#I have seen bits and pieces but nothing in full I don't think. I am most familiar with the plot to hsm though but that is also debatable

[rotisseries]

today I feel like admitting that I've never actually seen a single dcom in full

[your-internet-bf]

It's been a while since you've seen a doctor, and you're nervous as you follow the nurse back to my office. What's there to be nervous about, this is just a little checkup, right? You notice the nurse's manicured burgundy nails as she knocks sharply on the door. She turns to you, smiling prettily, and says, "the doctor will see you now."

You push open the door and enter quite a large room. The nurse follows, closing the door behind you. In the center is the examination table, off to the right is a small crowd of young adults, appearing to be made up of men and women, and on the left is me, seated at my desk. "Welcome," I say, standing and extending one hand. My voice is deep, warm, and smooth, and you fumble for a moment, blushing a little, before you remember to shake my hand. Your hand is dwarfed in mine, my strong fingers encircling you, and a thought flashes unbidden through your mind - what would those fingers feel like inside you? - but, come on now, that's really not appropriate...

"I have a few students with me, as you can see. Is that alright?"

"Well, yes, of course!" Why shouldn't it be?

"Excellent. Now, I'm pioneering this new full-body examination method - it's really quite extraordinary, the maladies I can detect this way - but be warned, it is, shall we say, unorthodox. Is that alright?"

Just for a moment, you see something in my eyes, something behind the genial smile and gentle, reassuring tone. Just for a moment, you feel like some specimen, some piece of meat, pinned down under the lights with nowhere to go... but just for a moment. Surely, nothing bad can happen, and I'm a doctor, aren't I? You can trust me. So you swallow your fear, and you acquiesce.

"Excellent! Let's have a seat on the table, if you don't mind, and we'll make a start. Nurse V, if you would..."

As you sit on the table, the clinical, sterile seating a little cold against your skin, the pretty nurse steps behind the table, facing you, waiting for something. From your right, I approach, and you feel again just how much larger than you I am as my broad shoulders block out one of the ceiling lights. With all these people watching you, it takes all you have not to squeeze your legs together, just a little bit.

We begin with a quick examination of your face - "you have beautiful eyes, you know," I purr into one ear. I place one hand on the side of your neck and tilt your head; god, you've been reading too much, haven't you, the way you want these strong, expert fingers to close around your throat.

"Now, open your mouth for me, please." You oblige, and I cup your chin and slide my thumb into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue. Your eyebrows jump in surprise, and you look at me questioningly.

I smile again, still inside you. "Unorthodox, remember? Now, close your mouth and try to swallow." From behind, the nurse strokes your cheek with the back of one hand, and you feel a sudden ache between your legs. You close your lips around my thumb and swallow. It tastes... clean, mostly, as one might expect from a doctor, but you can taste the sweat underneath.

"Very good, one more time for me."

You swallow again, and you feel me slide my thumb over the surface of your tongue, pressing down, swirling in circles.

"And, one more time... yes, that's it, good job, very good job."

The praise for this degrading task is more than you can bear, and you squeeze your thighs together. Fuck, it's humiliating, everyone just saw you do that... All these eyes on you, the beautiful nurse behind you, this big, strong doctor with these big, strong hands and that big fucking bulge... but no, this is just a checkup, nothing is going to happen, right?

While you were thinking, I dried my hand off and had begun speaking.

"I'm - I'm sorry?"

"No worries. I was saying, can you remove your top, please? We need to examine your heart and your breathing."

You stare at me. "Remove my - "

"Yes, remove your top. The fewer barriers between me and you, the less interference with my examination." My face is quite serious, almost bored - this really must be routine. You look back at the nurse, and she smiles slightly and nods. So you undress, your nipples betraying you, standing at attention. You blush as the crowd of students looks at you intently. The nurse lays one warm hand on your shoulder, slender fingers gripping you reassuringly, and your eyes are drawn once more to those burgundy nails.

I step in close, and you feel my breath warm on your chest. "Now, observe the stiffness in the patient's nipples - this is to be expected, given the cool air, and it's certainly nothing to be ashamed of," I say, smiling. I press my stethoscope up over your heart, the metal cold on your skin, and your mind is betrayed by the pounding of your heart. My eyes flick up to meet yours, and I grin, predatorily, and once again you feel like a piece of meat beneath the lights.

I examine your breasts, starting with your left. Enclosed in my big, strong hands, I squeeze and push, prod and pull, ostensibly feeling for any abnormalities, but the way my fingers brush over your nipples, the intensity with which I sink them into your soft breasts, heaving now as your breath comes faster... My practiced tongue rasps over one nipple and a tiny moan escapes your lips as you try desperately to hide how much you're enjoying this; try desperately, and fail.

Abruptly, I pull back. "Excellent! All seems well here." I rest one hand on your other shoulder and turn to the students. "Note the pleasure response during this section of the examination, and I hope you were paying attention to the oral technique."

I turn back to you, my eyes dancing as they meet yours. "Fully undress, if you would. The inspection must continue."

Your hands tremble as you slide your clothes down off your waist, and the nurse aids you, her lovely hands stroking along your thighs and calves as she does.

"And spread for us, please."

Obediently, your thighs open, exposing your cunt, your needy, aching wetness, to all.

"Note the beauty of the patient's sex, here. The shape of the folds," I murmur, tracing one finger along your sensitive lips, "the balanced ratio of the clitoris to the vulva overall," sliding two fingers on either side of your clit, squeezing gently between them, "the appropriate pleasure response in - "

You lose what I say as I plunge two fingers inside you, powerful and dextrous, knuckles slipping past your tightness easily. It feels so fucking good to finally have something inside you, after all this aching and teasing, and god, so many people are watching, they're all watching your pussy spread and toyed with by this big, strong, handsome older man, and now the nurse's slender fingers are across your throat and her lips are on your forehead, and she tells you that you're doing so well for me, you've been so good...

My fingers press up inside you, finding your g spot, and with my thumb rubbing on your clit, I start melting you. Waves of pleasure course through your body, you gasp, moan, whimper, and with your eyes closed you can't tell whose lips are so soft on yours, but it feels so fucking good, and all those people are watching and it makes you want it more, your back arching, chest heaving, melting under the attention, and finally, mercifully, you cum, contracting around my fingers, squeezing your thighs together, trembling, shaking, gasping for air. You hear me say something, but you're so overwhelmed with pleasure that all you can make out from my speech is "very, very good".

The hand withdraws from your throat, and I gently, gently, extricate my fingers, and settle my hand atop one thigh, fingers slick with your desire.

The nurse whispers affirmation in your ear as I address the class. "Stimulation in this manner, of the two most sensitive sex stimuli, brings the most consistent and powerful orgasms to those possessing these organs." I stroke the inside of your thigh reassuringly, before turning to you.

"The final part of this examination is seeing how well you handle penetration. I'm going to need your unequivocal verbal consent before proceeding."

The nurse leans in and whispers into your ear, "might I suggest 'please, sir, will you fuck me?'" You'd blush harder if you could.

You swallow, nervously, and there's a twisting in your gut as you say it. "Please," you begin, voice cracking. "Please, sir, will you fuck me?"

"Yes, that is sufficient. I must say, though," I warn, unzipping my jeans, "that I am quite large." I slap my cock down on your tummy, and the sheer weight of it shocks you. You've seen size like this in porn, sure, but fuck, you've never touched something like this. When you tear your gaze away from my cock, I'm grinning down at you, predatory again. "You can back out at any time, you know." My voice is low, teasing, challenging. "Should we continue?"

You nod shakily, and spread your legs a little wider.

One hand on your raised knee, one hand guiding my cock, I push against you. For a moment you realize the exam had to be done in this order; if you weren't so fucking wet, there's no chance you'd be able to take me. But all thoughts are blasted out of your mind as I push harder and slide in.

It's so fucking thick that you can't help but groan. You've never felt so full, so strained inside, being pushed in every direction; you're not built for this, maybe there's just too much, your body is rejecting me - and then I push again, another few inches, and you slam your head back against the padded table, a long, drawn-out "fuuuuuck" wrenched from your lips. You feel my strong hands brace at your hips, and with a final thrust, slamming your cervix up into your guts, moving your entire body, the ridges of my cock sliding deeper and deeper, sliding painfully, pleasurably past your walls, I'm inside you.

The nurse rests her hands on you again, and purrs in your ear, "you're doing so well for him, I know it's hard, it's so hard, but you're doing such a good job, pretty girl..."

Glacially, I pull out, allowing you a moment to rest, before thrusting in again, hands still at your waist. You sob once, loudly, and then you sink into it as I pick up a rhythm, deep, deep strokes inside you. You hear me grunting, whispering something, and I grow more frantic, impaling you a little harder, and through the wall of pleasure you hear me rumble, "nurse V, begin the overstimulation procedure."

"Certainly, doctor." She leans over you, lips fiercely meeting yours, and one of those slender hands reaches down to abuse your clit. An image of those burgundy nails on your cunt flashes through your mind as I continue pounding you, forcing you to spread for me, adjust to me, even as the nurse plays your clit like an instrument, and fuck, she's a virtuoso.

You sing a song of moans and voiceless curses under our combined mastery, knowing your audience is entranced, filled with a blazing, lusty pride. The deep bass of my voice, resonant in your skull, is saying something, but you cannot hear me; you're moaning, groaning, pleading, "yes, yes, oh my god yes" over and over...

The song swells to a crescendo and with two sudden strikes, two powerful thrusts into you, it ends with a thick, hot, sticky white wave of my approval inside you. You feel it pulse deep, deep inside, filling you, load after load delivered straight past your bruised, abused cervix.

You come back to reality with my cum spilling from between your legs, trailing thickly down onto the exam table. I zip up my jeans while the nurse helps dry you off, from all the sweat and saliva. She dabs caringly at your mouth, and you notice that the cloth is dyed the same shade as her lipstick.

"Now," I address the class, "I hope you were paying attention." I rest one hand on your aching, trembling thigh. How many times did you cum with me inside you? How long were all these people watching you writhe beneath me, begging, losing yourself in the pleasure? You have no fucking clue. "This patient has bravely volunteered for each of you to examine her, here and now, while she's available to us."

Your jaw drops. When did you agree to that? You would never - but you were begging, "yes, yes, yes" earlier, weren't you, while I was talking. You agreed. Everyone heard you say it.

"One at a time, please. And," I say to you, grinning wolfishly, "don't worry. I'll be watching the entire time."

[sceletaflores]

it’s the easiest thing (just love me and eat me)

pair: logan howlett x mutant!fem!reader

wc: 6.1k

anon says: nat pls speak on sub!logan...people are hating on the sub!logan agenda and someone needs to show them that they're wrong and it can be done cuz if anyone can convince them it's you mommy!

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, crimson! again! she's back!, slight angst, swearing, violence, light gore, somewhat dark content, religious symbolism? (idk this one got weird babes), established relationship, lowkey a toxic relationship but you didn't hear that from me, sub!logan-ish, handjob, p in v, slow sex turned rough, unprotected sex, riding, creampie, pain kink, scent kink, blood play, blood...eating (drinking? idk), porn with a tiny bit of plot, no use of y/n.

author’s note: anon i'm so sorry this took me so long...i hope it was worth the wait! it started as a short smutty drabble that somehow turned into…this? idk it got out of hand so fast. i am a proud member of the sub!logan nation but that's mostly because i think that ALL men have the potential for sub vibes like doesn't matter who he is if i want to fuck him he's probably a little subby. special shout out to my baby boo and fellow sub!logan truther @avocado-writing <3 tysm for sharing anon! xoxo mwah.

dividers by icon @saradika-graphics!

psst! want more logan and crimson? here's the to the bone au masterlist!

it’s not often that logan needs this, but you’re always more than happy to give it to him when he does…

The team had a big scare earlier in the day.

It was supposed to be an easy mission, bust a mutant trafficking ring in Albany. You do assignments like these every week, and as sick as it sounds, it’s almost routine.

But this one was different. It was an ambush, and you were compromised.

Only humans, but they were smart. Waited until the team split up to attack. They had tech, things you'd never seen before.

Big guns loaded with tiny darts full of an ominous red liquid.

It was your fault really. You didn't clear your surroundings, so focused on getting to the kids that you let yourself get sloppy.

The tiny sting in your back barely registered, you don't think you would have even noticed if it didn't kick in so fast.

You'd never felt anything like it before in your life.

It didn't hurt. The rush of pain you braced yourself for never coming.

The sensation was strange—like your body was shutting down, piece by piece. You fell to your knees, shaky legs folding under you in less than a second.

You felt empty, wrong. An eerie silence trickling in to fill your insides.

Panic bubbled beneath your skin, but you were too numb to feel it. Trapped in the mounting weight of your limbs, the slow blink of your eyes, the shortness of breath despite hardly moving.

Your hand slipped across the gritty cement, reaching for support that wasn't there.

That was when you saw it, the shock of it was enough for your heart to drop. Your skin, blanched and sallow, the veins in your arms black and spreading like spilled ink.

You tried to fight it, tried to will your body to move, to react, to do something. You had to get up. You had to. The kids.

As hard as you willed yourself, there was nothing. It was like your body wasn't your own, like it had become something completely foreign.

You could barely make out the tiny voices calling for you. Pleading, frantic yelps of your name fading into a dull hum as everything went hazy. The edges of your vision blurring into a narrow tunnel.

He stepped in front of you, the same one who shot you. A cynical grin on his face and collar in his hand. You'd seen collars like it before, used on mutants to muzzle their abilities, to weaken them.

You tried, fingers barely twitching by your. Nothing. Just another shock of that cold, unfamiliar feeling shooting through your body.

“Got a big one, boss.” The man boasted into a comm strapped to his wrist, his voice sharp and grating. He took a single step towards you, smug grin still stretched across his face. “Yeah, real nice lookin' one too. She'll sell for—“

A muddy roar pulsed through the molasses filled haze of your ears, six claws flying through the air to embed themselves on either side of the man's skull with a wet, stomach-churning sound.

The collar dropped from his slackened grip with a dull bang, shattering into different pieces that slid across the floor haphazardly. A mess of wires and metal.

There were rushed footsteps before he dropped to his knees in front of you, his torso bathed in a dull glow from the overhead lights yellow shine.

There was blood splattered across the side of his face, slicking the front of his suit enough to reflect light off the leather.

Logan, perched in front of you like an angel.

Not one with a golden halo and a harp, but a indescribable mess of eyes and wings looming over you calling 'be not afraid'.

You'd never seen him so shaken before. All wide-eyed and pale as he checked you over for any major injuries. His breath coming in short bursts, hands frantic and shaky as they skated along your body for the viscosity of blood or uneven shift of a break.

He refused to let you even try and walk on your own, swept you off the floor and cradled your trembling body to his chest as he called for help. The beat of his heart was fast beneath your cheek, strong enough that you could feel it even through the thick leather of his suit.

You buried your face deeper in the crook of his neck, the pit in your stomach barely warmed by the feel of him. His scent is strongest there, so much so that in a room full of spilled blood, you could only smell him.

He was careless stepping over clawed up bodies littering the floor like a messy maze of twitching limbs and entrails. You didn't even know there was more than one guard in the room.

The evidence of his love for you, of his devotion, oozing red on the concrete.

Logan didn't even give the carnage a sideways glance as he raced you outside, back to the jet.

Trusting Scott and Jean to take over getting the kids out. The unsteady murmurs he pressed to the top of your head the last thing you heard before there was nothing.

You woke up six hours later.

The sterile hum of medical equipment was the first thing you heard. The sharp scent of antiseptic filled your nostrils, and the faint pressure of a needle in your arm confirmed that you were hooked up to an IV. 

Your muscles felt heavy, like someone had filled them with lead. But you were alive.

You could feel your body working overtime, fixing itself. The sickening shift of your insides falling back into place. 

It took a few more moments for you to realize you weren’t alone.

A low, familiar rumble caught your attention. You turned your head to see Logan slumped in a chair by the bedside, his face buried in his hands, elbows resting on his knees. His hair was mussed, his usually sharp features softened by exhaustion. 

He looked different, smaller, as though the weight of what happened was pressing down on him, making him fold in on himself.

You’d seen him bloody, beaten, on the verge of death, but you’d never seen him like this–completely and utterly human.

Your throat was too dry to speak, but a small sound escaped you, and Logan's head snapped up. His eyes met yours, and in a heartbeat, he was at your side, his large hands hovering over you, unsure where to touch, like he was afraid you’d shatter under his fingers.

“You’re okay,” he whispered, more to himself than to you. His voice was hoarse, cracked with a mixture of relief and something else, something deeper. His eyes darted over your face, your arms, as if memorizing every detail just to make sure you were real.

“I'm sorry,” you managed, your voice barely more than a rasp.

Logan's eyebrows furrowed, the lines in his forehead deepening. "What the hell are you apologizing for?" His voice was gruff, but there was a tenderness beneath it. A gentleness he only reserved for you.

Your lips cracked into a weak smile. "It was my fault. I messed up."

A growl rumbled low in his chest, and you could feel the anger simmering just beneath his skin, not at you but at the situation, at whoever had dared to hurt you.

“Don’t,” he said, voice like gravel. “Don't start, none of this is on you.” His voice softened slightly as he leaned closer, the warmth of his presence enveloping you. “What matters is you’re here.”

The reassurance wrapped around you like a warm blanket, grounding you.

Logan’s thumb traced the line of your jaw, his touch sending a spark of warmth through your veins. “When I saw you on the floor like that…I thought—” He shook his head, jaw clenched as he forced himself to meet your gaze again. “I thought I lost you.”

Your fingers twitched slightly, managing to catch his wrist, squeezing it with what little strength you had. “I’m right here,” you said softly, voice clearer than before. “I’m okay.”

Logan’s gaze softened again as he looked down at your hand, his rough exterior cracking just a little more. He gently pried your fingers from his wrist and pressed your hand to his chest, right over his heart. “You scared the hell outta me, you know that?”

You tried to laugh, but it came out as more of a breathless huff. “Didn’t mean to.”

He shook his head, but there was a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You never do.”

You were fine an hour later. 

The color of your skin had returned, glossy and like new. The hollow emptiness inside of you long gone. Your abilities passed every test Charles threw your way with flying colors.

Fully recovered and finally excused from the med-bay after Hank and Jean checked you over one last time, you were given your strict marching orders in the form of extra fluids and bed rest, no matter how much you argued that you were fine.

Your health was the last thing on your mind, just a distant phantom ache each time your eyes would find Logan.

He was still shaken up, even after all the reassurance from Charles and Hank. He kept close the rest of the day, hovering, his presence more protective than usual, but he didn’t talk much.

You could see it in the way he moved, slower, less sure, like he was carrying around something too heavy to shake off. It lingered in the tight set of his jaw, the way his hands flexed as though still looking for something to fight, to protect you from.

It wasn’t hard to guess what it was. 

You hated seeing him like this, burdened by a guilt he didn’t deserve. 

It gnawed at you, that heaviness. The way he started to shut down, to close himself off in the face of fear. It was the only way he knew how to cope.

After seeing him like that, bed rest was the last thing on your mind.

You knew Logan. Knew what he needed when his thoughts got tangled up like this, dragging him under. He wasn't the type to sit and talk through it, not easily anyway. 

And even though you know he’d never ask for it himself, you knew what he needed—to be reminded, physically, that you were still here, still his.

Later that night, when the mansion had quieted and the others were tucked away in their rooms, you found him exactly where you thought you’d find him—in the room you shared, sitting on the edge of the bed. The yellow light from the bedside lamp cast soft shadows across his face, the tension in his jaw still there.

A frown tugged the corners of your mouth as you moved towards him, catching his attention with the rustle of the sheets as you sat next to him.

“Logan,” you say softly, breaking the stillness. He doesn't respond, only the slightest twitch in his shoulders indicating he even heard you. “Hey,” you try again, your voice a little firmer this time.

He turns his head just enough for you to catch the edge of his profile, the crease between his brows, weariness etched into his features.

But he still doesn't speak.

You shift, moving closer until your fingers brush his arm, the heat of his skin radiating through the fabric of his shirt. “Look at me,” you whisper, and finally, his gaze lifts to meet yours, guarded and pained. “I’m fine. I’m right here.”

Logan shakes his head, bringing a hand up to run it through his already messy hair. “You could’ve died,” he bites out, tone rough and low. “We should've never fuckin' split up. I should’ve been there faster, sooner. I should’ve–”

“Logan.” Your voice cut through his, sharper than you meant it to. You catch his hand in yours, thumb brushing against the pulse point of his wrist. “You saved me, I’m not going anywhere. I need you to hear that.”

He meets your gaze then, eyes dark with something vulnerable, something raw. He nods weakly, like he only half-believes it. You can still see the hesitation swirling through his eyes, the reluctance in the stiffness of his muscles against yours.

He needs something more than words, something to bring him back to you.

With that, you move to straddle his lap, your knees pressing into the mattress on either side of his thighs. His body stiffens under yours, his breath hitching slightly as his hands fall to your waist almost instinctively.

“Hold on,” Logan starts, tone hesitant and hands light as they hover over your hips like he’s still scared to touch you. “You heard what Hank said–”

“I’m fine,” you repeat, finality lacing your tone and leaving no room for argument. You reach down, taking his hand in yours and bringing it up to press flat directly over your heart. The very same way he did your first night together. "Can you feel me?”

The question hangs between you, soft but weighted with purpose.

Logan’s breath catches in his throat, fingers splaying wider across your chest. The heat of his palm sinks through to your skin, lighting a fire in you. 

The steady beat of your heart under his touch is an undeniable reminder–alive, strong, with him. You can feel him relax, just a touch.

The tension in his muscles breaking down beneath you piece by piece as the rhythm grounds him, helps to pull him out of his spiral.

“Yeah,” he mumbles, barely audible. His eyes drop to where his hand rests, his thumb absently grazing the space just above your sternum. “I feel you.”

“Then trust it,” you murmur. “Trust me.”

A deep, slow breath escapes him, and something in his eyes softens just enough. You lean closer, your fingers trailing up his arms, over his shoulders, until they thread into the hair at the nape of his neck. 

You smile softly, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. He sighs deeply, leaning into your touch like a dog starved of attention from its master. His grip on your waist finally tightens, fingers pressing into your skin just enough to feel that edge of need—the need to let go.

“You’ve been taking care of me all day,” you murmur, scratching your nails along his scalp softly. “Now let me take care of you.”

You feel him shudder, a weak groan escaping from his slack lips. His hazy eyes search your face, pupils blown out and seeping into the warm hazel color like an oil spill over a lake.

You tilt your head, lips grazing the stubble on his jawline, moving slowly, deliberately, until you can capture his mouth in a kiss.

It’s soft at first, gentle, but you feel him melt into it, the sharp edge of his restraint crumbling as he kisses you back with a kind of hunger that fuels you.

Logan’s hands slide up your back, fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt as you take control, deepening the kiss, coaxing him further into the moment.

His mouth is warm and wet and urgent against yours, the scrape of his teeth along your bottom lip sends a thrill down your spine. 

His lips move over yours with a reverence that makes your chest tighten, as if each slick glide of your lips together is an apology, a promise, and a plea all rolled into one.

But you don’t want his apologies. You want his surrender.

His breath stutters in his chest when your fingers twist in his hair, tugging just enough to remind him who’s in charge tonight.

When your hand finds his chest, pushing him down gently, he goes without protest. His eyes never leave yours as he settles against the pillows, following your every movement as you crawl closer.

Climbing over him to perch on top of his thighs, you waste no time in reaching for the hem of his shirt, gently tugging on it in a silent question. Logan’s breath comes in shallow puffs as he nods, fingers twitching on your hips. 

You can feel the way his chest rises and falls under the tips of your fingers, the sharp intake of air when your hands ghost across the skin of his lower stomach as you lift his shirt up and over his head.

You toss it over your shoulder carelessly, it lands with a muted thump somewhere behind you, leaving his chest bare. His muscles taut and rippling as he forces himself to stay still, the dim light plays across his skin, highlighting the contours along his torso.

You take a moment to just admire him, trailing your fingers along the familiar planes of his skin. Your touch is feather light, tracing over the spots that should be littered in scars. 

The place in his shoulder where he got shot two weeks back, or where the loose shrapnel that embedded itself in his side on the last mission should be, or the skin where his shoulder meets his neck after you dug your teeth into it hard enough to bleed a few nights ago.

The way his body responds to you makes your pulse quicken—the way he finally relaxes completely under your touch, melting into the mattress. 

You continue your path down, fingers slipping through the ridges of his abs, scratching your nails through the dark hair that disappears into the waistband of his bottoms teasingly. The muscles of his stomach jump under your touch, the power of his need thrumming beneath your touch.

You drag your hand over the hard length of him, his cock thick and hot as it twitches beneath your fingers. There’s a sharp hiss bleeding through grit teeth as his hips twitch up off the mattress ever so slightly.

You lean forward, hiding a small smirk in the crook of his neck. “Logan,” you whisper, voice dripping with intent, “I want you to beg for it.”

A deep, guttural growl rumbles through his chest. It shakes your body like thunder, finding a home between your thighs. Logan’s head falls back against the pillows, exposing the tan column of his throat to your hungry gaze.

It’s almost immediate, your reaction, your bodies reaction. The pulse of your blood starts to simmer with that telltale heat, slowly bubbling beneath your skin in anticipation.

Your gaze traces along where the vein of his jugular presses against his skin enticingly, barely suppressing a full body shiver at the sight.

You slip your index and middle finger beneath his waistband, brushing against his hard cock with barely any pressure. His hips buck up again, seeking more friction, but you pull back slightly, making him chase it.

“I said beg, Logan,” you murmur, your voice low, teasing, a sharp edge to it now. Your free hand comes up, gripping his jaw tightly, forcing him to look at you.

His eyes, dark and blown wide with lust, meet yours, and you can see the war raging inside him—the urge to dominate, to take control—but then he’s giving in to you, surrendering so beautifully.

“Goddamn,” he rasps quietly, his voice rough, broken. It’s barely a word, more of a growl torn from his throat. He bites it out, quiet and foreign sounding coming from his tongue. “Please, I need—”

“Good boy,” you purr, and finally, drag the soaked fabric of his bottoms down. His cock springs free, slapping against his stomach lewdly.

You moan softly, deftly wrapping your fist around him loosely. Logan groans, you swear you can hear his teeth grind together at the first feeling of your touch where he wants it most.

He’s scalding to the touch, velvety skin throbbing in time with his heartbeat. Rock-hard and flushed an angry red, darkening even more the closer you get to the tip.

You keep the pace of your strokes tortuously slow, letting him feel every movement, teasing him. It’s addictive, watching the way he starts to unravel beneath you at the slightest touch.

His legs kick out against the mattress minutely, hands falling from your hips to grip the sheets as hard as he can in a failing attempt to calm himself.

You lean down, slick lips brushing against his as you speak, your voice soft but commanding. “You’re going to let me do whatever I want to you tonight, aren't you?”

Logan nods, his breath coming in quick pants, his sweaty chest rising and falling rapidly. “Yes,” he chokes out, eyes brimming with need. “Fuck, do whatever you want, baby. I’m yours.”

The usual dominance he carries like a second skin has been peeled away, leaving him vulnerable, laid out beneath you, at your mercy.

Your hand speeds up, grip tightening as you twist your wrist over his leaking tip. Your knuckles shine with pre-come, slick from the gratuitous amount of wetness steadily drooling out.

“You’re being so good for me, Logan,” you whisper, your voice soft and laced with praise. “So good, letting me take care of you like this.”

His response is a loud moan, his hips arching up off the bed, but you’re quick to press them down with your free arm, your thighs tightening around him.

“Not yet,” you warn, strength on display as you stop his movements. “You’ll come when I say.”

A strangled sound escapes him, somewhere between a growl and a whimper, and it sends a thrill through you. He’s right there, teetering on the edge, but he’s holding on—for you.

“Poor thing,” you mumble, idly pressing your thumb into his slit, gathering the precome there to spread it along the flushed crown. “So hard, so needy for me.”

“Jesus, fuck,” Logan whines, his head tipping back against the pillows a second times, eyes squeezing shut tighten enough to wrinkle the skin around them.

You smile, your nails digging into his chest as you shift, positioning yourself above him. The heat between your legs is unbearable now, slick all along your inner thighs as it pools from your aching cunt, drenching the soft cotton of your panties.

So desperate to be stretched around Logan’s cock, to be filled the only way he can. You roll your hips forward, the hard jut of his cock sliding through the sticky mess of your panties.

“Shit, baby,” he groans, loud and hoarse. “Fuck, give it to me, I’m ready–”

You press your finger to his lips, silencing him as you hover over him. “Not yet,” you whisper, a wicked grin on your face as you slide your panties to the side and take him in your hand, letting the tip brush against your soaked entrance, still not giving him what he craves.

Your own patience is starting to run thin, but the sound of his begging is too good.

“Tell me how bad you want it,” you say, your voice sharp and commanding as you rub the tip of him along your cunt, teasing. “Tell me what you need.”

He’s trembling beneath you, a soft whimper leaving his lips as you sink down slightly, barely letting him inside. "Please, darlin'," he groans, voice rough with need. "I need to feel you—need you so fuckin’ bad."

You finally give in, sinking down onto him in one slow, deliberate motion.

His body jerks beneath you, a choked growl spilling from his lips as you take him in, inch by inch. You don’t stop until he’s buried deep inside you, your walls clenching around him as you settle into his lap.

The feeling is overwhelming, the stretch, the heat, the way he fills you completely.

You both groan at the same time, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you roll your hips, savoring the way he pulses inside you, how his entire body reacts to every little movement.

“God, you’re so big,” you whisper, your voice heavy with lust as you look down at where your bodies meet. “You gonna be a good boy and let me ride you?”

“Fuck,” he grits, voice like gravel crunching underfoot.

His hands slide up your back, desperate and needy as they cradle the back of your head softly. “I’d kill them all,” he pants, lips messily searching for your own, desperate for more frantic kisses. “Fuckin’ all of them, all for you.”

You moan loud and unabashed, eyes screwing shut as your nails rake down his chest hard enough to break the skin. The smell of his blood breaks through the air, heady and sharp. He throws his head back, a broken gasp dragged out of him as his hips speed up.

You think back to the room in the warehouse, the floor slick with stray remains and viscera. Think back to him lifting you to his chest, of the blood spattered across his suit and face slipping against your own clammy skin.

Flashes of Logan running to you like a loyal livestock dog, covered in the blood of any wolf that dares attack his precious sheep. Staining the white of your wool red with the righteous wrath of his sacrifice. 

You roll your hips faster, bouncing with enough force to have you crying out. The tight suction of your walls pulling him as deep as he can get at this angle.

The coarse hair along his stomach drags against your throbbing clit, making white hot sparks of pleasure zing up your spine to light up each vertebrae. 

Logan presses his forehead to your chest, hot breath puffing out over your sweaty neck. You tilt your head to the side almost subconsciously, bearing more of yourself to him.

“Can’t hold back much longer,” he admits weakly, blunt nails digging into your skin sharp enough to sting. “Feels so good, so fuckin' good."

He trails off, face pinched with ecstasy as he gazes up at you. You smile, rolling your hips slowly, tiny figure eights that let you feel every inch of him pressing against your walls.

“You're not supposed to hold back," you whisper, your voice thick with need as you lean down, kissing along his jawline. "I want you to let go, Logan."

His eyes snap open, the hazel gone wild and desperate, and it’s like you can see the exact moment he breaks. The tiniest shred of self control finally crumbling under the weight of his instincts. With a low, feral growl, he surges up.

You’re on your back quicker than you can blink, stomach surging with it. You hardly have any time to react, Logan punching all the air out of your lungs as he sets a brutal pace.

The sudden intensity has you gasping, your body jolting as he takes over, fucking you like his life depends on it. 

Each thrust is hard and deep, hitting the spot inside of you, over and over again until you’re a trembling mess above him, moaning his name, your nails digging into his chest.

Logan’s grip on you is ironclad, pulling you back onto him harder, faster, his breaths coming out in ragged pants as he loses himself completely in the heat of your body.

"That's it," you pant, feeling the way your body tightens around him, the tension building deep inside you. "Fuck, Logan, just like that—"

He growls again, the sound vibrating through his chest as he slams into you harder, his pace relentless. You can feel the sweat slick between your bodies, hear the wet, filthy sounds of your bodies coming together as his control snaps completely.

“Mine,” he growls between thrusts, voice low and rough as he pounds into you, his eyes locked on yours, full of possessive need. "All fuckin’ mine."

Your body responds to his words, tightening around him as your orgasm builds, every nerve in your body on fire. "Yes," you gasp, your voice barely more than a broken moan as he hits that perfect spot again and again. "Yours—only yours."

Slowly, deliberately, you bring your hand to your mouth, biting down on the pad of your thumb hard enough to draw a thin line of blood.

The scent of iron fills the space between you, mixing with the musk of sex and sweat. Logan’s nostrils flare as he takes in the scent, his pupils dilating further, and you feel his cock twitch inside of you.

You raise your thumb to his mouth, sliding it along his bottom lip to leave behind a thin trail of red. “Suck,” you whisper softly, pressing your thumb into his mouth ever so slightly. 

And he does, without hesitation. 

Logan’s lips part, and he pulls your thumb into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the taste of your blood. The look in his eyes as he does sends a wave of heat crashing through you.

The pure devotion of the act thickening the air around you to coil the spring of pleasure winding in your lower stomach tighter.

You groan, your own restraint folding like a house of cards as you drag your nose down the column of his throat, stopping right at the base. You press a quick kiss over the rapid fluttering of his pulse before you bite down, hard.

Logan keens around your thumb, teeth digging into your skin roughly as his blood floods your mouth. 

You get lost in it, the familiar taste of him seeping onto your tongue as his cock jerks and pulses in your clenching cunt. Getting lost in the way you can feel the rhythm of his heart against your lips, each strong beat sending more blood pumping out to leak along your taste buds.

You press your chest to his, not leaving an inch of space between you. It’s still not enough, it will never be enough.

You need more, so much more.

You want to encompass him completely, to be encompassed by him.

You want to dig your hands into his skin–to peel back each layer of flesh and fat and muscle, snap each of his ribs back so you can bury yourself in the cavity of his chest before you bend them back into place. Burrowing yourself deep enough inside him to watch him heal all around you, to watch his skin stitch itself back together.

It’s a sick feeling, the need to take and take until he has no more left to give. Sick and all consuming, lighting you up like the raging flames of a forest fire that destroys everything in its path. 

When you finally pull your hand away from his mouth, he lets out a breathless moan, and you lean down to press your lips against his in a bruising kiss.

The coppery tang of your blood lingers between you, mixing with Logan’s as your teeth clash together violently, as you devour him, pouring every ounce of your control into the kiss.

You press your palm to his chest, powers surging to life over his heart. You don't need to open your eyes to see what you leave behind, the red and blue pulse of his blood lighting up beneath his skin like the neon sign hanging outside his favorite bar.

Logan moans into your mouth, tongue dragging along the point of your canines. "Don't stop," he pleads, “Please, baby, don’t fuckin’ stop.”

You can feel the energy coursing between you, a tangible thing that's threading itself between your fingers. It’s intoxicating, a connection deeper than flesh, a binding of souls fueled by blood and lust. You lean into the heat radiating from him, urging your energy to flow freely, wrapping it around his heart like a warm embrace.

“Logan,” you whisper breathily, breaking the kiss just enough to look into his wild, pleading eyes. “You feel that? You and me, we’re connected.”

“I feel it, honey,” he groans, bucking his hips, forcing you to take him deeper. “You’re everywhere. It’s all I can think about all the goddamn time, drives me fuckin’ crazy.” His words tumble from his lips, raw and unfiltered, sending another thrill of desire through you.

You whine, head tipping back to the ceiling. Drunk of the feeling of him, of his cock, of his blood on your teeth.

You've come to think that being in bed with Logan is like being in church.

There's a holiness to the way he holds you—like you’re the only thing worth believing in.

The familiar weight of his body pressing you into the mattress is the alter. The heat of him like laying in the burning flame of a candle. The strong planes of his muscles each a different scripture that you take in by touch alone, skating your hands over his skin with something close to worship.

Each bead of sweat on his skin feels sacred, a testament to the intensity between you, as though every part of him has been crafted for this moment of devotion.

The hard length of his cock carves a place for itself inside you, each heavy smack of his hips punching another desperate sound out of your slack lips. 

His breath, deep and ragged, is a chant that pulls you into reverence. It puffs against the wild beat of your pulse, his lips brushing over the fever hot plane of your skin. 

The sound of your name falling from his mouth sounds like a prayer answered.

You can’t help but close your eyes, not in exhaustion, but in a kind of spiritual surrender, like by shutting out the world, you can truly grasp the divinity of it. His blood, mixing with yours on your tongue feels like a sacrament—an unholy communion.

The air between you crackles with heat, your bodies moving together in perfect sync, each thrust driving you closer to the edge. Logan’s head tilts back, his mouth open in a silent scream as he claws at your hips, pulling you down harder, deeper.

“I’m close,” he groans, his voice strained, desperate. “Please—fuck—I need to—”

You reach up quickly, grabbing his jaw and forcing him to look at you. “Look at me when you fuck me,” you demand, your voice sharp, dripping with authority. “I want you to watch me when you come.”

That’s all it takes.

 Logan’s entire body goes taut, a strangled roar tearing from his throat as he buries himself inside you one last time, the force of his release crashing through him. The hot spray of his come floods your insides, drenching your walls in thick spurts of white. 

His hands grip you so tightly you’re sure there’ll be bruises blooming later, but you don’t care. You wish they wouldn’t fade. You want them. You want to wear his mark, to feel the evidence of this moment lingering on your skin long after it’s over.

His hips don’t stop even as he comes, a sharp cry ripping its way from his throat as he keeps fucking you, pumping you full of him like he can’t stop. 

When you feel him start to lose control like that, feel the frantic twitch of his cock inside you, you finally let go, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. The force of it rips a scream from your throat as you clench around him, your body spasming with the intensity of it.

Your abused cunt gushes around his cock to seep into the mattress, soaking both the sheets and his lower body all at once as you let out a weak mutter of his name.

For a moment, the only sound in the room is the ragged, uneven breathing between you as you both come down from the high. Logan collapses on the bed, arms circling your waist to drag you along with him. His cock stays inside of you, plugging you full of his come.

Your body trembles with the aftershocks of your orgasm, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. 

Logan is warm and grounding under you, soft and lax. You can feel his heartbeat, strong and steady beneath your cheek, and you press a soft kiss to the skin there, a silent reminder.

His hand comes up to thread through your hair, his touch gentle now, his body relaxed in a way that it wasn’t before.

“I love you,” he whispers against the crown of your head, his voice soft, vulnerable in a way that makes your heartache.

You smile, soft and secretive in the valley of his pecs, “I love you too.”

It’s a quiet admission, the first time you’ve ever said that to each other with words. The first time you both felt the need to, because it’s nothing you didn’t already know.

Your blood dripping from his teeth lays the same claim over you as his come dripping down your thighs.

It means you're his, and he’s yours.

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

[unhinged-as-hell]

Hello!

Something about @/demigod-jack-hearth

Something I wanna say about this post (with my reblog on it). I wanna give a side of a story. Mine to be exact.

They were one of the first people I talked to outside of rp. They were a close friend. But that fades.

I DONT WANT THEM TAGGED IN THIS I DONT WANT THEM TO KNOW ABOUT THIS. I HAVE THEM BLOCKED. IF THEY LEARN ABOUT THIS, IT IS BECAUSE SOMEONE SEND THIS TO THEM.

Tw: sa, strong language, I'm a little bitch, please please please read at your own risk

When start this by saying Jack worries me. I've seen so many post, rp or otherwise, where they bring up extremely triggering comments...just randomly. This has happened to me too. I don't get bothered by them I've been lucky enough to not deal with most and be comfortable with what I have dealt with. I think he needs professional help. Or to talk to someone that is an adult. This is difficult for some people. But there are free therapy websites out there. I have seen them. I have participated in them. The people on the other line aren't professionals but they are people willing to listen. And adults.

It started with when I saw an rp they had with camp Sky. I can't give screenshots of that but I do have some of confronting them.

Now all good right? Yeah! I thought so too. Untill an anon confronts em.

Posts here and here

Oh...kay? What's wrong about this?

Yeah...

Actively calling out anon

Now mind me I thought they had buried this au deep deep into the ground. Wasn't until I opened Circe's blog that I realised they didn't. I was pissed. I had every reason to be. We have so few stories of male victims as it is and this 'au' was blatantly disrespectful to victims of all genders. I felt really fucking disrespected that's for sure.

Unfortunately I don't confront them. But I do vent.

Now I feel bad for this. Maybe this was dirty laundry I shouldn't have aired out. But I was just so angry I couldn't think properly. I didn't mention Jack in this post, but friends figured it out. I won't say who these friends are for obvious reasons. Also, this is a bit wrong. They thought Odysseus cheated with only Circe, and Calyspo was SA. I got that wrong, and I admit it. I only remembered that when I scrolled up our dm to take a screenshot of it.

Now I wanted to leave that convo because I wasn't in the mood for arguing, and I've learned to give people what they want, which makes em and yourself stop. My fault again.

Things happen. It leads to the apology. Now, obviously, I can't tell if an apology is genuine through a screen, and I am most certainly a pessimist. So, like, I don't think it is. Also, I'm almost certain that most was written by whoever the friend was who 'helped' em.

Sure, people can change, but not enough times do they actually. Just look on the Internet. And real life. A person like Jack, well, they've talked to me enough to know it is most likely not the case. If they were so angry at a piece of good criticism, then I don't have much hope.

Am I an angry person ? Yes. Do I think I have the right to be? Yes. Am I also a logical person? I believe so. The people I've asked think so, too. I don't dislike something for no reason. But I do dislike things. What I do like is reasons for my dislikes. With me so far?

Good. Moving on.

After the apology and after I finally got my thoughts in order, I sent them a message because they tagged me. A lot.

This is what I sent. It's emotional, but in my opinion, it also makes sense. I was mad they lied to me. I was mad they twisted the story so. Fucking. Much. Odysseus isn't a rapist and Circe isn't an innocent flower. That is not what an AU is. What was their reaction to this? Nothing. To me at least.

A mutual friend told me they sent the last half of my messages and told them that they were angry I. Didn't. Thank. Them. For. The. Apology. Take that for what you will.

Now they made another post replying to the first anon who criticized them. I've read it. And when I tell you it is so fulled with self-pity-

I haven't collected my thoughts properly about this so this is bad and more emotion than the above. but this is the basic things behind it.

1) never directly addressing what he did and constantly tell em to read the apology. Don't wanna repeat yourself. How much time is it gonna take out of your day exactly?

2) not acknowledging the fact the male sa victim. At all. They don't say anything about it. No 'my condolences'. No 'I'm so sorry that happened to you' . Not acknowledging how terrible of a thing that is. At all.

3)says they aren't gonna defend themself... and defend themselves

4) have yet to tell us who these people are. Which is just bad cuz there are people out there who are okay with this. If they were IRL friends just say that.

5) it felt just fucking dull

Maybe this isn't right. Maybe you disagree with these points. But do not tell me you disagree with the rest.

I wanna end this by saying I am victim of SA. Did I tell him this? No. Maybe I should've. I don't feel comfortable sharing it. Because remembring fucking hurts. Remembering means crying and opening the lights and either sitting or laying down on my back because I can still. Fucking. Feel. It. And I was nine.

I don't want your pity on this. I don't want you to say sorry. The people you should be saying sorry to are the people who are not believed when this happens. Feel sorry for the people who cannot report this stuff because they don't trust the people who are supposed to protect them. Feel sorry for the people who think it was their fault and they actually wanted it when they didn't. 63% of rape are not reported in females. Only 12% of child rapes are reported.

I can't find a clear fucking statistics on males.

Do you know how difficult it is for males to have any representation at all? How many male victims do you see online? Even Odysseus being regonized as one is recent. Fucking. Stop. This is more than a made up story. It means the world to some people. So this actually happen. It might mean everything. This was taken away from them from so many retellings. And a stupid fucking au.

If you want to talk about SA, wanna make a character out of it, learn about it first.

So I'm not going to forgive and I am definitely not going to forget.

Post by my friend Eden

I am tagging Jack's taglist

@zariahthewitch @thegroovydaughterofhestia @if-chaos-was-a-boy @the-gods-strange-children @silena-daughterofaphrodite @fabulousdaughterofhecate @weakest-son-of-sun @chaos-pers0nified @neoptolemus-achilles-son @bast-the-best26 @goddess-of-bubblegum @hispanic-child-of-hermes @gaygirldoodles @luck-is-crucial @reyna4ever @vicious-daughter-of-zeus @feral-hermes-child @oopsies-i-did-a-thing @unfortunate-daughter-of-hestia @that-girl-cupid @ariathemortal @love-lightning-forethought @emdabitchass @kaiaalwayswins @champion-of-revenge @zoe-aura-of-d3ath @itsyourboyezra @lunar-eklipso-r @pink-koi-lovejoy @that-daughter-of-athena @sleepy-as-a-song @smileyalater @gellyhelio @daughter-ofthe-moontitan @demeters-daughter-is-done @the-smart-and-the-dumb-one @trinket-snatcher @creature-under-ur-bed @burnt-out-bitxhes @cloak-of-ares @heraaaaaaaa @unproblematic-hestia @i-was-never-sane

[cursingtoji]

5 and 24 with nanami 🤓

(nanami as a grumpy dom bodyguard.. PLEASE SEE MY VISION Y'ALL)

𝑩𝒐𝒅𝒚𝒈𝒖𝒂𝒓𝒅!𝑵𝒂𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒊

plus “you’re doing great” ⊱ brat taming, fingering, a bit of car sex, oral (f -> m); the Clichés ™

🝮 Bodyguard!Nanami who was hired by your father to keep you safe and away from trouble, though he was warned you could be a bit of handful sometimes.

🝮 Bodyguard!Nanami who can’t stand brats, every time you attempt to escape without him noticing he feels like tying you up and fuck your face until you’re crying begging for his forgiveness and promising to be good.

🝮 Bodyguard!Nanami who’s super professional, wearing a full suit and tie everyday, keeping the mysterious look by wearing sunglasses even inside the house. You of course can’t get a hold of yourself and invade his personal space poking his cheek and teasing him for looking so grumpy.

“Am I not behaving well today? You know why? ‘Cause I got a date” you whisper the last part as a secret, asking him to not tell your father.

🝮 Bodyguard!Nanami who knows he would just cause more trouble to himself if he tells on you, so with a tired sigh he takes the keys and drives you to the restaurant, not failing to notice the way you pushed your breasts and wore a sweet perfume for the date. He waits patiently by the bar keeping an eye on your table, especially on your date that he can tell almost immediately it’s not worth a damn penny. The way he can’t keep his eyes on your face for more than 3 seconds without dropping to your cleavage and always bringing the topic back to himself makes Nanami wants to break his nose.

“Did you listen to our conversation?” you ask your bodyguard discretely after telling your date you were going to get a drink at the bar.

“A little bit, yes” he lies, of course he heard the whole thing.

“What do you think of him?” Nanami studies you, your fingers are nervously kneading a clean napkin, your eyes are shiny and wide expecting an answer from him, the blond side looks your date who was smiling down at his phone.

“Are you seriously asking me this?” his answer is harsh, you should’ve seen this coming.

“Sorry, it’s just that I haven’t had much luck with men lately” you confess in a moment of vulnerability, “Do you think we can sneak out without him noticing?” Nanami empties his glass of whiskey in one go before placing his hand on your lower back and leading you to the exit.

🝮 Bodyguard!Nanami who keeps wearing sunglasses inside, but he uses it as an excuse to shamelessly stare at your body. You’ve grown too comfortable around him, barely using a bra anymore, bending way too low in that little shorts and showering with your bathroom door open where, even though he can’t see you, the smell coming out of the bathroom and your humming is enough to tempt him into joining you.

🝮 Bodyguard!Nanami who thinks you have been quite good lately, it’s even a little concerning, but peace doesn’t reign for too long and as soon as his guard is down you leave the house on a little party dress and go club.

You manage to get yourself almost two hours drinking and dancing with strangers before your partner has his hands abruptly taken away from your hips as Nanami twists his arm, you look over your shoulder to see your bodyguard murmuring a threat the man you now see it was not nearly as handsome as the one holding his arm to an almost breaking point. You attempt to tiptoe your way out of his sight but he’s quick to catch your wrist, you gasp when meeting his angered features.

“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be” he threats tightening his grip on you.

🝮 Bodyguard!Nanami who fingers you in the passenger seat of the car, wanting nothing more than to rip that ridiculously short dress into pieces.

“You’re so difficult and for what? Is this what you wanted all this time?” he groans working his fingers firmly while still trying to drive without crashing.

"What you gonna do to me?" you ask biting your nails in antecipation but don't have to wait longer before your bodyguard is roughly throwing you onto the same bed he sees you go to every night with a different nightgown and has to restrain himself from joining you.

Not tonight though, tonight Nanami is getting what he wanted this whole time.

"That's the only way to shut that bratty little mouth of yours, huh" he mutters with your hair around his hand guiding your head between his legs. You ran your hands from the firm muscles of his thigh to the abs under his white shirt feeling it twich on your palm, tugging the material with your other hand as plead through gags for him to take it off.

"Alright, just because you're doing so great" he opens his buttons one by one and gets rid of all the clothes covering his torso, "C'mere" he pulls your hair until his cock slides off with a string of saliva and precum connecting him to your mouth.

🝮 Bodyguard!Nanami who helps you straddle him smiling widely as he sees you pout, "Don't make this face" he runs his thumb on your lower lip, "I'll make it good for us, but before you have to work for it, it's only fair after what you put me through" Nanami slaps your ass, you understand how stressful it must have been for him so you comply, not before picking his tie from the mattress and putting it around your own neck, your bodyguard smiles giving it a hard tug until your lips are on his.

Also part of the Clichés event:

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮

“Who did this to you?” Sukuna

Drunk Confession — Toji

“What happened to us?” Gojo

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

[martialartslover7]

Why I think Kishimoto isn't sexist, but just VERY tonedeaf and an idiot

Boy, will I have some venting to do today. I mean, at this point, it's not a secret, that Kishimoto has consistently stated that "he can't write women", to save his life. And to this day, for as long as I was a fan of the series, I am going to be absolutely real: This statement is so full of shit. Why? Simple. And allow me to express it in very big capital letters, so that even the last giant mental invalid can understand:

WOMEN ARE HUMAN-BEINGS WITH BREASTS AND A V BETWEEN THEIR LEGS. WHAT TYPE OF "NUANCES" IS THIS GUY TALKING ABOUT? THERE IS NOTHING "COMPLICATED" ABOUT THEM. WHAT NONSENSE IS THIS?

Like, this entire statement is bullshit for a completely reason altogether: Why even reduce his own point to the fact that the shinobi just so happen to be female? This just sounds like excuses on top of excuses, especially considering the competition like One Piece and Bleach, who all have badass, memorable and sometimes, quite well-written characters, that just so happen to be female.

Let's count up a few IPs that I am aware of, written or directed by males, that has some of the most badass, and most memorable females in all of media:

One Piece

Bleach

Soul Eater

Kill la Kill

Jujutsu Kaisen

Code Geass

Persona

Tekken

Street Fighter

SoulCalibur

Fire Emblem (not all of them, some of them, from what I have seen, can be insane jokes)

And so on, and so forth, the list goes on. And you know what all these IPs have in common, that make them stand out, compared to what Naruto does to its females?

THE FEMALES AREN'T GETTING BOGGED DOWN BY IRRITATING, REDUNDANT AND DOWNRIGHT OFFENSIVE TROPES, THAT FLAT-OUT RUIN THEIR POTENTIAL AND APPEAL AS STANDALONE CHARACTERS!

Like, allow me to list up all the tropes, that Kishimoto made use of, while writing the manga, or being involved in the process of writing / directing the anime, along with the movies.

1. Making the women overtly dependant on the male characters

This one, is not as egregious, but it's a good kickstarter. In the context of the world these characters operate in, to me, it does make sense to show that, like in the Edo period of Japan, women were always seen as second-class citizens, always needing to be tied to men somehow, otherwise they are "worthless". Considering the corrupt, militarized system that most of the girls work in, mostly operated by wrinkly, old farts, who enjoy playing god too much, it does remain understandable to me, that they would be hesistant to be 100% committed to the job, and just ask for normal lives...

...BUT...

...it does leave you asking: Why did they choose to be ninjas in the first place, then? To get smitten with the boys (not counting Hinata, by the way, because she was literally forced into this role)? Just applying as literal child soldiers in a war, that they didn't even start to begin with? And yes, I get it, kunoichis excel in areas that male shinobi struggle with, like silent reconnaisance, charming other men, or sometimes women, to tickle information out of them, being healers, but here is the thing: As the Naruto progressed as a story, this pattern kept repeating, every time a female character got introduced, it would fall back on the following checklist:

Is this woman a healer?

Is she obsessed with looking for a boyfriend / a husband?

Is she lacking in combat-based strength, to the point where she needs protection from either of the male characters?

Because, except for the healer bit, which is more of a specialized field, I just brought it up, because I felt it to be awfully noticeable how often the girls requested to be healers, as if they have to fit into such a mold, or they aren't capable as shinobi, the other two questions get repeatedly answered, for pretty much 98% of all female characters, especially by the end of Shippuden.

And don't get me wrong: This is NOT a negative, per se, that they desire a boyfriend, or someone to spend the rest of their days with, this is not what I am complaining about. In fact, a good chunk of ships in the series are hella cute, and I don't want them to go away. Because to an extent, the romance aspect feels genuine, especially between Naruto and Hinata, or Sasuke and Sakura (yeah, fight me on that, I will defend these two as a ship, until I die), or hell, especially Shikamaru and Temari, which are the GOLD standard, of what a good ship needs.

What I am complaining about though, is that, the series kind of uses this romance aspect as a shield, or excuse, to undermine the female characters, in the long run. Think about it, when was the last time when Sakura, in spite of all the grueling training she had to suffer through to become this strong in the first place, not wanting to be a hindrance to anyone, legitimately kicked ass, after killing Sasori? Not counting the war arc, because this arc is frankly, an inexcuseable mess, and Kishimoto should be ashamed of himself for making it suck this hard for how many asspulls this arc had. Nope, the moment Naruto goes berserk, and Sasuke just... appears... she is reduced to a whimpering mess, who can't stand on her own two feet, and has to be saved by someone. And this happens. ALL. THE. TIME. That's all that happens with her, sure, she heals countless ninjas during the war, but again, healing isn't the only specialty she got:

SHE IS A SHINOBI! SHINOBIS FIGHT! THEY DON'T JUST STAND AROUND LIKE IDIOTS, AND EXPOSING THEMSELVES TO ENEMY FIRE! GET! ON! WITH IT!

I swear, man, this just frustrates me beyond any reason, and the worst part, even someone as awesome as Hinata, who kicked so much ass in Part 1 (especially the filler arcs, don't get smart with me, I watched the anime, suck a small one on that), who had a whole, potential story arc hinted at with Neji, and the issues regarding their entire clan, was reduced to a simple Naruto #1 fangirl for the entire duration of Shippuden, not even the filler could salvage her in any way, and for someone like me, who relates to Hinata on a spiritual level, I find this just so damned pathetic. And whenever I watch The Last, all I could think about was this one coherent thought: You. Had. ONE JOB. Kishimoto. And you failed her. As a standalone character. Causing the entire movie to come off as if you were just shoehorning everything together, as if we only liked Hinata, because of the NaruHina ship. Well, newsflash, it couldn't be further from the truth. So, screw you, and the entire The Last movie.

Plus, I am sure I am speaking on everyone's behalf here: Anko Mitarashi and Tenten were done the MOST dirty by Kishimoto. Nuff' said.

On that note, that brings me to my next point:

2. The angry Karen housewife stereotype

I swear, this meme right here...

And Kushina's entire existence truly proves my point that, Kishimoto is really not doing himself any favors, whenever he says "I don't know how to write women". Oh, but then THIS is your answer? Is this how you see them all, the very second they get married and have kids?

So let me get this straight, the moment a woman, in the Naruto universe, gets married, has kids, and takes care of them, they become:

Aggressive, to the point of physically assaulting their own kids (Kushina definitely would have done so, let's not lie to ourselves, I love her, but this behavior of hers, combined with Sakura's general attitude towards Naruto, would have definitely made him suicidal after a while, if it weren't for the fact, he accepts it in his mom's case, because she doesn't know any better, considering her childhood)

Unpleasant to be around for their husbands (as if, we get guilt-tripped into thinking, the wives are the ones being selfish, wanting their lovers to be home with them, which, by the way, is a serious piece of shit way of thinking, because, they are married for a REASON, and not to stay apart all the time, THEY ARE FAMILY, at least, from how it gets painted as, in Boruto, from what I have seen so far)

Becoming total sociopaths, as if their genuine worries and concerns get painted as something so abnormal and "creepy"

...and this is how you see them all? THIS is your answer? Again, I know, we have ZERO evidence to prove that Kishimoto himself, is sexist in real life, it would be irresponsible of me to put that out there, because I just don't know the guy. I am just saying that, with how the housewives were all written thus far, and how, from Naruto's POV, he began having a fear of angry moms, calling them "scary", and how the females got seriously underrepresented in the course of the story...

...IT DOESN'T DO HIM ANY FAVORS.

I can't even believe I have to say this, because, newsflash, Kishimoto, and I will say it in caps: NOT ALL MOMS IN THE WORLD, ACT LIKE THIS!

They can get mad with us, they are fully in the right to whenever we do something stupid, no matter how old we get, because they will always view us as their babies that they cradled in their arms. But the problem here is: In Boruto, it gets painted as if the moms are the ones in the wrong here, just for being a tiny bit more concerned than others, because again, the world that they live in, is dangerous. And leaving the Otsu*redacted* aside, I can fully sympathize with them, so seeing someone like Boruto himself taking so many liberties being a spoiled, rotten brat, who never suffers serious repurcussions for his behavior (I know, he lost his headband for cheating, but for someone like him, who wished literal DEATH on his own father, just for him not being around enough, needed a way harsher punishment, you just don't say that your parents, dude, this doesn't take a genius to understand, especially since this is Naruto and Hinata we are talking about her), once again, it undermines the females, as if the kids ALWAYS "know better", and they "just suck, because moms are scary". Fuck off. Seriously. This is just disrespectful. No excuses. It shouldn't be written this way. Even more so, because the POV of the mothers gets never tackled, making this seem one-sided.

3. A few romances fall back on tropes, that disrespect not only the girls, but also the guys

OK, I will probably get some flack for saying this, but, regardless of the explainations in one of the Retsuden mangas, the InoSai ship, is perfectly encapsulating to me, how the romance in Naruto isn't without its flaws, and it mostly stems from how some of the characters just never get the privilege of gaining their own story sections about their own individual struggles as standalone characters.

I AM LOOKING RIGHT AT YOU, CHOJI AND KARUI! THEIR ROMANCE IS SO OUT OF LEFT FIELD, IT'S NOT EVEN WORTH JOKING ABOUT, EXCEPT, IT'S LITERALLY A JOKE, DUE TO THEIR NAMES BEING POLAR OPPOSITES TO ONE ANOTHER. HA. HA. HA.

Personally, to me, Sai is not that interesting of a character to me, I was never able to connect with him in any way, despite the importance he had in the story, alluding to the ROOT Anbu under Danzo's leadership.

But his "romance" with Ino, was seriously pushing it to me, not only because, it just regresses Ino's entire character, pushing her back into this mold that she is only interested in brooding, mentally ill edgelords like Sasuke, which paints her a shallow person, but it just paints Sai himself, as a stand-in for Sasuke, too, which undermines his own character, unintentionally. There are so many things wrong with their overall dynamic, I can't even put it properly into words.

And don't think, InoSai are the only exception to this rule. As much as it pains me to say this, NaruHina and SasuSaku are also affected by this, not as severe, but it's still pretty noticeable.

NaruHina

The fact that, with NaruHina, we needed an entire freaking movie, which, frankly, should have never happened, had they done a better job at utilizing Hinata as her own character, with Naruto present to help her out with her clan, and it all hinged on Naruto himself regressing as a character too, needing to be put in a fucking Genjutsu, just to see how he "truly felt" about Hinata... I am sorry, what is this? I mean, from a writing standpoint, this is just straight-up BAD. It's clichéd, it's painting Hinata as a damsel in distress, needing to be saved by Naruto, and Naruto himself being pardoned with "he is just dense", and overall, you can really tell, this is all just hamfisted into a single movie, because they needed to desperately convince us: Look, this is a thing. They are together now. Now play the emotional music, because that's all it needs.

Listen, I know Naruto never had a clear grasp on his own emotions, but the overall pay-off, to me, is just not there, no matter how hard I try. It just feels hollow, I don't feel happy with this. Because, for this to ship to work, they had to go through all these extra lengths to regress them both first, as individual characters, just so they can shut the lid on the whole thing. Made even worse by how this confession of Hinata during the Pain Invasion arc, was never brought up again to Naruto, until the freaking movie, and I still don't understand why. I know he didn't "ignore" her, but why does he fail to recognize Hinata's love confession, but the moment Sakura drops by to confess to him, too, he immediately calls it BS? Please. Make it make sense.

SasuSaku

Listen, nothing will stop me from loving these two as one, they deserve the peace amongst themselves, but the problem is, like InoSai, it falls back on the trope of, the girl bearing this mindset of "I can fix him", and while Sakura certainly did succeed... hear me out:

This is a purely universal thing now, this isn't just applying to SasuSaku. Otherwise, both ships have a solid foundation, ruined by shit writing. Nothing else to say.

That moment of Ino crying for Sasuke, really made me realize: Kishimoto really is clueless, not just about women, but men, too.

Because, again, for how often some of the girls bore this mindset of "I need me some brooding hunk of meat", essentially, desiring a man that knowingly treats them like crap, just so they can bear the delusion of "I can fix him", while downplaying and belittling the "uncool" guys like Choji, Rock Lee, or hell, even Naruto or Kiba, guys who, for the most part, have a solid grasp on their moral compass and their self-worth, denouncing their advances with "ew, no", is honestly disgusting to me. Like, come on, man, they aren't as cool as the edgelord teammates, but why downplay them so hard in the presence of the girls? Don't they deserve love too? Why belittle them for their eccentricities, it not only paints the girls in a bad light, but it straight up mocks the male "goofball" teammates for being the way they are. In short: NO ONE IS THE WINNER HERE.

Phew, OK, I hope, I made my point, loud and clear now. Because these points have been bothering me for a VERY long time now, and look, correct me if I am wrong. I am never 100% foolproof, so if I left out anything, feel free to correct me.

I needed to vent about this, because I felt so genuinely pissed off for how underpowered and underepresented the girls are, and how unkind and unforgiving the writing was to them, overall.

Peace.

[navsink]

countryboy! Sukuna x citygirl! reader pt1

tags: au! ofc, fluff, slight toxicity, love bombing, mutual pining, slightly suggestive, wholesome family, happy family, sukuna is evil, hurt/comfort, COMFORT, mommy/daddy issues gang, perfect family. wc:3,591 words synopsis: after a trip to the country side cabins, there's a horseshow going on, a must attend on your list. meet sukuna as a cowboy and have him teach you how to RIDE.

The dinner table was full of yummy desserts, wine glasses and most deliciously cinnabun rolls. Our evening dinner was one of celebration, you could see it in everyone's faces, the way their eyes were all wrinkled at the corners and their cheeks full of sweet cinnamon and honey. Everyone was just so happy to celebrate my mom's latest success, an ascension to being on the magazine for women CEO of 2024. As we were close to finishing our meal of the night, my dad finally spoke with a grin in his face. I could see my mom's notorious blush and my sister's little grin of mischief as she darted a cherry at my dad's pudding cup.

"Everyone, attention," my dad attempted to clink his glass of wine with a silver fork, immideatly causing my mom to tug at his elbow whispering a shy 'Don't'.

"ATTENTIOOOON." he yelled this time, a bit louder to compensate for the lack of glass to clink. A placid yet drunk smile formed on his face, whilst mom's was just purely fluster.

"There are no- Hiccup- words to describe the proud husband I have become. I am the husband of the woman CEO of the year, what else should I ask for? To celebrate this, we four will all go to the countryside to relax and rent a cabin, bring your bathing suits ladies and most importantly repelent. I want this special 3 day vacation just to celebrate my incredible wife's achievment." we all clapped at my dad's half drunk speech, the sweet smile lines and crows feet multiplied by the inmense smile he spoke with was the sweetest thing I have seen. We all cheered for this short trip, nothing could make us all happier than a small break.

That same night I grabbed my black totebag and tossed in a couple shorts, underwear and most importantly a one piece bathing suit. Happy as I was, to see my parent's marriage be the standard I should aim for, I tossed in a makeup bag and a hairbrush and I was set. I giggled and looked at my ceiling as I plopped down on the bed. My life has never been better has it?

As excited as I was, sleep and sending an excuse of absence to my university were the first step to take if I wanted to join everyone on the trip. I quickly jotted down a quick excuse and pressed send.

"Have you packed everything? Remember to bring at least a pair of jeans if you want to ride the horses at the ranch." My mom peeked her head out of the doorway and looked at me with a grin.

"Yeah I have, don't worry I'll put one on as we leave."

"You better, you don't want to know the rashes you'll get from those stable horses."

"Yeah yeah, thanks ma"

I nodded and walked towards the door, kissing her cheek goodnight, and a tight yet quick hug.

"I'm proud of you ma"

"I could say the same for you bebe"

A quick peck on the forehead landed on me as I waved at her good night from my hallway. We had always been a close family and honestly, I hope it stays that way.

---

"Bebe are you up already?" my mom's voice chided from the other side of the door as I pulled a pillow to my face. I had a hard time getting any sleep yesterday, I was too excited putting on possible outfits and even a nice set of lingerie. Who knows what could happen at the cabins?

I chuckled thinking of my late night antics and finally sat up, a groggy mess and a bird's nest in my hair rose up as I look for my phone.

"I'm up." I yell to the other side of the door, earning a quick inaudible affirmation.

Upon instinct, my feet pull me out of bed and lead me to the small bathroom next to my bedroom.

Finishing up my morning routine, caking up a couple layers of makeup and finally scooping my boobs to look nice in a fitted cleavage top. I was all set to leave. Let's see, last nights totebag, jeans, they said to bring sunscreen right? yeah. Probs. What else? Right a hair brush and the swimsuit. As I finished listing off every possible thing I could need there I started to take a couple of selfies while I waited for my dad's classic holler to meet my family at the living room.

Soon came a "WE'RE LEAVING." trademarked holler from my dad, who pretty much lied as he sat on the barstool next to the kitchen isle drinking cofffee and biscuits.

"Careful with that one Pinocchio, your snoring is worsening as you speak." My mom scoffed as she dragged a luggage in a haste, a drop of sweat threatening to ruin her laminated brows.

As I also enter the living room in a haste, I hunch over as I see how calmly he's sipping coffee like it's no body's business.

"Living with 3 women has taught me patience, believe me. I have to speed things up or else I'll be the one you women blame when we're late to our check in." He chortled as he lifted his pinkie finger and extended his lips to reach the coffee cup.

A short sigh is escaped by my mom and I as we sit down on the couches, waiting for my sister is going to be eternal. As my dad said, it's good to keep a few tricks to pick up the pace with us. My mouth opens, trying to think of what to say to my sister who's making us all be late.

"LILY, I CALL SHOTGUN" My mom yelled as she pinched my arm, a sign to shut up and let her handle it. I quickly rub my arm with a scoff, trying to discreetly roll my eyes.

As effective as that was, my sister stormed through the halls carrying two totebags and a backpack. A smiled tugged at the corners of my mouth as my Dad, who now waited against the main door, tapped his foot impatiently.

-

"So, where are we going really?" I asked from the car's backseat.

"To hell bebe." My mom scoffed absentmindedly as she once more won her match of solitaire.

"Seriously, where?" A whine escaped my mouth, like a child's impatience.

"It's a surprsie-- oh and connect your spotify, we're getting bored of the same three songs your sister has playing." Mom's aloof comment had earned an annoyed protest from my sister. "Don't argue while you're at it."

It was going to be a long car ride trip, so might as well just do as she says and stand Lily for as long as I can. To preface, my sister and I don't typically bicker, as we are just used to ignoring eachother's presence, but sometimes she does gets on my nerves. Who's up to standing a whiny and angsty 14 year old for more than an hour? Not me.

This was a sign to just nap the whole carride out, head peacefuly rested against the window, a nice little nap was just what I needed.

Eventually we had reached the point of the ride where everyone is quiet and the two front passangers are just at it gossiping and talking about life in general. That is my favorite ever part of it.

"Right, she thinks that because I am succesful she can just cling to my name and try to force people into giving her a job with no history of ever moving a finger." My mom's voice casually whispered as they started gossiping about family members. It just happens sometimes.

"Hold that thought Marina, pull up the Maps for this section, the fog ahead is pretty harsh." my dad mumbled back as he leaned forward in his seat while grabbing the steering wheel with white knuckles.

My parents argued quietly with the poor google maps assistant, cautiously trying not to wake us up. As we finally reached to a stop, my dad sighed and took a sip of his trusty leather flask, and with a 'pop' his lips smacked and his throat roared.

"Girls, we're here, get your stuff-- we're unpacking as they show us our room." My mom reached towards the backseat and grabbed my sister and I's knees shaking them against eachother to wake us up fully.

-

Fast forward to our very own cabin, the guide opens the door for us and lets us in.

"Two beds?" I sigh. It seems there were no other options unless I prefered to sleep in the car. The cabin was nice, it had A/C and a nice bathroom. It was pretty pintoresque and quaint, just how I like it, to the exception of course, of sharing a bed with my sister. The two white queen beds had a nice matress and were free of any bugs thankfully. Other than that, there wasn't much more to note of this farm cabins we booked.

"Yes Bebe, two beds. We're all gonna die because you have ot sleep next to Lily for two nights, wa, wa." My dad mocked my tone playfully and as I shoot a bored look at him he comes to my side and pinches my ribs.

"Stop that!" I giggled and hugged my dad with a fake annoyed look. It wasn't so bad really, it was just for two nights, nothing could really make it that bad.

We set down our things inside the cabin and started to set up our clothes down for the next day, since the fog had really made the trip a little hard for my dad we decided to wait an hour before we got out. It had already been 5pm since we arrived and as the cabin staff said, we had until 7pm to get our dinner served and until 9pm to use the pool. This place seemed neat. I could just lay on the bed until 7, sleep was never enough for me. I positioned my head softly against the mattress, half lidded eyes and soon fast asleep into my 2nd nap of the day.

.

"Shh shh, you're gonna wake her up." I heard a couple of mumbling and whistling as I finally awoke from slumber. My family opened the door with less than caution as they turned on the lights and sat down on the free bed.

My groggy eyes had finally answered to the light as I rub them and sit up. A more than perplexed face formed as my stitched brows and pursed lips turn to look at my traitor family.

"You guys didn't wake me up?" I croaked, holding my head with my right hand and propping myslef up with the other.

"You seemed passed out, so we decided to dine and wait for you to get inside the pool, it's pretty tempered." Lily mentioned stifling a giggle as she crossed her legs with a smirk.

"Keep your enemies close and your family closer." I mumble as I drown my face into the soft cushion pillow. My dad let out an audible chuckle, and soon a cough as my mom elbows him to the gut.

"Don't fret, we have all tomorrow to spend together, we can also go to the pool right now, we have 2 more hours left until they bleach it." My mom soothingly patted my back as she sits down next to me. A small kiss lands on my temple when she pulls me into an embrace.

"Fine, I'll go." My mom cheered and dragged my wrist to the main entrance. Soon followed my sister and my lucidly drunk dad.

-

The pool was fine, really nothing special, according to the cabin staff, there's a bunch of recreational going on tomorrow. There's a horse show, boat tour around the lake, cow milking and finally an opportunity to just walk around the farm state altoghter on a horse.

Being the horsegirl to the core type of girl, I of course tried getting my parents to join me on the horse related ones. Aaaand like every other functional family we started arguing, my sister wanted the water ones, mom wanted sun bathing and I the land ones.

"We're not doing the boat tour, have you heard that one news article of the whole 15 passenger boat that sank to the bottom last week nearby?" My dad slammed his fist against the table as we sat in the farm's restaurant. His stitched brows and red eyes indicated that there was no persuading on this one, his heart and mind were set on not letting anyone on a boat.

"But dad!" My sister whined as she dropped her fork.

"No buts." His face turned to the other side, indignant at my sister's persistence.

"We're also not doing horses, we just ate, what kind of brain process thinks that you're not about to barf on the horse lackey and yourself as you get on the horse? I say no." My mom commanded, putting a muffin on my dad's plate. Two set of wide eyes smiled as the big 1000 calorie blueberry muffin landed and soon crumbled against the hands of an italian dad.

I let out an audible groan as she turned down my activity too, facing my sister with joined mischief we nod to each other with a grin.

"Ma, she's poking me." I whined

"Pa she's the one poking me." Lily cried.

"If she doesn't stop I swear I'll stab her with a fork."

"Keep poking me idiot."

"Ma- Did you just hear that? She called me an idiot." I groaned as I turn to my mom's concerned face, and consecuently my sister does too.

"Pa did you see how she threatened me? She has a fork in her hand." Lily's fake tears were starting to roll, which in turn caused my dad to fret and look at my mom for any hint on what to do. It was working.

Lily and I hid a smirk behind the facade of two annoyed sisters, and soon my parent's strong will dissolved. Lily was about to open her mouth as my mom slammed her hand against the table.

"Fine if you two little insects shut up, we can plan out the day." She whisper yelled at us and finally leaned back into her chair, I could see the vein and even the botox fight against eachother.

"We're not doing the boat, but we are going to watch the cows be milked, then we're going to the pool and we'll watch the horse show, after that we're doing the horse tour around the property and finally we're going fishing. That's today's plan, whoever tries to change it is a dead man." My mom leaned forward and looked at both of us in the eye, how she didnt go crossed eye who knows, but at least my sister and I got what we wanted.

-

We were running a bit late for the horse show, curtsey of Lily as she tried feeding bread to the ducks after being told not to over 4 times by the farmers. We miraculously acquired front row seats, pretty neatly for the four of us, I dusted off the seat and with a grin sat down. This decision will follow up to be a pretty bad one, as I could smell the horse shit the best from the front row seats, wow, so that's why there was so much space down here. I also couldn't see jack shit from here as the picket fence just had to block my view for the most part.

I sighed and slouched over the seat, trying to ignore the petulant smell coming from beautifuly bred horses. As soon as what seemed the second act started, I could see a guy, pretty much my age with a black cotton button up, snug skinny black jeans and a brown metal belt. God was that a sight for sore eyes, swimming in a pool of manure the most handsomest blonde of them all. A dumb smile plastered on my face as I straighten my back and eyes follow like a hungry lion the zebra like prey.

As he gets on the white horse and another lackey throws a black cowboy hat at him that he so perfectly catches with his pale big veiny hand. On the topic of hands, my mom's hand picks up my jaw from the floor and turns my face towards her.

"Don't chase, be chased." wise words from my CEO beautiful mama, her slight smile and smooth brows gave me the 'go ahead' to keep on daydreaming.

This guy was out of the ordinary.

The white stallion I might add starts to dance and trot so perfectly, like the horse just did it out of a whim. Wisely enough the gorgeous hunk of a horseman also grins and flashes a pearly white to the audience. A collective "AAAH" from the female audience is heard across the bleachers.

Long legs, strong arms, chiseled jawline. He had it all.

Man when I tell you I crossed my legs, not out of habit but out of NEED. My whole uterus cried out, especially now that I was caught in ovulation week. I let out a dreamy sigh, once more as this man kept on making his spins and tricks for the audience.

Tragically, it seemed his showtime was about to conclude, but a man as wise as him knows how to garner and cater for the thirsty souls. As he proceeds to rip out his shirt like some attention starved whore, revealing a rock hard abdodmen and straight airstrip direct to heaven.

God this man had to have a lot of women after him after the shows. I let out a nervous string of laughter as he waved off goodby to the audience.

My mom tossed her hand fan into my hand as my head kept on spinning for this DREAM of a man. A small unappreciative sigh followed as the cute guy left the manure field, as he leaves a black bull enters with another HUNK of a man. Is judgement day here yet? It might just strike me here and now.

This other guy, wearing full white attire and blonde hair seemed to be the previous guy, but with a twist. The whole audience went ballistic for him. I could swear my body was not taking any more hot guys in my line of sight anymore, who knew countryside boys were so fucking hot? For one I did not fucking know until now.

This guy's ability to just jump the bull and keep on making the bull follow him around was amazing. The whole show I was on the edge of my seat, finally assimilating the petulant manure smell into my nostrils. It was amazing watching the guy just run after the bull, and making a whole skit of almost being stomped by it. Even recalling it now is making my breath shorten. Everyone laughed at his antics, it was like those old movies where no one could speak, and it was just laughs on the other end. God it was an amazing show.

The whole gig went exactly as the first one, rock hard abs, a killer v line, pretty face, and even prettier smiles. There is no way these guys have ZERO girls after them or throwing themselves at them. Is there?

Eye candy is just that, eye candy, no more. I wasn't about to bag some hot country boy, even worse A FUCKING COWBOY?

...could-I?

-

Lunch went amazingly fast as my sister wanted to get on the horse as fast as possible, not out of genuine interest for horses, but wanting to get to the water as fast as possible. I kept on smirking here and there remebering those stupid cowboys that just had to look so perfectly hot. As we finally reached the stables the lackeys were mentioning that we had to wisely choose the horse, and just small talk general. Of course, I had other things on my mind so naturally my two parents just kept on talking killing time.

My eyes though, lazily scanned the barns and looked at three guys in the distance just taking discrete sips of beer as they hauled hay into the cow pen. On a second thought, pretty attractive guys worked here, is this the farm's marketing tactic to get the customers to spend more days and money here? Fuck it's working.

"Bebe," The fact that they don't look the same, they just have nice bodies but fucking attractive faces, for example this guy that I'm looking at ri-"Bebe." Right now has a chiseled face, with small round glasses, also blonde and fuck does he know how to haul a hay b-"Y/N"

"Fuck!" I jolt in place, shooting my head to the direction of the voice.

"Language lady, god. Pick your horse." My mom groaned as she pinched my rib in annoyance, her stride, confident while walking towards a gray medium sized horse.

"Shoot, sorry, right. Uh." I scanned the pen, from a black and white spotted stallion to a shiny auburn horse. "I'll take the brown horse."

The lackey nodded and holded the reigns to his coworker, who also prepared the seat for you. As they finished tying everything up, your uninterested dad gives you a hand to get on the horse.

"Thanks." I murmured.

The ride around the property was gorgeous, as our horses followed a pearly white one ridden by the tour guide I scanned the whole place. It was such a gorgeous greenery that would make anyone want to become countryside. The lush green vines and bushes, the enourmously diverse butterflies that fluttered around the place, and even better the free range cows that pastured across the fence. It was all such a beautiful sight.

[whiskeyghoul]

All tied up || [Spencer Reid X f!reader] Pt.1

First time posting a fic here.

The idea of Spencer remembering all the shibari knots from a book gave me the incredible urge to start writing. This is part one and mostly setting up to part two where all the spicy stuff will happen.

Tags: Shibari, eventual smut, consent, (idk I am bad at tagging)

Part two

--------------------------------------------------------------------

"I actually heard it can be very therapeutic." Spencer Reid stood next to you as you were bent over a case file. The unsub would tie their victims up in intricate red rope, displaying them like a piece of artwork. Suspended in mid air their bodies hung from ceilings. You had made a comment under your breath as you watched the detail in the knots, nothing of interest. Either they'd been strung up post mortem, which seemed unlikely with the way their bodies were contorted. Or while the victim was alive and cooperating. Meaning the victims trusted the unsub.

You knew of shibari, had seen it once when you had stumbled upon it while researching a sexclub where a suspected unsub was picking his victims. It piqued your interest, seeing the knots tied carefully with enough slack to allow fingers to slip past the rope. The shapes accentuating the women's bodies, looks of content on their faces. You had quickly squashed the thought at the time. Not wanting to address your new found interest in the slightest. Hoping that if you didn't think about it it would go away. Unfortunately that hadn't been the case. You'd managed to find pictures of the beautiful rope designs people created and it only fed the flame growing inside you. But when Spencer made that comment as he looked over your shoulder. Something stirred inside. Like he knew what you'd been thinking about.

"I don't think they found this very therapeutic." You retorted, eyes focused on the paper again. If they hadn't been crime scene photos they could have been beautiful. Spencer placed one hand on the desk, the other on the back of your chair as he leaned over. The heat of his body radiating off of him. You kept your eyes on the papers, not daring to look up at your workplace crush. Who, in all his genius, was the most clueless person you'd met. "Right, I don't think they did. Still, it's interesting to see the great care the unsub took to present them this way. It’s like a piece of art, he takes pride in his work." Spencer commented, saying the words you'd just been thinking. "It could have been beautiful if not for the murder." you said a bit solemnly, not thinking about your words, still trying to figure out whether the unsub tied them up post mortem or not. Absentmindedly tracing your fingers over the ropes in one picture.

"Would you ever want to try it?" Spencer suddenly asked. Your head whipped around in surprise, staring at the man who was looking down at you. He was gauging your reaction, which now that you realize it, was way too obvious. He'd probably already caught on to the fact you'd been interested in shibari from the case before. A damn good profiler even if he was clueless about your feelings for him. "W-what? No, of course not." You lied, feeling heat creep up your neck as you averted your eyes from him. “Why would you say that?” You asked in turn, knowing he’d already caught you in your lie. “Just the way you said it could have been beautiful. I’ve read a book on it once…” The way Spencer said it was suggestive, knowing what he meant once he said he read a book on it once. He remembers it all, the knots, the ties. He was offering to help you get it out of your system. The way he trailed off made it non committal, it wasn’t a full offer but it was up in the air. If you wanted to go in on it he wouldn’t judge. “You have? Are you interested?” Your voice was low, barely above a whisper because you were still in the bullpen. Colleagues and teammates are still around to hear if you spoke too loudly. “We have Saturday off.” Spencer spoke, it wasn’t an answer but an invite. “We do.” You agreed, and that was it. “You could come over.” Spencer said, there was something in his voice. It was low and smooth. “I can. At 2?” You added before daring to look up at him again, he nodded his head with a slight smile. There was a flush on his face. “I’ll see you then.” He added, pushing himself off the table and returning to his own desk, your eyes following until he sat down.

Your mind was jumbled with thoughts about what could happen when you get to his place. Mentally you were still trying to grapple with the fact that he had invited you, but standing on the doorstep had been quite the wake up. You rang his doorbell and Spencer buzzed you in. You walked to the elevator, pressing the button and stepping inside to head to the second floor. Stepping out and walking past the other doors until you reached his front door. A deep breath. You raised your hand, a timid knock on the door that was opened just a second too quickly. Like he had been waiting for you. “Hey.” Spencer breathed out the word, a slight smile on his lips as he stared at you. You could feel your cheeks start to heat under his gaze. “Come in.” Spencer said as he stepped out of the way, letting you pass into his apartment. “Thanks.” You said as you observed your surroundings. You’d been in his apartment once before. It was lived in, slightly cluttered and warm. It smelled of books and coffee, some of his vices. His large leather couch was put to the side and the middle of his living room was currently a large open space. He’d prepared this. You swallowed thickly, knowing he’d taken care to get it all ready made you excited, a fluttering feeling settling in your stomach. The small bag you had taken with you was placed down next to the coat rack. Your jacket was slipped off your shoulders by Spencer, the motion making you look over your shoulder at him. He gave you a reassuring smile, warming your heart and soothing your nerves. “Do you want something to drink first?” He asked as he hung your coat away. “No, thank you.” You replied, wanting to get to it rather than stall. It would make you nervous again to wait. Wanting to get started almost immediately. “Alright, then let’s get started?” Spencer asked it, maybe to have clear confirmation that this was what you wanted. He fidgeted slightly, perhaps as nervous as you had been before. You nodded your head, the action seeming to calm Spencer slightly, his hands stopping from fidgeting. Instead grabbing the red rope that was laid out on a side table, pushed to the wall this time.

“How do we start?” You asked, having prepared by wearing a pair of soft shorts and a tank top. Spencer turned back to you, taking two strides before he was right in front of you again. Something in his eyes had changed from before. “Strip.” His tone was different, making a shiver run down your spine.

This was going to be interesting.

[phaticserpent]

gosh this is such a random request but i was just drawing fanart of pan and then i was thinking about him with like a shy artist y/n?

like they’ve been on neverland only for a little while and has a bit of a crush on him and so they’re like secretly drawing him a lot- and maybe one day he accidentally finds those drawings (maybe some of them are even a bit explicit heh) and he like asks them about it and they get super flustered and then idk fluff or smut or whatever ensues~

ahsjdbjdbc i feel like this could be really cute

OOOOO !!! AND NOTHING IS A RANDOM REQUEST! THIS IS AN AMAZING REQUEST - I ALWAYS LOVE ARTIST!READER <3

Being part of Neverland and Pan's crew of lost ones was a lot to take in, but definitely not in protest. You enjoyed their company and the wild energy of the group. Still, you weren't wild which did confuse some of the lost boys and even worried Pan.

The only one who seemed to understand your silence, was Felix, which you were thankful for. While you were still getting accustomed to Neverland, Felix helped you gain your confidence and voice, so you gradually started conversing with the other boys.

There was just a slight problem, you were still nervous and awkward around Pan. He took it personally and felt offended, which meant he confided to Felix about your true feelings and Felix couldn't tell - since he didn't really know either. In truth? You were hiding our feelings and pages full of drawings of him. It started out small, like a couple of doodles of his side profile, him playing the panpipes, and then your entire sketchbook was filled with drawings of Pan. You felt almost ashamed and guilty, you were afraid that he would find you weird if he ever saw them.

So you tried to avoid him or minimize the conversation, just so he didn't suspect anything. But he did. And he wanted to get to the bottom of it.

While you and Felix took your nightly strolls, where the two of you find comfort in each other's company and the scenery of Neverland, Pan goes to your tent to confront you but finds it empty.

"Hey," Felix starts. "So...Pan has been asking me and I'm also curious, but he notices that you're different around him compared to the other lost boys."

Your face flushed. "Oh....he's been asking about me?"

"Mhm, he's worries and he thinks you hate him or something."

"Oh." You sighed. "I don't hate him. I just feel....awkward, like he's really cool and he's the leader. Not to mention, he's conventionally attractive and it makes me embarrassed....."

"....You like him."

"What? No....I don't."

"......It's obvious."

"It is?" You cried.

"Well, not to Pan." Felix chuckled. "But you make it obvious."

"Oh." You sighed. "Felix, what do I do? I can't have feelings for Pan!"

"Don't ask me." Felix shrugged. "I'm not good with relationships and feelings, but I would say....be honest. He would appreciate it."

You smiled at him. "Thank you." By the time you returned, Pan had already seen all your drawings. Your face flushed and your mouth hung agape as he stared at some of your pieces, turning his head to finally notice your return.

"Oh! (Y/N), I-"

"What are you doing here? And.....you saw my drawings!" You cried out. Admitting defeat, you put your face in your hands while shaking your head. "I'm going to jump off a cliff."

"No!" Pan protested. He gently set down your drawings before prying your hands out of your face. "Look at me?" With your face heated in embarrassment, you looked up at him.

"....Don't hate me."

"......Why would I hate you?" Pan raised a brow. You shamefully pointed at your drawings and he chuckled softly. "Love, I'm flattered. Am I your muse?"

"Pan!" You gasped. "I.....ugh." Once again, your buried your face into your hands. Pan sighed and hesitantly pulled you in for a hug. You stood there, frozen in shock and confusion.

"I don't hate you, I'm more confused by everything. You keep avoiding me and running away.....I thought I did something to offend you." Pan breathed out. "So imagine my confusion when the person I thought hated me.....dedicated an entire sketchbook of me. Yeah? You get me, love?"

"Heh," You smiled into his neck. "I get you."

Pan pulled back and you met his gaze, he raised a brow with a teasing smirk gradually growing on his lips. You could practically hear what he was about to say. "I can't believe you've been hiding these drawings of me.....from me!"

Your face flushed and his laughter from your reaction was so contagious but so annoying, you just wanted to.....Pan's eyes widened in shock when you pulled him down to press your lips to his. You pulled away, letting out a shaky breath to say a quick apology, when he pulled you back in and kiss you with more vigor.

His kiss moved from your lips to your jaw, and he let out a breathy groan against the shell of your ear. "How about we make up for lost time, yeah?" He knows how to pull a reaction from you.

Taglist: @fandom-fae @james-800 @kornelia-yells-in-the-void

[the-grand-gemini]

More Gortash Analysis

I've seen lots of posts going over Enver Gortash's appearance and what story telling elements that gives us and I have more thoughts that won't leave me alone.

Gauntlet and Rings

Asthetic:

Aesthetically speaking they're obviously pretty (or gaudy depending on how you feel about an all gold arm piece), but also I can't not think that his whole look is to hide himself and make himself look more dangerous/compensate any of his perceived shortcomings (especially those he experienced in the hells).

His rings mimic claws like Raphael and other devilkin he may have dealt with in the hells. A basic weapon available to most deziens of the hells

Aids:

I imagin that the gauntlet, plus the rings on his other hand, hide and correct crooked fingers while also possibly help with pain. Acting like wrist and finger bracers.

As far as finger braces go even if he wasn't injured reparative writing and working with them (building machines etc) can lead to pain.

But personally I feel like the repeated breaking of fingers is something Raphael and/or Nubalidn may have done to punish him. This could have left lasting pain and possible disfigurement.

Disguise:

A disfigurement he wouldn't want the upper class to see or bother him about constantly. Again even if it wasn't from injury the hands of a builder or fighter (arms dealer/crime lord) will have changes that someone from a softer occupation or a life of leisure won't have. Duke Ravengard as a swordsman probably has hands that show past injury/work, but he's known for and revered for it. While Enver is trying to distance himself from anyone looking into his dodgy past.

ALSO... If anyone wants to write a fic where Tav (or Durge) massages his hands tag me please 👀👀👀 (I'm totally not projecting my own wrist/hand pain here what are you talking about).

The two mainly free fingers... We all know why 👀💦 but also it's probably so he can pick up a pen and write easily/do Archduke paperwork.

The Flame Shirt:

I've seen other posts talking about the flames and how he's laced his shirt and I don't have anything else to add other than ~ Guy Fieri vibes that I can't unsee 🔥🔥🔥

Coat Collar:

Again the coat has been discussed by lots of others in great detail and I love every analysis! However, I do want to talk about his collar specifically.

It's meant to be intimidating, but it also covers all of his neck and a good portion of his head. A very vulnerable location both physically and mentally. It screams I am hiding/anxious to me. He can't wear an all out hood without looking (even more) shady, but the high collar probably still acts as some kind of security. I don't think anyone else in game has a hood like this? There's the odd ruffled collar, but nothing like this outside of armour.

Also! Even though most coats are meant to (in fashion) elongate the figure) I feel that his collar makes him appear shorter. Does it darken his figure and make him stand out? Yes, but I feel like it falls short on making him look larger and more intimidating then it could if it cut off at the neck like a normal collar or continued into a full hood.

IF his coat was gifted to him by Bane (see man who prays to a god of tyranny and fear but his coat prevents him from experiencing the fear spell) I think it actually visually demonstrates how he isn't in charge at all.

Visually it makes him shorter and swallows his head a bit. It seems almost like there is a shadow behind him. Is the coat Bane visually oppressing Gortash? I think it's two fold, Gortash will never escape Raphael's shadow and he is within Bane's controll.

Idk this is probably too meta but the ideas wouldn't leave me alone until I screamed them into the void.

I want to talk about Orin's outfit next ahhhh

[vexic929]

mentor mentiroso

Chapter 2

Warnings: none

Chapter 1: link

Hartley stared at the closed door where Cisco had disappeared, flanked by security, and while satisfaction bloomed in his chest, it mixed with something dangerously close to guilt. For weeks he'd held his tongue, his composure, played his part, bid his time as the man-child's enthusiasm and audaciousness wore on his patience. And now, with him gone, the lab was quieter, their team smaller, but the lab felt more...his. And he'd been right, Harrison had said so himself, Ramon was a liability. Still, that damned guilty conscience of his...

"Indulging in a bit of schadenfreude, Hartley?" Harrison asked, settling into the chair across from him.

"I didn't think you'd fire him-" Hartley started to explain as he set up the chess board between them but Harrison interrupted him.

"Didn't you?" Harrison's tone held a subtle challenge. "Don't apologize for achieving exactly what you wanted, Hartley. It's unbecoming."

Hartley bit back a smile, focusing on setting the white pieces up in front of Harrison. Dr. Snow was irritated with him for the firing - she and Ramon had become fast friends for reasons beyond Hartley's understanding - but Harrison, at least, didn't seem bothered. Good, that meant Harrison didn't know the full extent of his participation.

He wasn't foolish enough to think that Harrison was entirely oblivious to his part in Ramon's downfall. No, Harrison knew, or at least, he suspected. It was, after all, Hartley that he had allegedly tried to sabotage - he wasn't stupid, Ramon wasn't manipulative enough to try and sabotage anyone, and it was Hartley's calculations he'd looked over before disappearing downstairs. Hartley knew exactly what he'd been doing down there.

"You two seemed to be getting close," Hartley commented as though it hadn't driven him insane. "I almost thought you were friends."

"There was never any risk of friendship between us," Harrison replied easily, reaching for a piece and setting the game into motion. "Not unless you're redefining the term."

Hartley's mouth twitched upward into an amused smirk. That was one of the things he'd come to appreciate, even admire, about Harrison - he never felt the need to soften the truth, to bury it beneath niceties.

"Nomen amicitiae sic, quatenus expedit, haeret." Hartley countered as he studied the board.

For a moment, silence settled between them, punctuated only by the soft click of chess pieces. Harrison's gaze, however, lingered a little too long on Hartley's face, as if sifting through layers of veneer to find the truth beneath.

"I’m impressed," Harrison finally murmured, his voice low. "You've grown into quite the strategist."

Hartley allowed himself a small, smug smile. "Thank you, but I'm simply following your example. After all, I am nothing if not observant."

Harrison's lips tilted upward in a smirk, one that Hartley couldn't decide was genuine approval or something far more foreboding. "Would that we all had your diligence, Hartley."

Hartley glanced through the glass windows at the team across the hall, considering his next move. Harrison knew, so that meant he knew of the anomaly too. Hartley didn't have to inform him of that and he assumed, prideful though he was, that Harrison would deal with it privately.

Months later, he wished he hadn't.

Hartley hadn't expected this. He'd thought- he'd trusted Harrison to fix it before- trusted that the anomaly he'd spotted had been caught in time. That had been the whole point of setting Ramon up - or, most of it, anyway. If Harrison had seen it as an excuse to fire him, so be it, at least he knew. Hartley had never imagined Harrison would simply ignore the warning.

Harrison had never intended to stop this.

The anxiety pressed on his temples. As the minutes stretched and the readings edged far past dangerous territory, his own confidence wavered. Watching the door shut behind Ronnie, Hartley felt a pang - maybe even something like guilt.

"Just shut it down, Raymond," he muttered under his breath, a knot forming in the pit of his stomach.

Harrison wasn't the kind to make mistakes. He was calculating, sometimes ruthless, but never careless - never this careless. The disbelief burned in his chest like acid.

He didn't have time to dwell. The lights flickered and a deep tremor shuddered through the floor beneath him. And then the world exploded.

The next thing Hartley was conscious of was blinding pain holding his entire head in a vice; piercing through his ears, and what sounded like syncopated gunshots - sharp, crackling bursts that sent fresh waves of pain through his throbbing skull. He pressed his face into the grit-coated floor, gripping the sides of his head as he tried to orient himself. His glasses were broken on the floor in front of him but it didn't matter, he could hardly see for pain, smoke, and debris anyway. The worst had happened. He needed to get up. He had to get out. There was nothing he could do now.

He couldn't make himself move.

Hartley took a shaky breath and then another before finally managing to lift a hand, fingers brushing the smooth wall - nearly hot enough to the touch to burn him, grounding himself in the painful reality he so desperately wanted to avoid. This had been intentional, and Hartley was a goddamn coward.

Somewhere close, the crackling grew louder along with a relentless, high-pitched whine - A5 or maybe A6 he thought dimly. Each step was a battle against his own body, against the spinning and roaring that drowned his senses. Distantly, he was aware of people shouting, Caitlin's frantic voice mingling with another but he could barely hear it over the cacophony. He tried to stand straight and a wave of pain and nausea hit him so violently his shoulder slammed against the wall as he nearly collapsed.

"Over here!"

An unfamiliar voice broke through, far too loud, and Hartley groaned, slumping down the wall. The ringing in his ears grew worse, drowning out every coherent thought with a blinding screech, no longer a recognizable note. All he could think of, amidst the noise, was that Harrison hadn't even tried to fix it.

The moment fire and rescue found him, Hartley lost consciousness.

-----

translation:

Nomen amicitiae sic, quatenus expedit, haeret - the name of friendship lasts just so long as it is profitable

[kimberlyannharts]

Ultraman: Rising!

Sure we all know the Power Rangers reboot has been passed on at Netflix but instead we have this hot new piece of toku instead: Ultraman: Rising! And I finally got the chance to check it out last night.

I know Ultraman is one of the big toku/kaiju genre staples but it's never really been on my radar of things to watch. I'm not sure why! I guess Super Sentai/Power Rangers just has more of the it factor that appeals to me. So because of that I really have no context to the story besides it's a guy who can turn into a giant silver superhero that beats up kaiju.........or maybe it's an alien who looks like a human and the silver superhero is his true form? or maybe the human and the silver superhero are two separate beings that share the same body? idk. It's probably all three of those things depending on the series. But this film was marketed as a standalone that new fans could enjoy AND....the big one.....it's ANIMATED, so I felt more inclined to check it out.

And it was really really good!! I enjoyed it a lot!

Spoiler-ish thoughts on the film below:

= Let's get this out of the way: the biggest draw to this was the animation and art direction, and yeah, it slaps. The textures and stylization (always love 2D painted effect animation on explosions and things) and lighting were a full-course meal and the scenes where they focused on Ultraman's shining eyes staring through a window or computer screen were just SO striking. To the point where I feel that if I got around to watching the actual live-action Ultraman, it might feel a little underwhelming in comparison. Oops

= It does kind of fall in the cliches of the "selfish guy learns maturity by having to be a father" plot (with bonus "son is estranged from his dad and mom is missing but they work to improve their relationship" sprinkled in) which makes me appreciate The Return even more (sorry, I'm still Returnpilled) but it's still charming and I can hope if we get more movies they give a little more focus to Ami and Emiko (speaking of which, I know they weren't doing a romance this movie, but Ami having a daughter and the movie being about Ken raising a daughter? oh you know it's happening and I'm here for this because they're both so hot)

= I think Ken is also a better example of the "showboating egotistical hero who learns to mature" than most because the movie isn't afraid to show him vulnerable even before his character development. I was genuinely surprised at that scene where he starts crying out of the stress of balancing his baseball career and figuring out Emi

= Apparently there was some discussion that the movie didn't bring up Ultraman's origins which, as someone who knows next to nothing about Ultraman, that didn't really bother me? Obviously I can still give more benefit of the doubt than people who don't know much about the tokusatsu/kaiju genre to begin with, but even so, I was still pretty down with the concept of "this guy has the ability to turn into a giant silver superpowered man and passed the ability down to his son" - and I think in the age of superhero blockbusters in general the idea isn't that farfetched that it requires more explanation. In any case it's a bit of a moot point since future movies are clearly going to talk about Ultras and their origins more, based on the stinger.

= Is Emi a clear kid-appeal character meant to be shown off in marketing and merchandising because of how squishy and cute she is? Yes. Is she just so fucking squishy and cute and my newest baby child? YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEES. I am not immune to monster baby. I think it helps that I always found the old monster screeches cute and applying them to a baby babbling was kinda genius in its execution. And I'm glad they kind of got the obligatory "haha babies poop and are smelly and gross" jokes out of the way early (yeah they had the whole "acid reflux" thing in the second act but I've seen way worse in other media)

= The subtitles calling Sato's Ultra form "Ultradad" and his Ultra mustache were both really funny

= Obviously I knew Ken wasn't going to die when he threw himself on Dr. Onda's mech (btw the mech was sexy) but I definitely expected a little more than just a busted arm with how they were building up how the blast would have "destroyed them all" kdjkfdj maybe they cut to after he had recovered a bit. Though in general I'm not quite sure of how durable Ultraman is

= Kind of a milf. reblog

[is-the-snake-video-cute]

thank you for responding, i figured tumblr might have trashed my ask. you’ve helped me a few times already, so thank you for your continued patience as we care for our BP coco! we love her so much and she’s always been a moderately active snake, even enjoying warm skin contact or coming out to explore with supervision. however, for the last couple months we’ve seen almost nothing of her! i figured she was going into shed at first so i kicked the humidity up from 50s to 60s. but after all this time we’ve only seen her for her to eat and it never seemed like she was in shed. i’m worried we’re overfeeding her because even though she’s eating like a champ, she doesn’t seem that hungry to me until we give her a f/t rat (then she’s all about it). my husband is very worried she’s going to starve to death in there because she isn’t coming out so we’re still feeding her every few weeks. i’m more personally concerned that i haven’t seen her drinking much at all.

i was worried for her so i pulled the top off of her humidity hide, and this is what i saw:

are those fat rolls or dehydration? i want to do right by this little lady but i’m just not sure what i’m doing wrong :( i’m happy to take her straight to the vet, but if this is normal i wanted to know first.

So sorry to hear Coco hasn't quite been herself!

So, right off the bat, good news and bad news. Good news: she's at no risk of starving in there, and you also don't have to worry if you haven't been seeing her drinking (most bps will drink when we're asleep or otherwise not watching, so it's actually rare to catch them at it). Bad news: she definitely does look to be overweight to me. It probably looks a bit worse than it is in this picture because she is curled up pretty tight, but I am seeing some fat rolls.

Dehydration in ball pythons looks different - you'll see wrinkles, yeah, but they'll look more like the skin is pulling up. Here are some pictures of dehydrated snakes so you can see what I mean:

Any sudden change in activity is enough to get me a little bit worried, so this is one of those cases where I do think a vet visit would be a good idea because it could be down to such a wide variety of things. My hunch is that you're probably overfeeding a bit; the lack of hunting behavior despite a good appetite is a pretty strong clue there, and snakes who are full will tend to spend more time hiding anyway as they digest. In addition, carrying some extra weight can make a snake less active than usual because of the strain on their bodies.

Now, as long as you're not seeing any obvious signs of illness (wheezing, open-mouthed breathing, any noises, etc.), I really don't think this is something you'll need to rush to the emergency vet for, but I think a wellness exam would be a good idea (if only to rule out anything more serious). Any sudden behavior changes always put me on high alert. You know your snake best - if something seems off to you, it's worth checking out, if only for your own piece of mind!

I think your best course of action is probably just going to be to cut down on your feeding frequency and size for a while. Going a size down and spacing your feedings out will help; I rarely ever feed my own ball pythons more often than every three weeks. They're very easy to overfeed, especially if they have good appetites like Coco!

Like I said, I don't think you've got any sort of emergency on your hards, and I think your best option is just going to be feeding less often, but I'd recommend a vet visit just to make sure nothing's up.

All the best to you and sweet Coco!

[blvckentropy]

DS FINALE | 3/3

*Richie takes a deep breath*

Richie: Hello ladies

All: Hello

Richie: I want to start out by saying you all look absolutely stunning

All: Thank you!

Kierra: But why we all here?

Thalia: Wasn't there a winner?

Richie: Yes....this decision took a toll on me, so much I almost ran from it. But knew that wouldn't be fair to either of you

Richie: I can't make this decision w/o getting this off my chest

Richie: Kierra, you are amazing inside and out. I really enjoy spending my time w/ you especially. Any sim would be lucky to have you in their life and I'm lucky to have you apart of mines

Thalia, I felt a connection between us the moment I saw you. You took my breath away with your beauty, I still have trouble talking to you without getting sidetracked

Andrea, even though you're not on my team. Something about us makes sense. I felt like I was betraying my brother in some way, but he made it clear to me today that he wants the best for me. And I think that's you

Richie: Unfortunately, I can only pick one you. But can't deny what my heart wants. This girl feels right in every type of way. The longer I'm around her, the more I see my future with her. And hope the feeling mutual...

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Richie: Andrea, I may stumble over sweet phrases, yet my heart sings only for you. Tell me your heart beats in time with mine, for I cherish the moment I fell under your spell

Andrea: Me? OMG are you for real?!

Richie: Yes, I am but I hope there's no hard feelings ladies. I feel guilty

Kierra: Don't be, though it hurts a little, I seen the way you two look at each other. This was a great experience. I can't wait to have something similar

Thalia: Same. I think at some point it was clear that connection was mostly physical, from both parties but I don't regret a moment. Congrats to you two

Richie: Thank you, I appreciate and cherish the time we had as well. I wish the best of luck to you both.

He holds out his hand towards Andrea

Richie: What you say Andrea, do you and Ms. Tilly want to spend forever together?

Andrea: *laugh* I thought you never ask sweet cheeks

---------------------------------------------------------

Andrea: How long you practiced that speech handsome?

Richie: You hate it?

Andrea: Never but I have something else on my mind

She grabs his face for a long smooch

@foxsimthings Thank you so much for Thalia. She a stunning sim and was a hoot to have. She kept me on my toes especially every time she interrupted the other sims 🤣 She was very delightful to have and I'm honor to have this experience w/ her 💛

@invisiblequeen Your girl came close and ngl I was rooting for Kierra from the beginning (no shade to the others). Unfortunately, when she caught Rich w/ Andrea, her bar took a hefty toll. But I loved every bit of her. She was definitely what you describe through and through because there was not moment she wasn't gardening and around those animals lol She may have not won the battle, but she won the house. I think I'm leaving it in good hands 💚

@havenroyals CHILEEEEEEEEE! this girl right here.... I literally have no words yet so much. She was a gem to tell you the truth. She and her hat (Ms. Tilly) had me on the ropes lmaooo I never smiled nor laughed so hard in my life. She really had me enjoying the game like gameplay wise. It's one thing, I thought she'd would hit it off with one of the boys but to have them both and a side piece! I don't think I could have written a better love triangle/throuple. You guys don't believe me when I say I really did nothing! She came in and made her own rules. I placed her R-bar on zero twice and she always managed to fill it halfway with Richie. It was sealed at the start, I tried to sway her, but she wasn't going. Anyways, thank you again and congrats! I think Richie got his hands full. *last bit is for Drea 💀*

[serendertothesquad]

"Wordsville" and the Problem with Cash-Cow Copies

[note original day of creation was February 15, 2024. just...just for reference. trust me bro.]

Hello.

Tonight I am in a silly mood fueled by sleep deprivation.

That means you all get an introspective blog that I will complete within a week and then ask "why'd I write that?"

So here's what's on Seren's lovely table of discussion tonight...

Put...put away the glasses. You don't need your glasses. This is the highest-quality thing I can get.

But et voila. A little project in the works called Wordsville.

Now, at this point you might be asking why I'm referencing "cash-cow copies" in the title. And whoo-hoo...oooooh...well, I don't want to make this some kind of clickbait blog, so I might as well perfect the atomic bomb in five minutes and land it on you folks.

What if I were to tell you that this is a blatant, shameless, slap-a-digital-coat-on-it-and-call-it-a-day copy of Odd Squad?

Ahhh, see, now I have you intrigued. Hopefully. If you are, then peep down below and let me discuss things a little more in-depth for you non-believing hacks asking me if I'm borderline insane.

So to put things in perspective, allow me to explain what Wordsville is, starting with my own personal summary.

Wordsville is an up-and-coming episodic (not to be confused with serialized, that's a whole 'nother ballgame) TV series that is produced (and will later be distributed) by Sinking Ship Entertainment and is made with assistance from WNET, a PBS station located in New Jersey, and TVO Kids, PBS Kids's girlfriend from Canada that's definitely real.

It was announced back in October of last year with a press release from Kidscreen, which didn't give much info aside from the following blurb:

Wordsville stars two child detectives on the hunt for missing words that are causing chaos in their town.

Sounds a little familiar, don'tcha think? Two kid detectives, finding something missing...and that "something missing" is causing chaos where they live?

Oh, but if you think the similarities end there, then no. No the absolute fuck they do not. I've got my bathing suit on and God damn it if I'm not gonna jump all the way in the pool instead of dippin' my little toes in there.

Doing a little bit of digging reveals more tidbits from a casting call for the series. It's rather wordy (ayyyyyy I did a funy), so let's take it piece by piece and discuss accordingly.

Wordsville is a town populated entirely by kids

A town that is populated entirely by children? Now c'mon, surely that doesn't ring a be-

...Ah. Whaddya know. Yes it does.

And with the adults as useless and idiotic as they are, it might as well be a town full of solely children. Next question.

and it’s a place where words matter. A lot. Every kid citizen has a special connection to words. And that means that if something happens to a word, there are far-reaching consequences.

A special connection to words? Like how there are children who have a special connection to normalcy? Stopping, oh, I dunno, hypothetically speaking...

...oddness?

Okay okay, I'm reaching just a wee bit here, but you can't read this and not tell me it echoes the funny kids math show to some degree or another. If an odd thing happens to a person, the whole town suffers. You've seen it. I've seen it. It's been the basis for many an A and B-plot. Must I elaborate? Good, because I don't plan on it. Continuing.

If the Main Street Baker bakes delicious donuts and they all mysteriously disappear, nothing else in Wordsville can taste good until they are returned.

Town Baker walked so Main Street Baker can sprint while blowing their lungs out.

If the Town Doctor’s soothing medication gets swiped, the whole town gets uncontrollably itchy until the medicine-napper is uncovered.

Ignoring the incredibly dark implications of this as well as the implications of this shoddy knockoff town having only one single doctor...

Dr. O walked so the Town Doctor can sprint while blowing their lungs out...over their massive paycheck.

(I technically could have also put New Dr. O too, but I'd like to spring for iconic OG's here. New Dr. O is neither iconic nor an OG.)

And let me remind you that "Torontonians get uncontrollably itchy due to something odd" would, by technicality, classify as an odd problem. Because...I mean, y'know...the cause is something odd happening. Doing shit with words is odd. This needs absolutely no explaining.

If the Local Scientist does an experiment with electricity and all the lights in town go out, they won’t come back on until the experiment wrecker is revealed.

Yep, I've taken shots of every IPA I can. We nearly hit the main character quadfecta, if you discount Dr. "bro thinks she's part of the team" O. All they needed was a bit about a high governing body and we'd round out the quad squad in proper with Oprah!

There's also a sneaky lil' crumb in the form of that blurb relating to Oona, who did, indeed, experiment with electricity in one episode and wound up proving why she can never take up Crossfit.

Hmmmnnnnext!

In each crime, the episodic word disappears and can’t return until the mystery is solved. The impact of the missing word is felt all over town.

This is another one of those things that I gotta wrench a hammy for in terms of comparisons, because about the only thing I can reasonably compare Odd Squad to is the second sentence.

See, here's the thing. You get oddness that happens to a person. Oftentimes, that oddness spreads to other people, whether directly (in the form of diseases and disorders) or indirectly (like the Town Baker's cakes being split in half, which wouldn't please Torontonians poppin' in for a whole cake and eyeing the display to get a feel for one). In a sense, normalcy disappears and, well, it can't return until [insert partner pair here] solve the case. It's kinda the entire schtick of Odd Squad as a franchise. It's formulaic, just like how Wordsville's "words disappear and nothing can be normal until the word returns" schtick is formulaic.

Is it a stretch? Perhaps. Mileage may vary. I think it's a bit of a stretch, personally. But hey, I'm a grown adult critiquing a ripoff of a kids STEM show. I shouldn't be talking. But I didn't start this fandom nearly 10 years ago just to let Sinking Ship's piss-poor attempt at really capitalizing on one of their biggest franchises sliiiiiide right by me on a floor smooth enough where I'm falling on my ass every 10 seconds.

Luckily, best friends and partners Sage and Chase are on the case and run the only detective agency in town. These tech-savvy sleuths solve mysteries entirely virtually because their reading, listening and digital literacy skills are their greatest strengths. Sage and Chase always catch their culprit and make sure everything is right with the word.

Now where in the McFuck do I start with this one? The PAW Patrol catchphrase thrown in complete with shared name? The fact that there is only one detective agency in the entire town? The fact that Sage and Chase are best friends as well as work partners? Or the pun that made me actively cringe in a way I haven't felt since Whitney told James she wanted to go on the lake?

I mean...this is about Odd Squad, so...I guess the second one sounds most plausible.

But that doesn't need explaining either. There is only one detective agency in town. There is one Odd Squad precinct per city or per state.

No, neither does the third bit. I already referenced Olive and Otto above. You should know what's up.

(I've also read that blurb five times now and...well...we'll get to the digital stuff in a bit. That just needs a whole side-set of word vomit.)

-------------------------------

In my digging of this series -- which, well, wasn't all that much -- I managed to find a few blurbs on our two main characters. The casting call for them, funny enough, called for, and I will quote this exactly, "talent to look 9."

As in, they want the actors to physically look 9 years old.

Which puts that qualifier in the same ballpark as Odd Squad UK's "talent must be Canadian but live in the UK". But at least that prerequisite actually had a legitimate earnest reason behind it, which is that the production needed to be Canadian in a lot more than just the "Canadian prodco works on a British series" sense. Hiring kids who have to physically look 9 years old and will probably be yoted onto the street the second puberty hits them like a truck is a practice not even the most egregious bosses of family-owned-and-operated businesses could pull off.

But enough about the qualifiers. Let's get started on our character comparisons and civil cidiscussion! (Oh the irony...)

And remember this: the casting call was handled by Larissa Mair Casting, who previously did casting for Odd Squad. So that means there will be tinny lil' crumbs of bonus material for me to dissect and discuss! Huzzah! Aw God why can't this happen for Odd Squad UK...man, I'm gonna have to go into my sobbing corner...

First up, we have Sly Sleuth, originally referred to as "Sage" here. I'll also be referring to him as "Sage" in this blog.

Sage is a great detective; thoughtful, extremely logical, and talented at getting information out of people.

Thoughtful of others. Logical. And can wrench information out of suspects like a badass.

Yep, we got an Olive that got hit with an Olando-fied beam. (And because half of you don't know who Olando is: Sage is meant to be a male Olive. I hope that clears things up for you.)

What else?

Nothing related to vocabulary or literacy gets by this investigator. Suspects can underestimate Sage but that is always a mistake. Sage doesn’t scare easily and won’t take no for an answer, traits that make an excellent detective.

You could tell me this was how Olive was meant to be written in "My Better Half", word for word, and I would honestly believe you. Right down to asking, "Her name was Sage in pre-production?"

About the only place I can draw the line here is at Olive not scaring easily. We don't know Sage's backstory -- and once again, this is an episodic series, so don't expect much in the way of plot, backstory included -- but Olive, at least, has a legitimate reason for all the times she covers her ears at loud noises or sharply reacts to something startling.

The former is because of The Censor-Friendly Bullet Massacre of '15.

The latter is because Dalila Bela marched straight out of a viewing of Who Framed Roger Rabbit and never looked back.

I...can't really say either applies to Sage. At least not yet. We'll have to see if Sinking Ship decides to bring Wordsville into its lil' multiverse that Odd Squad and Dino Dana and Endlings and Playdate already share.

Sage is also wise, which is why the name “Sage” is completely appropriate.

Sooooo does that mean his name is Sly because he's cunning like a fox?

Well then in other news, Olive is named such because she was inspired by the famous Law and Order character Olivia Benson. I have fifteen folders that back me right the hell up. Also I contacted Sinking Ship the other day, they explicitly told me.

No, no, but in all seriousness. Olive, too, is very wise. Historian buff, knows her shit about Odd Squad, doo-dah, doo-dah.

Anyway, next up we have Chase, who was renamed to "Gabby Gumshoe". (I'll be referring to her as Chase in this blog, as well.) Let's see what's on the chopping block for her in terms of our favorite food-loving, hella tall, crazy silly blorbo.

Chase is a fantastic detective, but is also goofy[,] funny, visually oriented, and, like the name suggests, loves the “chase”.

Now there's a man who got hit with a yassified beam, right there.

I'll leave it up to you folks whether you consider Otto to be "visually oriented". But in terms of "loving the chase"...yeah, I'd say that fits.

To lay it down: Otto is a rookie agent. Common sense would lead anyone to assume that he has an absolute blast solving odd cases and absorbing every bit of knowledge about Odd Squad that he possibly can. He finds out a villain's on the loose? He's right there, by Olive's side, workin' to catch 'em. He finds out oddness has run rampant throughout the town? He's right on that shit.

Chase, on the other hand, is someone I wouldn't call a rookie. It's made quite evident that she is, for all intents and purposes, seasoned. Seasoned enough that she manages to keep the detective agency she works for afloat and get approval from the others in Wordsville, Sage included. This, perhaps, is because she's not really meant to be an audience surrogate in the same way Otto is. Otto, at least for the first few episodes, serves as a way to ease the audience into Odd Squad and show them what the organization is and what they do without yoting them into it and leaving them asking "Where am I?" more times than a drunkard. Chase doesn't fill that role, because it could be argued that such a show like Wordsville doesn't really need an audience surrogate. Whether that's true, though, remains to be seen.

People tend to underestimate this investigator, but Chase often notices things like a chocolate stain when someone said they didn’t like chocolate or a squiggle of icing that turns out to be the antonym of the word they’re tracking.

Y' take Otto's...Otto's love of food...and y' put it in a gorl...and BAM you got a character.

...

That isn't a joke. It's dead-on serious. Even the casting call script pins Chase as a kid with a sweet tooth! It's just Otto but with a less diverse palate! Otto eats everything! This kid eats sweets! God sakes, give her some juice, make her Oprah, I don't give a shit, fucking hell I'm driving 50 minutes to Burger Ki-

Chase is also great with computers and incredibly artistic. A graphic note taker[,] Chase loves to draw, has a great eye for details, is a big fan of the “zoom in” function, and really enjoys creating animated re-enactments of Word Mysteries.

All right, we finally have somewhere we can draw the line.

No, not at being tech-literate. With being artistic.

Otto's artistic talent kind of varies throughout the franchise. In drawing on paper, he's pretty solid for an I-just-recently-turned-10-please-praise-me-year-old. In making paper airplanes, he's solid enough to take down a grown-ass man and rock his sunglasses when he's done for.

In computer drawing...well...if you can believe it, concepts like Ibispaint and Photoshop don't exist in the world of Odd Squad. (Okay, maaaaybe Photoshop does. I don't think it does. But it could be a good in-universe justification for it.)

We don't know Otto's digital artist merit because we never see him make any digital art. All of his art is solely non-digital. On Chase's side of things, she lives in an era where digital drawing is, like in real life, the norm. It's a contrast that might be one of the more glaring ones when it comes to comparing these two shows.

Now, as for the "creating animated re-enactments" schtick...if that isn't an excuse for Sinking Ship to work their animation magic after the Sandy Cheeks movie, then I honestly don't know what is. If you wanted to make the show animated, you could have made it animated. Would've been cheaper, too!

(And "Word Mysteries"...it's not as grating as Wild Kratts's "Wow Fact", but it's edging pretty close. I blame WNET. That's solely a PBS thing right there. TVO Kids would never.)

----------------

So we've gotten the discussion about the two main characters out of the way. Now we can dive into the heartier meat. The kind where's it's purple on the inside but you still digest it anyway.

I'm talking, of course, about the sample scripts- script. Singular. There is one script. Uno.

Now, lemme give you a bit of a rundown: casting calls for Odd Squad -- really, most shows, but this is a blog about Odd Squad -- often come with sample scripts. This is so talents can read their parts aloud for the camera and have the tape submitted to the casting agency for consideration. Odd Squad in particular has had quite an interesting ride with sample scripts, from entire episode plots being adapted into final products (with a bit of tweaking) to characters having names different than what they're named in the final product (which is the case with both Sly and Gabby). They're nothing on the scale of ABC Me dropping episodes earlier than PBS or shorts getting dropped as an alleged April Fools prank, but they're pretty damn good crumbs to chew on.

The sample script starts out with Sage and Chase on, of course, a video call. (Sinking Ship made a Zoom reference once. Pray they do not make another by the name of a friendly drug called "Speed" or that term for peeing known as a "Whiz".) Chase explains that she just gave her office chair's wheels a tune-up, which, of course, makes her hungry. Hungry enough that she declares a "cookie break" and immediately takes out a ginormous cookie from hammerspace that just made the European bakery down the street from me start sobbing. (Look, they make good cookies. Giant cookies. Cookies I need two hands just to hold properly. Trust me, it's- it's massive.)

However, when she bites into the cookie, she finds that it tastes absolutely gross -- "not sweet, not even sour". While she ponders if her body has forcefully rejected one of the best sweet treats known to humankind, Sage begins to grow suspicious and asks if it's a Word Mystery they need to solve.

Which is, coincidentally enough, when the Main Street Baker calls in a fit of hysteria, explaining that their "delicious donuts" are gone. And because we can't take enough from Odd Squad, we get a bit of "literal humor" in the form of the donuts both being delicious (probably) and them spelling the word "delicious" prior to their disappearance. After Sage explains what "delicious" means as well as what synonyms are, it's shown that the culprit also struck other pastries, up to and including gingerbread people, which Sage absolutely takes personally because he's a kid of pure culture who gives a big "fuck you" to holiday-specific treats being enjoyed only during said holidays.

Chase, in true Otto fashion, decides to take more bites of her cookie and instantly regrets it. Sage, in true...well...Clint Eastwood fashion (I shit you not, that's literally what it says in the script), declares that they need to find the word "delicious" and fix the pastries.

And...yeah, that's about it. Like I said, there's really not much to go on with casting call sample scripts. Especially not ones from Larissa Mair.

My conclusive thoughts on it, you ask? Well...they can try to hide it, but all it's doing is enforcing my point. From the Main Street Baker having donuts missing similar to how the Town Baker had bagels missing in "Soundcheck", to Chase being an idiot who is obsessed with food the same way Otto is (right down to his willingness to drink Odd Todd's pickle juice when it tasted gross in "Bad Lemonade"!), even down to the "literal metaphor" kind of humor as it applies to singular words. Am I stretching? Perhaps. But these supposedly insignificant pieces are just part of the bigger picture, the larger issue at hand in this long-winded piece.

------------------

The digital aspect of Wordsville is one of the ways they decided to put a twist on the precedent that Odd Squad set. And it's so blatant and in-your-face that it's on par with shoving a red flag in someone's eyes to blind them.

But here's the thing. The digital aspect been done. Amusingly enough, by the same company.

Lockdown is a show that fits right in with the others at the Shows-Made-During-the-COVID-Pandemic-About-the-COVID-Pandemic club. It was a way to capitalize on something in society that probably will never be relevant again until around 2050. Maybe even earlier than that, at the rate we're going.

I haven't seen it, so I can't speak much about it, but from my side of things it looks a lot like Unfriended if it took place during the pandemic and wasn't a horror movie and involved teens and not young adults/adults/I haven't seen the movie in many years bite me.

But the main difference between Lockdown and Wordsville, relevant to this editorial, is that Lockdown has a legitimate reason to be shot entirely on electronic devices. It's part of the plot. It works, I'm sure. For Wordsville, it makes no sense for the outline and isn't just limiting, but is downright insulting for something "rooted in the 21st century". It's good to be unique when making a show, but there's such a thing as trying too hard to be unique to the point where it's detrimental to your show's quality. Making the show be a digital-only angle isn't a smart move, especially for a detective procedural.

And if it's trying to differentiate itself from Odd Squad...well, do I got some bad news for you.

The show already did an entire Zoom parody in the span of an 11-minute episode.

And I still hate it with all the vitriol of an old woman who hates kids playing with beach balls in the yard pool. It sucks ass. It's entirely unneeded when you have three children sitting around the same table. I could vomit on you all day about it. But at least it's far more justified than Wordsville having its entire formula based on it. You can rip off a show without being limiting.

(don't. seriously. don't.)

------------------

Before we get to the conclusion, I need to dive deep into Odd Squad's own popularity and explain it a little more beyond just little "trust me bro" tidbits.

If you've been following it for as long as I have, then it's no secret that Odd Squad is one of Sinking Ship's cash-cow franchises. You've got the main series, six different spinoffs, a live show, a book...and I didn't even provide a whole damn list! Point being, it's huge. It doesn't have many roots in pop culture, but from a certain angle, it is an absolutely massive franchise that continues to grow, even in spite of its controversies.

Unlike works such as SpongeBob or Bluey, Odd Squad isn't popular enough to get bonafide ripoffs. The formula is relatively easy to copy, and if anything there are shows that have a similar premise but aren't even close to ripoff territory (K.C. Undercover, for example). It's just that, for all the ripoffs people have done of shows and movies over the years, the motivation for industry bigwigs in taking Odd Squad and running with it just...isn't there. I can connect it to Disney or Dreamworks or Viacom all I want, but at best they have a vague awareness of it that only goes as far as "oh, that's a thing, I guess". At worst, they see it as a pile of shit that would never turn a decent profit.

It could be argued that Sinking Ship wasn't all too well-known in the entertainment sphere up until Odd Squad came around. Looking at their resume doesn't show all too much in the way of what's popular. This is Daniel Cook, Roll Play, Playdate...they don't stick in your head, right? Yeah, none of them stick in my head either. Odd Squad was their first big hit for them, something that really helped them gain ground as a company. It's the one that's pretty much linked with Sinking Ship in news articles. Like husband and wife, but for the TV industry.

But to Hollywood bigwigs, that means about as much as finding a stick on the ground. I guaran-goddamn-tee Bob Iger is not going to put his grubby little hands on the funny kids math franchise and twist the hell out of it. The only way that's happening is if you run "Odd Squad, but make it Disney" through an AI generator. (Which, for the record, I have not done. You can't really replicate Odd Squad characters in animation without making them look like they walked out of yet another Law and Order spinoff that's far more kid-friendly.)

However, even with Odd Squad's varying popularity, there are shows that go just a little beyond having a similar premise to it but don't dive into ripoff territory. Sort of like a next step up.

A long time ago, a few friends and I in an Odd Squad Discord server were discussing the show Numberjacks. You know, that show that Jacknjellify may or may not have used as inspiration for Four's design? Yeah, that's the bitch.

The show has a few similarities to Odd Squad. You've got the focus on math, a system for exiting the couch headquarters that's similar to the tube system, and even the existence of kid agents and incredibly odd villains, one of which, need I remind you, Twitter tried to make into a sexyman for all of two days to varying degrees of success.

I will admit, I haven't seen Numberjacks in several years. In fact, the last time I saw it was when it was brought up as an Odd Squad ripoff. If I recall correctly, the episode that I picked to watch on a whim was "Seaside Adventure", wherein a few numbers take a vacation and trouble occurs. Or something like that. I really can't remember many details.

One thing I do remember, though, is distinctly thinking that I could see the Odd Squad similarities, but...it's not a ripoff. The series premiered in 2006. By that point, Tim McKeon and Adam Peltzman were off on their own ventures as they wrote for cartoons and other things. Thus, Odd Squad hadn't been birthed yet. If anything, Odd Squad took cues from Numberjacks, not the other way around -- but even with the existence of Odd Squad UK, we don't know that for sure. I don't even know how popular Numberjacks was in the UK. I'm a dumb lil' American, not a Daphne-Moon-esque English woman.

Since then, I haven't found anything that has come close to what Wordsville aims to accomplish. Granted, though, I have not looked very hard. I'm moreso keeping an eye on PBS to see if they're going to try and rip off Odd Squad rather than keeping an eye on any random B-lister studio. (And no, I'm not talking about WNET. They are a PBS station, but I'm referring to PBS as a whole entire network, not a sole affiliate.)

------------------------

So the question remains: is Wordsville an Odd Squad ripoff?

Yes. On multiple counts. Right down to the name inspo. Guilty as charged. Right to jail.

From it being for the 4-7 demo not unlike Odd Squad's own 4-8 demo, to Sage and Chase being referred to as "Word Detectives" in lieu of "agents", to it being a detective procedural not unlike Odd Squad and its spinoffs, to the synopsis of the show being described as having "a case rooted in a vocabulary lesson" similar to Odd Squad having episodes rooted in STEM lessons, to it actively encouraging the audience to solve mysteries along with Sage and Chase...to Sage and Chase having alliterative theme naming...

Yeah, safe to say, we've got ourselves a ripoff.

There's no denying that Odd Squad is a fantastic franchise. Even through all of its issues, including financial controversies, heavy criticism, and mistreatment from PBS, it has remained strong for nearly 10 years, and will stay strong for many more. Maybe one of these days, it will plant roots deeper into pop culture and become one hell of a phenomenon. We'll have to see.

But the fact that Sinking Ship Entertainment has to resort to borrowing a concept that is unique in its nature, a concept that has already been done, a concept that has been given life and creativity by the people who birthed it, and then try to pass it off as its own original IP is not a good look on them. It's been done similarly before with their other big franchise, Dino Dan -- key word being "similarly" because it's one show and three spinoffs focusing on different characters. That isn't the case with Wordsville, though.

Put it this way: it's a company ripping off not someone else's IP, like many other companies have done and continue to do. It's a company ripping off their own IP.

And really, it doesn't matter how it's done. Stealing is stealing. At the end of the day, all it shows is a complete lack of creativity and a complete craving for the almighty dollar. More so if it's a company stealing from themselves and passing it along as okay.

In spite of this, however, I am perfectly willing to give Wordsville a shot when it comes out. Not so much to see if it's good (though my curiosity is piqued), and definitely not to hate-watch (which has the opposite intended effect on a show or movie), but to see just how far Sinking Ship is willing to push the envelope in affirming viewers and industry buddies alike that this is not, by any and all accounts, a copy of Odd Squad. I want to spot similarities. I want to take whiskey shots until I can do a zoom-zoom to a hospital and then ask if they've got a bottle on board the rig. I want to give a full, I-watched-this-show-now-here-are-my-overall-final-thoughts addendum on the entire issue.

As of now, Wordsville has no narrow timeframe. All I know is that it's releasing this year, likely on TVO Kids in Canada. Whether PBS as a whole will adopt it into its roster -- and if anything, it'll be WNET-exclusive, otherwise we would've heard something about it at the TCA Winter Press Tour a few days back -- for American audiences remains yet to be seen. Rest assured, though, that I'll be keeping an eye on it and rushing to it as soon as the first episode drops. After that, I'll give a proper addendum so I can finally put this issue to bed. Along with myself. Revenge bedtime procrastination is a bitch.

Thanks for reading. This honestly started out as something silly, but then I became analytical. So you got a mix of both in this one. This may or may not be the norm. Day-by-day, y'know?

Seren out.

[silverraes]

10 BL Characters I Would Hit With My Car

big thank you to @buddhamethods for starting this. I thought it sounded like a fun idea and just had to participate because I have Opinions™ :)

I am hitting some of these characters with only the best intentions and some of them out of pure spite

1) Shin (Bake Me Please)

if you've seen me post about this show or if you've seen it yourself, you know exactly why this guy is on here and also why he's the main reason why I just had to join in on this trend

square up, Shin, I'm hitting you with my car for all that bs and also to help with your character development a little <3

(I didn't find a fitting gif so have a pic as a great summary for why he's on here instead)

2) Way (Pit Babe)

listen I love him. after all if evil why pretty? but he's also a b*tch and he deserves to get hit by a car a little. as a treat. he's my pathetic little meow meow and I love to see him suffer (affectionate) <3

I'm also doing this as a public service so that Babe and Charlie can stay in their weird mama & papa boyfriends era without Way pulling his mind fuckery tricks on Babe

3) Kim (Kinnporsche)

hitting him with my car very lovingly simply bc he made Chay sad and we can't have that. maybe a little car accident can get him to actually admit that he's head over heels in love.

(and also because this man is way too pretty and I need to confirm that he's actually human)

4) Top (Only Friends)

listen. I believe that all of the Only Friends characters deserve to get hit by a car a little. all of them. but this man dared to say that he was serious and then went ahead and slept with someone else so. there's that.

5) Xue Yang (The Untamed/MDZS)

the most evil fucker for absolutely no reason. completely irredeemable. has the world's worst reason for being evil. I love him so much.

this guy is so fucked up that he managed to spend 3 years being all domestic with his nemesis only to realize that he actually developed feelings for him after he had already caused his death

there is absolutely no way to fix him but I'm still hitting him with my car for the amount of emotional damage he caused me with those god damn pieces of candy

6) Akk (The Eclipse)

I love him to bits and that is exactly why I'm knocking him tf out. very lovingly and rather softly but enough to give him some time off. because he deserves a break from all of the absolutely godawful authority figures in his life and what they're putting him through

7) August (Last Twilight)

this fucking b*tch.

I don't think I need to explain why I'm coming at him full speed. this is an act of public service, your honor, I'm doing nothing wrong.

8) Phee (Dead Friend Forever)

okay I know we've only had him for one single episode but this man is already stressing me out with the way he just threw away his cigarette bud in the middle of a god damn forest. sir what are you doing.

I'm only preserving the environment by hitting him with my car and getting him out of that forest, really

(also I can't pinpoint why but this guy is sus af and I don't trust him)

(the scene of crime, your honor)

9) Sprite & Zee's mom (Twins)

after @buddhamethods already took care of Zee (thank you for your service), I am volunteering to take out their mom. this woman needs the world's biggest wake-up call and since her own damn son ending up in a hospital didn't seem to do the trick, maybe herself ending up there will help

10) GramBlack double feature (Not Me)

the absolute audacity of these men to not be in love? after all of that?? I'm hitting them with my car because maybe ending up in hospital beds next to each other will finally get someone to admit that that G did not stand for Eugene what the actual fuck

(listen there are barely any scenes with actual Black and Gram together I'm working with the smallest of crumbs here bear with me)

tagging all of my moots. all of you. if you consider me your mutual, consider yourself tagged.