#either that or I just focus on the bigger dogs and add puppies to the set down the road

[antisocialxconstruct]

hrrrhgfhfd bad news about the clownlets.....

the puppy heads are made of a much cheaper plastic than the 90s version or the bigger faces, which means 1) they don't clean very well and the darker colors leave really nasty stains behind, and 2) they're too hard and inflexible to sew the bodies onto (the original bodies were just ziptied around the neck, which is why they look so goofy compared to the older ones).

So I think maybe...... if I want clownlets, I'll have to accelerate my plans on learning how to make molds and poured vinyl heads, and make that part of this project instead of some nebulous future one 🤔

[that-shamrock-vibe]

Movie Review: Cruella

Disclaimer: This is my non-spoiler review for Cruella, posting either the day or the day after the movie is released in the U.K, so if you are yet to see the movie and want to go in with a clear head do not read on until you do.

General Reaction:

Cruella however, I knew from the first trailer I was determined to see in cinemas and the fact it was my first time back in cinemas seeing a movie, I could not think of a better opening play.

It has been a while not only since I have been to the cinema, but also since I watched a new movie. Anything new that has come to me through the lockdowns have been older movies that are new to me. I haven't watched movies on PVOD or Premier Accees because I don't want to pay for them while in my bedroom on a small television and also they don't interest me enough to pay for them.

And that's what this movie is, an origin story. It's a Disney live-action adaptation of a beloved Disney villain's origins, sound familiar? That's what fans originally believed Maleficent to be before it became a redemption story of sorts.

Cruella was the villain of One Hundred and One Dalmatians because she wanted to skin puppies to make a coat, but this movie isn't about that, despite there being some excellent foreshadowing and even reworking as a prequel to the original story, this movie is about how Cruella became Cruella, not necessarily how she became a villain but making the character more three-dimensional and layered.

Here, without going into spoilers, we do see the reasoning behind Cruella being the villain we love her for and it is very much a nature vs nurture style of moral, but it isn't done to the detriment of the villainy Cruella is known for.

What Disney and the creatives behind Cruella have done with this movie is not only take note with everything great and bad with the more recent Disney live-action movies and filter out the bad, but also the potential of movies like Maleficent and even Mulan to a degree which failed to live up to their promises creatively, have seemingly been reworked for this origin story.

Does that mean she's not a villain in this movie? Well while she's not the movie's primary antagonist, Cruella stays true to herself and doesn't compromise why fans love the original character, if anything she amplifies why she's such a great character.

Cruella is such a love letter to the 1970s punk rock era while also managing to not just be style over substance but deliver on story and character as well, that I can't imagine anyone having that much of a problem with it.

It's what I would honestly call an artisan's delight, I'm not creative in a fashion sense, I love fashion and it's a reason I connect with Cruella so much, but I couldn't do what she does. I'd possibly be the Artie of her gang if not Horace and honestly I'm okay with that. But the way fashion, music and visual storytelling is used in this movies rivals the 1996 live-action 101 Dalmatians in that sense when scenes largely focused on the dogs selling the scenes without speaking. A picture paints a thousands words and Cruella's eccentric fashions were scene stealers.

It's funny, it's dramatic, it's well acted and directed. The writing is brilliant with maybe one exception with the Baroness which we will discuss in the spoiler review.

Speaking of spoilers. Way back when this movie was first announced I believe in 2016 I was adamantly against it, I thought it was sacrilege and that it would not be a patch on the original movies.

That being said, since seeing that first trailer and that stunning dress reveal I was hooked and have since watched pretty much every single trailer and TV spot this movie could churn out to the point where I feel I saw the entire movie already...but I was wrong.

From the trailers if you think this movie is going to end at a certain point you'd be wrong. I could kinda tell when the movie was going to end based on how the scene was set up, but even then there's more to the story.

I mentioned how this movie foreshadowed to the original One Hundred and One Dalmatians story as a prequel of sorts but also how it rewrote history so to speak, again the mid credits scene blows my mind as a Dalmatians fan and it cries out for a sequel.

However, to sum up, the original 1961 animated One Hundred and One Dalmatians is to this day my favourite movie of all time. Dalmatians are my favourite dog breed despite the fact I currently own a frenchie pug and Cruella De Vil I believe to be my spiritual mother.

Usually in these reactions I'll give a quick recap of my opinions of the movie or franchise the one in question is a part of, but I feel I've spoken about my love of all things Cruella De Vil and One Hundred and One Dalmatians enough in the past to get the point across.

All that being said, I am trying to compartmentalise my thoughts and be unbiased in my opinions for this movie. But honestly if this movie was bad I'd be coming down the hardest out of any critic on it because of what the property means to me personally.

So yes, I am going to big this movie up because pretty much every single element in this movie is 99% perfect. There is room for improvement, but that's where a sequel comes in to not only capitalise but better itself. And keeping the same creative team and bringing back the same cast, I feel this will be the Disney sequel to break the mould just as Cruella is the Disney movie to break the mould

But I have hyped up the lore and the character enough, what do I think of the movie? Well as much as I praised the creatives behind the movie for such a fabulous movie, director Chris Gillespe is partially to blame for how the movie looks. It’s still a visually orgasmic movie in terms of how it portrays its artistic choices, but in terms of those scenes and shots that could’ve been and should’ve been as visually pleasing as the fashion and art shots, just don’t leave as striking and lasting an impression as those shots and scenes.

Cast:

Honestly upon the announcement, to the point where I made a rant session post about it, Emma Stone as Cruella just didn’t land with me upon said announcement. However, as I said since seeing the first trailer, Emma Stone is young Cruella for me.

Glenn Close for me is Cruella De Vil in live-action. Victoria Smurfit on Once Upon a Time was fabulous but in opinion an elseworlds version of Cruella because she had magic and her story wasn’t really in line with the source material. Now, without spoilers but because it’s an origin you kinda can guess, Emma Stone’s version isn’t really in line with the source material either and up until seeing the movie I was all for viewing this version as an elseworlds story. even after seeing it I am all for viewing it as an elseworlds story from the original source material.

But does that mean it’s bad? No it’s just different. As I said earlier this is definitely a more fleshed out three-dimensional version of the Cruella that the original animated version and Glenn Close’s adaptation delivered, but honestly I’m excited to know where this Cruella goes from after seeing this movie. This is my favourite Emma Stone performance to date.

As for the other Emma, Emma Thompson as the Baroness, well she and Stone’s Cruella not only capitalize on Meryl Streep’s The Devil Wears Prada performance, but also adds that extra layer that make both characters not only believable as people but also villains. There’s no mistaking Thompson’s Baroness is a villain, but she does it in the best way and has never looked more fantastic doing so.

This movie also humanizes Jasper and Horace for me, I’m still unsure as to their relationship, if they’re friends or brothers, but based on the fact Jasper is race-bent in this movie and Hotace is still caucasian I’m going with not. However, without spoilers, based on how they meet Cruella I’m in favour of them not being related and simply lost souls coming together. But yeah they’re both funny, you believe they’re Jasper and Horace there’s no thinking one should be the other, and the chemistry between Jasper and Cruella is so electric that it demands a pay off in a sequel and actually speaks to a problem I know some male fans (including me) may actually have with Cruella as a character.

The other biggest breakout in this movie is John McCrea as Artie, who is not only Disney’s first clearly openly LGBT character but a scene-stealer in every shot that he is in. I said I would probably be Artie or Horace in Cruella’s gang and I stand by that because I think Artie is who I’d want to be (aside from Cruella herself) but Horace is physically who I would be.

Then as for the side characters, the movie does an interesting turn on the Anita/Roger origin story, Mark Strong as the Alonzo substitute is mysterious and brilliant, and the dogs are again scene stealers. Aside from 3 dalmatians (who are still alive at the end) there are two completely original new dogs who are part of Cruella’s gang and whether or not it’s because I’m a dog lover and own a dog or just because of the dog’s direction, they just pull focus every scene and make the characters more sympathetic because of how they interact with them.

Is this a knockout movie? Unfortunately no, I feel mistakes are made that leave holes for trolls to swoop in, however, I don’t think they should/ Honestly uou cannot make the “live-action” The Lion King a billion dollar flick and then complain about this movie, this is original, brilliant and 95% well executed. Yes I’ve dropped from 99 and we will discuss the issues in the spoiler review.

Recommendation:

But honestly this movie is worth the watch, it deserves the watch. As for seeing it in cinemas vs. Disney+, I could say it’s worth the £20/$30, but to get a true feel of some of the bigger and better artistic scenes it demands a big screen viewing. Also support local cinemas and all that jazz.

So that’s my non-spoiler review for Cruella, what did you guys think? Post your comments and stay tuned for my spoiler review hopefully coming soon, meanwhile you can check out other Movie Reviews and posts.

[unsettledink]

A Perfect Fit - Kinktober Day 10 (Old Adages 1)

A Perfect Fit

Prompt: Size Kink

Word Count: 6176

Summary: Tony had no idea what Beck had been hiding in his pants and that— that is a tragedy. Because Tony needs to be stuffed full of that right this second.

(size kink, dick size, dirty talk, insecurity, 20ish Quentin Beck, belly bulge, bottom!Tony)

(Look, I don't know how 'size kink' turned into a whole mess of insecurity and woes of having a big dick either, ok? I sorted it out by the end at least. Tony's not going to let it get in the way of a good fuck.)

*

Tony hadn't really expected anyone to be in lab eighteen-b at this time of night, but he'd had an idea and the things he needed were there and— it's his tower, he doesn't need to ask permission to go anywhere in it.

He hadn't expected anyone to be there, and he really hadn't expected to walk around the corner and come across one of his employees jerking off. Tony freezes, not even processing the sight for a second, and then his brain is noticing all the wrong things, like how hot the guy is, how nice his tiny little gasps sound, how fucking huge his cock is. It's got to be close to ten inches, maybe more, thick as fuck, and Tony can't look away. He's just— he's always liked them big. The bigger the better, and that, that is better.

The guy moans, faintly, and opens his eyes. Opens them even wider, comically so, when he realizes Tony's there, and then he jerks, his chair rolling back as he tries to cover himself. "Oh shit!" he yelps, and then he's spinning around, his back to Tony.

"Uh," Tony says.

"Oh god," the guy mutters, and it sounds like he's trying to stuff himself back in his pants. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry, I— I didn't think, I mean I didn't— I shouldn't have— fuck!'

"Look," Tony says, "I wasn't trying to be a creeper, I just came down to get—" The guy turns around, and Tony should feel bad about the way his eyes immediately drop to the bulge at his crotch. The truly impressive bulge; that's got to be incredibly uncomfortable.

"Oh no," the guy says, and Tony looks at him— at his face. He looks familiar. "Fuck, you're Tony Stark," and Tony's obviously familiar to him. Tony narrows his eyes.

"Bank?" he tries. "Or— Deck? Something like that, right?" Handsome, whatever his name is, even if his face is bright, brilliant red, flushing all the way down his neck.

"Beck," the guy says, weakly. "Quentin Beck. I'm— shit, I'm sorry, I swear I don't— this isn't—" He rubs his hand over his face— not the one he was jacking off with, not that Tony notices. Not really. "Does this mean I'm fired?"

"What?" Tony says. "No, of course not," and the guy—Beck—glances over at him; wow, his eyes are a gorgeous shade of blue. No. Focus. "I mean, uh, don't do it again? Or be more careful about it next time? But jeez, I'm not going to fire you for that." Beck gives him a confused look, but his shoulders loosen a little. "Personally, this wouldn't exactly be my first choice for that sort of thing, unless you've got some sort of... lab setting kink? Is that a thing? That's probably a thing. But hey, who am I to judge, it's not like I haven't gotten off worse places."

"I don't— there's nothing hot about a lab," Beck mutters defensively. "I'm not into anything weird. I'm just— look, I'm always here and it's not like I have time to pick someone up and when I get home I'm dead on my feet, and I just, sometimes I have needs, okay?" He stops, flushing again. "Can you forget I said all of that?"

There's a point in that rambling explanation; if Beck's here at this hour, he practically lives here. "Sure," Tony says, absently. "Yeah, you're probably putting in a few too many hours. I can't really believe it'd be too hard for you to find a friend though. What with all your, ah, gifts."

"...thanks?" Beck says, frowning.

Tony blames his cock for what he says next. Or rather, Beck's cock, because he just can't get the image of it out of his mind. "You know," he adds, " you're definitely good looking and more than generously endowed, who's going to say no? I mean, it's not like I would mind a ride on that."

Beck stares at him, his mouth dropping open, and Tony replays those last couple of sentences in growing horror. "Shit," Tony says. "That's sexual harassment, isn't it. Pepper's going to murder me. Look, if you want to sue I can already tell you we'll settle easy. Well, not me, you know, lawyers, but seriously, don't let them try and shut you up for less than a couple hundred thousand."

"What," Beck says. "I— are you really telling me how to get the most money out of you if I sue?"

"Well... no?" Tony tries. "I mean, yes, I guess?" Fuck, he's completely lost track of this conversation. His mind is still just going 'but think of how it'd feel in your mouth, down your throat'.

"And you did say you'd want to— ride me? I heard that, right?"

Tony winces. "Yeah, you should probably forget I said that," he says. "Unless you don't want to? You know, suing. And. Stuff."

"I'm not going to sue," Beck says, watching him. There's a long, awkward pause, and damn, Beck's eyes really are pretty. "I— maybe I don't want to forget?"

He's blushing again, slowly creeping up. "Just so I'm clear," Tony says carefully. "You're saying you'd be... interested."

Beck licks his lips. "Yeah," he says.

Oh, goddamn, Tony thinks. This is absolutely a bad idea, but he's going to roll with it. He takes a step forward, and another, into Beck's space. Beck's a little taller than Tony; he catches the back of Beck's neck and pulls him in. Kisses him, a tentative brush of lips.

Beck's mouth opens under his when he presses a little more, his tongue sliding against Tony's, and yeah, Tony decides, he can work with this. "Right," Tony says. "We're going to need a bed. Come on."

The ride up to the penthouse should be awkward, but Beck pulls Tony right in against him, slides his hands up Tony's shirt and presses kisses all along Tony's neck, fantastic. Tony rubs forward, and he can feel Beck's dick, still at least half hard, all along his hip.

Beck was hot with his clothes on; without them, he's smoking. Sure, he's softer, not sporting a six pack or anything, but he's trim, broad shoulders and gorgeous waist and that cock— it really is a monster, just massive, and it's only getting bigger as Beck finishes getting hard, the sheer weight of it keeping it low, jutting out from his body. Tony's mouth is watering.

"Jesus," Tony mutters, giving Beck a little push toward the bed. "Take a look at that; bet you're popular when you find the time." Beck doesn't say anything as he sits on the bed, pushing himself further up, but his shoulders tense slightly. Ugh, Tony should probably watch his mouth a little. He's had a couple guys that hated feeling like all Tony wanted was their cock, had some sort of hangup about having more to offer than that. Obviously, but since Tony's never looking for something lasting with them what matters is what's about to split him open, not their winning personalities.

No point in getting into that with Beck though.

He crawls up between Beck's legs, settling on his elbows and leaning in, rubbing his face against Beck's cock. It's a nice cock, completely aside from the size, very pretty with a broad, defined head, flushed dark, not too veiny. He can't wait to get his tongue against it, sliding up under that ridge, tasting him. It’s going to make him drool like crazy, choke him, probably leave him voiceless for ages.

"Hey," Beck says. Tony glances up at him, mouth open against his cock. "You don't— you don't have to do that to get a fuck."

Tony raises an eyebrow. "And what if I just want to?" because it's not like he needs an excuse to want that thing in his mouth.

"I'm just—" Beck swallows as Tony licks him, and sure, it might be—is—a challenge but Tony's up for it. "Just saying," Beck finishes. "Don't expect to take that much of though. And don't expect me to come from it. It's fine if you want to skip to the main event."

"What, think I can't?" Tony says, and nuzzles down against the base of it; god it's <i>big.

"Most people can't," Beck says softly, like Tony is most people, please. "And I'd rather you don't throw up on it."

Tony snorts, but Beck's words don't match his tone. He pulls up enough to look at Beck, and it's unfair for him to have puppy dog eyes like that. He didn't expect Beck to be... hesitant. Most of the guys Tony’s been with that are anywhere near as hung as this are smug about— ha, cocky. 

Beck twitches again when Tony kisses the side of his cock, makes his way slowly up the length of it before he licks across the tip. "I'm not skipping over anything," Tony says, "but we can come back to this. You obviously haven't had a blowjob from me."

That earns him a little huff, but those eyes are still watching him cautiously. Yeah, he can't have that. He crawls up over Beck and taps a finger under his chin, tilting his head back. Beck's almost passive, just waiting for Tony, his hands coming up to barely rest against Tony's sides.

Whatever Beck's thing about blowjobs is, kissing— kissing he has no problem with. Kissing he's fucking fantastic at. He doesn't have any hesitation here once he figures out what Tony likes and god, it's been a long time since Tony got this caught up in making out. Beck's mouth is reddened when Tony pulls back, his hair messier, falling out of that slicked back styling, and his eyes are darker, all big and blue and gorgeous.

Tony goes with it when Beck rolls him over, pins him down and goes right on with the kissing; he's got Beck's cock along his stomach, the full length of it pressed into his skin, and Beck starts making soft noises into his mouth when Tony shifts, rubs against it. He's going to feel stuffed full when it's in him— he can’t wait.

Beck shudders, dropping his head to Tony's shoulder, and then he's crawling back; shit, what now? Tony watches as Beck down out between Tony's legs, and while he's not going to say no to Beck's mouth on his cock, he wants to be able to feel Beck's again, wants that constant reminder of its sheer size. Beck's got his hands on Tony's thighs, pushing them up a bit and— 

"Oh, fuck," Tony gasps. "God, yeah, that's— fuck," and looks like it doesn't matter what Beck's doing with it, his mouth is sinful.

Beck could eat him out for hours, Tony thinks, and that might just be his plan as it goes on and on. Tony's not complaining, not one bit, not as long as Beck keeps licking like that and pushing his tongue into Tony and moaning, muffled against Tony's ass. Not as long as he can keep his hand in Beck's hair, ruining it, keep pressing up against Beck's mouth; "Fuck," Tony mutters, "you're good at that."

There's a breath across his skin, a laugh. "You pick it up quick," Beck says, looking up at Tony, "when you need other ways to keep people happy." He's grinning, more than confident in this area— downright smug, and it's a distressingly good look on him.

He keeps that eye contact as he lowers his mouth again, pushing Tony's ass up a bit so he can watch Tony at the same time, and that is just too fucking much. Slides a finger into him, licking around it, and that is way, way too much, Tony pushing his head back into the bed, groaning as he stares up at the ceiling.

He couldn't have asked for a better way to be stretched open, couldn't have asked for someone more patient— excruciatingly patient. Sure, Tony was going to need some real work before he could take that monster, but Beck is going to kill him like this, taking his sweet time working his way up, sloppy and wet around his fingers the whole time.

"You've got actual lube somewhere, right?" Beck says breathlessly as he pulls back. Tony flaps a hand in the vicinity of the nightstand and Beck gets the idea. Comes back and slides his fingers right back in, big and warm and even slicker, leaning down and getting his mouth around Tony's cock.

"Oh, christ," Tony groans. "Don't you dare get me off like this. Wanna come on your cock, don't spoil it." Beck rolls his eyes, which should not be nearly that appealing even with his lips still on Tony's cock.

He doesn't, even if Tony feels like he's getting close a couple of times. Doesn't, and doesn't move on from his slow, lazy fingering either; Tony feels more than ready, soft and loose around Beck's fingers. "Enough," he says, finally. "I'm good, I'm more than ready. Come on, give it to me."

"Okay, okay," Beck huffs, and Tony feels like he's gaping open without Beck's fingers in him. Beck shifts around on the bed, Tony pulling his legs up further as he hears the lube pop open again, hears the wet sounds of Beck slicking himself up. And then— then it's against him, the head of Beck's cock pressing gently at Tony's hole, catching it before thrusting up the cleft of Tony's ass. Fuck, it's huge, probably the biggest Tony's ever had outside toys, and even if Beck's stretched him open to the point of obscenity it still might hurt.

He waits— and waits, and waits, Beck's hands spread wide over his thighs, his cock sliding back and forth long Tony's ass. "Quit teasing," Tony snaps.

There's nothing for a moment, another hesitation, and then a long, shaky exhale. "Right," Beck says, so quietly, and Tony glances up at him.

He doesn't look like he's having a good time, goddamnit. What is his problem? "What?" Tony asks, trying to soften it.

Beck drops his eyes, his hands tensing on Tony's thighs. Hesitates, keeps fucking hesitating. "Just," he says after a second, "this is usually where the fun part stops." He swallows, hard, breathing a little too fast. "Don't lie and say it's fine when it's not, okay? I'm not— if it fucking hurts, just—"

God, Tony feels like an ass.

He stares at Beck, at the tense set of Beck's jaw. He hadn't paid much mind to it till now, but Beck's young. Can't be much more than twenty-five, at most, and if he was a late bloomer—who's he kidding, Beck had to been a nerd—he probably hasn't done this a lot. Maybe hasn't had this go well a lot, and— what should Tony have expected, if most of Beck's partners have told him they weren't enjoying it anymore, or worse, lied about it when it had to be obvious they were hurting. If he’d wound up hurting some—any—of them, however unintentionally.  

Beck's fingers are digging into Tony's thigh, hard, and he won't look at Tony's face, and— Tony doesn't like it when his partners aren't having fun either.

"Beck," he says, and Beck fucking flinches. He gets his hand around Beck's wrist and tugs. "Come here."

"Fuck," Beck whispers, closing his eyes, but he crawls up over Tony anyway. Sinks down when Tony pulls at him, and he's so tense, right on the edge of shaking when Tony wraps himself around him. "Shit," Beck mutters, pressing his forehead against Tony's shoulder. "I'm sorry— fuck, I'm sorry, just give me a minute." He takes a deep breath, obviously trying to pull it together, and obviously failing when it comes out shakier.

"Beck," Tony says again, soft, but Beck cuts him off.

"I know," he says. "I know, you were expecting a good time and I'm— goddammit," and Tony can feel his jaw clench. "I'll— just, tell me when it hurts, okay? I know you probably think it'll be fine, but— I don't want—"

Shit, Tony thinks; 'when' not 'if'. Someone's fucked this kid up. "Quentin," Tony says, softer, sliding his hand up into Beck's hair. "Take a minute and just breathe."

Beck laughs, ugly. "This is the part where you tell me it's fine, there's other things to do, you're not disappointed," he says. "That I'm good with my mouth, so a blowjob would be great."

"No," Tony says, carefully, and this was just supposed to be a quick, fun little hookup. Why is Tony such a soft touch? "This is the part where I tell you to calm down. And then I tell you that regardless of how things may have gone for you, I've had plenty of experience with big dicks, and I'm not going to let you hurt me. I'm very fond of my ass, you know."

Beck doesn't say anything, but that's okay for now.

“Seriously,” Tony adds. “I know what I like and I know how to get it. I can handle you.”

“I’ve heard that before,” Beck mutters.

Ouch. “Yeah,” Tony say. “Yeah, I bet you have.” He turns his head, catches the edge of Beck’s ear between his teeth. Beck twitches and sets his teeth into Tony’s shoulder, and it’s nice that he still got some sass in him. “None of them were Tony Stark.”

That gets him a real laugh, if quiet. “I didn’t expect you to be so humble,” Beck snarks. That’s more like it. 

“I’m glad you can recognize it,” Tony says. “Seriously, I’m going to make sure I have a good time. You can count on me to pleasure myself.”

“Really?” Beck says, lifting his head and giving Tony a look.

“Watched that, did you?” Tony says, grinning. “I stand by it! It’s a good line!”

Beck watches him for a moment. “Do all the people you sleep with eventually figure out you’re a giant dork?”

Hardly any of them, Tony thinks. “The smart ones do,” he tells Beck. 

Beck’s relaxed a little, more from the banter than anything, Tony thinks. He always has liked smart-mouths. "Right," he says, and pokes Beck in the side. "Scoot over."

Beck rolls off him, lying on his back next to Tony. His hands come up when Tony straddles him, settling on Tony's waist like he can't help himself. Beck's cock settles against Tony's ass, massive, the tip resting at the small of Tony's back. Fuck, he can't wait; he pushes back, rubbing his ass along the length of it, slow. "Now who's teasing," Beck says.

Tony fishes around for second and comes up with the lube, half under Beck's hip. "Here," Tony says. "Get your fingers back in me, and make it as sloppy as you can." Beck's eyes flutter closed for a moment; yeah, he likes the sound of that.

Beck's fingers are big, but he'd spent so long on this already that two slip in like they're nothing, three with just enough pressure to feel. Tony doesn't really need this, but if it makes things easier for Beck to handle, he's not against it. It's not like he's suffering with Beck's fingers inside him. He fucks himself on them as Beck twists them, waits until he can feel the lube sliding out of his ass, until Beck's movements slow, distracted. "That’s it," he tells Beck, "get some more on your cock too," and the wet, squelching sounds of Beck's hand on it are promising.

Tony kneels up and gets his hand behind him, wrapped around Beck's cock, barely fucking wrapped around it. It's so slick it's hard to keep his grip; he rubs the head over his hole, back and forth, feeling the broadness of it, how it spreads him open even like this. Takes a deep breath and relaxes as much as he can. This is going to feel great, he reminds himself. It's going to feel fucking amazing once it's in him, on the way down too. He knows this.

He looks down at Beck, catching his eyes. Beck looks so tense, nervous, and no one in Tony's bed should look that worried. "Trust me," Tony says. "It's going to be fine."

It's— its so much when he presses the tip inside him. So fucking much, god; Beck's so big, so wide. It doesn't hurt, not quite, but it's incredibly intense feeling that stretch, that pressure and fullness inside him, even so little of it. He rolls his hips just the smallest bit, letting the tip slip almost out of him and back in, and Beck whines beneath him.

Beck's mouth is open, his eyes so wide, so blue as he stares up at Tony. This has to feel great for him too, like this, Tony right on the most sensitive part of his cock, and that's good. One of Beck's hands lands on Tony's calf, squeezes it gently.

Tony goes slow, goes so, so slow, sinking further onto Beck in tiny increments, up and down and further down each time. Takes his time with it and watches Beck the whole while, watches how Beck stares at him and flushes and breathes heavier, louder, with every inch Tony takes in. Fuck, Tony's breathing heavier with every inch, panting and starting to moan as it stretches him so wide, fills him up so much, insanely so. He feels oversensitive, like he can feel every single centimeter inside him, can feel the heavy pulse of it with every beat of Beck's heart. He's definitely never had one this big before.

There's a point where his legs start shaking a little, where he can't spread them as wide as he needs and keep control over how slow he takes it in; "Give me your hands," Tony gasps out, and Quentin's hands feel huge when he laces his fingers with Tony's, Tony leaning forward a bit and bracing himself against him. If it was anyone else, it could be risky putting that much on them, hoping they're not assholes and might pull him down that way, take away their bracing and let Tony fall the rest of the way in one swoop, painfully— but Beck? No fucking way.

"Okay?" Beck whispers at one point, after he'd gasped and jerked, pushing up into Tony a little. Tony nods, moans as he keeps going. It feels like Beck's cock is never going to end, and that's fantastic.

He hits that spot a moment later, that stop point he only gets with really, really big cocks, rarely, more often with toys. Presses against it, gently, and Beck's hands tighten on his painfully. "Stop," Beck says, his voice harsh. "No, stop." Tony stills, raising his eyebrows, and Beck shakes his head. "That's it," he says. "You can't take more, Tony, just— you'll hurt yourself, that's it."

"Quentin," Tony says softly, "it's not. It's— hey, listen," Beck shaking his head again. "I swear it's not; I've done this enough, okay? Trust me."

Beck's hands are still tight on his, tighter, and he's so tense against Tony's legs. Tony takes his time with this too, grinding slowly on Beck's cock, teasing himself and relaxing, not letting himself think of anything except how good it's going to feel. Pushes himself down a little more, and— there, there it goes, he can feel that shift, feel it sliding in further and further as Tony sinks down the rest of the way, his ass settling onto Beck's hips, shuddering at that sharp, shivery burst of pleasure. He moans, his eyes closing and his head falling back unconsciously.

"Oh god," Beck whispers, "oh my god, Tony— fuck, are you okay? Are you--"

He trembling under Tony, fighting not to move or scared, Tony's not sure. "I—" Tony starts, his voice cracking. "Fuck, I am so much better than okay." Beck makes a harsh noise, twitching, even that little shift feeling like a lot with Tony this full. "So much better," Tony says, can’t stop himself from talking. "Jesus Christ, you're so big. Fucking incredible, you don't even know— got me so stuffed full I can't even breathe, you feel so good, so good, oh my god."

Beck sucks in a breath, and when Tony opens his eyes, Beck looks wrecked. Looks ruined, flushed and mussed and dazed, stunned, and Tony's barely done anything.

It's a great look on him.

"I cannot wait to ride you," Tony tells him. "Fucking cannot wait to feel you come in me. You're already splitting me open and I just want you deeper. I can't remember the last time I felt this filled up, you are amazing."

"I'm— I'm amazing?" Beck sputters. "How can you even— you're amazing, you're so tight and hot and I can't believe— I cannot believe I'm so far inside you, I can't believe you like this, that this could feel as good for you as it does for me."

"Great," Tony says, starting to grind against him, and Beck moans, this perfect long, deep sound of pure pleasure that Tony's been waiting to wring from him. "Not good, great. What, you don’t hear that enough?”

Beck doesn’t say anything, just shakes his head; right, he probably hasn’t. Maybe hasn’t ever. “You’re so thick you’re pressing against everything,” Tony says. “Every single spot in me, constantly; I bet I could come just like this if I tried. And you’re so far inside me, deeper than anyone else has ever been.” 

He's starting to adjust to the feel of Beck in him, of that ridiculous, insane length inside him, that girth, so much pressure. Beck is watching him, his mouth open, and Tony wants a taste of that again. He leans forward, Beck rising up on his elbows to meet him, kissing hot and messy. Tony rocks on Beck as they kiss, little movements that still have Beck groaning into his mouth, fucking perfect. He pulls back, ready to get this show on the road, and then— has an idea, a really great idea, if he says so himself. If Beck likes the just the thought of being all the way in Tony that much, well...

Tony untangles his hands from Beck’s, leaning back and setting one behind him, against Beck's leg. Takes Beck's other hand and presses it to Tony's stomach, holds it there as he leans back a little further, shifts around, and— there, he thinks when Beck sucks in a sharp breath, right there. He grins at Beck, smugly, as he keeps Beck's hand there, right against the bulge of his cock inside Tony. "What the fuck," Beck whispers.

"Told you I was stuffed full," Tony says. "God, I am going to make you scream."

Beck licks his lips, so tempting. Presses his hand even harder into that spot and rolls his hips up, just a bit, but Tony moans at the feel of it. "Go for it," Beck says, an edge of something challenging in his voice.

Christ, that's great, he just knew Beck would be insufferable once he got his bearings. Fuck yeah. Tony snaps his hips up, Beck's breath catching, freezing in his lungs, and then it's on.

He should take his time with this, should go slow and careful and let himself adjust more. Should, and the first couple times he fucks himself on Beck's cock, he does, Beck making such pretty choked noises. But Beck's giving him this look too, this heavy, hungry look that's hot as fuck even while Tony wants to wipe it off his face, leave him unable to think. He gets close with the next rise of his hips, dropping back onto Beck fast, the full length of him so fucking good that Tony's almost the one that can't think. Gets closer when he starts riding Beck for real, working his ass on Beck's cock and this is going to ruin Tony; he can't wait.

Beck's panting, his hips moving in these sharp, short jerks, still trying to control himself as much as he can, trying not to hurt Tony. He still could, even like this; he's just that fucking big and something about that has Tony fully hard again, precome dripping down onto Beck's stomach. He's going to make this last as long as he can.

Which isn't as long as Tony's hoping, and not because he comes. No, it's his legs that give up first, protesting the way he's bouncing on Beck's cock, burning and starting to tremble, Tony getting a little less higher up each time. He settles onto Beck's cock the next go, giving himself a breather; grinds down, clenching around it. How can it just keep feeling bigger, wider? It's so deep inside him he can feel pressure in places that are entirely new. "Fuck," Tony says, "goddammit Quentin, you're going to wreck me. Going to fuck me up, get me so loose I'll never recover."

"Don't say that," Beck gasps, even though Tony can feel his cock twitch; that's amazing. The only things he’s ever had this deep are toys, and they can’t begin to compare to a real warm cock, to the person attached to it. "Don't want to hurt you."

"Did I say anything about hurting?" Tony says, rocking back and forth on him. "Did any of that sound like I don't want it? If I can sit down over the next few days I'm going to be heartbroken, you know."

Beck shudders, his hips snapping up, and Tony echoes his moan. "You're the biggest I've ever had," Tony tells him. "How the hell am I supposed to go back to something smaller after this?"

"Oh my god," Beck says. "You have the filthiest fucking mouth. Please don't stop talking."

Tony grins at him. "Don't you worry about that," he says. He clenches around Beck again, as much as he can and it feels like barely at all, like his ass has given up completely, too stretched out to even try. Beck groans.

Stares up at Tony, and there's this smile growing on his face, this— this fucking smirk. "You haven't made me scream yet," he says.

"You gotta give me a chance," Tony protests. "This isn't the sort of thing you should rush! I'm savoring having your cock in me." That's enough of a break though, and he is going to make Beck scream.

Maybe, he realizes a moment later, and has to laugh. "Alright," he says, "time for you to put in a little work." He grabs Beck's hand off his waist and settles it under his ass instead; Beck frowns at him, confused. "My legs are done for," Tony explains, and he cannot stand how hot that is, how much it turns him on that he literally cannot get off Beck's cock right now. That he's stuck there, impaled and completely at Beck's mercy, oh god. "So you're going to have to get your hands on me and fuck me on your cock yourself. Come on, get a good handful, you'll love it."

Beck gapes at him. "You— fuck, you can't— no," he says, pulling his hands away.

"No?"

"Try," Beck says, his eyes narrowed. "I want to see you try." Fuck.

He can bounce on Beck's cock a little, his legs shaking as he pushes up; can go a little further relying on his arms, but Beck is so big, so long, that Tony can't get high enough to lift off him. Can't even get to a point where he can feel the head of Beck's cock anywhere close to slipping out. "Jesus Christ," Beck breathes out. "I could just, just leave you there, just use you like a toy."

Tony moans. "Yeah," he says. "Fucking do it. Bet you can't even fit in a sleeve, but you fit in me, don't you." Beck's hands are on him then, cupped under his ass and raising him up; Tony goes limp in his hold, letting Beck do all the work. Letting Beck pull him up and up, until he's right on the tip, until it pops out of him, slow and loud and no, fuck no, he's never felt this empty in his life. He squirms in Beck's hands, feeling Beck's cock bump up against him, but not in him, not in him. "Don't," Tony gasps. "Put it back in me, fuck, need you back in me. Don't mess around, I can’t fucking stand being empty like this."

"God, give me a second," Beck says, and his hands are spreading wider on Tony's ass, his fingers catching at the edges of Tony's hole, gaping open so wide. "You're so open," Beck says, that snarky edge gone, just stunned and wanting, his fingers slipping in without even touching Tony’s rim.

"Please," Tony says, whines really. Tries to clench around Beck's fingers and they're not enough. "For fuck's sake, get your cock back in me."

“So pushy," Beck says, and then he shoves Tony over, Tony falling and landing on his back with a yelp, startled. Beck's on top of him a second later, catching his legs and pushing them up, and then he's sliding back in, one smooth thrust that's the best thing Tony's ever felt.

"Oh god," Tony gasps. "Oh fuck, fuck, just— yes," as Beck starts fucking him like that, pinning Tony down and taking him with these slow, long thrusts, almost the full length of him every time. Tony's going to die, he's going to straight up die because no one can feel this good for long. He's babbling something, barely even conscious of it until Beck kisses him, silences him and pants into his mouth as he fucks Tony. Nearly perfect, so near; "Harder," Tony mumbles against Beck's lips. "Harder."

He gets harder, he gets harder and faster and agonizing, these brutal thrusts that feel like they're splitting him open, like they could go right through him. He gets it and wants more, still more; like this, every thrust rubs against his prostate, Beck too big, too thick to keep from doing so, and Tony's going to fucking come like this. Going to just white out like this and dammit, Beck's going to make him scream. He clings to Beck, moaning, his eyes opening as he starts to feel that first unstoppable burst of feeling, spreading. "Fuck," he chants, “fuck!” and then Beck realizes, slows like he's not going to fuck Tony through it. "Don't stop," Tony manages, "don't— oh, god!”

It hurts, how hard he comes, hurts in the best way, spreading through him as he shakes and tightens around Beck's cock, comes on it just like he'd wanted since the second he saw it.

He has to tell Beck not to stop again once Tony's gone limp, has to tell him how much he wants Beck to keep fucking him, even as Tony whimpers helplessly with each thrust. "Not hurting," he tells Beck breathlessly. "Not— god please don't stop, need to feel you come in me, fuck it deep in there." He feels like Beck's turning him inside out every time he pulls out, is hollowing him out every time he pushes in, and it’s barely any time at all before Beck comes; Tony can feel it, can feel how Beck's cock twitches and pulses inside him, Beck shoving in hard. He can feel Beck's come filling him up even more, and he'd bet good money it won't work its way out for ages, so deep inside Tony it could get lost forever.

Beck's still too much of a nice kid; Tony thought it might have gotten fucked out of him, but post nut it comes creeping in. He tries to push up off Tony, pull out, and Tony's not having it. "Don't you dare," he says. "I'm keeping you in me as long as I can."

"Jesus, Tony," Beck mumbles, his face pressed along Tony's, talking into his hair. "Could stay in you forever, I can't believe how amazing you feel. I've never felt this good in my life."

"Told you," Tony says, and Beck laughs.

"Yeah," he says. "Yeah, you were right about that. You really could handle me. Fuck, I can't— didn't even know I could, didn't think I'd ever fit all inside someone."

He's going softer by the second, Tony feeling the lack acutely. "Screw not sitting for a few days," Tony says. "I'm going to be out of commission for a week. Incredible."

Beck shudders, turning to press his mouth to Tony’s neck, press soft, lazy kisses there as they unwind.

"I have to warn you," Tony says after a while, Beck having slid off to the side a bit but still heavy on Tony, not that Tony minds. "I am going to need a repeat. Several repeats. I mean, you can't expect me to be satisfied with anything less now. Not when you're on the menu."

Beck twitches, and Tony can feel him starting to smile into Tony's shoulder. "I think we can manage that," he says, and Tony is a lucky, lucky man.

[instakpop]

Chanyeol scenario - Infamous

Requested by @hereforkpopboys

genre: frat!au, smut, angst

Summary: You and Chanyeol fell madly in love in high school, but things changed the second he stepped foot on a college campus. He joined a frat, worked out all the time and left you behind. He went from being your adorkable boyfriend to the one who got away. Or so you thought.

The worst part about going to college with your high school sweetheart, it’s getting dumped by him! Everyone knew you and Chanyeol would make it. You two were voted most likely to get married and yet, things changed. The moment he joined a fraternity, his sweet innocent personality was overshadowed by an egotistical jerk. He stopped calling you by your name and just called you 'babe', when you two were out together, he'd practically have his hand glued to your ass, and by the time you two were nearing the end, he rarely called anymore.

It took just one year in college to ruin four years of love and commitment. It was like you didn't exist to him anymore. Over the next two years, you both started seeing other people, but no one could ever add up to the boy you fell in love back in high school. You'd spot Chanyeol around campus with some other girl on his arm, but he never once looked back at you. He started to get a new reputation and a new type. He'd have sorority girls fawning all over him, and legend had it any girl who slept with him became chapter president, so who could turn him down?

Senior year quickly approached and your love life was a complete joke. Every guy you met couldn't compare to your Chanyeol, but he was long gone. You made a few friends in the greek life, which opened the door for you to join one of the most respected sororities on campus, best of all, none of them could stand Park Chanyeol. It was deeply refreshing since you couldn't stand the person he's become either.

The weekend before school started, all the fraternities and sororities all got together for a Saturday night social. You were excited to see your friends all in one place, but you had to plan strategically to not see Chanyeol. You know if you caught him with yet another girl, your heart would shatter like glass, yet again.

You arrived with your sorority sisters and took a lap around to say "Hi" to everyone you knew. After the first hour, your group dispersed and you were challenged by a few friends for a game of darts. Everything was going perfectly, you were having fun, meeting new people and all was well. You won the game, winning a goodie-bag from the host.

"Nice shot, babe." A voice said from behind.

You froze like a statue, your expression fell flat and your eyes narrowed. It was him. You looked behind you to see the dimpled devil leaning against the wall, his arms crossed and a smirk on his lips.

"Seriously?" you replied. The crowd left to the next activity, leaving you two alone.

"What?" He said, shrugging.

"Two years, of treating me like a ghost and now you're gonna talk to me." I turned to face him, placing my hands on my hips and raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, come on babe-"

"Stop calling me that! My name is Y/n!"

"Chill out. I know that. I was just paying you a compliment." He raised his hands in surrender, making you roll your eyes and walk away. Before you got too far, Chanyeol grabbed your hand and pulled you back to him. "How about one more game."

"Pass." You snatched your hand away and crossed your arms.

"Please? We can make it interesting."

"How so?" you had to admit, you were a little curious.

"If I win... I get to kiss you." He took a step forward, changing the atmosphere and softening the tone.

"And if I win?"

"Then you get to kiss me." He smirked. You huffed at him and walked off. Instead of grabbing your hand again, he took a hold of your waist, turning me around and holding you against him. Your heartbeat quickened in your chest, leaving your knees weak and your lips quiver.

"Why would I ever kiss you?" You asked.

"Old times sake." Wrong answer. You pushed him off of you, returning to your aggravated state.

"You don't get it, do you? I don't want to kiss you for old times sake because... B-because..." You quickly looked to the floor, trying not to let him see you cry. Everyone knows "old times sake" means it's really over, with no chance of making up. It was the last goodbye

"Because of what? Y/n?" He tried to get you to look at him, but you couldn't.

"Sorry, this was a mistake." You tried to subtly wipe your tears and walk away. For the second time, Chanyeol reached out to grab you but you were too fast. You burst out of the party, taking a deep breath of fresh air and walking back to your sorority house.

"Y/n! Wait up!" You could hear Chanyeol chasing after you, but you just kept your pace, fully aware that he'd catch up to you. And sure enough, he ran in front of you, blocking you from going any further. "What'd I do?"

"WHAT DIDNT YOU DO?!" you screamed. Every ounce of anger and heartache erupted at that moment. "YOU DUMPED ME AFTER MONTHS OF SILENCE! YOU'VE SLEPT WITH EVERY STUPID SORORITY GIRL WHO CROSSED YOUR PATH AND NOW YOU WANT TO KISS ME FOR 'OLD TIMES SAKE'?! WHAT IS THAT?!"  You took a pause to collect yourself and calm down a bit. "You broke me Chanyeol. I just met all these people within the last few months. When you left me... I had no one."

Each word hit him like a rock. His whole attitude changed. His dark ego filled eyes changed into the big puppy-dog look you adored so much, but he wasn't happy, you could see the tears build up and fall. You made the infamous Park Chanyeol cry. He took a few steps forward, reaching his arms out and lifting you up for a tight hug. You reached your arms up out of habit but stopped yourself. How do you know this is real?

"I'm so sorry..." He whispered into your neck. It was enough to make you cry too. The hot tears streamed down your face and you finally gave in, needing a hug.

Chanyeol brought his head up, cupping your cheeks and crashing your lips together. You pressed your hands to his chest, pushing him back a little. The spark was still there, but at this point, you can't handle it.

"I can't..." You admitted quietly.

Chanyeol nodded and stepped back. "Can I at least walk you home?" He asked.

"That’s fine."

He placed his hands into his pockets to show he'd be respectful and you walked side by side. You didn' say anything, mainly because everything you had to say has already been screamed for the whole neighborhood to hear. You reached the front of the house and turned to face Chanyeol.

"thanks for walking me back." You said, holding your keys in your hand.

"Yeah. No problem." You were about to walk away when you noticed him opening his mouth to add something. "Uh... Can we talk? It doesn't feel right to just leave you like this."

"Okay. To be honest, I don't want to be alone right now anyway." You walked to the front door, unlocking it and went upstairs to your room with Chanyeol following behind. You both sat on your bed, unsure of where to start until he spoke first.

"Y/n, I never meant to hurt you like this. I just got so caught up and we got distant-"

"You did. You got distant." you corrected.

"...I got distant, and I thought it'd just be easier for both of us to end it."

"Chanyeol, I loved you for four years and then everything changed when we got here. The day you broke up with me you said 'we aren't in high school anymore'. You said it as if we were grown-ups, but I don't know anyone who just ignores the person they love because some frat boys have other plans. Half of those guys are in relationships and I know for a fact that they wouldn't do what you did to me." Chanyeol lowered his head while you spoke. You knew he was shameful but you still weren't sure if you can trust him again.

"I was wrong. I can tell you that every day for the next year, but it clearly won't solve anything. I admit, I ignored you and that was stupid, but I was all new to this and everything happened so fast after we broke up."

"Not for me. My entire social life came to a standstill because I didn't want anyone but you. For some insane reason, I thought you'd come to your senses and come back to me, but that day never came. ANd it never will."

"Don't say that."

"Yes, I will say that because it's true!"

"No, it isn't!" Chanyeol's face started to turn red, but I wasn't afraid.

"So what then? Your saying I have to wait a little longer? What do you want from me?"

"I want my old life back. With you." There it was. A genuine response. He got off the bed and ran his fingers through his hair. "You may not believe me when I tell you this, or think I'm a jerk, but I do still love you."

"then why didn't you come to me and say that?"

"Why didn't you?" He shot back. "We both had issues to settle and damage to fix. I felt as empty as you did, Y/n. I came so close to crawling back to you several times, but I couldn't."

"Because you had a new reputation." You shook your head in frustration. His pride took over and consumed him.

"Yeah. I know it's pathetic. But I don't want that anymore. When I saw you earlier, I saw the same look in your eyes when we'd go out with our friends, except I wasn't able to leave with you. A least not in the usual way."

His little comment brought a smile to your face. For the first time in a long time, you were having fun again. Just like during your relationship, you'd go out on dates, have a good time and then he'd take you back home, followed by a goodnight kiss. You missed his kisses. You missed the way he'd hold you and make you feel safe by his side.

You looked up at him with his arms crossing his chest. You didn't notice it before, mostly because you were an angry mess, but he's gotten bigger. His arms looked so powerful, his shoulders looked so broad and his chest had so much definition. Chanyeol caught your stare and frowned his brows, confused as to why you were looking at him with such focus. You wanted him. You could feel your anger melting into an intense lust.

Chanyeol remained still as you rose from the bed, walking slowly toward him. You reached up, uncrossing his arms, resting them on your waist. You closed your eyes, letting your lust take over. His big hands opened up on the small of your back, bringing you closer to him. You moved your hands up his toned chest, up his long neck and landing on his soft cheeks. Your thumb grazed over his warm lips as he leaned down for a deep kiss.

"Mmm~" You moaned. The little spark you felt grew into a full firework show.

Chanyeol's hand pressed to your upper back, pushing your breasts against his chest. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, your hands tangled in his thick locks. His grasp moved down to the back of your thighs, hoisting you up into his arms. You gently grinded your hips together, creating a little friction before he laid you out on the bed. He climbed above you, but you grabbed his shoulders, turning him over onto his back and mounting his hips.

You reached down, unbuttoning his pants and pulling them off. His rock hard cock sprang out of his underwear, ghosting over your clothed center. Chanyeol lifted your skirt, sliding your panties to the side and rubbing his thumb against your swollen clit. You released a relaxed sigh, giving in to his sensuous touch. All the times you tried to move on or replace him couldn’t have ever worked. Nothing you've felt in the last two years from any other man can make you feel a fraction of the way you felt with his heavenly hands working their magic.

He removed his hands just long enough to take his top off. You did the same, tossing your shirt with the rest of the clothes on the floor. You came down, kissing his lips once more, feeling his soft tongue invade your mouth. You wiggled out of your skirt and panties before breaking the kiss and gradually sinking down on his erection. Your mouth fell open as he stretched you out just right. His hands squeezed your hips, moving you up and down.

"Chanyeol... Oh, god yes~" You planted your hands on his hard chest, bouncing to the rhythm of his thrusts.

Chanyeol moved his hand from your hip to your upper back, pulling you down to suck and kiss your bare breasts. He switched back and forth, paying equal attention to each one. His teeth lightly scraped against your nipple with a low growl as you clenched your walls around him.

"I'm so close." You said, losing your breath.

"Cum for me."

Your orgasm hit instantly, pulsing through your body, making goosebumps appear on every inch of your skin. Chanyeol came deep inside you, calling out your name. His grip was so tight, they'd leave marks on your skin for sure. But you couldn't care less, you finally got what you've been needing for two years.

Chanyeol pulled you on top of him, resting your head on his chest while you cooled down. He brought you both up to the head of the bed to lay down properly. His fingers combed through your hair as if everything from the past two years never even happened, but you still had to address it.

"What do we do know?" You asked him.

"I know things will never be exactly the same, but I'm willing to try again." His honesty warmed your heart. You looked up at him with a smile.

"So no more sorority girls?"

"Nope. No more sorority girls... except you." He said before kissing your forehead.

TO BE CONTINUED...

[acuppellarp]

Welcome to A Cup-pella, Aly! We’re excited to have you and Ariana Abrams in the game! Please go through the checklist to make sure you’re ready to go and send in your account within the next 24 hours. 

OOC INFO

Name + pronouns: Aly + She/Her. Age: 27. Timezone: GMT. Ships: Ariana/Chemistry. Anti-Ships: Ariana/Forced.

IC INFO

Full Name: Ariana Jeanne Abrams. Face Claim: Haley Lu Richardson. Age/Birthday: Age 20/August 11th. Occupation: College student, aspiring director, creator and writer, currently working on her own web-series starring a handful of her friends. Personality: Creative, Driven, Eager, Go-Getter, Motivated, Self-Critical, Worrier. Hometown: Fort Worth, Texas. Bio:

CAR ACCIDENT TW.

The only child of Nancy and Drew (yes, really) Abrams, it would be unfair to say Ariana was spoiled, but it would also be a lie to say she wasn’t. Her parents earned a decent amount of money between them – decent but modest – and while the two enjoyed their fulfilling, individual careers, they craved the laughter of a child echoing from the walls of their Fort Worth home, though it didn’t seem to be on the cards for them. Try as they might (and they really did try, without complaint on either part…) it just wasn’t working. Until one day it was, and their bundle of joy came as a blessing to them, one they’d almost begun to accept wasn’t going to happen.

Ariana truly was her parents pride and joy. She was friendly, helpful, and much like her parents, she was eager. Eager to learn, eager to live, eager to soak up everything life had to offer her. Ariana was an active child, enrolled in dance classes, a key player for the local gymnastics team, and an (albeit not very good, but she tried) member of an out of school soccer league. Every day, she was changing her mind about what she wanted to be when she grew older. She wanted to dance professionally, then she wanted to sing, then she wanted to be a firefighter, then she wanted to swim for the US Olympic team. Ariana’s dreams were endless, and her parents humored and nurtured every one of them.

For some children, losing all hope at reaching their dreams in the blink of an eye at the age of only eight may have come as a shock, and while Ariana didn’t exactly take it lightly, she did handle it better than was to be expected. She and her mom were in the car one evening, driving home from a gymnastics meet. Nancy was doing everything right: eyes on the road, music not too loud, hands at ten and two… It was the oncoming vehicle and its one-drink-too-many driver that caused the fateful collision, and while Nancy’s injuries were for the most part minor, her daughter hadn’t been so lucky. Ariana woke up from a minor coma two days later, the vehicle having slammed directly into the passenger side. Saving all of the medical jargon, the result was a little girl in a wheelchair, and the prospect that she may never use her legs again.

Determined as ever, while Ariana did hope to defy the odds and walk again someday, she also vowed not to let her new way of life define her. No, maybe she couldn’t use her legs, and therefore no, maybe she couldn’t partake in all of her sports and activities anymore, but that didn’t mean she had to stop living. Her recovery period saw Ariana watching movie after movie, television show after television show, and as inquisitive as ever, she had questions for her parents. She wanted to know all about the movies she watched; who came up with the ideas, who made them a reality? By the age of ten, she’d begun her own research, and by twelve, she’d written her very first script.

A career in the behind the scenes of show business had never even crossed her mind, but suddenly she was excited by the prospect of writing her own sketches, bringing joy and entertainment to everyday people like herself. Ariana joined the AV Club in high school, which maybe didn’t make her the most popular of students, but she got to dabble in a little bit of firsthand technical work, and that was something she always enjoyed. While she couldn’t act very well, nor did she have any interest in doing so, she loved being able to direct others, to manage stages and give her two cents for areas of improvement, so she found herself stage manager for all of the school’s plays to take place between her sophomore and senior years of high school.

While Ariana may never have let her disability define her, nor let it get in her way, the same could not be said for her parents. Unfortunately, Drew had made himself absent somewhere in her early teens, and Ariana had comforted her mother through the divorce. This meant, however, that her once work-oriented mother had found herself the single parent to a child with additional needs; couple that with her own guilt despite the accident not being her fault, and she’d become one very involved, helicopter parent. Her life had basically begun to revolve around her daughter, and while Ariana was appreciative of the help, she always kind of hated knowing that she was suddenly all Nancy had.

Leaving her mother behind was a decision that Ariana truly did lose many nights of sleep over. She knew what she wanted to do with her life, she wanted to go to New York, to film school, and to become a big director. What she didn’t want to do was leave Nancy in the lurch, so in the end, she and her mother made the decision to move to the big city together, though despite always being so sure of herself, Ariana found that she was somewhat embarrassed to admit it at first. She refused to have friends over, because she didn’t want them to feel she was a college student reliant on her mother. If it was up to her, she could take care of herself just fine, but with Nancy hovering, how would others know that?

Eventually, good things begun to happen for the two Abrams women. Somewhere before the end of Ariana’s freshman year, with her mother at her new job, she managed to open herself up to dating again, and she met the sweetest, most caring man Ariana could’ve imagined for her mother. As their relationship blossomed and progressed, Ariana was able to focus on herself, and on creating the works she’d always envisioned. Finally, she was able to pluck up the courage to tell Nancy she wanted to move out, to live in an apartment with friends from her sophomore year onwards, and although her mother was wary, she allowed it, and Ariana felt more independent than ever.

New York really has been kind to the two women. Not only is Ariana thriving in college and in a more independent living environment, but her mother also has her job and partner to focus on. Ariana also gets to call herself a director, creator and writer, with her currently working on the Untitled Ariana Abrams Project. She also has an ongoing web-series to add to her credits, starring friends she’s made since her move. It’s her first real taste of the career path she craves, and Ariana has her sights set on much bigger ventures once she has the correct degree under her belt. Until then, however, in spite of any negative hand life may have handed her in the past, Ariana is doing just fine. In fact, no, she’s doing great.

Pets: Ariana has a service dog named Buddy. He’s a golden retriever, and trained to raise the alarm if Ariana has any trouble with, for example, accidents with her wheelchair while home or out alone, and to bring her medication if she needs it and is unable to get to it. Buddy is a great service dog, but he’s also very lazy when he wants to be, too. He loves being pet, and has the puppy eyes thing down to a T. He also gets along well with other dogs, but can be very territorial where Ariana is concerned. Relationships: -

EXTRA INFO

[ This is for the masterlist, but also a fun little way to get to know your character! ]

Ariana Abrams 🎥/@arianabrams/description: @arianaspielberg was taken

Five latest tweets:

@arianabrams: i didn’t like the haunting of hill house until i learned about all of the hidden ghosties. call me a new fan, yo! @arianabrams: shocked and appalled to find out kate siegel is married. here’s my @ if it doesn’t work out, @k8siegel 😘😎 @arianabrams: someone just compared me to howard from #tbbt… depending on the season, i’m offended. @arianabrams: would it be weird to bathe in peppermint mocha? asking for a friend. @arianabrams: buddy learned a new trick. it’s called “laying in front of ariana’s wheelchair when she’s trying to get by" 🙃

[safestplace]

mediocrity is something i’ve been trying so hard lately to avoid

“do you think it’s possible?”

“do i think what’s possible?”

“to feel attached to two people.  to…. love two people at once.  like that.  but not the same way at all.  but with the same intensity.  to look across the room and feel at ease just finding either one of them.  knowing that you have a home in either heart, both hearts at the same time.  and they have one with you.  and with each other.”

“are we speaking in hypotheticals?”

“i don’t know.  i don’t know if i want to be.”

it started with the u-haul being stuck in over an hour’s worth of traffic through into and throughout downtown portland and blaine anderson nearly dancing across his loft’s restored hardwood floors on the tips of his toes.  he nearly skidded (and fell, hard) on his socks not once, not twice, but three times.

he was excited, overjoyed, bursting at the freaking seams, because everything was coming together, everything was finally happening.  sam — his sam — was going to be here.  with him!  living together!

no more of this seattle to portland/portland to seattle commute!  those days were gone, long gone.  and now, they were going to be in one place, and they were going to be… together.  just like that.

but the u-haul was late.  the only updates he had were sam’s facetime calls, that were all brief, fuzzy groans of his face behind the wheel, an “oh my god, dude, i’m going to die in this van,” before he hung up so he could focus on the road instead of on blaine’s face staring back at him.

these were all technical difficulties and nothing more.  just a mere bump in the road to lead them to their ultimate, eventual happy ending.

(living together, duh.)

the two of them had met over tinder — of all places — when sam had been in town for a comic convention at which he was a panelist and blaine was, well…

he was dressed up as ash ketchum.  he was cosplaying.  it’s not important.

they hit it off in that way that most of blaine’s closest friends would claim he did far too often as it was, that head-over-heels sort of thing.  he was thinking about sam throughout the entirety of the next day, until he just had to text him with the number sam had left him the night before.  he’d had no intention of actually, like, using it, but he felt compelled to do so.

he’d asked him if he was still in town, and it turned out that he was.  it actually turned out that sam was in portland, like, a lot.  he had gone to college there, he had a lot of friends there, and blaine was one lucky fella, that much was for certain.

eventually, the slow burn (ha, sure, let’s call it that - as if either of them are truly capable of such a thing!) of their friendship turned into something bigger, something with a little more depth.  they weren’t going a morning, afternoon, or night without talking to each other.  if sam wasn’t in portland one weekend, blaine was taking the train into seattle.

they were always around each other.  their instagrams were becoming scrapbooks of each and every time they had kissed or held hands or laughed at anything the other had said or done.

“i don’t really, like, need to be here for my job, you know…” sam had mentioned over the phone one night, voice trailing off near the end — an ellipse he was waiting for blaine to add onto.

“…you don’t?”

“i mean, you need to be in portland ‘cause it’s where your school is and i don’t want you to have to like leave your students and everything behind but, like.  i know a lot of people in portland.  there’s a really good scene there.  i can write and draw anywhere, and anywhere that’s closer to you sounds a lot better to me than anywhere…. farther from you.”

he was melting, falling back onto his couch with a plop and resting his chin in the palm of his hand.  “i already have a fourth of my closet reserved for you.  it has your name on it and everything.”

“a whole fourth?”

“a quarter!  twenty-five whole scents just for you!”

it was a steady rhythm of the two of them, living and existing on one plane — the same plane — together.  they knew each other’s routines before they’d even realized it.  sam knew how blaine liked his coffee in the morning, and blaine knew the best waffle iron to use on the mornings when sam was gonna need a little extra push to get him going.

they got a dog, blaine filled their loft with little succulents and bright accented pillows and rugs.  they had movie night every night and were never not stumbling into each other in all the best ways.  every shower was taken together, their friends thought they were nauseating, they were finally that couple that everyone hated just because they weren’t them.

and blaine knew in that moment that it wasn’t going to get better than that.  after all, how did you get better when you were in love with your best friend?

it continued with a u-haul and a black suv with darkened windows.

“who’s the celebrity?” sam spoke through a mouthful of lucky charms, peering out the large glass window before blaine was nudging him backwards.

“it’s not nice to stare.”

“look at that fuckin’ car.  they want you to stare.  it’s a porsche.”

the moving truck was being unloaded, but nobody was coming out of the car.  sam was grumbling about how whoever was in the car was definitely doing it on purpose to build suspense when his phone went off and he was stepping back to answer it — it was his agent, he had a netflix deal for his first ever comic series that he’d written that was so, so close to being green-lit, and he’d been a nervous wreck for days.

blaine kept his eyes on the mysterious suv, but just as the door opened, sam was grabbing him from around the waist and spinning him around.

“WE DID IT, LITTLE ROBIN.  WE GOT THE SHOW.”

and nothing mattered more in that moment — or any moment — than sam evans, superstar.

blaine was coming in on an autumn afternoon, his and sam’s old english bulldog (who wasn’t so much of a puppy anymore as a lumbering… larger puppy), drax, wheezing from beside him.  he crouched down just as he got through the large glass doors of their building, adjusting his collar and unclipping his leash.  he tucked his finger’s under drax’s chubby chin.  “i’m counting on you to not run away from me, sir,” he lightly ordered him, before teasingly adding on, “but i know i could outrun you if it really came down to it.”

he scratched behind his ears, letting drax breathe for a few moments as he stood up, retreating to the mailboxes lining the wall and getting to his and sam’s — 8a — and opening the door to grab his mail the key for the parcel locker underneath.  he’d been half asleep and shopping on amazon a night or so ago, which was always a terrible idea, and he knew he was about to reap what he sowed in the form of some costume that most likely would not fit drax.

as he was standing, amazon prime box in hand, he heard a voice from behind him, dryly commenting, “not exactly the tongue i was planning on getting this afternoon.”

he whipped around, seeing a tall figure wearily standing in front of drax, hand a little too close to the bulldog’s snout, and drax was, well.  friendly.  very friendly.

“he just wants to say hi!” blaine chirped, crouching down to clip his leash back onto his collar for the trek to the elevator, just in case drax got it in his mind to wander off.

“…hi.”  a beat.  “and… hi.”

he had a feeling the second hi wasn’t directed to his dog, and that was when blaine finally made eye contact.

lithe, chiseled jaw, sandy hair and eyes that looked like the pebbles blaine had collected from when his parents used to take him on summer vacation to british columbia.  something about this guy gave off the message that he was important — or at least felt that he was — and that you should want to know who he is if you don’t already.

and just like that, blaine kind of wanted to know.

“hi,” was what he gave him back.  “i’m… blaine.  and this is drax.”

“drax?”

“the destroyer.”

“…okay.”

was he blushing?

sam would be home soon.

he needed to leave, and he needed to leave immediately.

“do you have a name?”

“i do, believe it or not.”

a long, drawn out pause, and his gaze didn’t waver from blaine’s.  he swore he could feel it from the top of his shoulders to the balls of his feet, and he hadn’t felt like that since the first time sam had seen him…. like that.

“can i have it?”

god.  did the guy wink at him?  he could swear he did.  his mouth twisted into a smirk.  blaine wanted drax to live up to his name and eat him whole so he could be out of this conversation and this lobby once and for all.

“more fun to make you wait, killer.”

the front door opened, and he heard sam’s voice — the one voice he’d know anywhere, in a room filled with as little or as few people as it could possibly hold.

“sebastian?”

blaine’s stomach dropped, looking ahead at the guy in front of him, whose cheeks were paling, whose jaw was hardening into a firm ridge.

“lips?”

[minhoandthebabes]

Chapter 3

Kibum awoke to the sun streaming through the open doors, warming his skin after it had cooled from the night air. The dog was gone and the person he recognized as Jonghyun was now cuddled up against his legs, replacing the puppy from the night before. Kibum found heat reaching his cheeks, surprised and a little embarrassed that the other man felt comfortable enough to do this so soon after they had met. He took it upon himself to slip out from under the man and sat on the edge of the couch.

As Kibum looked around the room he noted how much brighter it looked in the sunlight. The white portions of the ceiling made the room look bigger than it had the night before. He took in various features of the house, the beautiful trees outside, the sloping roofs of each building, and the yard with its moss and gravel, all bright greens compared to the muted earthy tones he had seen the previous night. His eyes eventually fell on what he had painted the night before. The painting wasn’t as nice as he had wanted it to be, given the low light he had had to work with, and it didn’t capture the scene as well as he would have liked. Written in small print at the bottom of the page was a little message which read

You better finish this when you wake up.. I’ll have Jonghyun kill you if you don’t

Kibum looked at the threat and snorted. How could Jonghyun possibly kill him? He didn’t seem that big, or that strong. It was hard to imagine the other man doing anything more than perhaps bruising him. He laughed and decided to finish it anyway. The creature in his dream seemed to want him to finish the project anyway. Kibum couldn’t help but wonder if that fairy looking thing was his own motivation materializing in his dream. There was no way it could have been anything more than that seeing as fairies weren’t exactly real...

He picked up the paintbrush and ran it along the cloth he had been using to clean the brush before changing colors the night before. The bristles easily broke free from where they had dried and he promptly picked a dark color to cover the scratchy writing. He took a few minutes to decide where to pick up from where he left off, choosing to add details to the tree he couldn’t see the night before, shading it in where he felt it needed darker features.

It wasn’t too long until Kibum felt the couch next to him shift and he knew Jonghyun must be awake. He tried not to turn too red when he thought the man would speak with him about sleeping on him, but Jonghyun didn’t wake, instead, he slid closer to Kibum, resting his head on Kibum’s thigh. At this rate, Kibum couldn’t hide the blush. It spread from his nose across his cheeks until it settled on his ears. There was something oddly doglike in how he was acting and Kibum found it odd. It was as if he was related to the dog Kibum had fallen asleep with the previous night.

Just the thought sounded silly to Kibum and he found himself shaking it off with a simple laugh. With Jonghyun’s head now where it was, he was tempted to run his hand through the white hair, but couldn’t bring himself to do so, far too afraid of waking the man and making things even more awkward. He moved back to painting and looked out at the garden scene in front of him only to be greeted by Minho’s big eyes staring back at him with a furrowed brow that was clearly that of annoyance or frustration.

Kibum jumped and dropped his paintbrush, marking up the corners of the painting that he had initially left white. “When did you get there..?” He asked a hesitation in his voice, not having heard Minho approach him despite the fact that he had to walk through gravel and dirt to get to him.

“When you were admiring Jonghyun,” Minho said, his arms crossed over his chest.

Kibum's face went red again with pure embarrassment. “It’s not that!” he attempted to defend himself. “I just don’t know how to get him off of me..” he mumbled awkwardly, his hand grabbed the paintbrush and placed it back on the palette, trying to clean the mistake he had made.

Minho stepped up onto the wooden floor and sat across from Kibum, kneeling on the floor to look at what he had painted. His eyes roamed over the painting for a little longer than Kibum was initially expecting before he finally looked up at him, his sharp eyes digging into him. “You need to leave,” he said in a blunt manner, unwavering in his decision.

“B- but, can’t I finish?” Kibum asked, looking down at the painting. “And what about Jinki, I want to say goodbye to him.” He didn’t want to sound too desperate, but Kibum wasn’t willing to leave yet. It had been the first time in a while he hadn’t been trapped by obligation. There wasn’t the constant stress from school weighing down on him along with the necessity to work in every minute of free time he had in order to complete college on time. Kibum’s hand was beginning to lace in Jonghyun's soft white hair, trying to focus keep his anxiety in check. He had forgotten that it was a human on his lap rather than a dog, and instead followed his instinct.

Minho pursed his lips, his eyes following Kibum’s wandering hands for a few moments. “Even if you finish this painting, you can’t take it with you.” He said, his voice harsh and commanding.

Looking down at what he had been working on all night, Kibum glanced back up at Minho with a hurt look on his face. “But, I painted this, I made this, why can’t I keep it?”

Minho sighed and opened his mouth to speak before he closed it again he repeated the process a few more times in attempts to explain himself, that, or come up with a solid excuse. It was only a matter of time before frustration painted his otherwise soft features. “You just can’t, I don’t need to explain it to you.”

It was hard for Kibum to read Minho, especially because he didn’t seem to be comfortable to tell him important details that he felt he should have known. Kibum sighed and pushed Jonghyun off of him and back onto the couch. “Fine, I’ll go then.” It was obvious Kibum was annoyed with the situation. The last thing he wanted to do was leave, but he didn’t want to be with Minho and his seemingly judgemental glare any longer either. He stood and took one last look at his painting, proud of what he had done, but disappointed he couldn’t finish it. Whoever wrote that note would be pretty mad at him later, but it couldn’t be helped. He just hoped he could burn the image into his memory for future reference if he ever had time to sit and paint again.

Minho, now standing as well, watched Kibum with a curiosity. His eyes seemed to drill into Kibum, forcing him to catch Minho’s eye only to have Minho look away and back towards the front door. “I’ll lead you out..” He said, stepping back to the steps silently to put on his shoes. “Your leg will heal, but it will most likely scar, please keep it clean to minimise the scarring,” he said in a near monotone voice. It almost sounded as if he was caring for Kibum, but the words and tone of his voice didn’t seem to match up. It sounded more like he had memorized a script and knew it was better to repeat the kind words then to ignore it entirely.

Kibum moved down to put on his shoes next to Minho, he wasn’t sure what to say, so instead, he just said “thank you” in a brief attempt to clear the air between the two. Something about how Minho was acting made him feel like he wasn’t going to return anytime soon, or anytime at all. It was sad to think about, especially because he was beginning to like the strange people he had met. Minho took him from the front door onto a rough path that seemed to lead back to the bigger one he had come in on. They were just about to leave when Kibum heard a bark behind him.

He looked back to see the white dog barking in front of the wall that protected the house. He was wagging his tail with excitement and panting, his puppy face drawn into a smile. Kibum couldn’t help but smile at the dog and kneeled to pet the dog and scratch behind its ears one last time. The dog responded by wagging its tail more eagerly and licking Kibum’s hand before he fully retracted it...

“I’ll miss you, little guy.” He said with a sad smile, “I hope you get lots of treats.” he said, patting the dog’s head before he stood to leave again. The dog whimpered and sat down, looking up with big eyes at Kibum. The dog looked sad to see him go, but Kibum didn’t know what to say to it. It was only a dog after all.

Minho nodded and shooed the dog, moving to lead Kibum out again. “Okay, I’ll walk with you to a certain point, and then it’s best if you make the rest of the way yourself,” he explained. When Kibum looked at Minho he noticed his hands folded over each other in a seemingly polite yet regal gesture. Kibum also noted the clothes Minho was wearing. He wasn’t expecting to see the other man in fancy robes so early in the morning, but it seemed as if he only owned historical robes and garments. In any other scenario, Kibum would have admired the clothing, but in this moment he couldn’t bring himself to be anything other than annoyed at the other man.

“Okay,” Kibum mumbled walking in front of Minho who seemed to be directing him to do so. He walked slowly and found himself getting farther and farther away from the house, Minho’s footsteps non-existent despite the rough terrain.

As Kibum walked out from the dense woods, his mind went fuzzy, the memories he had just made seemed to slip away and an odd feeling of loss settled in his thoughts. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t tell what had been lost. A memory was gone, something that had happened had completely disappeared from his thought. It was like waking from a dream and remembering dreaming, but forgetting what happened. When he could see the temple, he sensed a presence behind him that had started to make him uncomfortable. It was like someone was following him, or worse, watching him. He had only been in the forest for a short amount of time, so how someone could find him and follow him so quickly was sending chills down his spine. When he entered he was alone, at least he remembered being alone, then again, he also remembered it had been dark. The sun had nearly set, but now it was already far above the horizon and at his back.

When he got back to the temple he could sense the presence behind him leaving and finally calmed, happy to be alone in the wood. He turned around in attempts to see what had been following him as the fear of being watched left, but couldn’t see anyone, not even an animal behind him.

Kibum looked at the temple in front of him and remembered coming there the night before. It was strange how much time had passed and he wondered if he had passed out in the forest. The previous day he had been overworked so it was possible. The sun was now high in the sky and when he checked his phone he noticed it was Saturday. He had missed far too much time on another one of his precious weekends. It was a startling thing to realize and he immediately headed home to try and finish his school work that was due the next week before he had work that evening. He made note that he should maybe go to the doctor to check on his health, and his bandaged leg, but that wasn’t important in that moment, getting his tasks finished seemed to be more pressing.

After work that night, Kibum sat at his messy desk, studying old court cases. He couldn’t focus on the cases at all as a bug continued to fly about his head, buzzing angrily in his ear every once in a while. He continued to shoo the bug away, hoping it would just leave on its own, but he knew he was going to have to resort to the fly swatter if necessary. He was curious how the bug had managed to enter his dorm room seeing as he hadn’t left his windows open.

The buzzing finally stopped, and Kibum was left looking at his textbook, a hand knotted in his hair as he tried to focus on the small yet lengthy words. These materials were so dense it was almost impossible to get through one and understand it. After reading it through a few times he would understand what was being expressed. It was only a matter of time until he fell asleep at his desk, his head slipping from his hands to rest on the large book beneath him only to return to dreams of people and places he had been missing.

When Kibum awoke the next morning, he found a small black line drawn on his upper lip mimicking a mustache. He cursed himself for falling asleep on his marker, but when he came back to his desk to finish reading what he had been reading the night before, there was no pen to be found.

It was now the beginning of bitter Winter. The leaves had all left the trees, and the warm breeze that used to grace the island was now replaced by icy wind coming down from the north.

Kibum sat in class, staring at his notebook as the professor droned on, discussing court cases he had already studied on his own time. Classes at this point didn’t seem to have any true purpose other than wasting his time. As he half listened to the lecture, he started doodling in the corner of his notebook just to keep his mind active. As his pen marked the page, he looked up to notice the shape of a dog forming in his doodles and chose to follow the pattern. Soon he had drawn a little white husky pup on the page.

Kibum stared at the dog curiously for a few moments, trying to remember where he had seen the animal before. Something about the pet was familiar to him, but it was almost as if the memories that contained the dog had been locked away in the back of his mind behind a well-sealed door. Kibum shook his head, trying to rid himself of the feeling.

In attempts to remove the frustrating feeling, Kibum chose to draw friends for the dog, letting his mind wander as he did so. It wasn’t long until he had drawn a band of four characters: the dog, a small fairy, an elvish looking man, and last, but not least, a mad scientist with goggles on his forehead.

Kibum started at the people he had drawn. These people, there was something so incredibly real and familiar about them, as if he had seen them in a dream long, long ago. As he ran his finger over the drawings, he could almost hear the bark from the dog, the judgemental look from the elf, and the maniacal laughter from the chemist. Seeing their poorly drawn features, things started to click into place, memories that had felt like a dream returned in a wave of realization: the men he had met, the dream about the fairy, the painting, the temple. They were all real, they had to be. Memories were flooding back when his professor called him out, pulling the thoughts from his mind.

“Kim Kibum, what was the verdict in this case?” He asked again, this time with more impatience.

Kibum glanced up at the questioning professor. “The verdict?” He asked, his mind still not with the others. He looked down at his notes and then glanced at the pictures he had drawn, “The redacted information from the letter was procured and those prosecuted were guilty.” He said, looking his professor in the eye. “If you’d excuse me, I need to go..” He said, standing and packing up his things from the desk. He couldn’t leave the lecture hall fast enough, just wanting to get to the bottom of what he had discovered before the memories could so easily leave him again. Kibum had soon entered the brisk air of winter on Jeju island and was sprinting up the hill in order to get back to the temple to find the strange people he had met that hot summer day.

[poop4u]

New Job, Who Dis?

#Poop4U

Some of you may remember this merry rag tag gang of misfits and the insane woman who runs herself ragged trying to keep up with them.

If you remember us, you probably wonder where the heck we’ve been, and why the radio silence in Blog Land. Well The Food Lady has been real busy, inventing The Hover Dog(tm).

Har har har.

I wish that’s what I was doing. I got a new “actual” job a couple months ago, because as much as I love photography, it does not bring home the bacon for me. Which makes me sad, because I like it a lot. And my new job leaves basically zero time to do it. At all. The hours are disgustingly terrible, the commute is brutal and the job itself hovers (har har har) somewhere between mindnumbingly boring and horrifically horrible with respect to how it’s managed (I mean above me, as I’m the manager). It pokes little holes in the fabric of my animal-welfare-background heart every day. But I have many things to feed, so I drag myself out of bed (sometimes at 3:45AM, sometimes at 6AM, depending which shift I’m on) and go, and I HATE IT WITH EVERY FIBER OF MY BEING.

And speaking of Things, I managed to find a home for this one last week.

Never been so happy to see the backend of a red dog in my life. That puppy plum wore me out with her constant nonsense. She craned her evil giraffe neck over a babygate while I was in the shower and pulled down my favourite Bench jacket and chewed up the zipper, on both sides. It wasn’t even a dog coat, it didn’t even have tasty cookie smells in the pockets. She pissed on my dogs beds and I had to buy all new ones. There is not a blanket in the house without several holes in it. That dog is at LEAST a two person job, so I went to visit her potential home and hopped into my van and drove away while they were (foolishly) oohing and ahhing over her adorableness. SUCKERS!!!

Even my dogs breathed a collective sigh of relief when they realized she wasn’t coming back home with us. The Thing made Maisie look laid back!

Maisie, who will play fetch with literally anything.

Whenever I think of the people who passed on this smart girlie, I hug her just a little more tightly (which she objects to, LOUDLY, because it’s not playing fetch). I am so lucky to have her, she is just oodles of fun, and such a good girl. The other day we were playing ball in the off leash area and her ball (like her Best Dog Ever predecessor Tweed, she has A Ball that she will play with, and if it goes missing, she will not play with another ball without some serious pre-game pouting.)(It’s not the same as playing fetch with Literally Anything, these are two different games) bounced over the fence into a hard-to-reach place.

The off leash area is entirely fenced. The ball bounced over the fence as far away from the gate as possible. She knows she is not allowed to go out the *property* gate on the road (plus it was closed anyway), so damned if my smart girl didn’t go out the gates, run all the way along the outside of the off leash area in the parking lot, bushwhack through the blackberries and then run through the neighbour’s field and find her ball.

Then, like the shining star that she is, she retraced her steps and came back the same way she went and resumed our game of fetch. How brilliant is she? When she was about 7 months old I offered her to Canines for Conservation because she will do anything to find and retrieve her ball and has a work ethic that just won’t quit, but they felt she was too young (they like them 10 months and up). I am so glad they refused her, because my life would be a lot less shiny without her in it. Aside from her ear piercing bark (and her literal ear piercing of Dexter when she chases him down), she is just awesome. I love her so.

She can even get Winter to play with her, and Winter is far too weird and full of social anxiety to play with anyone other than his sister (or maybe she’s not his sister; doG knows the Woo “not-related-even-a-tiny-bit” TWoo fooled us all for years!).

And speaking of the Dastardly Duo…they’re both doing great, given they are old as dirt and I have effectively abandoned them for 11 hours a day in their old age. I bring Dexter and the two Littles to work, the rest of the dogs stay home. We try to play some fetch either before work or after I get home, depending on the shift, but the WooTWoo don’t play fetch, so they find life rather boring these days. So yesterday, my day off, Auntie Michelle and I piled them all in my van and took them to our old stomping grounds where I used to walk dogs, and we spent two hours decompressing in the cranberry fields. This is where Wootie’s resurrected Flamboyance(tm) chose to shine.

Look at that thing! It has fully recovered from its brush with shaving over a year ago thanks to that nasty infection he got. I am so glad to see it again. I am, however, not allowed to touch it still. Woo had gotten cantankerous in his old age and gets all snarly when I try to brush him (which is ironic, because without brushing, he is ALSO all snarly).

TWooie was having a good time too (lots of gross dead things to roll in, apparently) until he snagged and tore his front dew claw (AGAIN. Dog has the most feeble dewies in the world) and had to be carried out to solid ground because the cranberry plants kept snagging on the mangled claw. He was sad. I was also sad, because he’s heavy and super awkward to carry.

But we all needed the exercise and the time out in nature. It was so nice to see my crew running around being deliriously happy. It almost makes me regret giving up the dog walking gig, even though I was dead broke all the time.

This is a photo of Peetie. She’s still dumb as a sack of hammers. However, she was a godsend when we had The Thing…she entertained her for hours at a time, taught her to play tug with toys and wrestled patiently with her when the other dogs were all hiding from the Thing Tornado, even when The Thing got snappy and overstimulated…Peetie is truly awesome with annoying foster puppies.

Dexter is awesome at work … he stays behind a gate on the stairs behind my desk and he lures all of our clients over to pet him through the gate and tell him how handsome he is. He of course cannot hear them, but he knows what they’re saying. He knows how handsome he is.

He has a lump in his back along his spine so we went to visit Dr. Erica to have it checked out as it has recently gotten bigger. She examined it and said “It looks like a cyst. Ooooh, I want to squeeze it so bad!” What is it with you vet/tech types and your all encompassing urge to squeeze fluids out of dog lumps? The techs at the shelter LIVED for that shit too. You’re all disgusting!

Anyway, she did a needle thingie and cytology and it was indeed full of cyst material, but not the gooey kind, so she recommended we leave it alone until he’s under for something else … “like when you get his teeth cleaned!” she said, as she flipped up his lip to look at his teeth. “….or not,” she then said, because his teeth are fantastic (*chuffed*). So lumpy will remain lumpy unless the cyst gets too big to be ignored.

This is also the only photo of Spring you will see in this post, as she was too busy hunting all the imaginary critters out there. She ran so much that she slept all afternoon and evening.

No photos of Fae either, because she was too itty bitty to be seen in the cranberry fields … she was just some hair and floppy ears bouncing in and out of focus.

How come whenever I take a group photo, everyone looks very serious except for Dexter? How come he only has two facial expressions?? (this one and Mad Teeth(tm))

Anyway, it’s my last day off and I have 400 million things to do before work tomorrow, because I have no time to do anything on the days I am working. Maisie says we better get some ball time in before that happens (or any time, ever, why am I not a millionaire so I can spend all my time playing with her etc.)

Tell me what you think I should do for an actual living, because I can’t seem to come up with anything I want to do, and doG knows I don’t want to do what I am doing right now. You are smart peoples, help a sad, grouchy, tired sistah out.

ETA – oh I forgot, I was supposed to add this!

When I had the WooTWoo DNA tested, and learned they weren’t even a teensy bit the same breed(s) make up, they ran a “relatedness” test on them to see if maybe they had, like, same mom but different dad. Turns out they did not. It’s more sciencey than my pithy little grey matter can comprehend, but some of you s-m-r-t people might be interested to learn more about it on their blog post here.

Poop4U Blog via www.Poop4U.com The Food Lady, Khareem Sudlow

[centralparkpawsblog]

Merrick vs. Taste of the Wild

https://www.centralparkpaws.net/wp-content/uploads/2019/12/51vFguQxwnL.jpg

Every once in a while, I get curious about what food is out there for dogs.

It’s always good to know what’s on the market and the truth behind the advertisements I see online and on TV.

Maggie’s had her fair share of Merrick food ever since she was a puppy. I trusted it when she was a baby and she still loves it to this day

I figured it’d be smart to test it out against another popular brand, like Taste of the Wild.

I’ve seen Taste of the Wild in nearly every pet store I’ve ever been in, so there has to be a reason why people and dogs love it so much.

Check out my comparison of the two brands to decide which might be better for your dog and which brand you feel more comfortable buying from.

Merrick’s Company History

Although I only found out about Merrick dog food back when I brought Maggie home in 2017, they’ve been serving up bowls of dog food for a lot longer than that.

The brand was founded in 1988 with the best intentions you could imagine[1].

Garth Merrick, the founder, wanted to feed his dog Gracie with home cooked food.

He started out by reading about the nutrition that dogs need, which led him to create the first Merrick dog food blend.

Today, the company advertises their use of high quality ingredients and whole foods, which is supposed to deliver nutrition straight to your dog.

By skipping fillers and partial ingredients, Merrick still makes homemade dog food for all their customers.

Best Sellers

Although they have many variations on their original formula for dog owners to choose from, their best selling bags are[2]:

Grain Free Beef and Sweet Potato Recipe

Grain Free Real Duck and Sweet Potato Recipe

Grain Free Real Texas Beef and Sweet Potato Recipe

I admire them for their use of whole food ingredients, since they provide multiple different sources of nutrients and proteins for dogs who may have sensitive stomachs.

Taste of the Wild isn’t the first brand Merrick has gone against. How did Merrick compare with Blue Buffalo?

Taste of the Wild’s Company History

Taste of the Wild calls back to the wolf and what they ate on a routine basis.

It’s the nutrition that led to the many dog breeds we have today, so the company stands by their mission of creating quality dog food based on what a dog’s DNA calls for[3].

This US-based company started in 2007 by focusing on balancing their dog food production with affordable prices.

Their audience began with dog owners who wanted to buy premium food at a better price and grew to owners who were amazed at the potential savings.

Because the company doesn’t have to ship their dog food in from other countries, it cuts down the costs drastically compared to their competitors.

Best Sellers

Whether dogs love the food for the taste or the humans love the price per bag, Taste of the Wild’s best sellers are[4]:

High Prairie Grain-Free Mix

Wetlands Grain-Free Canned Food

Sierra Mountain Mix

I like that there’s a mix of dry and wet food in their best sellers, which gives owners more options to choose from when trying the brand for the first time.

Taste of the Wild is a strong competitor in our brand comparisons. Check out Taste of the Wild vs Orijen!

Recalls

Every dog food company starts out with good intentions, but mistakes happen.

That leads to recalls, which may happen rarely or every so often. It depends on the quality of the brand and how proactive they are about their business.

I found that since 2009, Merrick has faced seven recalls on their brand of treats[5].

This was because of elevated ingredient levels that could harm dogs, but it was quickly fixed. Their dog food itself hasn’t been recalled.

Taste of the Wild had a 2012 recall on all their food and treats when it was found that many products tested positive for salmonella[6]. That was part of a recall with 16 other brands, which I read to be more of a systemic issue than a brand problem.

Since then, Taste of the Wild has had no more recalls.

What’s Important When Choosing a Dog Food?

There’s no one thing that’s important when you’re choosing food for your dog.

You have to approach each brand from all angles, in order to make the most informed decision. Here are a few key factors I research before buying a new brand for Maggie.

Ingredients

What do you value in your dog’s food?

Whole ingredients?

Grain-free protein?

This will change for each dog owner, depending on your dog’s food sensitivities, allergies, or preferences.

Price

The first time I got Maggie food, I didn’t care about the price.

I wanted her to have the best.

But if you live on a budget like I do, you have to think about the price in the long-term.

What do you want to pay for once each month? What’s affordable for you?

Availability

This is another personal preference issue.

Online stores such as Chewy.com make it easy to keep your dog fed with their autoship discount

I know dog owners who pick food brands because they prefer to go buy the bag in-store.

I want Maggie’s food shipped to my house, so it’s important for it to be available online.

Decide which works best for you depending on your schedule and where you live.

Taste

Dogs develop their own sense of taste as they grow.

Maggie has changed her favorite food more than a few times.

Think about when your dog has been hesitant to eat or completely not interested.

Those are the foods or ingredients they don’t enjoy, which will guide you to what they do.

Brand Reliability

Your dog will most likely eat the same food for a while, since it’s easier on the canine stomach.

You want to buy from a brand that’s reliable so you don’t have to keep an eye out for recalls every other week.

Comparison of Merrick vs Taste of the Wild

Let’s put these two brands up against each other when it comes down to the most important factors and see who comes out the winner.

Ingredients

  Winner: Merrick   

Both brands have a particular focus on whole food ingredients, so this will depend on what you want for your dog.

Taste of the wild has whole meats, beans, peas and eggs in their foods along with berries and vegetables.

I love that, but there are plenty of ingredients on their lists that I can’t identify.

On the other hand, Merrick’s best selling Duck and Sweet Potato recipe lists deboned duck as their first and main ingredient[7], followed by 17 other ingredients I can recognize.

For that reason, Merrick is the winner of the ingredients round for me. I like being able to identify what goes in my dog’s food bowl.

Price

  Winner: Taste of the Wild   

Price can be the breaking point for most dog owners.

Taste of the Wild comes in at $50 for a 28 pound bag, which is a slightly bigger bag than most dog food brands offer.

Merrick averages almost $60 for a 25 pound bag, so you’re getting less and paying a bit more.

Maggie is a big eater, so saving that $8 adds up in the long run. Taste of the Wild is the better brand for owners looking for a price that fits a tight budget.

Availability

  Winner: Tie   

The availability round ends in a tie, since both of these brands are sold in name brand pet stores and online.

You can find them nearly anywhere you buy dog supplies, so it won’t be hard to locate a bag or two when it comes time to try them out.

Shop Merrick at Amazon

Shop Merrick at Chewy

Shop TotW at Amazon

Shop TotW at Chewy

Taste

  Winner: Depends   

Maggie hasn’t tried Taste of the Wild before, so I can’t give an accurate canine opinion on that one.

She does love Merrick, though, and we’ve tried out several of their recipes.

I’d suggest dog owners try Merrick if their dogs enjoy beef flavors or food based in sweet potatoes, which is something Merrick apparently does very well compared to how fast Maggie eats her meals.

Brand Reliability

  Winner: Merrick   

Neither of these brands have a terrible history when it comes to recalls, which is what matters most with brand reliability.

I would prefer Merrick over Taste of the Wild though, just because their recall was only on their treats and not on the actual dog food.

Another thing to note is that both brands were recently called out in a June 2019 report for being linked to canine heart disease[8].

Along with 14 other brands, Taste of the Wild came in third place for having 53 canine heart problem related reports, and Merrick came in ninth place with 15 reports.

This leads me to pick Merrick as the winner of the brand reliability test.

While the 2019 report is concerning and something to keep an eye on, they had far fewer reports and no recalls on dog food, which I can appreciate.

Overall

  Winner: Merrick   

Merrick is the overall winner of the comparison challenge for me.

I know Maggie loves the taste and their history proves their reliability, even if their average price is a bit more than Taste of the Wild.

Both brands have options for dogs with food sensitivities, so the weigh your options carefully before choosing between either of these brands.

Conclusion

No dog food will ever be perfect, but you should know everything you can find out about a brand before you buy something for your dog.

Ingredients, price, availability, and brand reliability are just the start of what you can learn about a brand.

After that, it’s up to your dog to show what they like better.

Maggie’s loved Merrick ever since she was a puppy, so I’ll buy that over testing out Taste of the Wild for her.

Get both for your dog and let them sample a few bites if you can’t decide which you like better. As long as your dog likes the taste and you’re comfortable with the brand, you won’t go wrong.

Resources

https://www.merrickpetcare.com/our-story

https://www.merrickpetcare.com/b/dog-food/

https://www.tasteofthewildpetfood.com/our-company/

https://media.thinknum.com/articles/and-the-best-selling-pet-foods-at-amazon-and-walmart-are/

https://www.foodsafetynews.com/2018/05/merrick-dog-treats-recalled-due-to-elevated-thyroid-hormone/

https://www.foodsafetynews.com/2012/05/diamond-pet-foods-etc-recalls-2012/

https://www.merrickpetcare.com/recipes/grain-free-real-duck-sweet-potato-recipe/

 https://www.usatoday.com/story/money/2019/06/28/dog-heart-disease-fda-finds-potential-link-16-brands-dog-food/1592388001/

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from https://www.centralparkpaws.net/dog-food/merrick-vs-taste-of-the-wild/

[flauntpage]

DGB Grab Bag: Chicago Hopeless, Stone-Faced Karlsson, and Math—How Does it Work?

Three Stars of Comedy

The third star: The curling faceoff – This was a pretty funny way to open this week's outdoor game.

Slightly less funny: A few hours later when the curlers got drunk and threw the rock into the power generator.

The second star: Erik Karlsson and Eugene Melnyk – I'm no body language expert, but I'm not getting a real big "Can't wait to sign a long-term extension" vibe here.

By the way, this was literally front-page news in Ottawa. Good times up here.

The first star: Nazem Kadri vs. Rasmus Ristolainen – Not their fight from Monday's game; that wasn't all that good. But their post-scrap debate on the subject of conceptual mathematics was fantastic.

Kadri's right, by the way. I guess we can add "counting" to the list of things the Leafs are better than the Sabres at, right next to "draft lotteries."

Outrage of the Week

The issue: The NHLPA released the results of an extensive poll of over 500 players, who were asked to weigh in on various questions about life in the league. The outrage: Wow, did you see the results? They were stunningly, jaw-droppingly… boring. Is it justified: To be clear, it's cool that the NHLPA does this stuff. Some information is better than no information. But with most of this poll, it was only slightly better. We learned things like "Connor McDavid is fast" and "Sidney Crosby is good." (We also learned that Carey Price is the league's best goalie, so apparently many of the surveys were returned by mail that took three years to arrive.)

Some of the results were mildly surprising—Wes McCauley ran away with best referee honors, and the players still seem to love Shea Weber and Jonathan Toews. We also found out that players apparently have no idea how bar graphs work. But that was about it.

Some eyebrows were raised over the revelation that 77 percent of players support the current points system, but that's no shock at all—just like their GMs, of course players are going to like free bonus points. The coach can't bag skate you too hard for a three-game losing streak if you still picked up a few points, right? If anything, the story here is that even a league where banking points is everything, 23 percent of players have still realized that the current system is awful.

Maybe the most depressing section of the poll comes at the end, when players are asked to name the best ever at various positions, because it ends up serving as a reminder of how damn young today's players are. The forwards are all from the 80s and beyond, with no love for Gordie Howe or Rocket Richard or Jean Beliveau. They get the best defenseman right, with Bobby Orr taking top spot, but he only gets 61 percent of the vote, with Nicklas Lidstrom finishing a relatively close second at 29 percent, no mention of Doug Harvey, and Scott Niedermayer(!) finishing fifth. And the goalies skip over Terry Sawchuk, Glenn Hall, and Jacques Plante, but find a spot for Price in the top five. Seriously, when were all you guys born, in the 90s? (Thinks for a second.) Yeah, don't answer that.

At the end of the day, it's a fun little poll that clearly isn't trying to ruffle any feathers—the only question with a negative focus is about bad ice. That's understandable, but man it feels like a missed opportunity. Don't you want to see these guys rate the league's worst coaches, referees and GMs? Can't we ask them which owner they'd least like to play for, or which city has the ugliest fans? While we're at it, let's get them to rate Gary Bettman's job performance on a scale of 1 to 10, or explain where they plan to spend the 2020 lockout. Maybe even include an essay portion where they have to explain goaltender interference.

It was a good effort, NHLPA, but you can do better. Next time, give us the director's cut.

Obscure Former Player of the Week

The Blackhawks are finally bad again, and they're going to miss the playoffs for the first time in a decade. It goes without saying that fans around the league are heartbroken, and we wish to offer our love and support to Hawks fans during these difficult times.

But if it helps at all, it's worth remembering that there have been far worse Blackhawks teams than this year's mess. And sometimes, being pathetic enough to warrant a little bit of pity can pay off. So this week, let's devote our obscure player section to the story of Ed Litzenberger.

Litzenberger was a big winger who had the misfortune of trying to break in with the Montreal Canadiens in the 1950s. That team was pretty stacked, making it to the final for ten straight years, and Litzenberger only managed to crack the lineup for a total of five games across two seasons. He finally earned a regular spot in 1954, and was reasonably productive, managing 11 points in the season's first 29 games. But that's where those terrible Hawks come in. By the mid-50s, Chicago had made a habit of finishing dead last, and the franchise was at serious risk of going under. So in a rare burst of charity, the other teams decided to offer up just enough help to keep their competition alive.

That help included Litzenberger, who was traded to Chicago for cash midway through the 1954-55 season. Well, "traded" might be pushing it; some sources use the word "donated." Either way, the deal was his chance to take on a top line role, and he made the most of it by racking up 40 points in the season's final 44 games. That was enough to earn him Calder honors as rookie of the year, the only time in the award's history that a player has won it while splitting his season between two NHL teams.

For the rest of the decade, Litzenberger starred in Chicago, earning second-team All-Star honors in 1957. He was a big part of the franchise's rebuild into contenders, eventually helping them win a Stanley Cup in 1961. He was traded to Detroit that summer, and then quickly made his way to Toronto where he'd win three more Cups. The 1964 championship was his last NHL action, but he'd head to the AHL and win two more titles, making him by some accounts the only North American pro hockey player to win a championship in six straight seasons.

So let Ed Litzenberger be a lesson to GMs everywhere. If over the next few weeks Stan Bowman comes up to you making puppy dog eyes and mumbling about how tough it is in Chicago these days, do not give him one of your best prospects just to be nice.

Be It Resolved

Seattle is getting an NHL team.

That's not really breaking news at this point. If any of us somehow hadn't clued into that development over the last few years of watching the league make eyes at the market, their recent ticket drive seals the deal. The ownership group collected 10,000 deposits in the first few minutes and over 25,000 in the first day.

So yeah, while nothing will be official for a while, it's basically a done deal. Seattle is getting a team, probably for the 2020-21 season. People are already doing mock expansion drafts. This is happening. And it's good news for everyone.

Well, almost everyone. And then there's Quebec City.

They'd been holding out hope that they'd be an expansion candidate. They have an arena ready to go, and plenty of NHL history. They'd hoped to bring back the Nordiques, just like Winnipeg brought back the Jets a few years ago.

But now it probably can't happen. Seattle gives the NHL an even 32 teams, which finally brings us back to the days of two equal conferences and four equal divisions. While it wouldn't be unheard of for the NHL to beat a good thing into the ground, it certainly feels like this will be the last round of expansion for at least a little while. And that means Quebec City is out of luck, at least when it comes to expansion.

Of course, that's not the only way to get a team, and that's where things get a little touchy. Quebec has long been one of the top targets for every rumor about an NHL team relocating. That quieted down slightly during the expansion process, since there was a more obvious path back to the NHL available. But now that that door has slammed shut, we can expect to start hearing whispers about some team or other making eyes at Quebec City.

So today, be it resolved that when the "Struggling team is moving to Quebec" rumor mill starts firing on all cylinders again, we can all be cool about it. No, it's never fun to see some other city salivating over your team. No, that team probably won't move, because to his credit, Gary Bettman makes it very hard to relocate a franchise. Yes, all that Quebec talk is probably wishful thinking, and maybe even a publicity plot to squeeze more arena upgrade out of your town.

It's annoying. But it's not the fault of fans in Quebec. They just saw their best chance at a team fade away, so they're going to start looking toward Plan B. They know how much relocation sucks—they went through it themselves, and with a team that immediately turned around and won the Cup to boot. But right now it's their only shot. You can't blame them for taking it.

We all know how the game is played. So let's handle it without having a meltdown. That means you, Florida, Arizona, and Carolina. You, too, if the arena thing falls through, Islanders. And hell, maybe even you, Ottawa and Calgary, at least as long as your owners are allowed to talk. Defend your turf, sure. But save the faux outrage that someone else is trying to lure your team away. It's a long shot, but it's all they have. And you'd do the same if the roles were reversed.

Classic YouTube Clip Breakdown

There's been a minor controversy up here in Canada this week involving the Vancouver Canucks. Basically, the organization seems to have decided that the market is too negative, and not everyone disagrees. That's spiraled into a bigger discussion over how a fan base should treat a team that continually finishes last, and whether fans deserve some share of the blame when the team they root for can't get it together.

That's all well and good, but let's take a moment here to defend Canucks fans. Are they negative? Sure. But you would be too if your team was underperforming. And it's a few bad apples spoiling the bunch—it's not like everyone who likes the Canucks is some sort of toxic jerk.

So today, let's hit up YouTube and randomly search for somebody being positive about the Canucks. I bet if we got back to the franchise's better days like, say, 1994, we can find a perfectly wonderful person who's willing to say nice thing about them. Hey, here's a clip now!

Oh.

So, this clip is from an intermission during Game 2 of the 1994 Stanley Cup final. The Canucks are facing the Rangers, and New York came in heavily favored. But Vancouver pulled off the upset in Game 1, earning a 3-2 overtime victory in which goaltender Kirk McLean made 52 saves, and they're giving the Rangers all they can handle in the second game.

In one of those wacky "man-on-the-street" segments, a Vancouver reporter has apparently found a few diehard Ranger fans to interview about the series. We never do catch the guy's name, but he's apparently a local real estate developer. That's a good business to be in. Here's hoping he sticks with it, rather than doing anything else ever.

"You've got some team, and you've got some goalie, I can tell you." See? This guy knows his stuff. The Canucks did indeed have a goalie that year.

Our reporter starts to ask them if they're surprised about something, then suddenly does this really weird pause where he seems to get distracted. I can't be sure, but I think it might have something to do with the time traveler from the future who appears just off camera holding a sign that says "RUN."

He finally stumbles through a question about whether the Rangers should be kicking more butt, in which case this nice man's wife gives a very smooth answer about how any team that makes the final will be a good one. Very diplomatic! She should go into politics.

(I’m kidding, of course. Only politicians should ever be involved with politics.)

Next we get a somewhat weird question about the difference between New Yorkers and Ranger fans. Our nice real estate man ignores the question completely, and instead mentions the Rangers' 54-year Cup drought and that "they've met somebody who's doing an incredible job in goal, as you know about."

He, uh, has no idea what Kirk McLean's name is, does he?

"He's there taking a lot of shots. Many more shots." Nope, no idea at all. But he's right about all those shots. McLean was playing like a wall in this series. Like a real actual wall, not one you just make up. I'm not sure why I felt the need to clarify that.

We close with the nice man's wife, who jokes about hockey not being all that big down south and then suggests that maybe Atlanta should get a team again. Ha ha, whoops! I guess this couple has some bad ideas.

Epilogue: The Rangers ended up winning this game and the next two after it to take a 3-1 series lead. The Canucks fought back to even the series before losing a heart-breaking seventh game in which Sergei Zubov and Alex Kovalev combined for three points, because sometimes the Russians help one side win. In hockey. Again, not sure why I felt the need to clarify that.

Anyway, here's hoping this fine couple, who are no doubt still happily married to this day, enjoyed the Rangers' win. They seem like real hockey fans. Maybe someday they'll even get to personally meet some Stanley Cup champions, and everyone will be happy.

Have a question, suggestion, old YouTube clip, or anything else you'd like to see included in this column? Email Sean at nhlgrabbag@gmail.com.

DGB Grab Bag: Chicago Hopeless, Stone-Faced Karlsson, and Math—How Does it Work? published first on https://footballhighlightseurope.tumblr.com/

[beyondforks]

Book Review: Emerge by Tobie Easton

Emerge (Mer Chronicles #1) by Tobie Easton Genre: Young Adult (Fantasy Romance) Date Published: April 19, 2016 Publisher: Month9Books, LLC

Lia Nautilus may be a Mermaid but she’s never lived in the ocean. Ever since the infamous Little Mermaid unleashed a curse that stripped Mer of their immortality, war has ravaged the Seven Seas. Now Lia lives in a secret community of land-dwelling Mer hidden among Malibu’s seaside mansions and attends high school with humans. To protect everyone around her, she must limit her contact with non-Mer. No exceptions. But when the new girl sets her sights on Lia's crush, she will risk exposing her deadly secret to stop Clay from falling in love with the wrong girl. 

Emerge is the first book in the Mer Chronicles series by Tobie Easton. I'm in love with this world already. Lia is a descendant of the Little Mermaid. I'm not talking about the Disney little Mermaid either. Hans Christian Anderson got it closer to the truth according to these mermaids. Plus, the author added her own touches on the story that really brought it to life and gave it depth. For example, the story on how they got legs, the curse, and details on the "real" Little Mermaid. Their world intrigues me. Was it predictable? Yeah.. maybe at times. But, it was fun, and I really enjoyed it. The characters were lovable. There was humor, drama, suspense, and of course some romance. Speaking of romance, What about Caspian? I like Clay and all. So, I'm not throwing him to the sharks, but I felt like there was some chemistry with Caspian as well. Is it just me? I hope he gets his happily ever after. I'm pumped to get started on the second book. In fact, I'm going to read it now!

Emerge by Tobie Easton was kindly provided to me by Chapter by Chapter Blog Tours for review. The opinions are my own.

Chapter 1 I can’t swim. No matter how sparkly and tempting that water is. No matter how it glistens in the sunlight, ripples in the California breeze, or reflects the swaying palm trees. One quick dip and my legs will go poof.       Besides, I’m late for P.E. Again.       I run past the swimming pool and heave open the glass doors to the auditorium. I can’t keep relying on the twins to get me to school on time. I’ve got to learn to drive, but I need better control of my legs first. What dope thought giving a car foot controls was a good idea?       All my classmates turn to stare, already in gym clothes. We finished volleyball last week—thank the tides!—so today we’re starting a new unit. About half the class wears P.E. shorts and t-shirts and stands near the entrance to the yoga studio. The other half mill around in bathing suits. So lucky.       I scan the room for the coach. If she’s not here yet, I can pop into the locker room and be in yoga before she knows I’m tardy. I rush toward the changing rooms, salvation in sight, when out marches a woman whose long blond hair is at odds with her bulging muscles.Coach Crane. She was a professional wrestler on one of those gladiator shows in the eighties, and her biceps are bigger than my head. She stops in front of me, her massive frame towering over mine.       “So nice of you to show up.” A drop of her spittle lands on my cheek, and I scrunch my nose, unable to wipe it off without her noticing.       “I’m super sorry. My sisters—”       “Hurry up and change,” she says, stalking past me. Phew!Maybe this day won’t be a total shipwreck after all. Then she adds, “Put on your bathing suit. You’ll be in swim class today.”       I spin around.       “What? I’m signed up for y-yoga, not swimming,” I say. Stay calm.       “Yoga’s full up. You have a swimsuit, don’t you? It’s on your list of required materials.”       I have a swimsuit in my locker, but it’s for show. No matter what happens, I can’t get into that pool. Sure, I can maintain my legs all day on land, but as soon as I hit the water, my natural instincts will take over. My tail will emerge, scales and all, and I’ll expose my whole family. I’ll put the entire Community of land-dwelling Mer refugees at risk. My breath comes in quick, shallow pants.       “My mom filed a note in the office,” I say, clinging to the story my parents concocted for such an emergency. “I’m taking private swimming lessons with this coach my parents hired and I’m not supposed to have any outside instruction.”       Rather than help me, this story makes Coach Crane’s nostrils flare. “I haven’t seen any note, so today you’re swimming. Now go change. I’m not going to tell you again.”       “No.” Did I just say that? Hands cup over mouths as the room erupts in whispers. No one gets why I’m making a fuss. I wish Caspian were here. What I wouldn’t give for one other Mer who’d understand. “I’m not swimming.”       I’ve never disobeyed a teacher before. But as much as Coach Crane scares me, that water scares me more. If I swim in the pool, the next place I’ll be swimming is a government laboratory tank, being poked and prodded and then chopped into sushi-sized pieces.“Please. My parents’ll kill me. And I just got over the flu,” I lie, floundering for a good excuse.       “Listen up … ” the coach sticks one meaty finger in my face.Panic seizes me, and my legs tremble. My control over them is slipping. At this rate, I won’t even need to get in the water to reveal myself. If I lose my focus, I’ll be flat on my fins.       “Coach Crane?” One of the guys steps forward from the group of yoga students. Clay. His dark hair shines under the fluorescent lights as he shoots me a reassuring smile. “She can take my spot in yoga. I have swim trunks.”       “Clay, that’s not necessary. She needs to—”       “I’d rather go swimming.” He cuts the coach off, determination in his hazel eyes.       Twenty pairs of restless feet tap against the rubber floor. I’m holding everyone up. Then a sweet, chirpy voice pipes up from the throng by the doors. “At this rate, none of us will get to do anything.Can’t Lia and Clay just switch already?” It’s Kelsey, my closest human friend. She twists one of her corkscrew curls around her finger and stares blatantly at the clock.       Coach Crane looks from the clock ticking away on the wall to me to Clay and back to me. “Fine. Ericson,” she motions to Clay, “go get into your trunks. And you,” she pins me with a fierce glare, “go change into your gym uniform. You’d better be in that studio doing downward dog in less than five minutes.”

Tobie Easton was born and raised in Los Angeles, California, where she’s grown from a little girl who dreamed about magic to a twenty-something who writes about it. A summa cum laude graduate of the University of Southern California, Tobie hosts book clubs for tweens and teens. She and her very kissable husband enjoy traveling the globe and fostering packs of rescue puppies. To learn more about Tobie Easton and her books, visit her website.You can also find her on Goodreads, Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter.