#but by the end they were on better terms and it was just fun

[sniktbaby]

something you could sin for

summary: logan is your dad's best friend. both of you struggle to come to terms with your growing feelings for each other.

warnings: angst, dad's best friend, a hint of jealousy-based misogyny, age gap (reader is in her late 20s!), size difference, some dirty talk, size kink (logan has a huge d), smidge of praise, pet names (baby, princess, darling), shower sex, oral sex (f + m receiving), pain kink if you squint, riding, clitplay, creampie, lots of religious terms (idk man), cliffhanger ending maybe???

word count: 6.6k

author's note: yeehaw cowboy logan!!! i had such a fun time writing this one! i might do a sequel to this if you guys like it! title is from midnight cowboy by jade <3

It is your birthday. Logan, your dad’s best friend, stands by the barbeque, chatting it up with your dad. He steals glances at you, hoping you don’t notice his gaze underneath his signature cowboy hat and dark aviators.

He really has been making an effort not to look. Trying not to notice the baby blue dress you’re wearing, the way it cinches at your waist. How the thin fabric flows over your hips. And he definitely didn’t catch sight of you bending down to pet his dog, your breasts barely contained by the cups of the dress, revealing that you’re not wearing a bra.

No, he didn’t notice that at all.

Fuck. What is he thinking? You’re his best friend’s daughter, for Christ’s sake! He even brought a date, some little redhead he picked up at the bar, just so he’d have an excuse to stay away from you.

But the truth is, the second he saw you - barefoot in the grass in that damn dress, laughing with your friends while you posed in front of the balloon wall - he couldn’t even remember the redhead’s name. He didn’t want to remember, checked out of that whole idea.

The sun is setting now. Logan goes to help your dad with getting a bonfire started as you sit on the porch, a slice of cake balanced on a paper plate in your lap. The redhead Logan brought stands so close to him, hanging off his every word, and it makes your muscles tense. You’re so distracted, watching this woman laugh at Logan’s dumb jokes, that you don’t notice Addy, Logan’s dog, sprinting up to you. Before you have time to react, you’re absolutely covered in vanilla cake and strawberry frosting.

Logan looks over, noticing the commotion. He can see your cheeks flush and your eyes water as you stand there, smothered in cake. He knows you would never be mad at Addy over an accident. You’re too understanding, as sweet as the dessert smeared all over your pretty dress. You’re crushed because the redhead beside him is pointing at you, laughing.

You’re embarrassed, humiliated, and his little date isn’t helping. His jaw clenches as he watches you hurry inside the house.

“Shit. Logan, go check on her, will ya?”

Logan turns toward your dad, who is still occupied with getting the fire just the way he wants it. A stubborn perfectionist. You inherited that from him.

But Logan can’t go after you. He can barely be alone with you these days, much less when you’re upset. He’ll just want to hold you, stroke your hair, tell you the truth about how he feels. He can’t do that. “Why me?” he asks, taking a step to the side as the redhead goes to lock arms with him.

Your dad chuckles, breaking a branch over his knee. “You’ve always been better at cheerin’ her up when she’s like this.”

He’s not wrong. With a sigh, Logan nods, then makes his way towards the house.

You disappear inside. Honestly, Addy did you a favor. You needed a moment to yourself, to clear your head. Get Logan out of it.

You were already jealous that he brought another woman. Then you think of her laughing face when Addy knocked the slice of cake against you. And now you’re so fucking humiliated, it stings your skin. Sure, it was funny, but her pointing finger and high-pitched giggle felt like malice. She already has the man you want, she has to laugh at you too?

Ugh. You can’t keep pretending like your feelings for Logan aren’t bigger than a silly childhood crush.

You retreat to your bedroom, sitting on the edge of your bed as you take a couple of deep breaths. You look down at the cake staining your dress, frosting smeared on your chest. It’s even in your hair.

You sigh. You need to calm down before going back out there.

Logan follows you through the house. This was a bad idea. He knows he shouldn’t have come after you. He should have stayed outside with the others, kept his hands clean of anything that doesn’t involve whiskey or cigars. But seeing you walk away, knowing you’re upset…

He’s here now, standing outside of your goddamn door.

He clears his throat, making you look up. You’re surprised to see him, his arms crossed tight over his chest, the fabric of his t-shirt pulled taut over his muscles.

He lifts his chin at you. “You okay?”

Your lips lift. “Fine,” you reply, lowering your gaze. You pick at a piece of cake stuck to your thigh. “Guess Addy was mad I didn’t cut her a slice.”

He lets out a rough chuckle as he pushes off the doorframe. Your joke lands soft and he hates that he put that tremble in your voice. He folds his arms tighter across his chest like it’ll somehow hold everything in - his control, his guilt, the goddamn animal inside him that perks up every time you look at him, like he’s worth something.

You look at him like you know him. Like you can see past the claws and the scars and the rage that lives under his skin. You look at him like you want all of him, even if it’s broken, even if it might hurt you.

And that scares the hell out of him.

You search his face. He looks troubled, like there’s something brewing beneath the surface if you could only pull it out of him. “You could’ve given me the heads up that you were bringing someone,” you murmur, shrugging your shoulders, feigning nonchalance though your fingers twist anxiously in your lap. “I mean…it’s your life, right? You can bring whoever you want. The guy I’m seeing was gonna come, but…”

A lie. You swallow hard, forcing a bitter smile.

His jaw clenches, nostrils flaring slightly. “You’re lyin’.” A slow exhale, one of his hands coming up to rub the back of his neck, knuckles brushing against the collar of his shirt. His dog tags shift under the cotton. He takes a step closer, drawn to you like a moth to flame.

You stiffen at his accusation, lips parting in surprise before pressing into a tight line. Your gaze drops to the floor. “You think I’m lying?” Your voice is quieter now, but still laced with defiance. You raise your chin, meeting his eyes again.

He takes another step, close enough now that he could reach out and touch you. Wipe the frosting from your skin. Taste it. Taste you.

Instead, he braces a hand on the bedpost beside your head, caging you in without laying a finger on you. “Think you’re lyin’ ‘bout the guy.” He tilts his head, jaw tight, eyes locked on yours. “Doubt he exists. Doubt anyone else gets that look from you.”

Your breath hitches, caught somewhere between fear and desire. He’s standing so close - too close - but he still hasn’t touched you. He’s choosing restraint, control. Something you don’t want from him. But you refuse to give in first.

You angle your head away from him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Stubborn girl. You always have been. You were always one to bite your lip bloody before admitting you were hurt.

Logan smirks, reaching up to tug off his hat. Without breaking eye contact, he settles it atop your head. It dips low over your brow, too big for you, shadowing your face just enough to make you raise your chin towards him. His thumb brushes the shell of your ear before pulling away completely, letting you feel his absence now that you’ve tasted his touch.

“Sure you don’t,” he murmurs, voice thick with amusement and something darker.

The weight of his hat feels heavier than it should. Your fingers twitch at your sides, itching to touch him, to tear that fabric off of him until there’s no space left between you. Your heart pounds wildly beneath your ribs, hopeful and terrified all at once. Your breaths are coming fast, shallow, like you’re scared one wrong move will end whatever the hell is happening between you.

Your voice cracks when you speak. “You shouldn’t be in here, Logan.”

You’re right. He shouldn’t be in here. The curtains are drawn, the whole damn world waiting outside for them. None of them know how close he is to crossing a line he can’t come back from.

But he doesn’t move.

Your eyes. The way you look at him with desperation. Hunger. It mirrors something dark and restless in him. Something that has been clawing at his ribs for years, begging him to stop running. Stop hiding behind rules and regrets.

He shifts, just enough to close the distance between you. His knee presses into the mattress beside your thigh. His movements are slow, careful, wanting you to feel what you should know by now.

That he wants you.

Your breath catches, your thighs squeezing together. A million thoughts race through your head. You should tell him that this isn’t right. That he’s too old, too forbidden, too connected to your family to ever truly belong to you.

But instead, you lean into him, your chest rising and falling faster now. Your voice is barely above a whisper. “Logan…” Your fingers curl into the fabric beneath you, fighting the urge to pull him closer. To kiss him.

Your voice, his name on your lips - it sounds like a prayer. A surrender. A warning.

He shouldn’t. He really fucking shouldn’t.

But you leaned in. That tiny, traitorous shift of your body towards his - that was all it took. The last thread snaps. No more lies. No more pretending he doesn’t want you like this. Like he hasn’t wanted you for years. He cups your face before he loses his nerve, rough palm cradling your jaw like you’re both delicate and dangerous - which you are.

“Shouldn’t…” he mutters, thumb grazing your bottom lip, feeling you tremble underneath it, “...but I was never very good at doin’ what I should.”

And then he kisses you. Hard.

The kiss steals the air from your lungs, hot and demanding and utterly consuming. You go rigid beneath his touch, stunned that this is happening - that he is kissing you, claiming your mouth like he owns every secret you’ve whispered in the dark.

And then you push him away, roughly, causing him to stumble back a few steps.

The loss of your warmth hits him like a punch to the gut. He staggers back, blinking rapidly as if just waking up from a dream where he got to pretend he deserved to touch you like that.

Shit.

He rakes a shaky hand through his hair, teeth gritted against the self-loathing crawling up his spine. He came in here to check on you, to play it cool, and instead he kissed you like he had some sort of claim. Like he wasn’t supposed to be the responsible one.

“I-” He stops. Can’t even finish his sentence. He doesn’t know what the hell to say.

You bring a trembling hand to your lips, fingertips grazing the sensitive skin like you’re trying to memorize the feel of his kiss. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, uneven breaths escaping your parted lips. Your eyes well up, but you blink furiously to fight it back. Not here. Not in front of him. “No…” Your voice breaks on the word, and you shake your head violently. The cowboy hat slips sideways and you snatch it off, tossing it onto the bed like it burned you. “You don’t get to do that.”

The hat hitting the sheets feels like a slap to his cheek. You’re crying. Trying not to, stubborn girl, but he can see it. Smell it. That salt in the air - sharp and painful, like blood. And it’s his fault.

He exhales, eyes fixed on the floor between you like he’s staring into the grave of every rule he swore he wouldn’t break. “No…” He swallows hard, fists clenching at his sides.

You stand abruptly, the mattress creaking softly beneath you. The wood floor is cold on your bare feet, grounding you, reminding you who you are - who he is. You wrap your arms tightly around yourself. “I’m going for a shower.” You turn, heading for the bathroom connected to your bedroom.

He watches you, muscles coiled tight like he expects you to vanish the second you’re out of his sight. But when you start to close the bathroom door, something inside of him snaps for the second time tonight.

No. Not after that kiss. Not after years of watching you grow up, laughing when he picked you up after your first night of drinking because you were too scared to call home. Hurting when you cried over boys who never deserved you, little pricks. Loving you in ways he buried so deep he convinced himself he could live with this ache.

He pushes the door open before you can close it completely, his actions gentle but firm. Letting you know he’s in this. Letting you decide if you want to throw him out. He’ll leave if you tell him to.

You freeze. Your back to him, shoulders rising with each breath. You ignore him, moving to the faucet to turn on the water. Steam begins to rise as the water heats, fogging up the room. Then you turn to face him. “Logan…” Your voice wavers, partly a plea, a little bit of a warning.

The door clicks shut behind him and he takes a step towards you, close enough now that his heat licks at your skin like the thoughts tear through his skull. You’re trembling, shakes that tell him you’re barely holding on. Just like him.

He doesn’t respond. Words failed him the moment your mouths met.

Slowly, he reaches for you and brushes your hair over one shoulder. You turn away from him again, but he doesn’t falter. He takes in the curve of your spine beneath your dress, vertebrae pressing against fabric like the keys of a piano - each one a note he wants to play until you make music.

His knuckles graze your neck as he finds the zipper of your dress, his touch a promise, maybe a threat.

You can still stop him. You should stop him.

The sensation of his knuckles against your neck sends a jolt down your spine, electric and terrifying. Your eyelids flutter shut, your breath catching in your throat as goosebumps erupt across your skin despite the warmth from the steam. You stand there, immobilized by the suffocating haze of want and guilt until a shaky whimper escapes your lips. You reach out, your nails digging into the porcelain of the sink, your entire body taut like a bowstring pulled to its limit. “Please…”

That whimper nearly undoes him. You don’t tell him to get lost. Didn’t slam that door in his face like he wished you would’ve every goddamn day since you stopped being a girl and started walking through the world like a storm he couldn’t outrun.

So he takes his time, moving slow. Fingertips taking a hold of the zipper, he peels it down like he’s unveiling something sacred. Inch by inch, the curve of your back is exposed. His chest presses lightly against you, solid and impossibly warm.

You feel him - the breadth of his shoulders, the tension humming in his muscles, the heavy beat of his heart echoing your own. Your knees threaten to buckle. Your head drops forward, chin brushing your collarbone as a soft, strangled gasp slips free.

His touch feels safe, like coming home.

But you’ve been starved of this for far too long. You don’t want to be safe. You want him.

“Don’t…treat me like I’m made of glass.” You shift back, just a fraction - an invitation. A challenge. You want him to handle you like you’re real, not some memory wrapped in lace and nostalgia. Want him to stop tiptoeing around what you both know is real.

You want him to stop acting like he’s scared.

He tightens his grip on your hip, breath skating along the shell of your ear. “Patience, darlin’.” He murmurs it like a sin, his thumb hooking just beneath the loosened strap of your dress, teasing it down your shoulder. Slow. Deliberate. Driving you both insane.

He peels the dress from your shoulders, gentle, like he’s unwrapping a gift he never thought he’d be allowed to open. Fabric bunches at your elbows, the straps sliding down your arms, then pooling at your waist before he lets it fall entirely.

He drags his palms down your sides, feeling every tremor, every hitch of your breath against his chest. You’re so small in his hands. So soft. So damn perfect. He presses his mouth to your neck.

But you pull away and turn around, taking a moment to soak in the way his pupils dilate at the sight of your bare breasts. Slowly, not breaking eye contact, you pull off your panties, leaving you completely nude before him. He reaches out to touch you, but you don’t let him.

You pull back the shower curtain, stepping under the hot water. The shower douses your back as you watch him peel off his shirt and strip out of his jeans. You hold his gaze, fighting the urge to lower your eyes to the large tent in his boxers.

You don’t have a choice but to look when he steps out of the fabric. God, every single part of him is just so fucking big.

Logan watches the way the water drips from your hair, runs in rivulets down your collarbone, your breasts - perfect, full, begging for his mouth. You’re watching him like you expect him to hesitate. Like you think he won’t follow through.

He doesn’t give you time to second guess. Doesn’t give himself time either. He steps into the spray, steam swallowing you both, hot water scalding his back like penance.

Driving you back against the tile, hands braced on either side of you, he cages you in. Trapping you with him in this moment, this madness. “You sure?”

All you can do is nod, and he pushes you against the wall. Your head tips back as you close your eyes, a gasp escaping your lips as he bends, his mouth covering your nipple.

You taste like heaven and sin all wrapped into one. Your nipple hardens against his tongue, and he groans, the sound swallowed by the rushing water. You arch into him, offering yourself like an answer to a prayer he never knew how to say.

One hand finds your hip, anchoring you as he feasts on you, his mouth greedy and punishing. You’re soft everywhere he’s rough. It makes him want to mark you. Claim every inch of your skin until there’s no doubt in your mind who you belong to.

But you don’t belong to him, and you’re not his. Not really. Not in any way that matters beyond this steam-filled prison you’ve built together.

You laugh suddenly, bringing him out of his thoughts. You’re thinking about all the times you imagined this moment. Rutting against your pillow, soaking through the fabric, whispering his name into the mattress…

“What’s so funny, darlin’?” he murmurs against your skin, trailing kisses upwards, to the hollow of your throat. His fingers flex on your hip, urging you to open your eyes, to look at him. Steam swirls around your bodies, the water pounding down like judgement.

He signed his soul over to the Devil the second he walked into this bathroom.

You respond to his question by grabbing his face and bringing him closer. “Nothing.” Before he can probe further, you kiss him. You lick into his mouth and wrap your arms around him, holding him tight against you as the warm water blankets your bodies. You never take your hands off of him as he kisses down your neck again, trailing down to your belly.

You kiss him like you’re starved for it. Starved for him. Tongue sliding against his, soft and wet and desperate. He groans into your mouth, hands tightening on your waist as he deepens the kiss. He feels you melt against him, eager, finally in his arms where you belong.

Then you’re pulling him down - hands in his hair, guiding him lower, arching into his touch as he trails kisses down your throat, between your breasts, over the plane of your belly. Water slicks your skin, making you shine in the dim bathroom light. You shiver as his stubble scrapes against the sensitive skin of your stomach, sending sparks straight between your legs.

You get the urge to ask him something. Your voice comes out breathless and thick with longing. “What would you have done-” He bites you, causing you to gasp. “-if I had brought another guy?”

The unexpected question hits him like a blade between the ribs. If you’d brought someone else. If he had walked in tonight and seen you wrapped around another man - laughing, touching, kissing.

Jealousy roars in his veins, loud and primal. His grip on you tightens, almost bruising. Intentional. He lifts his head just enough to meet your eyes, steam and lust warping the space between you. His voice is gravel and venom and something dangerously close to confession.

“Broke him in half.” He drags the words out, letting them simmer in the heat between you.

That isn’t enough for you. “Sooo…” You lift a brow, aware you’re being a brat. “...you don’t like the idea of me fucking other men?”

A growl rumbles from his chest. He stands to his full height, bracing his forearm against the tile beside your head, leaning in until his breath ghosts over your lips. Close enough to kiss. Close enough to choke. “Not a fan, no.” He smirks, but there’s no humour in it. His thumb drags slowly across your bottom lip.

His words awaken something in you, an animalistic ache that you didn’t know existed. You roll your hips forward, feeling his hard length press against your thigh. “Well then…” You bite down on your lip, lashes fluttering as you look up at him. “Start getting more possessive and I won’t have to.”

Your hands find purchase on his strong biceps. “Tell me I’m your girl.”

The words wrap around his throat like chains. Sweet, deadly chains.

Tell me I’m your girl.

He grabs your wrists and pins them above your head, slamming them against the wet tile and holding you there like a warning. Like a vow.

“What the hell do you think you’re doin’, huh?” He grinds the words out through clenched teeth.

Maybe you pushed too far. “Trying to make you jealous,” you admit. You kiss him, deep and strong, covering his mouth like it’s your last meal. “Is it working?”

The kiss hits him like a bullet to the chest - fast and lethal. You’re not playing fair, and he’s had enough of this game. Enough of you testing him, pushing him, making him say things he can’t take back.

He releases your wrists and shoves his hands into your wet hair, gripping tight as he angles your head back, breaking the kiss. Your throat arches beautifully, vulnerable and open, and he growls against your skin. “Smartass.” He mutters it like a curse before he drops to his knees in the slippery tub, taking your thighs in his hands and hauling you against him. Roughly, Logan yanks your hips towards his mouth. His tongue glides up your pussy over and over again, each swipe ending in a nibble.

Your eyes roll into the back of your head, groaning, gasping for air. His lips are relentless, tugging on your clit and making you shudder. You don’t care who can hear you. You lift your leg, placing a foot on the edge of the tub behind him, fisting his hair with one hand and reaching up, gripping the windowsill behind you with another.

Logan devours you. You taste like honey and sin, like every wicked thought he’s ever had about you curled into one addictive flavour he can’t get enough of. His tongue drags deep and slow - marking you in the way only he can. He groans around your clit, the vibration making you jerk against his mouth.

“Ride my face, princess,” he rasps against your soaked cunt, his voice rough, one of his hands digging into your ass to keep you grounded. You want to be heard? Want the whole damn world to know who has you screaming? Fine.

He bites you, and your head pushes back against the wall, overcome with ecstasy. You roll your hips, thrusting into his mouth. He kisses and tugs, sucking on your inner thighs and swirling his tongue over your slit. He’s messy, his saliva mixing with your slick until your pussy is dripping.

“Fuck.” You’re trembling. You grind against his mouth faster. “More, Logan.”

More. Goddamn, you’re shameless when you want to be. Voice raw, hips grinding like you were born to chase this kind of pleasure. And he’s the bastard feeding it to you.

He bites down again, just hard enough to make you squeal, then he soothes it with his tongue, dragging slow circles around your clit while his fingers dig into your ass cheeks, spreading you wider. He wants every drop of you. Your juices coat his beard, slick and sweet, and he growls against you. “Greedy girl,” he mutters, lips brushing your clit with every word.

He takes your ass in both hands, diving inside of you with his tongue. You cry out, gripping his hair so tight you hear him hiss in pain. But he doesn’t stop fucking you. Not for a second.

Heat fills your stomach, and you throb as his tongue thrusts in and out you. You peer down, taking in the view, and you notice one of his hands has left your ass to tug on his own cock. The sight makes you feel dizzy.

He can’t get enough of your soaked cunt - dripping, pulsing, perfect. His tongue dives deep, chasing every ripple of your walls clenching around nothing. You taste too good. It feels too right. He hauls you harder against his mouth, growling as you grip his hair like reins, like you’re riding him to ruin. Good. You can use him. Take whatever you need.

He looks up at you, jerking himself slow and rough, thumb rubbing the slit as he pictures burying every inch of his cock inside of your tight heat. Stretching you wide. Making you take all of him until there’s no mistaking who owns that sweet, greedy pussy.

Every inch of your skin feels like it’s on fire, your body aching to come. “You wanna fuck me?” you ask him breathlessly, your eyes locked on to the way he pulls on himself.

The words hit him like a match to gasoline. Fuck yeah, he wants to fuck you. Has for years. Every damn day he told himself no, every night he lied awake wishing he could say yes.

He pulls back just enough to sit, brute force dragging him down to the slick porcelain floor. Legs splayed, dick jutting up hard and ready, beads of pre-come glistening in the bathroom light. He braces his arms behind him, holding himself steady for what he knows is coming.

His voice is like sandpaper when he answers. “Climb on, darlin’.” He tilts his chin up, eyes locking on yours. He reaches out, pulling you down on top of him.

Logan’s large frame in the tiny bathtub makes you want to laugh, and you almost do, but then he rolls his cock against your slit. You gasp. That’s one way to shut you up.

Logan lets out a low chuckle, his large hands traveling over your body. He lets you grind down slowly until you’re panting and clutching at his shoulders. He braces one hand on the small of your back, the other gripping your thigh, guiding your movements. Dominant because he knows that’s what you want. What you need.

“Easy, princess,” he murmurs against your neck, lips grazing damp skin as you writhe against him. “I’ve got ya.”

He doesn’t know if he can hold back much longer. You’re slick, swollen, rocking against him like you’re trying to set yourself on fire - and him with you.

Leaning down, you kiss and lick a path down his chest, his stomach. You nibble the prominent vein leading down to his length, wanting to take your time with him the same way he did with you. Prove to him that you know patience too.

You lower your mouth on his tip, taking him down your throat and giving him something to watch. Your mouth wraps around him like velvet, tight and wet and way too fucking good. He fists one hand in your hair - holding on, feeling you, reminding himself that this is real.

You take him deep, slow, teasing - like you’re trying to prove a point. Taunting him with that pretty mouth, showing him that you can be cruel and kind all at once. He watches you - every damn second of it. Lips stretched around his length, cheeks hollowing, eyes fluttering shut like you’re savouring him. You own him right now. His body, mind, and soul - it all belongs to you. “Damn, baby…”

The way his voice cracks. The plea in his tone. It’s too much.

Fuck patience.

You swing your leg over his hip, straddling him once again, lowering yourself on to him. You hold his cock in your fist as you sink down. The tip dips inside, and your nails dig into the meat of his shoulders as you squeeze your eyes shut. Your body tenses.

The second you sink down on him - slow and agonizing - he sees stars. White-hot and blinding. Your heat wraps around him, tight and perfect, and he has to squeeze his eyes shut too, suck in a breath through his nose, and pray to a God he doesn’t believe in that he doesn’t blow apart like some dumb kid getting his first blowjob.

Then he notices you’ve stopped, freezing halfway down, muscles tensed like you’re trying to hold yourself together. He hums, pleased with himself. Brave girl you are. Stubborn too. You don’t need to look at him to know he’s smirking like he just won the lottery.

He shifts his hands to your hips, thumbs pressing into the bone, steadying you. Keeping you still, but he urges you forward. “C’mon, darlin’.”

You start to move, your hips circling at a slow pace. He doesn’t stop caressing you, motivating you. You drop lower, sinking an inch of him inside you, then another. And then you stop again. “Just…give me a second,” you breathe.

You move like you want to torture him. It is driving him absolutely insane, how good you feel wrapped around him. He lets out a harsh breath, eyes rolling back for just a second before snapping back open.

He nods at your request, his voice gruff and strained. “Take your time, princess.” His thumb strokes soothing patterns on your hip, trying to be gentle. For you.

You start to slide up and down, just barely. He’s long, and thick. The stretch burns, it hurts, but you sink further down. The pain is uncomfortable, but bearable.

Logan can feel your heat, your tightness, and you’re so wet - but you’re still fighting through the burn. He braces his hand firmly on your hip, holding you. Anchoring. Letting you feel him, letting you set the pace even though every part of his being wants to flip you over and pound into you until neither one of you can think.

“Easy, baby,” he murmurs, voice raspy, eyes hooded as he drinks in every reaction, every flinch, every moment of pleasure etched onto your face mixed with the sting.

Your hips shift - just a little - and he feels it. That instinct to move, to chase the rhythm, but you’re not ready yet. Not fully. He can still feel you tensing, fighting through the discomfort like you always do - never backing down, never asking for help.

He tightens his grip on your hip, firm but careful, using just enough pressure to still your movements. His other hand reaches up to cup your face, his thumb brushing away a strand of damp hair stuck to your cheek. He tilts your chin down so you have to look at him. “Give yourself a minute, darlin’,” he says, voice rough with restraint but softened by something he’s afraid to name out loud.

You lean down, stretched, a little sore, and filled. He’s inside you all the way. You kiss him, and then you start to move, rolling your hips. Both of you moan at the new sensation.

You settle on him fully and he swears he dies for a second, going to some version of heaven where he actually deserves to touch you like this. Where he doesn’t have to carry every regret, every rule he broke to get here. He deepens the kiss the second he feels you roll your hips - slow and uncertain - and he groans into your mouth, because holy fuck, you feel too good. Too right. It’s too much.

He kisses you harder, ruthlessly, taking your bottom lip between his teeth and biting just enough to make you gasp. His hands on your hips guide you, lifting you slightly before pulling you back down. “Ride me, baby.”

You moan as his tongue swipes over your bottom lip. “Okay.”

You rut against him. It isn’t long before the discomfort is gone completely, replaced by a throbbing warmth. You slide up and down his length, his cock moving in and out of you easily now. You move like you’ve found religion - hips rolling and taking him deep. Wet, slick sounds fill the cramped bathtub, drowned out only by your ragged breaths and the constant hum of the shower.

He watches you ride him. “That’s it, princess,” he murmurs, thumb pressing into the notch of your hip, guiding your rhythm when you stutter - when you get too greedy, too fast. “So damn good.”

You smile at his praise and lean back, gripping both sides of the tub as your hips roll. You tilt your head back, and you know his eyes are on you. God, you love the feeling of his eyes on your body as you put on a show for him. Water still streams down from the showerhead, droplets catching on your skin, sliding down your collarbone, disappearing into the valley between your breasts. He wants to lick every trace of it off of you.

But he doesn’t move. Just watches, letting you take control. Letting you show him exactly how much you want this - how much you want him.

You grind down faster. The thickness, his tip hitting you deep inside, his thumb finding its way to your swollen clit - it’s all too much, and also the best fucking thing you have ever felt. “Oh…” you groan, bouncing quicker now. You can feel your climax building.

You’re moving like you’re possessed - wild, uninhibited, chasing that edge like he’s not right there with you, praying for mercy. His thumb circles your clit, firm and relentless, matching the frantic pace of your hips. You’re soaked, swollen.

You’re close. So damn close.

And he wants it. Wants to feel you come apart on him. Wants every asshole at that party to wonder where the hell you disappeared to and what the fuck he’s doing to you. His voice is pure sin when he barks out, commanding, “Fuck me harder, baby.”

You grab his hand from your hip. You place the tip of his index finger on your tongue, slowly taking him down to the knuckle. You take his finger like it’s his cock - slow, wet, deep - and he swears he can feel it in his fucking toes. His hips jerk up on instinct, chasing friction, chasing relief he doesn’t deserve yet. Not when you’re still riding him like a damn fever dream.

He lets out a choked whimper - pathetic and desperate - and his free hand leaves your clit to dig into your thigh, like he needs leverage just to survive you. “B-Baby…” he tries to warn you, his voice cracked and breathless. He’s hanging on by a thread.

He’s going to come. You’ll never forget that sound.

It hits him like a freight train, merciless. His back bows off the porcelain, every muscle locking up as he lets himself go.

He comes hard, a groan ripping from his throat like he’s being torn apart from the inside out, your name spilling out like a curse and a prayer all at once. “Baby…fuck…”

You keep moving - relentless little vixen you are - and he lets you, even though he swears he’s going to die from it. He lets you chase your high while he tries to remember how the hell to breathe.

And then you come too. “God! Logan!”

His hands fly to your tits as you shake and shudder above him, your insides bursting with wave after wave of euphoric bliss. Your hips piston against him, jerking harder and faster until your climax begins to fade, and you collapse on top of him.

He holds you against him, his grip tight. You think you can feel him kissing your hair, but the world is still spinning, everything moving too fast to be sure. He’s right there, holding you through every tremor, every gasp, every shattered moan that leaves your lips.

Your breasts are soft and warm, nipples dragging across his chest with every shiver, and he groans, wrapping his arms around your waist. You’re exhausted, spent, and he holds you like you’re the most precious thing in the world - even though he’s the last man alive who should be allowed to.

He presses his lips to your wet hair, breathing you in, anchoring himself to this moment, even though he knows what comes next. Regrets. Rules. Consequences.

Still panting softly, you lift your head from his chest just enough to meet his gaze. Your cheeks are flushed, your lips parted, and your hair sticks to your skin in damp waves. There’s a lazy, satisfied smile tugging at your lips - one that says you don’t regret a single second of this.

Your smile hits him square in the chest, soft and sleepy and full of something he doesn’t deserve. He wants to kiss you again. Wants to taste that satisfaction on your lips, seal it in like a promise. But he doesn’t move. He can’t. Reality is creeping in now. Outside this bathroom, people are laughing, drinking, wondering what you two are doing. Your dad, his best friend, is out there, slapping backs and pouring drinks, telling stupid stories around the fire, completely clueless that Logan just ruined his trust.

You shift slightly, resting your chin on Logan’s chest so you can look at him better. Your fingers trail lazily over his shoulder, tracing invisible patterns along his skin. “You’re thinking too loud,” you murmur, your voice soft but steady. Your expression doesn’t lose that quiet happiness. With a smirk, you add, “They can wait five more minutes.” You press a lingering kiss to his collarbone before settling back against him, your ear over his heart.

He feels your kiss everywhere - in his ribs, his throat, in the marrow of his bones that have carried shame and guilt for far too long.

You’re right, he is thinking. Thinking about what happens now. About what happens when the water goes cold and you have to step back into a world where he’s supposed to be untouchable. Where you’re supposed to be off-limits.

But you dare him to stay. Dare the world to interrupt.

He exhales slowly, one arm curling tighter around your back. The other drifts absentmindedly through your hair, fingers threading through the strands like he’s done a thousand times in dreams he woke from ashamed.

“Yeah,” he mutters, voice low. “Five more minutes.”

[cynosdaydream]

knight!sylus x royalty!reader sneaking away into the garden to shower each other in affection

ROYAL UNDERCOVER!

When the world gets too loud, your loyal knight will always be there to save you.

Now playing: Moon - The Cab

Word count: 1.4k Author's Note: Here you go! I'm really sorry this took so long to get out, my mid-term exams just finished. This is totally not proof read as I am looking at my computer screen through blurry eyes at 12am, so feel free to dm me if there are any errors. enjoy :) Desc: knight!sylus x royalty!reader, fluff, escaping from royal bums, dancing under the moonlight type shit, nothing much really it's just fun teasing n happy stuff yayy

The atmosphere in the foreign ballroom was suffocating. Noble and royalty alike were dressed to the nines, pearls and jewelry reflecting the light from the enormous chandelier. People were mingling, music was playing, and drinks were flowing.

As lavish and glamorous as this event seemed, you felt overwhelmed. It had been hours, and your head was pounding. You couldn't even remember what the purpose of the event was at this point-- 'something about a King's birthday...?' You thought, trying to recall the details on the piece of parchment that your family had received.

"My lady, are you feeling alright?" A hushed voice snapped you out of your thoughts, and a lock of silvery hair brushed against your ear. Ah, Sylus, your knight. He had been your knight since the both of you were children, so he knew you from the inside out. Your parents tried suggesting a change of your personal knight in the past, or even having an additional knight by your side so you could get familiar with the other guards in the castle. However, you were always quick to shut down the idea, insisting that Sylus was doing his job perfectly. As for the additional knights that your parents tried to implement, they usually lasted a few weeks by your side before they seemed to get scared away by something...

"The air here is suffocating." You breathed, tapping your fingers impatiently on the glass you were holding. You gazed at the contents inside, wondering if you should take a sip, but the sickly sweet scent of the drink quickly demolished that idea. "I wish to leave, but alas, I have to keep up appearances."

Sylus smirks. "How unfortunate." His tone suggests that he has no intention of helping you find a way out, but you knew him better than that. Sylus scans across the room, searching for a way to exit discreetly. After a few beats of silence between the two of you, he spots a door at the corner of the crowded ballroom, and leads you to it wordlessly. He lets you step outside first, and before he exits himself, he looks around, making sure that no one saw you two.

The outdoor air felt deliciously refreshing on your skin. After hours of being cooped up in the ballroom, this was the best thing you could have asked for. The night sky, littered with glittering stars and constellations, was a pleasant change from the glaring and overstimulating crystal ceiling of the castle. You weren't familiar with the layout of the foreign castle, but you could recognize that the place that you were in was the royal gardens. Carefully trimmed bushes and flourishing roses lined the paths, leading to various places.

"Where shall we go, my darling knight?" You inquired, turning to face Sylus. He rolls his eyes at the nickname, but ultimately lists a few options. "There's a flower display with a fountain to our left, and a pond with a gazebo to our right. It's up to you, lady __." You ponder for a moment, and you ended up deciding on the gazebo.

It wasn't a long walk from the castle, but it put enough distance between you and the ballroom to ease your headache from the noise. The once overwhelmingly loud chatter from the ballroom dimmed into a faint hum in the background.

The garden was beautiful, breathtakingly so. A circular pond made up most of the section you had walked into, reflecting the twinkling stars, with a short bridge connecting to the gazebo. Even though there were railings along the bridge, your knight still gingerly took your hand as he guided you across.

Despite the darkness of the night, the warm lanterns hung around the gazebo emitted just enough light for you to see the various lily pads floating on the water and the koi fish swimming underneath. You reached over the railings from where you sat to skim your fingers along the surface of the water, admiring how the light seemed to dance and sway along with your movements.

When you turn around to face Sylus, you find that he is already looking at you.

"Come sit, what are you doing just standing there?" You laugh playfully, clasping his hands in yours to drag him to sit beside you. Smiling gleefully, you say, "Isn't this wonderful? The atmosphere here feels so different from just ten minutes ago. The lighting here also gives me less of a headache then that giant crystal ball they call a chandelier." Sylus nods in agreement, crimson eyes still fixed on you.

You tilt your head, curious about why he wasn't saying anything.

"The lighting from the lanterns makes you look even more beautiful, your grace." He mumbles it quietly, but you still catch it anyway. Sylus looks away, seemingly embarrassed, and you decide to tease him just a little. "What? I didn't quite catch that, my ears are still ringing from the music in the ballroom." You start, cupping your hands around your ears.

He glances back at you, mouth pressed into a thin line. Of course he could tell you were joking, but his ears turned the slightest bit red anyway. Sylus hesitates for a moment before repeating himself louder. "I said, the lighting here enhances your beauty, princess ___." He says gruffly, clearing his throat.

Smiling, you lean on his shoulder and hook your arm around his. "That's good to hear. Thank you, Sylus." He simply nods.

The both of you sit like that in silence for a while, and you were starting to get bored. You didn't know when the party would end, but from the way the silhouettes of the orchestra were still fervently moving, you guessed it wasn't anytime soon. Your eyes darted around the surroundings, before you finally got an idea.

"Sylus, let's dance!" You propose, getting up and tugging him up with you. Your knight quirks an eyebrow at you. "Why the sudden burst of energy?" He asks.

"I'm bored to half-death, and it would be a waste of good music to let this moment slip by!"

"I thought you said that the music was giving you a splitting migraine just now?"

"...whatever. Just get up here and dance with me, please?"

You knew that he wouldn't refuse. He never did.

"Alright, at least let me ask you formally first. It would be rude of me not to." Sylus grins. "Lady ___, would you let me have this dance?"

You nodded enthusiastically, taking his hand in yours and letting him spin you around. The two of you danced for a good while, twirling and prancing around with uncoordinated steps. After all, there were no nobles or royals around to watch you, so all normal dancing etiquette was thrown out of the window. As a knight, Sylus wasn't even supposed to be dancing with you like this, a protective hand on your waist and fingers intertwined with yours.

After what felt like forever, the both of you finally stopped dancing, stamina drained from silly leaps in the air and overly exaggerated twirls. Out of breath, you looked up at Sylus and grinned. Obviously, he wasn't as exhausted as you, but his hair was the perfect balanced between tousled and neat. You threw your arms around his shoulders and smiled into his jacket, suddenly overcome with a wave of appreciation for him.

"Thank you, Sylus. For all of this. It really means a great deal to me." Your voice was muffled. As his arms snake around you, you hear his voice, "No need to thank me, I was only doing my duty as your knight, your gr-"

You cut him off, telling him that it was alright to use your name as it was just the two of you around. And you swore you could hear the proud smirk in his voice as he said, "Alright, ___. I'll do whatever you say." You could feel your face warm up due to Sylus' silky smooth voice, and you suddenly felt oddly flustered.

So you did the first thing that came to mind.

You slipped out of his arms and started running back to the palace, yelling out behind you. "People-- are going to get-- suspicious if we're gone for -- too long!" You shout between breaths, tripping on your precariously long skirt every few seconds.

Even though you could see him pinch his nose bridge and sigh in frustration, it was hard to miss the adoring glint in his eyes as he hurriedly ran to catch up with you.

--

additional a/n: I was GOING to make this angst, but i can't be miserable forever

[hyeitsrim]

do you even know that I want you? | one-shot pt.2!! (N.RK)

“one day I just wanna hear you say: ‘i like you’; what’s stopping you?” pinkpantheress, break it off | wc: {1.2k} | friends to ??? | no ending yet.... | no warnings, just a lot of depressing shit, DOWN BAD YNNNN, nonchalant ass riki, riki lowk being a douchebag and yn cried (aww pookie :(()

taglist: @annybah

parteu 1

—”hey, c’mon, we’re gonna be late!” your friend, Giselle rushed. you let out a sigh and quickly nodded, zipping the rest of your dress up and headed outside with her.

you actually didn’t even want to go to this bachelor party. it was just a party to celebrate the finishing of your mid-term exams, but you knew why you still came. for riki. you knew he’d be there, being the fun and out-going person he is (not out-going at all for you).

you entered the party venue with giselle after taking a cab there. the cab ride was filled with her grunts and cries when she tried to do her makeup in the car but in the end you decided to help her with your extremely steady hands. at the venue, giselle looked at you with pleading eyes, literally begging to go to the bar with her, but you shook your head and allowed her to go alone and socialize with others.

when giselle left, you almost immediately let your gaze roam around the dimly lit room, searching for that tall familiar figure, that sharpening gaze. your heart almost did a double flip when you finally saw him, standing with his circle of friends (that oddly had a bunch of girls) and holding a drink in his hand, a smirk on his face.

as if he felt your staring he looked up and saw you, his frat boy demeanor immediately fading as he smiled in amusement at you. you felt yourself already flushing at the sight of his smile and prayed that the dim lighting of the room hid it well.

──── 𝜗𝜚 ────────────────

you were doing well, you’ve talked to some people. some tried to hit on you, you tried hitting on some people too, but no one caught your attention, or perhaps because your attention is still on riki. (definitely)

you were in the corner of the venue, inhaling a bowl of chips you found at the bar earlier that tasted insanely good, you better hope that it didn’t contain any zaza in it. while you were quietly eating your chips, someone appeared beside you, “never knew you partied” the familiar voice spoke. the bowl of chips almost dropped out of your hand as you stared up to riki with stunned eyes, marveling at the way his wavy bangs swooped in front of his face, his chiseled jawline and his face features that the dim lighting made 10x more divine.

“i…it’s just that i love partying. well not really because i hate drinking. i mean, i don’t hate it, it’s just it tastes bad and i hate bad tasting food, i mean i dislike bad tasting food and i don’t know why i came to this party too but i came with a friend but she ditched me and ohmygod, shut up y/n” you rambled as you swallowed harshly, words spilling out of you before you could even process them.

riki chuckled at your flustered state and eyed you up and down, his cocky smirk turning into a slight fond one, “nervous? i remembered you telling me that you’ve never been to a frat party” he said. you widened your eyes at his words, that was sooo long ago.. and he remembered…?? you wondered if this meant something.

“uhm yeah, i guess so…” you sheepishly chuckled out, scratching the back of your neck with your hand. riki chuckled along with you too before he asked another question, “you said your friend ditched you?”. you looked up to him and shrugged softly, “not really, she wanted to drink but i don’t so i just let her off” you said simply.

riki hummed and nodded slowly, taking a sip of his own drink as his eyes met yours over the rim of the cup. this made your stomach flipped and you quickly looked away, getting flustered again. “then? i saw you talking to some other people too, how was that?” he asked. you turned to face him, trying to act normal like he didn’t just confess he was watching you (maybe you’re being delusional. again.) “oh… not much, i just talked to some people, asked how their mid-terms were and yeah, that’s it”

riki chuckled at what you said and shook his head, his eyes trained on you again, “i’m pretty sure that doesn’t involve you making the guys blush and them touching you but okay” he said nonchalantly, but you swore you heard a twinge of jealousy in his tone. “oh….. they were just hitting on me and i thought i’ll just reciprocate it….”

riki smirked at what you said and was about to say something but his friend pulled him away, not even acknowledging your presence as riki let his friend drag him away. you watched as he disappeared back into the crowd before seeing giselle with a slight drunken smile walking towards you, “riki huh?” she teased with some wiggled brows. “yeah, yeah, cut it off” you said with an eye roll, biting back a huge smile.

“how’s it with him so far? any signs?” she asked as she nudged you with the arm holding her cup of booze. you shrugged, a disappointed sigh coming out of you, “i’m overthinking everything. he just keeps on giving mixed signals and i don’t know what to do” you said. “heyyy, subtle gestures can mean a lot too, mk?” giselle reassured with a smile, her cheeks flushed from the alcohol. you looked over to her and chuckled, nodding softly as her reassurance did ease you a little though the uncertainty still hung tightly in your chest.

“what else?” she asked and you shrugged again. you looked up and tried to search for riki but found him with a girl, his fingers brushing against her arm briefly, his smirk widening into a full-blown grin you’ve never seen before and the way the girl was standing so close to him. your stomach churned at the sight, your jaw clenching slightly as giselle noticed the change, “what’s wrong?” she slurred lightly as she followed your gaze and let out a gasp, “that bitch! that girl’s a slut, i can’t believe this!” giselle said a little too loud but you didn’t care.

everything was fuming inside of you, your fists balled up into tight balls before the anger slowly subsidized into disappointment and sadness, so you had been reading all the signs wrong, he really never saw you as more than a friend. you don’t know if it was the chips from earlier or the stinking stench of alcohol but you felt dizzy and cried right on the spot. giselle looked over to you and gasped, immediately engulfing you into a tight hug, “shh, it’s okay, it’s okay… you deserve someone else better” she cooed as you sobbed into her shoulder.

but the thing is, you didn’t want anyone else,

you wanted him and only him.

──── 𝜗𝜚 ────────────────

a/n: part 3????? also now idk if i want nonchalant love or not... :pp

(also sryy if its a lil long!! i tried to make it short <3)

[shintaru]

Pocky n’ kisses

m.list ♡ taglist

Synopsis: Two players each take a Pocky stick and begin nibbling from opposite ends, aiming to get to the middle without breaking the stick or pulling away first

Your team had just won the long hard race against sabbath crew. Surprisingly they weren’t sore losers even though you could tell they were determined to win this race you’d never seen any of the members ride like that, especially Vinny. They invited you and your crew to eat with them at a Korean barbecue place. You’re not sure if it’s a good idea considering hummingbird and sabbath aren’t on the best terms but who can turn down free food? No one, especially not you.

You enter the restaurant watching as yellow glasses pay for a private eating room. Everyone follows the waitress to the room and begins ordering their drinks. You were seated beside yellow glasses and you discover that his name is Wooin and he’s the leader of sabbath crew. You never paid much attention because their crew seemed like bad news.

You don’t know where the time had gone, everyone had already finished their meals. Before you could prepare to leave Wooin makes an announcement. “Ah.. should we play a few games to celebrate?” He asks. He pulls out some strawberry flavored pocky sticks from his jacket suggesting to play the pocky game. For some reason he decided to make the game “more fun” in his words by making one player remain still while the other bites down. If the player remaining still backs away they lose but if both players end up kissing they win.

“Why not” you think to yourself. The game starts of with Hyuk and Vinny making everyone burst out laughing. You watch as Vinny tries to remain still as Hyuk bites closer and closer until their noses are touching. Vinny’s face flashes a bright red before he slaps his hand over hyuks eyes shoving him back harshly “GOD DAMMIT I SAID DONT GET ANY CLOSER” Vinny shouted. You choked on your water as Jay tried to convince Vinny to calm down.

It didn’t help that Wooin and Hyuk were nearly dying from laughter. They were both doubled over clutching their stomachs trying to breathe. Once Vinny calmed down the group moved over to the next players to try the game. It goes without saying that Hyuk definitely won. You got paired with Wooin… you’re just thankful you’re the one who gets to take bites out of the pocky because you’ve heard rumors of how wild the leader of the sabbath crew can be.

You watch as he pulls a strawberry pocky out of the package sliding it between his fingers as if he was holding a cigarette before he places it in his mouth. He had a smirk on his face that made you think he was going to toy with you. You return the favor by giving him the same look as you decide to see how far you could go without him pulling away. You step in front of him and ask “Is it alright if I touch you?”

Your question causes a few members to gasp in shock. “Sure~” he says with that same smile from earlier. You lean forward standing on your toes to better reach his height placing both of your hands around his neck. You slowly begin to take a bite of the pocky. You turn your head to the side slightly making eye contact with Wooin as you continue to take a bite out of the pocky.

You can hear Dom yelling “ooo” in the background. To your surprise Wooin leans in instead of backing away causing you both to kiss. You try to pull away but he cups the back of your head with his hand preventing you from pulling away. He steps back chewing the remaining piece of pocky. “You cheated, you're supposed to stay still” you say. “We both won and there were no rules against leaning in,” he says.

You both sit down as the next players are picked, you glance over at wooin catching him caught in a daze while touching his lips. You lean and whisper in his ear “We should kiss again without the pocky this time” . It's not very often that Wooin catches feelings for someone but after that day he couldn’t get you out of his head.

Dedications: @bfwooin @dzvelinaskebiyars

Reference

[beauty-and-passion]

Eurovision 2025: the problem you cannot ignore

So, another Eurovision comes to an end.

And it was the 69th, so you suppose it was probably filled with sexual jokes only. But nope, aside from a couple more sexual songs, it was quite tame overall.

Am I happy about that? Eeeh. Eurovision’s experience includes stupid, silly jokes, so the 69th edition should’ve given a free pass to all of that. But I suppose the main atmosphere wasn’t too much about joking.

At least, Switzerland did its best to try and keep the competition as neutral as possible - both in terms of jokes and politics. 

_____________

Rules for a good hosting

After last year’s hosting catastrophe, this year's was particularly good. I faced the first semi-final with fear in my eyes and heart, but it was way better than expected.

Please, allow me to explain why - oh and, Sweden: take notes, you might need them.

The Swiss are able to make fun of themselves, while telling us something about themselves. “Made in Switzerland” is a funny joke song, but it also taught me something new about Switzerland. Like that they invented LSD, which… makes both no sense and too much sense. But at least they’ve been able to tell me something about them that wasn’t just “Bo-hoo, we’re good for Eurovision only, stop blaming us for wanting to win, we’re good for nothing else���.

The Swiss made good interval acts and didn’t spend the entire time talking about Eurovision. Sure, they made sure to repeat that they were the birthplace of the competition, but didn’t talk just about that. They talked about the people behind the scenes, the fans, all stuff related to the competition. It wasn’t just a constant “greatest hits of the past compilation”.

They knew that last year, they lost to the people’s winner (Baby Lasagna), yet they invited him and gave him the chance to shine. They didn’t reduce his presence to 20 seconds into a joke song that insulted his country by saying: “Ah ah, we’re so much better than them at hosting, see how stupid their show would’ve been.”.

For the same reason, they invited Käärijä because they just knew that’s what people wanted and justice had to be made.

They didn’t try any stupid AI shit, by bringing up people who clearly didn’t want to participate: ABBA are not available? No problem, let’s make the whole stadium sing Waterloo. It wasn’t so hard.

Last but not least, they used only two hosts. Not three, not five, not twenty. Two competent hosts were more than enough.

And yes, I know Michelle Hunziker was in the finale - which was extremely weird for me, because I am used to seeing her on Italian TV. But she was mostly there to have an Italian speaker for the Italian side of Switzerland, so I suppose it’s fine.

In the end, the overall show and hosting were good. Nothing too life changing, nothing too shitty. Even the cringy moments are not so terrible: it’s mostly Hazel being awkward or having fun. Even the tongue thingy, that made me cringe in the first semi-final, when it came back in the final, it made me burst into a laugh. It was just too stupid to handle.

_____________

The list of robbed kings is endless

My Australian Milkshake Man. My beautiful, funky, shirtless guy didn’t make it into the final.

The ignominy. The treachery. 200% sure it was rigged, because he was too good for this world, his song was perfect Eurovision material and his voice was great.

But if we have to mourn all robbed kings and queens the list would be endless and Käärijä and Baby Lasagna would still be on top. So let’s do the only sensible thing possible, which is follow them, listen to their songs, support them and shower them with love.

They deserve it.

___________

Sweden and Estonia: A joke can take you far

This year proved that you don’t always have to bring a serious song to get a high vote. Sometimes, something funny, carefree and different is enough.

And I think it’s beautiful that a silly song about sauna and the espresso macchiato came respectively 4th and 3rd. They were fun and people enjoyed them. So, they rightfully voted for them.

I hope this teaches something important to all countries, especially Sweden: there’s no need to always bring Generic Pop Song #36 performed by Generic Good-Looking Person #47. You can bring this too: a song in a Swedish dialect about something typical of your country. Something you enjoy.

Heck, I’ve learned more about Sweden thanks to this song, than by following last year’s show! At least this song tells me you like saunas: all I learned last year was that you have nothing but Eurovision.

But Espresso Macchiato teaches us something important too, which is: Italy is always good. It doesn’t matter if it’s Italy’s own entry, a song about Italy performed by San Marino or a song about Italian food. When in doubt, resort to Italy.

Which is comforting, at least. Our economy and politics are shit, but at least we still have a good reputation about the important things in life, aka arts and food.

___________

An overall good winner

At the end of the day, JJ was a good winner. The song was good, his vocals were incredible and the mix of three genres (opera, pop and electro) was new and original.

Sure, the theme is stale and old (a song about love, groundbreaking), but the means he used were interesting. A mix of genres is always appreciated and opera singers are great in general. Also, this song wasn’t a boring ballad and this is always the most important thing.

___________

The elephant in the room, behind the scenes and center stage

I’m tired.

Trust me, I would do anything else, aside from talking about Israel. But it’s not me that is bringing politics into a “nOn-PoLitIcAl ShOw”.

Israel is literally buying its place in the contest. It did it for a while and we ignored it. Now it’s more insufferable than ever.

Last year, it was all about bullying the other artists and buying votes with ads spread all over the Internet. Now it’s bending the rules and buying votes with ads spread all over the Internet.

And if this enraged me at first, now it makes me sad.

Israel is acting like a rich kid, who desperately wants to be part of a group. It has money, so it thinks it can buy anything. And, in a way, it can: it can buy a spot in this group and stay close to the other kids and show to the world that, hey, look, it is part of the group! It is just like the other kids!

But the other kids don’t like having Israel around. So, Israel buys their silence. It uses money to get posters all over, which show it close to the other kids, as a member of their group. See? Israel is part of the group! And no one protests, because clearly others are fine with its presence! It is just like the other kids!

But the group has rules to follow. So, Israel bends them and closes the protester’s mouths. This way, no one can say Israel has done something wrong or that it doesn’t belong to the group. It is just like the other kids!

But the kids don’t want it and want to say it. So, Israel bends rules again, uses bots, tampers with votes. It tries everything it can, to show how much the other kids love it. See? They love Israel! Israel is part of their group! It’s just like, it is exactly like them. And everyone loves it and treats it well and applaud when it appears because Israel is so normal and so loved and so appreciated.

For me, that’s just pathetic. The kind of pathetic only someone alone, unloved and in the wrong can make you feel. The sadness of a spoiled kid, too weak and coward to take responsibility for its own actions. A kid who prefers to hide, to lie, to bend truth and rules. All because it’s too difficult to admit it’s in the wrong.

I don’t believe the public’s votes were the ones given. I am 95% sure they were all rigged. And maybe the same didn’t happen to the jury votes, because they’re less likely to be tampered with by a government that has its tendrils all over the EBU. A government that is so blind and ignorant, to give 12 points to the Greek song. A song about genocide. Yes, they’re this oblivious.

When we reached the final, I was holding my breath too. And I am so, so relieved Austria won. But as many others pointed out, when you end a competition not by feeling happy or satisfied, but relieved… well, then there’s something wrong.

And something wrong is here indeed. It’s the participation of a spoiled, oblivious nation, that uses money and bends rules, because it really REALLY wants to pretend to have a good reputation, when it has not.

The truth is different and you know that, Israel. You know your reputation is not as good as you pretend it to be. You know your 2nd place isn’t the result of an incredible appreciation from all over the world.

You brought that placement, just like you brought your place in Eurovision. Because, deep down, you know Europe doesn’t want you here. You know that it would never invite you on its own accord. You know that, if you remove the anti-booing technology and stop the protests, you won’t hear loud cheers but just complaints and protests.

And not even all the money in the world can buy you the love and appreciation you so desperately crave.

So please, please try again and spend even more money. Bend the rules, use propaganda, lie and bully the other innocent participants, use bots and rig the voting system. Do your worst, to shout down all the voices that don’t want you there at all. You might actually win, if you rig the competition well enough.

And once you’ll have won, please, tell me how does it feel. How does it feel, to hold a cold trophy and pretend not to see the disgust on the world’s face? How does it feel, to buy an empty, soulless victory? How does it feel, to know you are not loved at all?

Please support your favourite artists.

And when in doubt, donate to aid agencies.

[consistencynevermether]

Elyon x Hound Reader (Touchstarved)

Content: Elyon x Gender neutral hound background reader, SFW, 2.2k words, bodyguard reader

A/N: Heyoo how we doing guys? So in honor of the new update and the hound being retired (rip hound background i love playing strong characters but also i 100% trust the devs) i thought maybe id write the hound with a background character like Elyon, so in some ways it lives on in a different interpretation lmaooooo. This truly is just a self indulgent little drabble because I loved the hound so much and wanted to play with the origin a bit more even though it's retired. Anyways if this is your vibe i hope y'all enjoy it!!! Now enough of my ramblings and onto the story!

If you had a million guesses on where you would end up after being betrayed by the thief syndicate you had dedicated your entire life to, working as the personal bodyguard for some rich noble would have never crossed your mind.

Yet here you were, at some stuffy gala wearing a ridiculous fancy outfit, watching your client (and boss) Elyon like a hawk. 

Elyon was a highborn noble of Eridia, with more money than you could ever dream of having. Not just the family wealth that came with being a noble, but his businesses raked in more money in a month than you could have ever hoped to make working all those years in the thieves syndicate. Lucky bastard.

When you first arrived in Eridia, Elyon had hired you up almost immediately. 

You had been minding your own damn business when someone claiming to be a potential recruit for a gang called “the Adderstones” had knocked into you and decided to start a fight. You dodged his first punch with an embarrassing amount of ease and knocked him out cold with a quick right hook. You’d faced bigger. And even when the opponent was bigger or stronger, you were faster, more skilled, or just plain smarter. You may be down on your luck and out of money, but there certainly weren't any humans that scared you. Not in this city or any other. 

It was then that Elyon decided to approach you. His outrageously expensive and perfectly clean clothes contrasting with the filth of the street that so called Adderstone was currently lying in. 

Needless to say, you had no interest at first. He looked so delicate you figured you could probably just pick him up and move him out of your way if you wanted. But those ideas halted as soon as he pulled out a coin purse with more silver and gold than you had ever seen in one place. 

“An advance payment, should you choose to work with me.” he had said. You didn't want to appear desperate, but unfortunately that's exactly what you were. 

You followed him to a brothel more fancy than your vocabulary could properly articulate, and that was where he proposed the idea of you working for him. He needed a 24/7 bodyguard. And you had nobody who would miss you at home, any money, or even a home to begin with. That combined with your strength, fighting abilities, and street smarts, made you the perfect candidate. 

And so here you were, 6 months later, Elyons full time bodyguard. You had adjusted well enough to your new role. You had become Elyons shadow, following him wherever he went and protecting him in more ways than one. You had assumed drunkards or criminals would be the people you fought the most, but to your dismay, you were usually protecting him from handsy clients and opportunist nobles. Significantly less fun, because you couldn't beat them to a pulp. On the only plus side, you had gotten better at intimidating people with just a glance. 

Speaking of protecting Elyon from creeps, one of the noble women was getting a little close for his liking, you could tell by the way his black sclera narrowed, his smile politely tight. She looked to be a lesser noble looking to climb the social ladder, either in terms of business or pleasure. You didn't judge her for this of course, she was born into a certain family and was making the most of her situation. Something everyone does in their own way, you respected her initiative. You also knew there was no way in hell this would work out the way she wanted.  

You couldn't help but let a sigh escape. There was a good chance you were going to have to step in. 

You tugged at the high collar of your outfit. It was a combination of stylish and functional. You could easily move in it, but the silk was the same color blue Elyon wore, making it a beautiful outfit, and also denoting you as one of Elyons people. Which was useful, because then most people would steer clear of you. Or at least have some modicum of respect when talking to you. Still, you couldn't help but feel uncomfortable in the silk. It felt like you were wearing a bad costume and everyone knew it. 

Elyons silver irises flicked over to you, a silent order.

Looks like you were stepping in then. Great. 

You swept to the other side of the ballroom where Elyon was, and smoothly stepped between the lesser noblewoman and Elyon.

You learned into Elyon, pretending to say something important into his ear, but in reality you were focused on giving the noblewoman a knowing look. 

Your eyes met hers, and she knew you were silently telling her to leave, but giving her the opportunity to do it on her own terms.

A slight nod from her behind her fan conveyed she understood what you meant, and to your immeasurable pleasure, she took the loss in strides. With a light smile and easy excuse, she gracefully exited the conversation. 

Elyon smiled at you, his slender fingers wrapping around a flute of champagne. As he brought the flute to his lips and took a sip, his eyes never broke contact with yours.

The two of you stood there in silence for a few seconds before you attempted to walk back to your corner and continue to silently watch him, when Elyon's hand shot out to grab your wrist, his grip light but firm. You weren't getting out of this so easily it seemed. 

Elyons silver eyes flicked to the hoard of nobles, each one waiting for a chance to ask him to dance. But you focused on a man in white in the middle of the group, his eyes trained on Elyon. A Sinobium cleric. 

Elyon had told you the most important part of your job was making sure he only met members of the Sinobium on his terms, and preferably on his territory. And that cleric was clearly looking to get in Elyon’s ear.

Unfortunately, not on your watch.

Elyon let go of your wrist to extend his hand out to you. An invitation to dance. 

“I can’t dance.” you murmured in his ear, as you took his hand regardless.

“Not to worry, I'll lead.” Elyon responded, firmly pulling you to the dance floor. 

You sighed and did the only thing you could do: follow his lead.

Your fine leather boots clipped against the gold veined marble floors, following Elyon’s movement as the two of you slowly spun across the dance floor. 

“If you think I’m going to thank you for doing your job, you haven't been paying attention.” Elyon murmured, a light smile gracing his face.

He was teasing you, clearly. You were at least close enough that you both felt comfortable enough to lightly poke fun at the other. Or at least, Elyon poked. You mainly just laughed or gave him an eyebrow raise or smirk that conveyed everything you needed to say. After six months, he understood your quiet expressions more than most people could ever hope to, which was slightly unnerving. The last time you had people get that close to you, it ended poorly. 

Elyon seemed to notice you were lost in thought, and in one swift motion his fingers closed around the collar of your outfit, tugging you close as the two of you continued to dance. 

The sudden contact snapped you back to reality, and on instinct you wrapped your arm around his waist protectively, worried he needed to be steadied. 

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” Elyon questioned, his delicate hands smoothing out your collar now that the two of you were breast to breast.

Without a word, you reached up and tucked Elyons hair behind his ear. He gave no indication of shock or attempt to stop you, the only indication of him even registering the touch being the way his eyes slightly fluttered at the contact.

You pulled your hand back, and smugly showed off your prize. You had swiped one of Elyon’s small silver earrings. Elyon’s black sclera widened at the reveal. 

You could only smile back. You were part of a thieves syndicate for most of your life after all. 

You took the silver earring and stuck it through the empty helix piercing hole in your ear. You had gotten it when another member of the Syndicate had pestered you, but you rarely used it. After all, earrings would be a weakness in a physical fight, someone could try to tear them out. 

Elyons eyes were fixed on the little silver hoop that now graced your right ear, and before you knew it the two of you had been dancing together for the past 3 songs. This was probably some social taboo. Then again, dancing with a bodyguard was also probably taboo for someone in Elyon’s position so maybe he just didn't care at the moment. 

“We've been here long enough for it to be respectful, time to leave.” Elyon stated, already gliding to the door.

He did not have to look back to know you would follow. Your form constantly two steps behind him, always a respectful distance. Always employer and employee.

As you walked along the dark streets of Hightown, the glow of the moon caught your eye. Before, you were too busy surviving to take in the beauty of such things. Of course, your distraction was only momentary as you remembered your job. Keep your eyes on Elyon, always. As you returned your focus back to him, you realized he was already staring at you, peering behind him to watch you, yet his steady pace never faltered.

You knew so much about Elyon from a physical perspective, it was your job. You knew the part of his hair, the angle of his collar, the ways in which he would drape those silver chains over his cloak. You knew what the raise of an eyebrow or tap of the finger meant, it was all he needed to summon you to action. Yet his mind remained a mystery to you. Even now, as you stared directly into his silver eyes, you had no idea what he was thinking. 

The light of the moon reflected off them in such a strange way, his black as night eyes. You always wondered why they were such a unique color. If it was a sign of nobility, or something beyond the shroud. But you knew that topic was off limits, even for his bodyguard. 

Eventually you reached his manor in the heart of hightown. You imagined many found it beautiful, but to you it represented rest. This manor was the one place you were off duty, when you didn't have to watch Elyon every second of every day. The one place you could let your mind wander. 

The steel gates clicked open at Elyon’s touch. Magic. Only he could open the doors to his manor. 

As you followed him in, you undid the silver earring from your ear and attempted to hand it back over to Elyon, your outstretched open palm waiting for him to grab the piece. 

“Keep it.” was Elyon’s only reply as he headed towards the main manor. “I will be in my study. See you check in with me within the next two hours.” 

Most likely he was going to brief you on tomorrow's plans. Very well. But at least you had a little while to yourself. 

You gave a slight nod, almost like a bow, and began to walk towards the gardens in the back of the manor.

If you were to look back, you would have seen Elyon watch your retreating figure in the moonlight. He wasn’t scared you would catch him, you never looked back. Never at him anyways. His hand reached up to where his hair was still tucked behind his ear, letting his own fingers run over the tip of his ear like your calloused ones had done just an hour earlier.

If he didn't already have plans, there was a balcony on the way to his office he would occasionally stop at. It overlooked the garden, and gave him a perfect view of you laying on your back in the garden, looking up at the full moon, surrounded by blue orchids. 

It was a good thing he was busy tonight, because if he had stopped to watch you, he would have seen the way you flipped his silver earring in your fingers, the pure metal glinting light starlight with every new angle. He would have seen the way you stared at the small piece of jewelry, as if scrutinizing it enough would interrogate it into spilling its secrets to you. 

Yes, it was a good thing he didn't see that. Because then he may have gotten the idea that you too wished to be closer than a simple employee and employer. A good thing indeed.

[eddiegettingshot]

one of my bigger problems is just their pacing imo. no reason the emergency had to take up 50 minutes of their time slot and the closing montage only 4. I don’t care about the mom and her daughter more than I do about the madney baby! who cares about the guys girlfriend freaking out if Eddie and Chris were gonna casually move back like they were in Texas for fun. it’s been a huge problem for so long (Maddies rescue/Amber dying and Eddie moving to Texas happening in 3 mins) and it hinders them so much. if the emergency took up a half hour and they used up the other half hour to tie up loose ends it really would’ve been better. And tbf I don’t understand if Ryan Murphy has a big say if Tim is the showrunner, or if ABC as a network has a big say, but it’s not a good look when outlets are accusing your show of queer baiting, the GA is upset, and you’re getting bad reviews. What was the point of promoting plots at the Upfronts if you won’t follow through? idk I feel shafted on every single characters sl bc it seems we ended s8 right where it started except Bobby is dead and Buck is homeless. and also we had hotshots

this is EXACTLYYYY what i said. they should have leveraged the building collapse strategically in the first half specifically to address EDDIE and give him that “choosing LA” moment AND to do the chimthena thing. it still would have felt rushed but in the second half of the episode we could have actually seen chim working through whether he’d actually want to be captain + maddie giving birth with buck and eddie and chris closing out texas as the B plot. and mara adoption and Surprise! athena’s selling the house for some reason! could have been at the end (obv i would like more hen but just in terms of what this episode was actually trying to do…)

[forevergoldgame]

3 DAYS! GETTING CLOSER!

A lot of the portraits changed between the demo and first actual release. Part of it is Dan becoming more confident drawing these characters (after drawing them all 1000 times), but we did do a lot of design tweaking. We thought we'd talk a bit about our character design tweaks and process!

Quincy has not changed much in terms of core design. The biggest change he's had since my first iterative scribbles is the addition of his hat. However, I have long struggled to capture his proportions. He is meant to look solid, but my draftsmanship has had some catching up to do. I'm still learning, in fact! I will say his newer portraits are much more in line with the blocky fullness I intended. -Dan

D'Angelo wasn't a character I initially intended to revamp much for the full release. It was design change by a thousand cuts when I decided to redo his portraits just to bring the art quality up to snuff. First - I took issue with the incredibly inaccurate button-down he was wearing. (We're not being so strict about clothing style timelines or even limitations of reality, but this one just bothered me so much.) Then, I thought, I might as well make his overcoat a little fancier.

Finally, his head seemed somehow under-dressed by the end of that. He could use some more rakish qualities, I thought, and tried throwing some jheri curl/Prince-esque hair at his head. I wasn't so sure about it at first, but upon showing it to L.S. and a few friends, IT WAS A RESOUNDING HIT. Now it's hard to imagine him without his luscious curls. -Dan

Lucas's hair is now black with silver tips, rather than completely silver with red tips. While this invalidates that old comic, I think his design just reads better at a glance if his hair isn't in competition with his already lighter skin/fur. His purely silver hair was also decided at a time when we toyed with allowing more anime-esque hair colors in the setting. Out of all the characters, Lucas looks most like he just set foot out of an old-school JRPG, and while that's mostly fine, I still want him to look grounded enough in the setting and like he's actually related to his brother.

(Also, the pedant in me just couldn't believe he is maintaining perfectly dyed-to-the-root locs while he spends most this story traveling. Or that he dyed his eyebrows. There's just no way.) -Dan

Vicky both is and isn't much of a change. Sure, the portraits look quite different, but I didn't so much change her design as much as I approached drawing some of her individual features. And that, in turn, changed how Dan interpreted my sketches in her style.

See, Vicky is actually based on an older character of mine that I wrote years and years ago. And so, when I dusted her off to reuse her in Forever Gold, I just kind of belted out some concept art that was very close to how I drew her back then and handed that to Dan without much iteration. Then, once she was there standing beside the rest of the cast, I realized... eh, I'd probably choose to emphasize different aspects of her design were I to take another crack at it. So when Dan presented the opportunity to me, I went for it.

With her design refresh, I drew inspiration from female leads in 80s action movies. Unlike a movie star, however, she's meant to sort of straddle the line between handsome and a little off-putting, hence her large teeth and prominent gums. I wanted to evoke the feeling of a woman who would get told she "would be so pretty" if she changed 8 things and stopped working out and then does not do those 8 things and instead gets an extra 10 reps in at the gym, just for the haters.

(Her snout design pretty much stayed the same though because it was already right where it needed to be.) -LS

--

Hope that was a fun bit of insight for ya'll! Thanks for sticking with us through all this. See you in a couple days!

-Dan and LS

[kitbunnyroo]

single dad centaur...

happy family trope my beloved cause i'm a sucker for girl dads and centaurs so here we are with a ramble post, emphasis on the rambling part <33

it's just him and his seven year old daughter, her mother having found a better life for herself that required her to leave the country and therefore the two of them since that long of a distance wasn't something they could manage. he's picking up his daughter from school when he finds out they have a human teacher to help all the students learn the human common language, he finds it strange, but his daughter seems to enjoy the class, so he doesn't mind. attempts at conversation are made and as soon as you reply to him in his own language he's caught off guard, there was no set expectation but it certainly wasn't to hear his own tongue roll so smoothly off from the mouth of a human. it was a pleasant surprise, to say the least, as he bid you a friendly goodbye and his daughter followed suit.

from then on you saw him every day, he'd drop the sweet little girl off and she'd trot on over to her desk and friends, while you'd greet each other, always ending up in a lengthy conversation afterwards. the other staff would relentlessly tease you about how perfectly punctual the father-daughter duo had become though. your class wasn't till the end of the day, but you'd often relax in the guard booth as the guard was your friend, and the ac was also the best on campus, so all the fellow teachers had the perfect view of the tall centaur standing at the guard booth long after his child had gone off simply so he could talk to you some more, you'd try to calm their excited heads by saying all your conversations were centered around his daughter's studies, yet of course they were having none of it. and he himself told himself the same thing, he's only a concerned single father wanting to keep informed on his child's studies.

by the middle of the semester you had gotten used to being Ki'dano's favourite teacher, your desk in the staff room always holding at least one of her crafts from her art class accompanied by a piece of fruit or a homemade her father would've given you at the gate. if the teasing from the other teachers was relentless before you'd swear they were getting paid for it now. by lunch time you'd have already encouraged the young centauress to engage with her peers seven times minimum due to her insisting she spends her free time with you, and at dismissals she'd make it her sole duty to praise you even more to her father, who had gone from punctual to early so that he'd have more time to spend with you, still convincing himself he was only doing a father's duty and showing you his gratitude for taking such good care of his daughter.

at the end of her first term with you, the cheeky little thing proposed the idea of you joining them for dinner that weekend, flustering her poor father as he rushed an attempt to smooth it over by saying it's not a problem if you already have plans for the evening, the stunned expression on his face when you agreed with a smile was priceless. Ki'dano had to give you their address in his stead before the poor soul snapped out of his trance and bid you farewell till later, walking out the gate with an ecstatic little centauress at his side. when the two had gotten home he faced an endless amount of teasing, his enthusiasm taking him by surprise as he cleaned the already spotless home and immediately picked out their best casual outfits for later then got dinner on the stove, triple checking each ingredient and step of the recipe, taking a few extra steps in caring for his coat after the food was done, doing a neat braid with his thoroughly combed mane, the only thing left was to wait.

if only you had been there to see how nervous he was while he paced in the living room, Ki'dano having a fun giggle to herself as she sat with her snacks. but you had to get ready yourself, going through your wardrobe trying to find something comfortable that wasn't an oversized tee and cozy pair of shorts. eventually you settled on an outfit you had put together but never gotten the chance to wear, then found a mirror to study your reflection in and make sure your hair as well as face in general was presentable, wouldn't be suitable to show up to your student's house looking anything short of perfect after all, especially with her father present...not that it mattered! not at all, who cares what the tall..beefy..caring centaur dilf thinks...but that's just an average description! everyone would describe him like that!

now, after a good few hours of driving, you're stood face to face with a nervous father and his over excited daughter, the two of you hopelessly staring at each other in fumbled greetings and compliments till the latter pulls you past him and into the warm abode. she sits you on their couch, insisting that you look over the progress she's made on her homework for the break period before dinner, and how could you refuse such a sweet face? and how could he resist watching as you dedicate your time and focus to tenderly correcting his daughter on the mistakes she made, explaining where she went wrong and making sure she understood the correct way to answer the questions....he had to smack himself with his tail to stop his staring for he was afraid he'd bore holes into your poor back, blaming the loud noise on a mosquito and hurrying to busy himself with putting up a candle for the pesky bugs....this was going to be a long evening.

chat should i actually write the dinner with these two being delusional simps and Ki'dano lowkey being their wingman??? stopped it here cause i've been working on it long enough and need to post something-

[eaglerayys]

I'm thinking a lot about the Olympian!Dick Grayson stuff floating around.

What if during their rebellious late teens/early 20s Dick and Roy just dared each other to go to the Olympics. And so they show up out of nowhere and qualify at the last minute for their respective sports (gymnastics/ archery) without anyone really knowing them.

So they go to the Olympics and it becomes a story, because what are the odds that TWO different orphans-turned-billionaire-heirs are competing. They get hounded by accusations of having bought their way in, and they both use it as an opportunity to rave about their pre-wealth lives and their tight-knit communities that taught them their sports while (not so) subtly landing digs at the media/government for all the harm they've done to their communities.

All the while the two of them post a ton of videos and pics together so it becomes a Thing, because even without the rest of the story the idea of childhood friends (and maybe more 👀) both making it is enough to drive the internet crazy.

It only gets more insane when they both win multiple gold medals. For once, no one can claim they bought their way in as they annihilate the competition.

But then they disappear from their sports again and people speculate, desperate to find out if they have any intention of returning. For years no one gets a straight answer out of either of them.

Then, just as qualifying begins for the next Olympics, they suddenly show up again.

And Dick Grayson qualifies in archery and Roy Harper makes the USMG team as a specialist.

[un-pearable]

Tails’ New Home in AoStH is very entertaining to me bc they have to finely balance two very contradictory ideas that a) the Impressionable Children Watching should not run away from home with the cool older kid they’re friends with and b) that sonic is Extremely Cool and is who tails belongs with

so you just end up with every single adult on mobius seeming completely incompetent to the point of self-endangerment and the guy with infinite silly outfits to outsmart them with is the only functional person around for miles

[dashiellqvverty]

my opinion on season 11 is that ian and mickey were all over the place from episode to episode and i ultimately wasn’t very happy with where it ended for them

[deviousdiesel]

.

[chronic-conjuring]

Warning: this is a bit of a rant but..

Honestly the fact that anyone tries to argue otherwise is insanely stupid imo. It has ALWAYS been extremely clear that Roddenberry wasn’t only far ahead of his time but also very aware of the time in which he lived.

The only reason TOS didn’t have openly gay characters is because he knew it’d get his show taken off air and felt that he had enough of other very important messages to wait for the right time for that. Honestly I have a personal theory that all that subtext and intense queer undertones between Kirk and Spock were an attempt to covertly portray them as a couple. I haven’t seen anyone talk about that in-depth as of yet but I’m sure someone has done a deep dive on it. The subtext and energy between them feels to well poised to be a completely incidental theme especially since Gene knew people were writing gay fanfic of them and wanted that content.

I cannot express how much I despise Rick Berman’s interference with my favorite Star Trek series. I feel that they could’ve been so much better in so many ways if he could’ve just been kicked to the curb or at least consistently overruled like he deserved. I don’t particularly care that he was there to “ensure” the shows got aired without too much controversy, that man’s very obviously homophobic and pushed back against VERY LOUD AND OBVIOUS INTEREST in there being LGBT characters among the main cast and the audience. Johnathan Frakes ASKED to have Riker be depicted as being at least bisexual by changing his one love interest to identify as a man instead of a woman. Fans ASKED directly for gay characters, practically begged for it with Garak and Bashir, and Roddenberry himself said he wanted to include them BECAUSE IT WAS TIME TO DO SO.

All this is to say, I think Rick Berman might be a major factor in why so many people seem to have this bizarre idea that Star Trek isn’t supposed to be progressive media making commentary on complex social issues. He actively suppressed the voices and depictions of marginalized groups, especially queer representation, and I do genuinely think that was harmful to the show and its fans as well as the progression of LGBT acceptance at large. By trying to appeal to conservatives (why you would even want to with a premise like Star Trek is The Privilege Talking imo) he alienated a large portion of the already existing fan base and then continued to shove us aside in favor of keeping things “palatable enough” or whatever for television. He pandered to an audience that I feel the show wasn’t really meant to speak to, and now that audience seems to insist that older Trek just wasn’t progressive. The fact he succeeded Roddenberry is one of my biggest gripes with the franchise, and I think he actively made those series worse in a lot of ways. Many of which are ABUNDANTLY clear in Voyager imho. Who the Fuck decides to make a character that’s canonically TWO YEARS OLD DATE A 34 YEAR OLD????. I personally don’t really give a fuck that she’s considered an adult and fully grown by her people’s standards, there were better ways to go about that. In fact I found Kes’s relationship with Paris more compelling and less creepy than her relationship with Neelix. The age gap is extremely creepy to me and I personally don’t feel it was ever actually properly addressed (obligatory disclaimer that I have not gotten around to finishing Voyager. It legitimately just isn’t one of my super liked series so far and Chakotay as a character makes me want to throw things at concrete in anger) But it’s stuff like that and the ridiculousness of Seven of Nine’s costume being so tight that Jeri notoriously had problems being able to breathe in it that diminishes some of the intent and core messaging of the show, at least for me personally.

Anyways if you think trek is “too woke” or suddenly progressive you’re kind of stupid as fuck my guy and I’m not convinced we’re ever really paying attention to what media you were consuming. A lot of themes in earlier trek have become more commonly accepted up to present day, of course you’re not gunna look at the episodes that proclaim “Racism Bad” and “Save the Whales” and think of them as being necessarily progressive and radical ideas in our day and age. And guess what!! That’s because the show did its part to normalize that stuff!! Shocker!!

A reminder that Gene Roddenberry's intent of Star Trek was that it was always meant to be a commentary of modern society.

[fakeoutbf]

.

[arolesbianism]

Ok I'm back on the nugget obsession grind. Juliet Loki and Parker in ruina fighting alongside each other like it's a love language while Saxxly and Roland just sorta awkwardly fight like normal people around them