enjoyed it <3 n thnx sm for sticking around even if I made y'all wait so long 😭 love youuuuuuuu‼️ MWAH!!!

[timblrdrake]

have you informed your dad about the pregnancy?

there is no pregnancy to inform him about.

[gods-favorite-autistic]

Love watching Ally Beardsley who played Brennan Lee Mulligan on Gamechanger and flirted with irl Brennan Lee Mulligan as Brennan Lee Mulligan via “me and my wife saw you across the bar and really liked your vibe” flirting in character with a character played by Izzy Roland who is Brennan Lee Mulligans wife in front of Brennan Lee Mulligan

[bragginball-z]

Every time Dean says “I need you” to Cas gay people all around the world feel a stab of yearning in their hearts that echolocates them right back to tumblr

[daryltwdixon]

murphy x reader one shot

crying screaming over murphy calling you an angel brb

warnings: smut :)

word count: 1.8k

The late morning sun filters through the blinds, casting soft shadows across Murphy’s small, cluttered apartment. The smell of coffee fills the air, warm and grounding, mixing with the faint scent of smoke as he leans against the doorframe, watching you. He takes a slow drag from his cigarette, exhaling a curl of smoke as he lets his gaze linger on you, a hint of a smile playing at his lips.

You’re at the counter, barefoot and clothed in only his shirt that barely covers the cheeky lines at the juncture of your thighs, your hair still a little messy from sleep. There’s something peaceful about the scene, the simple routine of pouring coffee into chipped mugs, as if the world beyond these walls doesn’t exist for a moment.

“You’re somethin’ else, angel,” Murphy murmurs, his voice low and warm, breaking the quiet. The way he says it—like he can’t quite believe you’re really here—sends a flutter through you.

You glance over your shoulder, catching the softness in his expression, the way he’s looking at you like he doesn’t want to look anywhere else. “It’s just coffee,” you say, smiling as you hand him a mug.

He takes it from you, setting his cigarette aside before reaching out to pull you close. “Nah,” he whispers, his fingers brushing along your jaw, his thumb grazing your cheek. “It’s you, bein’ here, love… feels like I don’t even need to die to get to heaven.”

Your breath catches, his words wrapping around you, and he leans in, eyes holding yours for a lingering beat before he closes the last bit of space between you, pressing his lips to yours. The kiss is gentle at first, warm and unhurried, as if he’s savoring the moment, letting it sink in.

You hear him set down his coffee mug and his other hand slips around your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss deepens, his mouth fresh with the taste of coffee and cigarettes. You blindly set yours down on the counter beside him, both of your hands finding their way to the back of his neck, threading through his hair as he holds you steady, his lips moving against yours with a tenderness that leaves you feeling completely lost in him.

Before you know it, he’s lifting you just slightly off your toes as he walks you backward, guiding you toward the bed, never breaking the kiss. You smile against his lips, a giggle escaping you as you're blindly led to the other room.

You feel the edge of the mattress against the backs of your knees, and with a gentle nudge, he eases you down onto the bed. He follows, his weight settling over you as he props himself on his elbows, careful not to crush you but close enough that his warmth surrounds you. His lips find yours again, this time with a little more urgency, a softness tempered with a raw need, as if he’s trying to memorize the feel of you in every kiss, every touch.

You lose yourself in him, your hands wandering over his back, pulling him closer, feeling his heartbeat against you as he deepens the kiss, lips tracing down to your jaw and lingering along your neck, leaving soft, reverent kisses that make your breath hitch. His fingers thread through your hair, holding you gently as he looks down, taking a moment to soak in the sight of you lying there beneath him.

“An angel,” he whispers, bringing his lips back to your neck, his kisses soft and warm, with his teeth grazing sensitive places that send goosebumps across your skin. His hand slips from your hair and slides under the shirt you stole from him, your bare body arching instinctively to meet his touch. His hand rests on your waist, memorizing every curve, and he groans as he leans into you, desperate to be closer.

Your hands are hurried as you tug away the last of each other’s sleepwear, bodies heated and hungry against one another. He pulls you on top of him, your hips straddling him as he looks up at you with reverence.

"Beautiful," he says, accent always thicker when he's full of desire.

“Could say the same thing,” you whisper, slipping off him to lie between his legs, your hands finding his warm, ready cock. He sucks in a sharp breath as your fingers wrap around him, his head falling back against the pillows when you brush your thumb over the tip. Your other hand stretches along his stomach, resting along the trail of hair that curls there. You press soft, wet kisses along his length, his whimpers growing needier as you tease him until finally, you bring him to your mouth, tongue tracing over the precum. Murphy’s head lifts, his stormy blue eyes fixed on you, filled with raw need. A small smirk plays on your lips before you take him completely, cheeks hollowing as you pull him deep.

“Fuck,” he breathes, his gaze locked on your face, taking in every detail. You moan around him, loving the weight of him between your lips, eager to draw more sounds from him. Your hand moves where your mouth doesn’t reach, mirroring the motion of your head as you glide along his cock. His fingers tangle in your hair, gently guiding your pace, and you let him, loving his control even in its gentleness. With a sudden movement, you surprise him, taking him to the back of your throat, and his hips buck as you gag slightly around him.

"Christ, I’m sorry, angel,” he says breathlessly as you lift your mouth from him, cracking a smile,"Lord's name in vain, Murph--"

His hand moves to cup your jaw, his thumb grazing your swollen bottom lip. “Tha's what confession's fer, now c'mere,” he murmurs, sitting up and drawing your face to his. His lips crash into yours, tongues sliding together as your moans mix with his. He presses you down onto the bed, settling beside you. One hand cups your face with reverence, while the other glides along your body, tracing the sensitive skin of your breast. His touch makes you shiver, and he gently twists your nipple, pulling a soft whimper from your lips. Your eyes flutter shut as his mouth replaces his fingers, his tongue soothing the sensitive bud while his hand wanders further down. His fingers trail along your thigh, encouraging your legs to open and he brushes the pads of his fingers along the inside of your thighs, teasingly close, making you arch toward him.

"Murph," A soft, breathy moan escapes your lips, barely a whisper, but it’s filled with everything you're feeling in that moment, an aching need for him. Your back lifts from the bed, hips just barely undulating in the air, desperate for anything.

“Yes, my angel?” he murmurs, releasing your other nipple he had moved to.

“Please,” you whimper, but he stills his fingers, drawing a soft whine from you.

“Please what, my love?” he teases, pressing a gentle kiss to the tip of your nose.

“I need—I need…” you struggle, voice trembling with need.

“Use your words,” he chuckles, low and rough, letting his fingers barely graze closer.

“Murphy, I swear to god—”

"Lord's name is vain, sweetheart," his smirk twitching his cheek, and as you're about to snap back, your words cut off as he presses two fingers against your wet heat, your eyes rolling back as he groans, feeling your arousal coating his fingers. His fingers return, gliding over your clit in slow circles, moving at a maddening pace that leaves you breathless. Your hand grips his face, pulling him in for a kiss as you whimper and moan against his mouth. He slips his fingers inside you, hooking them just right, and you gasp, your mouth falling open as his tongue brushes along your top lip, coaxing every reaction out of you.

“My God, you’re perfect,” he murmurs, his voice low and filled with raw need as his gaze locks on your flushed face. You pull yourself together long enough to deepen the kiss again, rocking your hips against his fingers. He hooks and scissors his digits, working you with precision as his thumb grazes your clit, making your entire body tremble.

Just as you feel yourself nearing the edge, he pulls his fingers out, and you whine, your body thrumming with anticipation as he moves between your legs.

“Can’t wait any longer,” he says, and you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him close. His hands slip beneath you, holding you tightly as he pushes inside, his cock meeting no resistance against your wetness. He groans deeply, his voice roughening into a growl as he bottoms out and his teeth find the sensitive juncture of your shoulder and neck. He bites down as he withdraws almost to the tip, then thrusts back in with a force that has you crying out. His lips travel along your neck, leaving a trail of wet, hot kisses as he moves against you. Every thrust feels like more than just the physical; it’s as if you’re weaving into each other’s souls, binding in ways words could never capture.

"My beautiful fuckin' angel," His breath catches, a low, throaty sound escaping him as his lips hover close to your ear, rough and heated. "So fuckin' perfect, like your cunt was made fer me, eh?"

“Oh god, Murph—” you gasp, a desperate sound slipping from you as he groans, and your hips lift to meet his. His hand moves from around your back to slide between you, his fingers finding your clit again. He pulls the hood back, rubbing the sensitive bundle of nerves in circles that make your eyes widen. He smirks, almost blasphemously, as he watches you, his fingers working expertly. You let out a shuddering sigh, every nerve on fire, your hands pressing against his chest as you feel yourself cresting. I's too much, too overwhelming, too much too much too much as pleasure skyrockets in you, and you're moaning his name as he continues his thrusts, slower now to let you concentrate.

"Come on, dove, let me see you. Let me feel tha' sweet pussy cum all over me cock," he says, almost under his breath he is breathing so hard. Your fingers dig into his flesh as he sucks in air, "Tha's it, right there, come on,"

Your body obeys, arching against him as the first waves of your climax hit, your muscles tightening around him as stars burst behind your closed eyes. He groans, his thrusts becoming erratic as he chases his own release, pulling out just in time. He strokes himself, and with a low growl, he spills over your thigh, his voice a hoarse, reverent chant of your name.

As the euphoria settles, he collapses beside you, drawing you close, his breath warm against your skin. The two of you lie there, tangled together, the world outside forgotten.

"Gonna need to put on another pot of coffee," you groan, a breathy laugh against his chest as you roll over onto him.

He lets out a contented sigh, his fingers running through your hair. “As long as you bring that coffee right back here, I’ll allow it.”

[ruegarding]

for context, @rosabell14 is referring to tags on this post.

ok we're going off-road w this one

generally speaking, i like the concept of "some things aren't meant to be controlled," which annabeth says to percy after he controls the poison. this is said and then immediately forgotten abt, however, this could be another angle of change, a reoccurring theme in hoo, as well as a continued theme from pjo.

obviously, from pjo, the change is addressed w the myths, the theme of yielding, and w the conclusion of the story:

hoo continues this concept of change w the percy-jason switch, the greek-roman conflict, the idea of what an identity is and how to change it, etc. there's a lot of individual character work w this idea, but there's less of a mythological concept attached to it. gaea is a static and flatly written antagonist, octavian becomes incredibly flat as a character and his development into this sort of fanatical antagonist that is never explored, there's a lot of teeth-gritting abt how the gods are gods and they never change and everyone just has to accept it, the myths aren't challenged in the same way they were in pjo, etc. there's a few major exceptions, i'll get to that.

this is a glaring issue i have w hoo. it wouldn't be as bad as a standalone, but hoo makes the entirety of the previous series meaningless. in tlo, percy asks for kids to get claimed and be trained so when (or if) they have to go on dangerous quests/fight monsters/etc they're both older and more experienced. this is the conclusion to the war and how the status quo is changed (disability accommodations expanded to reach more ppl and work more effectively).

hoo, however, does not do this. camp jupiter infamously has a child army while the adults are retired, all of the new characters are younger than percy (who is still 16), and only two of them have spent a long period of time training, although hazel's isn't formal/in a camp (and piper doesn't even learn how to fight until book four ffs). this sort of immediately bastardizes pjo in a way that is never acknowledge by the series and makes it, and anything after it, a failure as a continuation of pjo.

and that's where this theme could've come in. when bob is remembering who he is, him and percy have this back-and-forth abt identity. percy relates to bob bc he, too, just had his memory erased and that vulnerability exploited (annabeth's perspective in this conversation is very different bc she doesn't have this same experience nor does she understand percy's feelings abt it. a good way to build tension using different povs, but, once again, doesn't get fully utilized). in the conclusion that conversation, there's an interesting moment:

this is that idea again, "some things aren't meant to be controlled," like fate, like identity. titans are meant to "be the same...forever." and here percy is, not only as the catalyst for change by throwing bob into the river lethe, but also by encouraging him to commit to this change once bob should know better. this was percy's role in the previous series, as well, where he constantly challenges the perspective of other characters to be more quote human unquote.

afterwards, annabeth has a similar moment w damasen:

i also think these are very funny to have side-by-side, just as character analysis, bc percy is very much both insecure and empathetic like u can choose ur future, it's up to u, etc, whereas annabeth is like i am right, listen to me.

anyway, both of these moments repeat the idea from pjo/tlo: immortals can't change. but they are changing. and they will change. the rules of the world are malleable (i also think hazel's monologue abt seeing the minotaur as a victim would be another aspect of this to explore). what abt traditions? what abt camp jupiter's child army? how should these change? going back to the og thought, tho, what shouldn't change? what are the "some things" that aren't meant to be controlled? how do you balance traditions and reform (great opportunity to use octavian btw!)? why can't a god be human, act human? why are the ancient rules important? that's an important discussion to have if we're growing this universe.

i don't particularly like that hoo immediately reverts back w the premise of the story, like i was talking abt earlier, nor do i think these characters were introduced or used well in canon, but using these characters, these moments, these conversations, rick could've salvaged this mess by embracing change isn't a static thing. he doesn't, tho, so it's all lost potential.

separately, something i've always liked abt the akhlys fight is that percy wins the literal, physical fight against her, but loses the metaphorical fight. he gets to walk away, but he walks away miserable. and this is bc the gods aren't ppl, they're physical representations of concepts. and percy has this thought abt tartarus and gaea while in tartarus, and i believe it's brought up in boo, but it's barely relevant. it's something i wish was explored more.

now onto specific characters. i talk abt my general idea here, ie this moment in tartarus is forcing percy and annabeth to confront their worst-case scenarios.

for annabeth, i've repeatedly gone on record to say i hate the way annabeth is written in hoo, here is an example, ie her fatal flaw does not come thru in her character (i also think she and percy switched characterizations from pjo to hoo, but...). separate issue is that annabeth's character revolves around percy a lot. so there are two issues i would focus on, largely bc she's not written well and doesn't have established unique conflicts. like,

this is a big revelation at the end of hoh, that she has to "step back" and she can't "protect everyone she love[s]." except it doesn't make any sense. tlo ended w annabeth telling percy to give luke her knife which luke uses to kill himself. not to mention, thalia's sacrifice on hbh. ALSO. percy accepting the prophecy and "taking the brunt of the danger"! and finally. annabeth has been at camp for 7-8 years. 1) she should have relationships w these ppl and 2) she should care that some of the ogs died in the previous war (which would also require rick to figure out who died lol). but the point is, this isn't a new conflict for annabeth!

the thought she had in moa abt having to accept she's not always the best person for the job:

this is not built up nor is it delivered on, but would be interesting, given that she demanded to be on the quest and if there was an actual power struggle instead of writing her as the de facto leader. this would be a better conflict than accepting that "she couldn't protect everyone she loved" when she has historically not been able to protect everyone she loved.

anyway, back on topic.

first, this moment exists to challenge her perception of percy, which is important to challenge bc she quite frankly has an unhealthy attachment to him. other ppl have said this better than i, so here's a post abt codependency and p*rcabeth and here's another one i rbed a while ago.

tldr; rick treats annabeth's abandonment issues/possessiveness/codependency as like. cute, peak romance. and he's been doing this since pjo, right, like annabeth's abandonment issues and possessiveness didn't matter when it was thalia joining the hunters,—bc there's no romance trope here w thalia—but gods forbid percy speak to rachel.

and this doesn't change in hoo. in fact, it's worse. like,

i'm going to [statement redacted] rick for this. what part of this is cute??? i'm killing it with fire.

so anyway, i want to treat annabeth's possessiveness/etc as an actual, consistent, character flaw, that she can grow out of, even. maybe even connect it to her hubris or her rsd. explore her feelings abt luke now that we have her pov to do it in. the fallout from this moment w akhlys is a great way to begin delving into that bc it's a shocking moment for her.

second, and going back to the theme of change, annabeth is different from percy in the sense that she has a different relationship to the gods than him (which i'm comparing bc i think rick (and fandom) has a hard time giving these two consistent and separate personalities/beliefs post pjo). the two times she has rebelled against the gods directly were bc of percy's influence (again, this is percy's role in pjo), 1) in the zoo truck, a scene that only takes place bc percy challenged her view of the poseidon-athena rivalry and their place in it, and 2) w hera where the first words out of annabeth's mouth are literally "percy is right."

i find this interesting especially bc her fatal flaw is hubris, which is common in mythology and frequently ends up fatal bc ppl challenge the gods. so, annabeth using the gods and these stories to keep her hubris in check makes complete sense.

and it seems like this is the same approach she's using w percy:

percy is directly challenging a god for power, and more than that, he's challenging a domain he's not supposed to have control of at all.

very interesting! does not get explored. such is common for hoo.

for percy, this scene is part of a long-running conversation of his powers (which is a huge part of his disability coding!!!!!). and it doesn't go anywhere.

percy has established anger issues and implied emotional dysregulation. this has been a thing since the beginning, literally chapter one of tlt! punishing percy for this when he's clearly not getting the support he needs is. a choice. also there's the issue that hoo kinda. erases this aspect of percy's character until the confrontation w akhlys, which is a separate but related issue.

there really should've been more buildup to this outburst (eg: in son percy punches a shelf in the library and immediately feels guilty bc he scares frank and hazel. percy is in an incredibly stressful situation; this should've happened more), but that would mean rick would treat it and the disability conversation seriously (which falls flat after son) and do less teeth-gritting abt the whole gods thing.

so, to go back on my "using the different povs to build tension was wildly underutilized" train, a featured part of almost everyone's pov is that percy is very kind, and gentle, and forgiving. i discuss a moment w frank being impressed w percy's selflessness here and he also says that he would follow percy anywhere, jason says percy is "a nice guy" after like 2 days, nico has his whole thing, hazel says "percy was a child of poseidon’s better nature," going on to describe him as gentle, etc.

and all of this praise goes nowhere and kinda just becomes percy is so awesome...and then turns into everything is percy's fault in boo...it's bad writing.

but it's an interesting opportunity to play w perspective. percy in pjo is dehumanized in that he is both villainized and idolized, and obviously hoo is continuing the trend w idolization. rick sets up a great plotline w this in moa:

and this doesn't go anywhere bc apparently percy's problem is that he needs to learn to step back. which. part of this is bc rick recycled plotlines from percy and gave them to other characters, which means that percy cannot be in character anymore without making themlook bad (the recycled plotlines i'm talking abt are the idolization, imposter syndrome, wanting to step back but constantly pushed into the spotlight, being seen as different/elevated status bc of ur parentage, struggling to connect to who your parent is, even the dehumanization as a weapon is straight out of percy's writing in pjo). this is a big problem w hoo in general ie characters becoming ooc by necessity (see: bad writing). the other part to blame is that rick is literally trying to redo tlo what w the whole "you are not the hero." it's all the same from pjo except written worse. it's a running theme of hoo (and a bonus). bad writing all the way down!

ANYWAY. so pjo ends w percy at an elevated status bc he 1) survived an unsurvivable prophecy, 2) was offered godhood, and 3) turned down godhood to improve the lives of the demigods while all the demigods watched. and he has the curse of achilles but. we all know how that went. the point is, all of this puts percy on a pedestal. i like to think it's the biggest reason hera kidnapped percy: if he said no, if he refused, she would've lost the support of almost all the demigods at chb (also the metaphor for the audience lol). i think making percy go on the quest, or at least to new rome, is the only good bit of world building rick did between books.

the problem is, rick is kinda all over the place w how percy is perceived and misses both the point of percy's character (callback to what i said abt his disability) and the world building of the previous series (what happened to power-scaling, narrative consequence, etc fr). that's what creates the flip-flopping "percy is perfect" and "everything is percy's fault," and neither are particularly good reads.

going back to annabeth, i don't think she's an exception in idolizing percy. she has no reason to see percy's vindictive side bc he works hard to hide it. even w crusty, annabeth is preoccupied. annabeth is smart, she's not omniscient. instead, there's the famous "percy is too nice" from som. i also like to think this is why she keeps trying to talk to percy abt luke as if luke is a good person who didn't try to kill percy. she doesn't understand that percy would hate luke for betraying him bc why would he? percy is a good person.

(for the record, i think the exceptions are: 1) grover, who chooses not to bring it up w the exception of his nemesis comment in tlt, 2) rachel, who made a painting where percy's "expression in the picture was fierce—disturbing, even—so it was hard to tell if I was the good guy or the bad guy" and simply said that's how he looked, and 3) arguably nico—considering percy has attacked him before—but i do think "very [dangerous]. to his enemies." does a good job of capturing that, it just doesn't go anywhere).

so, to condense all of this, ppl are idolizing percy in terms of both strength and morals and percy feels stifled by this knowing that he is not as strong or good as ppl think (and also by the fault that he was demonized prior and has corresponding low self-esteem bc of that lol). keep this in mind, i'm changing the topic.

in botl, percy's torture scene is used primarily to set up how powerful he is. he can cause an eruption that necessitates the evacuation of thousands of ppl and wake the biggest threat in greek mythos, but he would never know that if he wasn't back into a corner. bc that's not who he is. he shies away from power and titles. he wins his fights w strategy and very rarely relies on his powers to overpower his opponents.

just to clarify, i categorize percy's powers in two sorts of ways: involuntary and voluntary. involuntary is like speaking to sea creatures, healing in water, things that don't require a lot of energy/effort/focus. he's not scared of this. he's wary of the voluntary, powerful explosions, the things that set him apart from his peers. that's what i'm referring to in this section.

so, percy has to come to terms w the fact that he 1) blew up a mountain, 2) survived blowing up a mountain, and 3) woke typhon. and what does he say immediately after that?

he immediately deflects! he wasn't in control, it wasn't him that's powerful, it was an accident, and besides, he can't do it again bc he almost died. and what's even more interesting is the only time he uses his powers after this (in botl) is when grover asks him to stop the fire in the woods.

so, what lesson did percy actually take from mt saint helens? that he's dangerous. very interesting to use this teaching moment and have the protagonist come to the quote wrong unquote conclusion.

in hoh, we don't have a purpose for the torture scene. there's no significance to confronting how powerful percy is. percy is not addressing his self-sacrificing tendencies nor his propensity for bottling his emotions up. there's no questioning of p*rcabeth's relationship. there's no questioning of the gods. it's a cool scene w no narrative purpose.

so, take two. what is percy supposed to be learning from akhlys? how do we relate this to percy taking the wrong lesson from mt st helens?

at the end of botl, nico comes up w the river styx plan and percy takes almost a full year to agree to it. how much further ahead in the war would they have been if percy had accepted the curse sooner? how many fights could percy have won faster if he used his powers? if he trained his powers? if he trusted his powers?

there's a really interesting comparison w phorcys and akhyls where percy doesn't attempt to fight phorcys bc he assumes he won't be able to overpower him,

but w akhyls he tries anyway,

bc he's backed against a corner. and he succeeds.

percy is a character who very much embodies duality. i've talked abt this before wrt his loyalty being both his greatest strength and greatest weakness and how it clashes w his desire for freedom, but it's true for almost every trait. he's honest and manipulative. he's ruthless and merciful. he's kind and violent. he's looked up to and looked down upon. he's the saint and the scapegoat. etc etc. and percy responds to this by frequently trying to deny his quote worse unquote traits until they eventually bubble up and explode out of him. this is part of why juno calls him a loose-canon (which btw, i love. everyone has been treating him as a loose canon and no one on this side has the balls to say it until then, seven books in).

all this to say, *ethan voice* it's abt balance! this moment should've been abt percy confronting his unfair treatment! the idolization from his peers! the demonization of his flaws/disability!

thanks for coming to my tedtalk.

[makiswirl]

can i just say. and this is probably a niche hill to die on. that i am so gobsmacked every time someone vaguely hints at the idea that jotaro doesn't care meaningfully for the other crusaders, usually particularly kakyoin and joseph, when those two actually tend to be the ones he reacts to being hurt the hardest

like he cares for his loved ones!!!! that literally plays into his character motives in every single part he shows up in!!! stop lying to me!!!!!!!

[aroaceleovaldez]

mildly entertaining pjo fandom curse (mostly in that you can make games out of it):

everybody draws Piper showing skin. half the time Shel as well. literally almost EVERYBODY. go look at Piper fanart. is she wearing a crop top? i bet she is. or if she's wearing a dress hers is gonna be one of the most revealing. bonus points if they gave her a belly button piercing. and it's almost always only Piper and/or Shel. i thought we had a whole discussion about sexualizing young indigenous girls back in like 2021 but i guess nobody processed that part cause pjo fandom acts like if they dont have Piper show her stomach or have her shirt ride up they'll die.

the curse is that you will never unsee this. have fun with that.

[xxplastic-cubexx]

Chat have we discussed drunk chess with cherik cause i just think. That would be the darnedest silliest thing they could do

[fatalhoon]

happy mootsgiving!!

i wanted to take this opportunity to show some love to all of my favorite mooties!!

i’m not extremely good with words, but i want to tell you all how much i love and appreciate you guys <3 i’m generally a really shy person but i’m so very grateful for all of the friends i’ve made during my time here and i want you all to know that every single one of you have brought light into my life in some way or another and i love you all so so dearly even if we don’t interact often 🥹

specifically to my friends in my discord server and in rains discord server, you all are so important to me and i get so happy when i get a notif or we have a silly little chat hehe 🫶🏻 (y’all don’t know how extremely nervous i was to be added to rains server and finally push myself to talk to all of you but i can say now it was one of my best decisions because you’re all so sweet n ily 😭)

it wouldn’t let me tag all my mooties so i’m sorry if you’re not here i still love you guys too :< bolded means you are special to me hehee but ily all!!

🤍🤍 @suhnandmoon @natokkiz @botchedbrat @holdinbacksecrets @hmusunoo @liverspaghett @heeambi @heesimp @fullsunstrawberry @seung-log @pshbites @chobunz @jungaji @polarisjisung @jayparked @spideykeyring @lelengerine @viasdreams @winwintea @starryjake @spookyji @intromortal @ioveseong @stllmnstr @sleepyhoon @pnghoon @bonwonnie @saeivra @choibeomning @hyuukas @prince-jjae @st1llm0nster @belovedhoon @yizhrt @odxrilove @won4kiss @andysorbit @jwisun @n0hyuck @4chensungs @mrkified @hyucktion @haetrack @lyvhie @hazyhae @diorcities @riri4andy @meowmk 🤍🤍

whether we've had many interactions or very few, just know that i'm grateful that you're all here (and always feel free to interact with me i always love making friends 🫶🏻)

[r0-boat]

Mirror Mirror (part 2)

Whb!Lucifer x reader x Obeyme!Lucifer part 2

Across the Demonverse lol

A lot of yapping before sex lol

Let me know if you guys want more of this AU...

Link to part 1

Cw: biting, spit roasting, degrading

You weren't unconscious, But you weren't registering what was going on either cradled in the arms of somebody. You wake up in familiar silk sheets. The sense of lilies and vanilla suggests that You made it home too Paradise Lost.

You smile to yourself as you shifting in your bed eyes still closed. Beginning to drift off once again.

It must have been a dream, at least It felt like one. A deep voice calling your name breaks you out of those blissful thoughts.

"what's going on with them? They almost passed out. Better yet what's going on here?"

You felt cold metal press on your shirt as you felt a hand on your forehead.

"I am just as confused as you are. I have heard of God creating multiple worlds not just this one but I have never seen it for myself."

"So it is true. You are me?"

The voices began to get clearer and clearer as you began to stir more.

"I don't lie. I have no reason to. You felt it too, didn't you?"

"How could I not? Despite our physical differences, I felt like I was looking in a mirror."

The blurry figures finally turn to you as he begins to gain consciousness. They call your name at the same time as they get closer.

Feeling a gloved hand caress your cheek, you lean into it before realizing who it belongs to. Your eyes met with red ones and his familiar black hair. Instantly realizing that no, this is not a dream, You flinched.

"Lucifer!?"

"Yes child of Adam?"

You heard a voice from in front of you. Your heart sank as you looked at him.

The other one.

"no not you- why are you here?"

"I live here?" He stated calmly, raising his eyebrow

"no not-" The other Lucifer rolled his eyes He shook your hand a little getting your attention.

"That's what I would like to know I followed you through the portal you created... When and where did you learn that magic And who taught it to you?" His face got more stern with each question he asked. You were going to open your mouth to say something until you felt all that weakness hit you at once your body shakes as you struggle to catch your breath. He felt your body weakening as he leaned closer

That's when Lucifer sat up walking toward you. "In this world Hell's air is poisonous," He stated

He had no time to bring equipment He had to use magic as he pressed his hand against your chest it's not as accurate to humans as giving you a physical exam but he had no time.

"mh. It seems there's also something else, It was small before but now I can't ignore it... It seems like Hell's Poison but it's different."

Lucifer knew a little bit of what His mirror self was saying It was one of the many questions he asked.

"So the Devildom is killing them?"

"More like she's not used to it. And I can also sense They are over exerting themselves" Lucifer rambled and his mirror half speaks up his eyes staring at the artifact.

"They are using magic that isn't theirs..."

"Will they be okay?"

His face scrunched up, seeing the normally calm collected Lucifer look like this made you worry.

"usually when they're feeling like this we just give them our energy. But I'm afraid it might not be enough."

Not knowing what might happen to you, Lucifer's heart squeezes You are very important to him more than you know, and more than he's willing to admit. He failed to protect you before, He will not let you die again "I'll do it, I'll do anything"

Lucifer smiled relieved that his other self was just us protective of you as he was. "All right take your clothes off."

You coughed as you almost laughed your ass off You tried to stifle yourself as Lucifer went silent.

"excuse me?" In his tone of voice and the look on his face He looked as if someone was playing a prank on him but Lucifer as bold into the point as ever just explained.

"We have to fuck them to give them devil's energy, since you're in this world and since you do have magic you should have devil's energy-"

Lucifer just interrupted him "No shut up! I get it..." This was all too real to be some sick prank made by Satan and belphegor, Plus they would never go out of their way to harm me like this so this is real as much as he does not like this.

His eyes widen as he saw his mirror self immediately getting into bed He didn't strip his clothes yet but he tenses when his lips fall upon yours. You whimper but immediately leaned into it as if you knew this, As if you expected this.

Lucifer knows that it's still another side of him but still it feels so wrong to see another demon touching you.

Red eyes met shining ones Lucifer knows that look, it's holding back, it's hesitation. Lucifer has an inkling of why This one is holding back They are pride, As much as he doesn't like to share he knows that your safety is a top priority. And he knew just how to encourage him a little bit.

All devils cannot resist temptation, All devils cannot resist competition. So he pulls your limp body away from him pulling you into his arms His fangs graze against your shoulder his hand placed upon where he found Lucifer's pact mark on your body.

"mine." He hisses. And he watched as Lucifer's pupils began to shrink into slits. Hearing you whimper as he sunk his teeth into your shoulder finally made Lucifer act. He let out a low grow, getting into bed with you, pressing his body against your back. You felt a gloved hand possessively grip your thigh. His breath tickles your ear.

"How long have you been doing this? Getting dicked down behind my back? I thought you were just this innocent human turns out you are just a slut."

Lucifer chuckled at his mirror half's words. "You have no idea."

Lucifer clicked his tongue you felt his hand gently caressed the back of your head before grabbing and pulling you back He growls. "I think you should be punished for going behind our backs to be a whore."

You felt the hand from the demon in front of you slide beneath your pants, His hand cupping between your legs, applying pressure.

"I like the sound of that." Lucifer Licks your neck, trying to find the perfect spot to bite down while sleeping off his coat. The other Lucifer does the same with his.

"please! I need it! I want you both! Please Lucif-!" A hand smacks your thigh hard cutting off your sentence with a whimper.

"Sinners like you don't get to call beings like us by name You will use sir." He hisses before finally sinking his teeth into your neck.

'Sinner?' huh... Has a nice ring to it that term he'll be stealing that.

The two demons break away from you as Lucifer orders you to get on your hands and knees. As much as they want to take their time with you, you have no time.

So focused on the pleasure you're about to get and how your throat squeezes as you struggle to breathe. You didn't know who was behind or in front of you. All you heard was belts unbuckling and the shifting of the bed. Until you felt that unmistakable leather against your ass as someone groped it and forced it apart to get better access to his prize. You squealed, grinding your ass against whoever treated you like a toy to be played with.

While you felt someone's soft hand run into your hair and caress your cheek, he treated you gently as his thumb played with your bottom lip but encouraged you to open it. You kept your eyes closed until you heard a voice. "Look at me. Let me see those eyes when we both enter you." You had no choice but to obey. You didn't even want to know what would happen if you chose to be bratty now when two demons of Pride looked so horny and impatient. The moment you looked up ahead of his dick pressed against your lips; You didn't have time to process, only felt your walls squeeze down on a cock slamming inside of you. Lucifer had waited long enough for you to adjust. He needed your mouth to open right now.

"Open your mouth, Sweet thing."

You hesitated for 2 seconds before you felt a harshest slap on your ass. "He said open your fucking mouth!" Lucifer growled. Ending his sentence with a harsh thrust of his hips. Immediately you opened your mouth wide with your tongue out for the Lucifer in front of you, and he slowly slid his dick into your mouth

The two demons whisper praises at your ability to take both as they slowly begin to move well. The one in front, at least, was treating you more gently. As the Lucifer behind you was already fucking you so hard, you were bouncing forward and swallowing Lucifer deeper.

It was all too much, The huge cock down your throat and the other cock slamming hard and deep inside you. You felt yourself being overwhelmed with pleasure and pain your body began to shake as they practically used you like a fleshlight. One Lucifer was enough to make you cry, but two of them? Tears are streaming down your face. Your throat is tightening as you try so hard to keep your composure.

Seeing your pleasure being overrun to the point of tears, Lucifer seemed to have changed his gentler tone as he began to grab your hair and fuck your throat. But what surprised you is how the Lucifer behind your pace began to falter, drilling your poor hole recklessly. He wanted more, and he wanted you to fall apart until you're nothing. His other self was so lucky to see you cry; oh, how he adored when those pretty little tears fell down your face when you're so overwhelmed with pleasure you can't take it.

His hand wrapping between your legs to touch you.

They fucked you through your orgasm as you squeezed and milked them. Lucifer wiped your tears only to lick his fingers clean.

They weren't even close to being satisfied and you could do nothing about it but take it.

Take it as they use you how they pleased.

Take it as their claws dig into your skin marking you as theirs.

Take it as they bombard you with both praise and demands.

Take it as you feel come shoot down your throat and deep inside you.

Your limp when they finally pulled out of you, you felt arms around you. You're not sure from who. As you were already so exhausted you couldn't stay awake. Someone was holding you His gentle hand petting you to soothe your slumber as you bury your nose deep in his chest is familiar scent lulling you to sleep before being tucked into bed.

Lucifer watched You snuggle with his jacket. He couldn't help but smile, but that smile soon faltered, remembering what his mirror self had said to him.

This was your original world... Your home. He had so many questions, but Lucifer couldn't answer any of them.

As if on queue, He felt his presence behind him.

"I can't let them go. You understand that, right?"

"I understand. I'd feel the same way you do."

"if there is one of you that, there must be others... What do we do with them? What do we tell them?"

"if I tell my 'colleagues there'll be no certain, it will just lead to more trouble. We have a lot going on as is."

Lucifer's sighed pinched his nose's bridge because he was in the same boat...

"I don't think it's their fault," Lucifer spoke up

He just shook his head. No of course not, there was someone else...

"I think I think I know who might know something."

The other Lucifer didn't answer. Instead, he was slipping off the artifact while you slept peacefully.

Harnessing it's magic he conjured a portal back to his own world. Before throwing it for Lucifer to catch.

"Will you keep in touch?"

He looks back at his mirror self. He gives him a nod before stepping through. "How could I not after knowing what exists?"

[jthealien]

Unfashionable Aroace Lesbian Rates Buddy’s Outfits

I may not be qualified to do this (see reasons above) but I do like making lists.

Please note that I’m not trying to genuinely criticize any of the designs, this is all just for funsies! :3 Also my rating scale is very subjective and arbitrary.

Normal Outfit: 5.5/10

—If I'm being real it’s a little goofy,, maybe it’s the stripes

—It’s funny that this is one of his less revealing outfits, and it’s at a point where he hates Chase (having your boobs out as a metaphor for trust or something)

———

Toffee Break: 8.5/10

—I really like the gemstones and the headband, so shiny!!

—Idk I just think this one is nice

—Extra points for cat

—The chest window here was a gateway drug for him showing more skin in all the other outfits

———

We Need to Talk: 8/10

—Oh wow I like the sparkly outfit with gems/crystals who could’ve guessed

—The patterns!!

—And it’s blue!! I think he should wear other colors more often, they look good on him

———

Beach Boys: 6/10

—I mean the tattoo is pretty cool. Don’t have much else to say

—The bracelets and anklets are nice I like those

———

Dreams by Day: 9/10

—It makes me so sad that this is a one-off outfit. I love it so much.

—Like I said, he needs to wear more colors, green especially

—The earrings! Look at them!! He never misses on the jewelry tbh

—Also the scales are super neat

———

Sick Days: 9.5/10

—Guys this honestly might be my favorite outfit of his

—It ticks all the boxes of Things I Like (sparkly stuff, gemstones, feathers/birds, moons)

—I really love the gemstones below the eyes idk what is it about them

—The feather jacket with the big collar!!

—The sort of loose sheer top that fades into being opaque is also fun love that

—Something about this outfit makes him look so pretty. Is it the eye gems it seriously might be the gems (crow brain)

———

Dreams by Night: 7/10

—It’s cool, I like the sheer cape thingy

—He still has to dress up even when he’s dead and in some else’s subconscious <3 (commitment to the bit I respect it)

-(I’m not rating the tattered rag outfit in his own dream I think that’d be mean)

———

All that Glitters: 9/10

—The hairstyle really suits him, but it’s funny he changed it one (1) time and never again. (Honestly same, I never change up my hair I’m afraid of ruining it Forever)

—He kind of has the miles edgeworth cut going on, maybe that’s why I like it

—The waist cape is very pretty with the pattern (is it called a waist cape,, I don’t know fashion terms)

—Eye makeup!!!! Hell Yeah!!!!!!

—King of doing cool things one time and never again (please bring back the makeup)

———

Honor Among Thieves: 6.5/10

—eh

—Look I’m aware I’m not the target audience, I just personally think it was better with the hoodie on (that version gets an extra .5)

—The earring eats though

———

Requiem: 9/10

(Guess who just learned that there’s a 10 image per post limit on the app. I cba so we’re going imageless the last two </3)

—Devil symbolism let’s go!!!

—Love the top honestly, the web-like stuff around the cutouts is cool, and so are the thorns. (Bonus points for the thorn symbolism love that shit)

—The devil’s tail on the pants is a neat detail (pun not intended)

—The little horns! Cute!

—Might be the opposite of their intended effect but I think his fangs are really cute,, he’s so cat idk how else to explain it. I wish he had them all the time.

———

Still Waters: 9.5/10

-He’s so gorjus,,

-Listen. Ok. Something about this one makes him kind of look like a butch lesbian. Do we see the vision or am I insane.

-I really don’t have any other justification for why this one ranked so high, it’s the vibes

-Also return of the earrings!! Basically a cheat code to get me to like an outfit more

-Says something that one of my favorite outfits is the one where he’s showing the least skin (it says that I’m gay)

———

Final Ranking!!

1: Sick Days

2: Still Waters

3: Requiem

4: All that Glitters

5: Dreams by Day

6: Toffee Break

7: We Need to Talk

8: Dreams by Night

9: Honor Among Thieves

10: Beach Boys

11: Default Skin

[getyinyusedtoit]

that brief passage during the banyue arc where the book is like "the two became immersed in a serious discussion on stars and the night sky" is so important to me because how many times over the past centuries have they looked up at the stars separately and made individual wishes from the bottom of their hearts and now they're standing together beneath the stars, bonding over their shared knowledge like they've been doing this forever.