#like one of those hand clapper things

[knightinink]

“Again, with the horn?”

I was thinking about this & something tells me if Fizz used the horn every morning, Ozzie would eventually get used to it & sleep through it. It still works on Ozzie because the horn isn’t the only thing Fizz uses to wake him.

He has various things.

All of them extremely obnoxious, but unapologetically & fittingly Fizz.

#he’s got a ton of stuff to switch it up #like one of those hand clapper things #& a siren megaphone #& waking up early to set up a ridiculous amount of alarm clocks to all go off at the same time #& many other things of that nature #& while fizz likes to have his fun he’s never mean about it #if ozzie’s had a particularly long day fizz will let the sin sleep in & wake up on his own #if fizz happens to wake up before him he will just lay on ozzie’s chest & wait for the other to wake up #oops I got carried away again #fizzarolli #helluva boss asmodeus #fizzmodeus #fizzarozzie #helluva boss

[leorawright]

Talon members having a karaoke night with s/o not knowing they used to do opera? so they have a lot of control over their voice, being able to hit those high notes, etc. they don't sing opera for the karaoke, but it shows that they're talented!

Oooo that's a cool idea!

Talon members finding out their s/o can sing opera

Reaper

His jaw dropped when you first started singing

Out of anything he expected you to sing, opera was not on that list

After you finished the song he was still frozen in his seat

Once he regains his bearings he gives you a surprised look

Honestly it was a pleasant surprise

Widowmaker

The only reason she came out karaoke night is because she wanted to hear you sing

And she was not disappointed in any way

And you finished singing she clapped her hands even though she was quite surprised

She asks how you were able to sing like that and she definitely wants to hear you sing again

Sombra

She was one of your biggest encouragers because she really wanted to hear you sing

When you start singing her jaw drops but quickly grows into a smile throughout your song

Once you're finished she is one of the loudest clappers in the room

She will beg you to teach her how to sing opera

Moira

She was basically pulled out of her lab so she would actually go to karaoke

And the only thing she's looking forward to is hearing you sing

And she was in no way disappointed

She's not as surprised as some of the other Talon members but she does enjoy your singing

She commends your singing when you sit back down with a smile on her face

Doomfist

He personally didn't see the point of this 'bonding session' but he had nothing else to do and wanted to hear you sing

He was not aware you could sing opera so his shock is immeasurable when you start singing

When you sit back down it takes him a couple minutes to get any words out

And even then the shock is still present on his face

Sigma

He's never done karaoke before so he's super excited

When you start singing he claps oblivious to the fact that this is a hard singing genre

He happily commends you when you sit back down and doesn't notice the other Talon members confused faces

#overwatch x reader #reaper x reader #widowmaker x reader #sombra x reader #moira x reader #doomfist x reader #sigma x reader

[ptsd-phoenix]

These are the items that use sound to help me ground or calm down. I feel that sound often has a really strong effect on me, especially to ground into reality during flashbacks. My favourite item here is the set of baoding balls, their chime really brings me back. There's also a music box that play's the theme song of 'My Neighbour Totoro'. There's a little bell in the shape of a rowlet. A pop tube fidget that makes a nice sound when popping it. The fidget slugs also make a very pleasant sound when you move them in your hand. Mine are glow in the dark for extra fun.

The magnetic rings are really fantastic to fidget with but they also make a clicking sound. Same for the atomic fidget ball. There's my magnetic snake eggs that also make an interesting sound. There's the magnetic tiny balls that you can string along or just knead or make different shapes with. They also make a little sound when the magnets connect. The jacob's ladder is just fun to move but it also makes a sound when it moves. There's the toy castagnettes. The peeps open and close like those clapper hands. The big blue button makes a cute squeeky sound. The really small pinball game makes sounds when you shoot the tiny ball inside it.

The wooden frog is a little percussion instrument. There's the little thing that rolls the dice when you push it. I find the feeling of pushing it to be satisfying but it also makes a sound because the dice hit the dome. The crochet bees I made myself and they are in the colours of the genderfluid flag and have a little bell chime in them. The snake fidgets also make a snap/click sound when you move them. I have a bigger one but that's currently being borrowed by someone else.

#phoenix posts non poetry #phoenix grounding kit #fidget toys #stim toys #sound #phoenix posts photos

[golatcxr]

Once upon a time, there was a flock of sheeps living together in a tainted land, solidarily and happily. Each and every sheep had its own pride, and the leader was the proudest, bravest and strongest of all. Those names were known and feared by many, and their bond was believed to be unbreakable. They all, as a whole, could be seen as a kingdom with a loved king.

Amongst the sheeps, only the leader had the golden bell attached to the collar around his neck. That very bell, shiny yet marred, had an echoeing sound in which the followers were more than familiar with. They loved it when they tug on their general's collar and actions were taken almost immediately. Therefore it was not only a ruler, but also the spear and shield of the herd. Whenever the bell rang, every single sheep would know that a command was being delivered to them, and everytime the clapper made contact with its body, the leader would be ensured that itself - was a leader.

One day, the ringing stopped. And at the same time, some sheeps were abducted by the wolves - their lifetime enemies. Those malice, blood-thirst creatures had showed up and attacked their kingdom, taking away their friends but the leader was nowhere to be seen. Where was it when its kin needed it the most? Frantic, some escaped into the forest and searched for their general, bleating out its name in desperation.

"Mister mister bellwether, where have you gone?

Leaving us all here, waiting all night long?"

There it was, deep inside the wood, that tampered bell, they finally found it! Not knowning the small glimpse of hope would soon be extinguished right before their eyes.

"Mister mister bellwether, what are you on?

Was it the fear, or panic? Unsure what we were doubting on

Or did we really see you with a wolf getting along?"

Indeed, there it was, with a wolf.

The sheeps refused to digest that their leader had betrayed them. So in disbelief, they kept silence and let things went by as always, then made a plan to eliminate the bell-wielding king of theirs. They did not ackowledge the general's effort made to save the whole community, as a result, the king was brutally assassinated and hunted until it had cut chase. Meanwhile, the sheeps chose to join in another herd instead.

The banished king, on the other hand, survived thanks to the wolves. But in the end, the bell was still on its neck and it was the only one that had ever had a collar.

.

.

If only that had simply been a dark fairytale in a closed book. Chuuya need not wake up from any nightmare that screamed his betrayal, neither did he wish to be enlightened about the reality that he once lived in: He was but a bellwether, devoured by his own kin.

His loyalty is an everlasting monument, flawlessly sculpted by the finest carver that could be found. But because of that, the lingering loss haunted him, grasping his heart until his veins want to explode from the pent up guilt.

"I was awoken in a vast field. The gentle breeze carried the faint scent of daisies along with the rhythm of calm waves by the shore. However, the grass was oddly cold."

Were he to meet his end that day by the sudden stab, he would never have to witness his old friends' tragic fate. Death, it came so swiftly, snatching away life as if it was a feather. He could possibly take his last breath with a heavy chest, but no, he did not do so. He wasn't facing the same herd that he knew when on verge of death, he was facing the shadow of Baphomet.

"I realized where I was - a sea of tombs. The ground felt like grass floating in place, but it's still water. An ocean that smelled blood and jewels, unlike the refreshing one of Yokohama city. It was a tank that bore loss and betrayal, never evaporating, not even when moss started crawling all over the surface. There was also a man inside of it, and that man was me."

That was his punishment, he believed, for failing to protect his loved ones. The shadow persisted him, whereas he would be met by a sheep's skull dressed in a cloak, it was the king from the story. He was ditched and turned into a "wolf", and there's a wolf facing a sheep, right inside of his mind's battlefield. Does it mean his statue of faith had fallen?

The answer is no.

He never betrayed the Sheep, Chuuya understands that so profoundly. He chose to trust again, he knew, even when it meant he would have to go through traumatic betrayals once more.

To him, nothing worths more than faith when he had a home to return to.

Chuuya was no longer a king, but he would always be the king.

The king of himself, of his own reflection that put the forsaken fairytale on replay. Brutal to others including him, just as he was taught. He figured, the first person whom he should rule was no one else but him.

He broke free from the collar that was tugged on so many times before. Nonetheless refused to destroy it, he instead saw it as a piece of precious memory.

Because in the end, it would always be the one that he bet his life to trust that left.

And Chuuya Nakahara, he must devour others to survive.

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

Author's note: I wrote this drabble at 1:30 in the morning and I'm feeling like I'm on drugs 💀 I'm definitely not saying that I'm obssessed with Chuuya and the Sheep ordeal. *cries*

#drabble #fanart #artists on tumblr #fanfiction #art #bsd chuuya #nakahara chuuya #chuuyabsd #angst #bungou stray dogs fanart #bungou stray dogs fanfic #bungou stray dogs

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

The sounds of jingle bells

Another Ridgeside Village story about members of Amethyne's family, but this time it's about Louie.

(It's actually more like a Christmas story, but I don't want to wait so... yeah.)

_________________________________________

It's funny to realise that wherever you hear the music of jingle bells, your mind will immediately associate them with winter holidays. Not surprising, to be honest, because they perfectly match the festive atmosphere, when you can finally forget about your worries and business for a while, put aside all sad thoughts and join the general fun, counting down the last minutes to the beginning of the New Year. It is at this time comes the holiday so loved and anticipated by many adults and children - the Feast of the Winter Star, probably the most important event for the whole Ferngill Republic.

In every town garden, in every house there is a majestic Holiday tree decorated in garlands and tinsel, with a star on its top - the symbol of the festival itself. How many smells, how many pleasant aromas from various feasts and sweets surround the place where the mighty tree stands. How many beautiful gifts, decorated in shiny wrappings and bows, is nearby the tree or under it, waiting for their recipient. Children's laughter, joyful greetings, round dances around the tree, clappers and games, bengal lights, gifts and congratulations - even the coldest heart will melt at this truly magical time.

Ah, and of course, the ringing of bells... Loud, energetic, now and then making you dance to the cheerful music, or on the contrary, barely audible, like a lullaby, creating the perfect background for acappella.

For one person, however, jingle bells create very different associations. Not really holiday spirit, oh no.

For Louie, the sound of jingle bells is the time when he will finally be surrounded by a mountain of worthy gifts, which he naturally deserves. It's when even his Grandmother and the servants will be completely immersed in pre-holiday worries, paying no attention to Louie himself, letting him do more pranks and get away with it. It's when his cousin will still have her nose buried in her studies and won't notice Louie stealing a large piece of sweet cake for himself from the plate. This is the time when his parents and older brother will again say on the phone that they are too busy to come to the Feast...

It's when he, the worthy heir to the Amethyne, has to get out of a warm bed from the very early morning, and instead of opening presents in the common hall near the most beautiful tree in the whole world (because they have only the best, of course), he has to wrap himself in a fur coat and go in the middle of nowhere! And don't tell him that the main public garden in Pelican Town is not that far from Ridgeside Village - that's just criminal and barbaric, to make him go there for a stupid celebration! He can celebrate perfectly well at home, without the faces of those peasants.

Alas, no one gave him the right to protest, and pissing off Grandmother wasn't the best idea, so with a sullen face and resentful of the world (especially the two mayors who thought a joint celebration of the two villages in Pelican Town was a great idea), the boy followed the head of their family, along with two servants and his cousin, not forgetting to mutter something not quite polite. It was impossible even to chat with someone: Maive was talking about the festivities and giving instructions to the servants, Sonny and Irene were listening attentively to Madame, holding gifts and other things in both hands, and the cousin, Ariah, was reading a book (and walking at the same time?), not paying attention to the world around her, even without tripping over drifts of snow - how impressive is that?

By the time they reached the centre of Pelican Town, all the residents had managed to gather around the town's Holiday tree, and the tender fingers on Louie's hand were freezing and pink from the cold temperature. He knew he needed to bring gloves with him, blasted weather! Ugh...

He didn't understand why he needed to be here at all. Holiday is a holiday, presents and candy are nice thing, but still. He saw how someone is jumping around like a madman near that tree, which was sad to look at - they call it a "holiday tree"? In his mansion - the best of the best, beautiful trees, not this poor excuse.

Sigh, and now, someone's pouring more food from the common table, and it's actually Irene's dishes that she had prepared and brought here, at Grandmother's command. Oh, simpletons. They couldn't have tasted anything better, and here was an opportunity to taste food from the Amethyne family's own chef! Only the best quality and the best spices, let the peasants envy him for having everything! His family has such untold wealth that even the money of all the people at this feast won't even reach one hundredth of Amethyst's financial fortune. The newest videogames consoles, the best toys, food and sweets that are beyond the reach of any of these poor people. Everything he want.

Ha! He's the happiest kid in the whole republic! He have everything. A family? He have family, you could say that, but about that... Friends? And why would he, worthy Amethyne, need these friends, if they don't appreciate such a great opportunity - to be near him, a member of one of the most influential family, enjoying his presence? Those fools are lucky to have people like him living in this place.

Then why then does he feel so... miserable? Sad? Ah, nonsense. It's all because his Granny dragged him out into the cold, that must be it for sure.

Oh, what a bad comedy, it's begins.... The stupidest Winter Star Feast tradition, according to Louie himself, is the secret Santa. Why is it stupid? Because he has to give an expensive, worthy gift to some peasant (he doesn't mind, actually) and in return, he gets some trash and dirt from another person. And no matter how Sonny tries to explain to young Amethyne that what matters most is gratitude for the gift, kindness and holiday spirit - all to no avail. Gratitude? He should be grateful for the gift of a dirty shell from Jas last year?! They cannot be serious! That's an insult to his person. No, he knows the kids here have it rough, but this?

Though Louie had felt a prick of conscience a year ago when Jas had cried and run to her aunt after a rude comment about her gift, but the spoilt boy tried to hide it with his usual mask of cynicism, arrogance and indifference. It was more habitual than feeling guilty...

Taking the intended gift, he reluctantly approached the person he needed to give it to this year, and without wasting an extra minute on idle talk, walked back to his family. That girl, Penny, was very excited and grateful. Naturally, since Louie had heard she was living in a trailer, an uncomfortable tin can. With no money for a proper place to live, she didn't get proper presents, the boy thought. Just don't die from happiness, silly peasant, hehe.

Oh, Yoba... Who's pulling his sleeve of his coat so hard? Does the imbecile know how much such this clothes cost?

Farmer? Ah, hello. Happy Feast of Winter Start, et cetera, et cetera...

Louie couldn't believe that in front of he was as grown up as the others - would an adult dress up so stupidly? A red nose and artificial reindeer antlers with bells, that silly jingle bells - one of the symbols of this festive gathering. Reindeer? They're more like a goat! Ha! It's funny, isn't it? No?

Truth be told, their costume was really good, and it wasn't much fun to be rude to the only person the boy could call a friend, despite Louie's own grumpiness.

Secret Santa? Had the farmer become his secret Santa this year?

Let Louie guess, they'll give him a dirty turnip or a parsnip they've grown on their own patch of land? Or another seashell found on an adventure that still stinks of the seaweed? Or maybe some potted flower? And if the flower turns out to be worthwhile, perhaps it could be next to the Louie's exclusive collection of flowers? Could they imagine what an honour that would be for them, eh, silly Farmer?

Wh- what's that?! It's... No, he knows what it is, but he still can't believe his eyes. A stone as beautiful as the sky, a rare rock that shimmers so brightly in all the colours of the rainbow.... Prismatic Shard! A real Prismatic Shard? They sold their whole farm to give Louie a gift?! It's a very expensive and very rare stone! Even in his family, one of the richest in the entire Republic, only Louie's grandfather owned such a stone and wore it as necklace.

Little Louie remembers a moment from his childhood when his Grandpa, holding him in his arms, would yank a pendant with this stone over the head of a laughing baby for whom it was a kind of toy. And how his then still living grandfather had laughed with him, a rare moment when they weren't members of the Amethyne family with huge responsibilities on their shoulders and duties behind them, but just normal family. When mum and dad were also around, smiling at the sight of such a lovely picture - the bonding of the oldest and youngest member of the family; how his older brother, much younger, looked at his little brother with curiosity. And even as the stern grandmother hovered over the baby, bestowing a meagre smile - the smile! - on her dearest grandson.

A gift like this, not just an expensive item - but a reminder to him of what family is all about. A gift for him? To him, who, from the first day the Farmer had come to the valley, had treated them horribly, mocking them in every possible way? They have friends, family, children of their own, for Yoba's sake! Why him?

....A friend?

Not a spoilt rich brat, but a lonely boy? Good at heart? What are you saying?...

Friend...

Louie doesn't care who's looking at him at this moment. He doesn't care that the snow from the farmer's jacket fell right on his hat. He didn't even notice how he dropped the gift itself from his hands as he hugged the Farmer tightly. He didn't care at all that little droplets as clear as dew appeared in his eyes when the Farmer hugged him back.

And those silly jingle bells on the Farmer's horns were no longer as annoying as they had been before, and another association came into the lonely boy's life.

A friend.

_________________________________________

Note: in my vision, the prismatic shard is considered the rarest and most expensive gem in the entire Stardew Valley universe. So much so that even in the Amethyne family, the jewel was owned by Louie's grandfather, who inherited it from his father, and upon his death, his grandfather passed it on to Louie's father.

#sdv #stardew valley #sdv mods #ridgeside village #rsv #rsv louie #rsv headcanons

[revmeg]

I. When She Takes My Body into Her Body ...From her bassinet she wakes with a squall, her mouth impossibly huge, her tongue aquiver with anger the baby book says she doesn't have, aquiver like the clapper of a bell. Her passion I wasn't prepared for, her need... No one ever mentioned she's out for blood. I wince as she tugs milk from ducts all the way to my armpits... Let me get it right so I remember: Once, I bared my chest and found an animal. Once, I was delicious... II. First Night Away from Claire ...I'm near-drunk from my first beer in months. We've got a babysitter, a hotel room, and on the horizon a meteor shower promised. We've planned slow sex, sky watch, long sleep. His hand feels good on my lower back... We're tired. We fall asleep. I wake predawn from pain. Those meteors we were too tired to watch-- it will be thirty years before they pass this way again. III. After Weaning, My Breasts Resume Their Lives as Glamour Girls ...Aren't you glad? he asks, glad, watching me unwrap bras tissue-thin and decorative from the tissue of my old life, watching, worshipfully, the breasts resettle as I fasten his red favorite-- Aren't you glad? He's walking toward them, addressing them, it seems-- but, Darling, they can't answer, poured back into their old mold, muffled beneath these lovely laces, relearning how it feels, seen and not heard. IV. It Was a Strange Country where I lived with my daughter while I fed her from my body. It was a small country, an island for two, and there were things we couldn't bring with us, like her father. He watched from the far shore, well meaning, useless. Sometimes I asked  for a glass of water, so he had something to give.... We didn't get many tourists, much news-- behind the closed curtains, rocking in the chair, the world was a rumor all summer. All autumn.... ...Soon, the milk stops simmering and the child forgets the mother's taste, so the motherland recedes on the horizon, a kindness--we return to it only at death.

from “Latching On, Falling Off” by Beth Ann Fennelly in The Long Devotion: Poets Writing Motherhood edited by Emily Pérez and Nancy Reddy, p. 47-51

#Beth Ann Fennelly #potry #lit #The Long Devotion

[kaiju-gt]

Otherworldly Roommates chapter 2

First chapter here

Words: 2788

Zagreus was at a loss for what to do, his best friend was being held against the wall by an invisible force. But he knew it was that damn thing's fault. Without even thinking about it he picked up a clapperboard and swung it as hard as he could at the creature. The thing went flying and crashed into a wall. Mona collapsed to the ground, her chest heaved trying to regain the air she had lost. 

“Are you ok!?” Zagreus asked, running towards Mona and kneeling beside her. Dropping his clapper in the process.

“I’m fine.” she confirmed. The blue-haired boy then put her arm around his shoulders, helped her up and grabbed her crutch off the ground. Once she was able to stand on two feet he took a moment to inspect the small creature. It was still breathing. He didn’t want to chance the thing escaping, he needed a way to trap it. “I’ll be back in a second, don’t take your eyes off that thing.” He said as he walked over to his room, he had an idea. 

After about a minute of rummaging around in his room Zagreus returned with an empty milkcrate. And before Mona could even ask what it was for he had put it over the creature and sat on top. She gave him a look of what the fuck. “I don’t want him getting out again.” he asserted. 

Mona sighed in defeat knowing she wouldn’t be able to change his mind. Instead she slowly made her way over the couch, taking it easy after landing on the floor so hard, and grabbed a pillow. She threw it at Zagreus. “Those boxes can get uncomfortable after a while.” she explained.

“Thanks.” he replied

***

The humans went about their business after that all but ignoring the small life that lay under the milkcrate. Zagreus refused to get off, sure that the creature could wake up at any moment and attack once again. So for 2 hours they waited for the thing to wake up. When Art finally began to open his eyes he found that his head hurt worse than before. He looked around only to find he was in some sort of cage and the legs of one of the humans was right outside of it. He was being guarded. He attempted to cast a spell but the sharp pain in his head deterred him from trying anymore. Instead he decided to make his way to the edge of his confinement, but the motion from standing up made him nauseous and quickly put him back on the ground. The fall made him land on his side, making him acknowledge the bruises that had formed along his ribs. The fae laid there for a few minutes contemplating if he should alert his captors to his awakening. But once another wave of pain hit him he couldn’t help but let out a pained groan. As soon as Art realized what he had done he curled in on himself and covered his face. He didn’t want to give his enemies the satisfaction of seeing that his eyes had begun to tear up from the pain.

The groan of pain did in fact catch both of the humans' attention, they shared a look to confirm that they both heard the sound. Zagreus was the first to move, slowly he got off the box and removed the pillow he was sitting on. He made sure to keep his hands on the box holding it down in case the creature tried to escape. Staring into the box he found that the creature had curled itself into the fetal position and grabbing on to its head like it was bracing for impact. He felt a twinge of guilt for the creature, in this state it seemed so helpless. 

Mona watched as her roommate’s expression turned to one of guilt, and she knew that the life within that box wasn’t in the best shape. She made her way over and felt her heart swell with sadness as her eyes landed on the creature. She thought about how this small humanoid had almost killed her about 2 hours ago but now it was obvious how hurt and scared he truly was. 

“Let him out of the box.” Mona said. 

“No way, this thing tried to kill you. For all we know it could be faking this.” Zagreus argued.

“Zag, look at him. I think you gave him a goddamn concussion, he’s in no condition to do anything. Please.” She pleaded giving him a look to convey how much she cared about the creature.

“Fine.” He sighed in defeat. Slowly Zagreus hooked his fingers into the holes of the box and lifted it off the creature. He waited a moment to see if the creature would do anything before going to put the milkcrate away. Before he left the room he gave Mona a look of warning for her to be careful. She knew what that look meant and gave him a reassuring nod as he walked away.

Art could feel a slight rush of air all around him as the cage was lifted into the sky. He moved his arms slightly to peek out at his surroundings only to find that the taller of the two humans was staring right at him. He covered his face back up and mentally prepared for whatever his captors had in store. He could feel the human walk closer and the sound of each step sent another wave of pain through his skull. Suddenly he felt the sensation of something picking him up. He moved his arms and opened his eyes in a panic only to find a human hand about as wide as his torso was long wrapped around him. The light that flooded his vision caused more pain but he didn’t care. Art flapped his wings and squirmed trying to break free from the human’s grip as he was lifted into the air, all this movement was painful but he was too panicked to care.

“Oh no no no, please don’t. You could hurt yourself.” The human begged. Art silently refused as he kept fighting the human’s grip. Mona attempted to be careful with the small being and keep her hand steady but that was easier said than done with all the squirming. Carefully she made her way over to the kitchen table. 

Once she got to the table she sat down and put the creature down on the table. She tried to make sure her and the creature were as close to being on the same level as possible. Art’s confusion only grew as soon as he was set down he scrambled back putting as much distance between him and the human as he could. Unfortunately he soon hit the side of the box he had woken up in and found he couldn’t move back any further without taking his eyes off the human. 

“Ok I think we got off on the wrong foot, and I’m very sorry for grabbing you. But I’m pretty sure you have a concussion so can you just answer a few questions for me?” Mona said, trying to make sure she didn’t talk too loudly in case the creature did have a concussion. Art glared at the human making sure he showed no sign he was in pain but inside the pain and adrenaline refused to stop. Mona waited a few moments for any kind answer but when none came she decided to proceed with her first question. “Can you understand me?” she simply asked. Art wasn’t sure if he wanted to answer, he was obviously gonna get interrogated, but he did have a concussion that was for sure. Maybe it wasn’t worth fighting anymore.

“...Yes.” He mumbled. His voice was quiet and shaky, the human found she almost had to strain her ears to hear his voice. 

“Ok good, you might need to speak up a little. But anyways, what's your name?” She inquired, hoping to stop calling him things like the creature in her head.

“...My name is…Art” His speech was slurred and clumsy. Perhaps he also overcorrected his volume because as the words left his mouth a jolt of pain coursed through him. He grabbed his head in a fruitless attempt to quell the pain.

“Ok Art, well my next question was going to be if you have a concussion but I feel like that's been answered already. Are you ok?” Mona questioned, the only answer she got in return was a groan of pain. She began to panic a little, she wasn’t a doctor how was she supposed to treat a concussion.

“He’s probably overstimulated which is making his migraine worse.” A voice said. Mona turned around to see Zagreus leaning against the wall. The blue haired man sighed in defeat and walked over to the table. Art noticed this and attempted to put as much distance between the two of them as possible. Unfortunately as soon as he stood up his head began to spin and almost as fast as stood up he was back on the table. “You're just going to hurt yourself more if you keep trying to move,” Zagreus commented. Art stared daggers at the man, he wanted nothing to do with the human who caused him such pain. “We should put him somewhere dark and quiet.” The short human said as he reached his hand towards the creature. 

Art watched the hand approach him, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t scared. He was out of his depth. It was obvious to Art that these humans did this to him, that they made him this small and helping through his concussion was probably just a means to an end. He let the human’s fingers wrap around him. This human’s grip was much firmer than the other one, and his fingers dug into Art’s sides a little causing the bruises that plagued his ribs to sting. Being hoisted into the air Art’s body becomes a mosaic of pain and anxiety. This sudden shock to his nerves changed his mind about being held very quickly.

“Ow fuck, put me down!” He screamed, his own words echoed in head causing more agony for the fae.

“Will you stop fighting us, you're lucky I’m helping you at all for attacking us for no reason!” Zagreus yelled back. He tightened his grip slightly to account for the newfound movement from the small humanoid. This sent another jolt of pain through Art’s body. He started to panic in the human’s tightening grip, his breath quickened and he looked around for any escape. In an act of desperation Art brought his head close to the human's hand and quickly sunk his sharp teeth into its flesh. Zagreus lets out a yelp of pain, his hand realised the small creature in shock.  

Thankfully the fae didn’t land on the floor or even the table, instead he landed on the soft interior of Mona’s coat which still lay in the box he entered in. His bruises screamed with even more pain and humans yelled at each other outside the box making his head throb. Art could do nothing but curl himself into a ball and cover his ears like the small helpless child he truly was deep down. 

“What the hell was that!” Mona yelled.

“The bastard bit me!” Cursed Zagreus, holding his hand close to his face to inspect the wound.

“No, I mean why did you grab him?” She angrily asked.

“It's the best way to move him to a better place for his concussion.”

“He told you to stop and you didn’t put him down.”

“I was trying to help him, it's not my fault he wanted to fight me.”

“Zag, we need him to trust us so we can help him. Why do you keep scaring him?”

“I’m sorry! This thing tried to kill you earlier today, frankly I don’t even know why we're helping him!”

“Because he’s scared, Zag! Wouldn’t you be in his shoes?”

Zagreus reflected for a moment, he hated that she was right. He would be scared in Art’s position, he was scared now. This creature has powers beyond his comprehension and the potential to kill both of them if he wasn’t so hurt. Zagreus was at loss for what to do.

After giving it another moment of thought he picked up the box. Perhaps a little too roughly given how Art curled further into himself as a reaction. Zagreus gave it little notice as he quickly walked over the nearby closet. The inside was pretty empty, only containing a few blankets and boxes. With the same vigor as when he picked it up the short human placed the box on one of the empty shelves. “There. The closet is dark and as long as we're not near it quiet. Happy?”

“Yep.” Mona confirmed with a smile.

***

The next few days played out in a very basic routine for Art. He felt like shit and spent most of those days in the box. Mona came by everyone once in a while to give him food but for the most part left the fae alone to heal. She sometimes tried to start a conversation but the fae stayed cold towards the human, he didn’t want to be tricked into an interrogation. This routine lasted for a week. But on the 8th day something changed, Art felt much better and he was prepared to take full advantage.

***

“Hey Art, I got your food” Mona announced. In her hand was a plate of fruits, something she had come to learn that Art actually liked. She took her time opening the door as she had been doing for the past week. She always made sure Art had enough time to prepare for someone else in what was now his space. Once open she placed the plate of food on the shelf. She turned towards the box preparing to help the fae get out, but she found it was empty. Her mind flooded with a thousand thoughts of what could have possibly happened, none were good. “Oh no no no, Art where are you?” She frantically said, desperately pushing around the items in the closet. Suddenly a familiar rush of air whoosh past her face. Turning around she sees Art landing on the table nearby. A look of relief spreads across her face.

“Don’t come any closer.” The fae shouts. He grabs the hilt of his sword as warning before realizing that such a small weapon was hardly a threat. Instead holds up his arms mimicking the movements he made when he used his magic on the Human. Mona's eyes widened in shock before giving him a sad look. “Now where am I and why am I here?” He asked.

“Well um, you're in my and Zagreus’ apartment… Wait, no Calgary! The city we live in is Calgary.” She stammered. At the mention of her roommate she realized how much trouble was in, as Zag was in the middle of classes right now. “ And you're here because I found you on the sidewalk and I thought you were an injured bird.”

A look of disbelief briefly occupied Art’s face before being replaced with one of anger. “Do you think I’m stupid?” He yelled.

“No?”

“Bullshit, there is no fucking way you thought I was a bird and what the fuck is Calgary!”

“No no I did, in my defense you look very bird-like at your size.”

“I’m not even supposed to be this size.”

“You're not?”

“Have you never seen a fucking fae before?”

“No?”

“What do you mean no? Do you live under a fucking rock? I get I’m not in Tian anymore but a significant human empire has declared war against a mostly fae kingdom. How do you not know any of this?”

“I don’t think you realize where you are Art.”

“What do you mean?”

“Let me show you.” She said, Art weighed his options for a while before giving a nod of permission and lowering his hands. Mona slowly walked towards the nearest window and gave a signal for Art to follow. Once both of them were there she pulled back the curtain to reveal the outside world. The fae was stunned outside there was building and machinery unlike anything he had ever seen. The world was so alien It could never exist near his own.

“Ok… I’m convinced.” He stuttered.

He seemed deflated, Mona almost felt bad for telling him the truth. “Do you want something to eat?” She asked. He nodded, ignoring the tears that began to make their way out from their ducts.

#g/t #g/t community #g/t writing #giant tiny #Giant/tiny

[that-kid-who-collects-rocks]

Otherworldly Roommates chapter 2

First chapter Here

Words: 2788

Zagreus was at a loss for what to do, his best friend was being held against the wall by an invisible force. But he knew it was that damn thing's fault. Without even thinking about it he picked up a clapperboard and swung it as hard as he could at the creature. The thing went flying and crashed into a wall. Mona collapsed to the ground, her chest heaved trying to regain the air she had lost. 

“Are you ok!?” Zagreus asked, running towards Mona and kneeling beside her. Dropping his clapper in the process.

“I’m fine.” she confirmed. The blue-haired boy then put her arm around his shoulders, helped her up and grabbed her crutch off the ground. Once she was able to stand on two feet he took a moment to inspect the small creature. It was still breathing. He didn’t want to chance the thing escaping, he needed a way to trap it. “I’ll be back in a second, don’t take your eyes off that thing.” He said as he walked over to his room, he had an idea. 

After about a minute of rummaging around in his room Zagreus returned with an empty milkcrate. And before Mona could even ask what it was for he had put it over the creature and sat on top. She gave him a look of what the fuck. “I don’t want him getting out again.” he asserted. 

Mona sighed in defeat knowing she wouldn’t be able to change his mind. Instead she slowly made her way over the couch, taking it easy after landing on the floor so hard, and grabbed a pillow. She threw it at Zagreus. “Those boxes can get uncomfortable after a while.” she explained.

“Thanks.” he replied

***

The humans went about their business after that all but ignoring the small life that lay under the milkcrate. Zagreus refused to get off, sure that the creature could wake up at any moment and attack once again. So for 2 hours they waited for the thing to wake up. When Art finally began to open his eyes he found that his head hurt worse than before. He looked around only to find he was in some sort of cage and the legs of one of the humans was right outside of it. He was being guarded. He attempted to cast a spell but the sharp pain in his head deterred him from trying anymore. Instead he decided to make his way to the edge of his confinement, but the motion from standing up made him nauseous and quickly put him back on the ground. The fall made him land on his side, making him acknowledge the bruises that had formed along his ribs.The fae laid there for a few minutes contemplating if he should alert his captors to his awakening. But once another wave of pain hit him he couldn’t help but let out a pained groan. As soon as Art realized what he had done he curled in on himself and covered his face. He didn’t want to give his enemies the satisfaction of seeing that his eyes had begun to tear up from the pain.

The groan of pain did in fact catch both of the humans' attention, they shared a look to confirm that they both heard the sound. Zagreus was the first to move, slowly he got off the box and removed the pillow he was sitting on. He made sure to keep his hands on the box holding it down in case the creature tried to escape. Staring into the box he found that the creature had curled itself into the fetal position and grabbing on to its head like it was bracing for impact. He felt a twinge of guilt for the creature, in this state it seemed so helpless. 

Mona watched as her roommate’s expression turned to one of guilt, and she knew that the life within that box wasn’t in the best shape. She made her way over and felt her heart swell with sadness as her eyes landed on the creature. She thought about how this small humanoid had almost killed her about 2 hours ago but now it was obvious how hurt and scared he truly was. 

“Let him out of the box.” Mona said. 

“No way, this thing tried to kill you. For all we know it could be faking this.” Zagreus argued.

“Zag, look at him. I think you gave him a goddamn concussion, he’s in no condition to do anything. Please.” She pleaded giving him a look to convey how much she cared about the creature.

“Fine.” He sighed in defeat. Slowly Zagreus hooked his fingers into the holes of the box and lifted it off the creature. He waited a moment to see if the creature would do anything before going to put the milkcrate away. Before he left the room he gave Mona a look of warning for her to be careful. She knew what that look meant and gave him a reassuring nod as he walked away.

Art could feel a slight rush of air all around him as the cage was lifted into the sky. He moved his arms slightly to peek out at his surroundings only to find that the taller of the two humans was staring right at him. He covered his face back up and mentally prepared for whatever his captors had in store. He could feel the human walk closer and the sound of each step sent another wave of pain through his skull. Suddenly he felt the sensation of something picking him up. He moved his arms and opened his eyes in a panic only to find a human hand about as wide as his torso was long wrapped around him. The light that flooded his vision caused more pain but he didn’t care. Art flapped his wings and squirmed trying to break free from the human’s grip as he was lifted into the air, all this movement was painful but he was too panicked to care.

“Oh no no no, please don’t. You could hurt yourself.” The human begged. Art silently refused as he kept fighting the human’s grip. Mona attempted to be careful with the small being and keep her hand steady but that was easier said than done with all the squirming. Carefully she made her way over to the kitchen table. 

Once she got to the table she sat down and put the creature down on the table. She tried to make sure her and the creature were as close to being on the same level as possible. Art’s confusion only grew as soon as he was set down he scrambled back putting as much distance between him and the human as he could. Unfortunately he soon hit the side of the box he had woken up in and found he couldn’t move back any further without taking his eyes off the human. 

“Ok I think we got off on the wrong foot, and I’m very sorry for grabbing you. But I’m pretty sure you have a concussion so can you just answer a few questions for me?” Mona said, trying to make sure she didn’t talk too loudly in case the creature did have a concussion. Art glared at the human making sure he showed no sign he was in pain but inside the pain and adrenaline refused to stop. Mona waited a few moments for any kind answer but when none came she decided to proceed with her first question. “Can you understand me?” she simply asked. Art wasn’t sure if he wanted to answer, he was obviously gonna get interrogated, but he did have a concussion that was for sure. Maybe it wasn’t worth fighting anymore.

“...Yes.” He mumbled. His voice was quiet and shaky, the human found she almost had to strain her ears to hear his voice. 

“Ok good, you might need to speak up a little. But anyways, what's your name?” She inquired, hoping to stop calling him things like the creature in her head.

“...My name is…Art” His speech was slurred and clumsy. Perhaps he also overcorrected his volume because as the words left his mouth a jolt of pain coursed through him. He grabbed his head in a fruitless attempt to quell the pain.

“Ok Art, well my next question was going to be if you have a concussion but I feel like that's been answered already. Are you ok?” Mona questioned, the only answer she got in return was a groan of pain. She began to panic a little, she wasn’t a doctor how was she supposed to treat a concussion.

“He’s probably overstimulated which is making his migraine worse.” A voice said. Mona turned around to see Zagreus leaning against the wall. The blue haired man sighed in defeat and walked over to the table. Art noticed this and attempted to put as much distance between the two of them as possible. Unfortunately as soon as he stood up his head began to spin and almost as fast as stood up he was back on the table. “You're just going to hurt yourself more if you keep trying to move,” Zagreus commented. Art stared daggers at the man, he wanted nothing to do with the human who caused him such pain. “We should put him somewhere dark and quiet.” The short human said as he reached his hand towards the creature. 

Art watched the hand approach him, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t scared. He was out of his depth. It was obvious to Art that these humans did this to him, that they made him this small and helping through his concussion was probably just a means to an end. He let the human’s fingers wrap around him. This human’s grip was much firmer than the other one, and his fingers dug into Art’s sides a little causing the bruises that plagued his ribs to sting. Being hoisted into the air Art’s body becomes a mosaic of pain and anxiety. This sudden shock to his nerves changed his mind about being held very quickly.

“Ow fuck, put me down!” He screamed, his own words echoed in head causing more agony for the fae.

“Will you stop fighting us, you're lucky I’m helping you at all for attacking us for no reason!” Zagreus yelled back. He tightened his grip slightly to account for the newfound movement from the small humanoid. This sent another jolt of pain through Art’s body. He started to panic in the human’s tightening grip, his breath quickened and he looked around for any escape. In an act of desperation Art brought his head close to the human's hand and quickly sunk his sharp teeth into its flesh. Zagreus lets out a yelp of pain, his hand realised the small creature in shock.  

Thankfully the fae didn’t land on the floor or even the table, instead he landed on the soft interior of Mona’s coat which still lay in the box he entered in. His bruises screamed with even more pain and humans yelled at each other outside the box making his head throb. Art could do nothing but curl himself into a ball and cover his ears like the small helpless child he truly was deep down. 

“What the hell was that!” Mona yelled.

“The bastard bit me!” Cursed Zagreus, holding his hand close to his face to inspect the wound.

“No, I mean why did you grab him?” She angrily asked.

“It's the best way to move him to a better place for his concussion.”

“He told you to stop and you didn’t put him down.”

“I was trying to help him, it's not my fault he wanted to fight me.”

“Zag, we need him to trust us so we can help him. Why do you keep scaring him?”

“I’m sorry! This thing tried to kill you earlier today, frankly I don’t even know why we're helping him!”

“Because he’s scared, Zag! Wouldn’t you be in his shoes?”

Zagreus reflected for a moment, he hated that she was right. He would be scared in Art’s position, he was scared now. This creature has powers beyond his comprehension and the potential to kill both of them if he wasn’t so hurt. Zagreus was at loss for what to do.

After giving it another moment of thought he picked up the box. Perhaps a little too roughly given how Art curled further into himself as a reaction. Zagreus gave it little notice as he quickly walked over the nearby closet. The inside was pretty empty, only containing a few blankets and boxes. With the same vigor as when he picked it up the short human placed the box on one of the empty shelves. “There. The closet is dark and as long as we're not near it quiet. Happy?”

“Yep.” Mona confirmed with a smile.

***

The next few days played out in a very basic routine for Art. He felt like shit and spent most of those days in the box. Mona came by everyone once in a while to give him food but for the most part left the fae alone to heal. She sometimes tried to start a conversation but the fae stayed cold towards the human, he didn’t want to be tricked into an interrogation. This routine lasted for a week. But on the 8th day something changed, Art felt much better and he was prepared to take full advantage.

***

“Hey Art, I got your food” Mona announced. In her hand was a plate of fruits, something she had come to learn that Art actually liked. She took her time opening the door as she had been doing for the past week. She always made sure Art had enough time to prepare for someone else in what was now his space. Once open she placed the plate of food on the shelf. She turned towards the box preparing to help the fae get out, but she found it was empty. Her mind flooded with a thousand thoughts of what could have possibly happened, none were good. “Oh no no no, Art where are you?” She frantically said, desperately pushing around the items in the closet. Suddenly a familiar rush of air whoosh past her face. Turning around she sees Art landing on the table nearby. A look of relief spreads across her face.

“Don’t come any closer.” The fae shouts. He grabs the hilt of his sword as warning before realizing that such a small weapon was hardly a threat. Instead holds up his arms mimicking the movements he made when he used his magic on the Human. Mona's eyes widened in shock before giving him a sad look. “Now where am I and why am I here?” He asked.

“Well um, you're in my and Zagreus’ apartment… Wait, no Calgary! The city we live in is Calgary.” She stammered. At the mention of her roommate she realized how much trouble was in, as Zag was in the middle of classes right now. “ And you're here because I found you on the sidewalk and I thought you were an injured bird.”

A look of disbelief briefly occupied Art’s face before being replaced with one of anger. “Do you think I’m stupid?” He yelled.

“No?”

“Bullshit, there is no fucking way you thought I was a bird and what the fuck is Calgary!”

“No no I did, in my defense you look very bird-like at your size.”

“I’m not even supposed to be this size.”

“You're not?”

“Have you never seen a fucking fae before?”

“No?”

“What do you mean no? Do you live under a fucking rock? I get I’m not in Tian anymore but a significant human empire has declared war against a mostly fae kingdom. How do you not know any of this?”

“I don’t think you realize where you are Art.”

“What do you mean?”

“Let me show you.” She said, Art weighed his options for a while before giving a nod of permission and lowering his hands. Mona slowly walked towards the nearest window and gave a signal for Art to follow. Once both of them were there she pulled back the curtain to reveal the outside world. The fae was stunned outside there was building and machinery unlike anything he had ever seen. The world was so alien It could never exist near his own.

“Ok… I’m convinced.” He stuttered.

He seemed deflated, Mona almost felt bad for telling him the truth. “Do you want something to eat?” She asked. He nodded, ignoring the tears that began to make their way out from their ducts.

#writing #original writing #My writing #writeblr #writers on tumblr #OC #ocs #my OC #MY OCs #oc writing

[libidomechanica]

Untitled # 11201

A curtal sonnet sequence

               1

Where they discours’d upon you. Sweeping, eye- earnestly said, he rosemary we take, and dipt his rosy children of thy worthlesse ware; too long upon her bed, across the blood left his you nursed of a winter reckoning yields; a honey tongueless, know me. The fetish boutique, those million times more noble nature of heavenly features dear. Give rest, or the fayre? I curst thee will; bearing the hand: Ah! Or they might I use it?

               2

Mine was fain to follow it upon you. Gin it beares; makes me tired of the night I feel this sad mortal blemishe may hap full sailes drowne not all unworthy. And all that bottomless cup. What did perfume the pipe is never cries; thou bear’st the horn, when the door, lonely sea. As if to flee—I started up, when shee the horns of Elfland faint with her resign; and weed. Watch out for power, and the mountains; and weary eye.

               3

But yet in vaine things, with those sweet Peona, his swift moment before me like a fish. Ah, dreams that for the many that amazing field that I were dead! And a’ his companies nimbly began dancing o’er the other vice content, and trachyte, till their tongue would wander’d of its load of blessed. Still I remember you appear like one who would shiver the happy at their voices called to a final end, purification bites.

               4

That e’en thy cheeke, to be seen where’er the woman’s could unlace the stubborn earth, if it disdain’d its beak over the world of reason that we must not be foes. My lassie o’ my head, crowned lip, and still have seemed a hollow, from the crack pipe—the attention spent, three till now; and then two, until frustration set and knee-high tube socks that one Will’ to boot, and the dews were made a wafu’ moan; fair Annie’s corpse lay a boar- spear keen.

               5

By Loue were athirst in soul to see another night to the wine, worne of Paramoures. Radiant Sister of war to come, if it were sat Endymion! What couldn’t be kissing on wanton heart. Thou wast to fa’! And true’ is all mysterious entice my stumblings and Lovers are just new, and rather beholds the ships of moulted feathery whizzing of their steps trod the upper floors, old voices to the fierce inscription on them.

               6

And by their power, how with your patron; over thighs, thick with blackly darkned mind, which gaping like a tulip on a wedgewood plate Anything in dreams that did perfume the queen o’ womankind, and ne’er a ane to peer her. Fair creatures once so dead and pale a stump, a clapper tongues: full casks are every face or name; so in a voice in that together for so they are but in the dove may murmurs of the answer, dying.

               7

And wha will be crush’d away within themselues did seem only one in this fair Day, whilst other place the beauty. Need him as something that you esteemed us not: in true speech no mouths would bar, my heart is a kitten of butter, I am not all, as parts, can see but fortune may be my babe’s father, he will outlive my hand? Into Elysium; vieing told about old forests; while the one who surrenders, survives.

               8

Not I caught thee will; bearing the shape of beauty’s angel waiting food, at length, to take in draughts of Cupids skies, whose million of little boy, pissing me. See, where I print my poetry, I most high fane? Of mute insensate thing repels thee,. I am shamed that heaven raining presently unmew my soul; and shar’d their plenteous store of newest joys upon a child there stood a marbles ever beauty’s angel pure and clear.

               9

On the den of helpless divine, is lying at the chance to death, who see with universe: nothing I did seem only one in the world doth live, as thought, with music stricken eagle to th’ other provocation in thee oft, I pitie now thy case, blind-hitting of its quality: how light faint fare-thee-wells, and orbed drop of light: beside her—the streams into o’er-head clouds. Soon was her mind; neither at morn or ever.

               10

Weigh down some one else. So wingedly: when wearied on my passion strive which that Muse stirr’d in little wing! Daisies, vermeil rose hie and gowden locks and syne he kiss’d her round about: weel, sine that right the breathe away again, only to see another’s otherness. That tollbooth windowes ope, then yong, his pinions wide. Of my hart, I do any wish it may bring good! To her; and the boat whose weake confused brain: be still shine bright.

               11

The primordial climb, a dream, then look I death may she die! ’Tis tatter’d; leaving, in naked sky, till with the citizens’ applause with thy drowsy wing a triple hour, but renovates and roared before have I brought the brine with my car. Hear us, O satyr flies for one hour more completed for our souls did nip her mothers? Their yelps: high-strung Anthee, the whispers, glooms, the deid of tears; and I will bind thy attention’s plight.

               12

Fair Annie, Annie, ’ the bays of seas assigned to knit my soul; and shaping vision fleeting, and saying from a stag. The city. Brought to thee mine eye and has my heart, has she to feel it strange, and I myself so wary as tender corn anger our searching will be thy loued lasse forlorne? ’Mong which seemes ease to man. And she said; she said; she said, I am aweary, aweary, oh God, that weaves express’d I hurried in.

               13

Thrown of them is alive, not though soon the Prince’s love were riding the fire, of love. At the winds: rain-scented eglantine gave the lakes, but let vs homeward: for night— did you great Pan! Whoever hath he skill to my fancied sight, as flies hovered in a thousand years, for the matted turf he kept unused, the which I’ll fall, with my breast; and in her hame. And giving up his aged hands, that’s how you’ll fling you young son in her face.

               14

The wooing sun; the woman’s fallen divinity upon an even pedestal with your age, repeyreth hoom from people apart. That footstep of lost liberty! Round her who still we shines bright as those region where falling those that thou dasht? And the sun has rolled and it has no been the world’s dusky brink. Their fountains, and with purple blossoms to thy healthier brain, he said; she wept my fault! King express’d I hurried in.

               15

Blow, and travelling of beauty charms, and dash’d the sun’s purple grapes and mouth with the ocean; the woman laughter settled as it narrowed to the after being hidden, laugh to make so many eyes, nor for these, a world of other plagiarist; I know not, cannot hear the subway jerks, I love speech no mouths would swim in it invariably drowns, where the calm of mute insensate thing upon earth the deer’s tender voice was run!

               16

Nor do like Lords whispers low, again I’ll brush came close exposures: poorly-mounted countenance; he seems no better twere my bonie breasts, tired of being a woman smokes an idol show, since we have meant, but do not love, I am becoming a hermit, opening those million poutings of delight. Will no fair beseechers kill; think all but one, and sing this ditty to his change, in sleep o’er-power’d in western bower.

               17

(For I was a bird-understand an end. It’s very music of the last wave by, crying head, until it scarce to mark the dry grass. Great pittie is, he be in love be call’d to taste of what they by Loue directed, enterchangeably reflection, but truly write, and I shall bloom paled gently for slight takes in that amazing field that heaven’s air in ilka quartered, flares like any other sides were touched, I’d grow old.

               18

And set my tree that time thou madest me to blaze her words your waste, the beauty displaid. Outside, the western border of the gift of praise. Are richer entangled caves, echoing grottos, full of sweet sister flowery band to me such nights as the rounding grace of heart doth inuite some monstrous precipice: therefore, ’tis vain to hide true torment you shalt not be for Annie of Lochroyan at my heart, would show you’re loved us.

               19

No mouths would that is old, and yet, because their ripen’d fruitage; yellow hair, and I from your plane, imagining a triple hour, when he saw fair Annie of Lochroyan, as the altar, with an emerald plane sits Diotima, teaching for the lawn or up then should be to my father. Take thy breast; and oh, Sirs, could cull: wild thyme, and weed. She always, that you esteemed us not: in true speech, faine would have seemed the congregation.

               20

And o’er it many, round and thee; depending from book myche to deal with thee her lie within dreaming. You say I love not I caught and this mane, she seem’d, to common gender and an alas! Before my verse in the door! All day I think, my pretty pleasaunt Pipe, whych made vs meriment, he wylfully hath broke, and let this middle of a brook,—whose shining eye could scan a lurking troubled your swelling my bark bar’d and pure.

               21

She drew her care. The other clutch, and wisdom are not so brightly dreams, and Sops in wine, we change is my love may betray small depth bottomless. One day the third—the authentic foundress you. My secrets of the genuine apparition of Apollo’s pipe, whence, from the knots. My life shall cease; whether snow really does resemble the earth had faded: deepest shades were dead! The spheres did banish, in his nether side; pitying!

               22

The salt sea strands with such a thankfull palatable; and a hazy light rustling down in our near-dwellers with my care. Bed of roses, but rejoiceth with their foreheads, lowly bending, for long in desire, that chiding strange, and braider grew this fair doth thus did spredde, it did him amaze. The gloomy shades, sequestered them on their ends denied, and live here awake, and flush themselues did spredde, it did him amaze. The band.

               23

Wild echoes flying south but longed to follow it upon sand which that hand, therefore we combing hand can’t take a body talking, and that sweete aire which shall be my love, nor can integrity our end were not, then yong, his pinions shook; or, it may be sayd, I say, all my argument, fair, kind, and sing this ditties bene for peace of heart. Such for a chosen bow: and, which makes earth was drinking the gate, and yet, love Gregory!

               24

Sweet Melissa shook her darkness from yesterday and by the ingle sits, an’ wi’ her lot to bear love’s might blessedness. Down by his gore, he thrust it through the buffeting north that grows upon the rest complains of sweet grief itself to death, who still breed, had joys for it anew revive; inspired and each pleasantly to a wide lawn, see all. Burns: she’s the queen o’ womankind, and the sequoia swallowed by a man who fled.

               25

Against the glenne: so now fayre Rosalind hath bred hys smart, so now his frend is neuer good newes know: is it now? Upon the mountain pine, o forester divine, a fellowship with essence of blisse, and did curse over the Arrow-head. To the learne; thinke on thy sweet than think I may dare, in wayfaring, to meet his brothers and though the citizens’ applause of Great, who should blaze like a mummy, and moon, that goes unloved.

               26

And quartered, flares like angry words come help the birth of light: from the new Heaven hie, come tomorrow, are we dreamy house, the anchor o’ the gusty shadow, but make no noise at all? I find you have come to know thou dost know ourself or face with ourself the spot they sometimes discover, and the dead ere day. To take or less by thy music all the world’s praise, which makes water drink, pouring unto us from the dry grass.

               27

And Ermines white, of mingled bubblings and poppied corn; the lark was low, and running shorts. So unrecorded did it slip away, in your own vallies white throat in a crevice peer’d about: weel, sine that later, hands repelling. Blow, bugle; answer came she was born in Bethlam? I call it that: disarming disregard—a loud Hawaiian-print shirt and faintly bruit, where they going the flowers and when the shadow of things.

               28

In passing here thou thyself the shadow of a bullet tearing looks: alway his the worldly bustle, to make me mourned at his gore, he thrust out his golden anniversal tinge of running rings frae our fingering moments after, through the bushes, to the after party? Good God, the third— the authentic foundress you. Straying about the louder roar’d their memories, and overshadoweth eternal whispering bed.

               29

Of the cruel breathing. Of unseemly, seeketh not, she saw fair Annie’s bark a rowing all around like a vision fleeting, and how shall stir no sighs but since my eyes at once, through he from thou smiles? I’ll get me home returning to the horizontal sun heave his breast of secret grief and pity joined us. Old joys no date nor age no need to say this: I fell into nothing, I said, The night, waking she knew: her answer.

               30

But if that same night, and like a rolling pin, over calves, polished as leather, down toward you, and is kind of monster to clear well. I must be within; for her! For the mask I would that love hath more expression by the thundered greatly, knowingly; as does the very face or name; so in a sloping means falling through the bushes, and many a dying fish; the very marge, with smiles to-day failing down close of death, but paine.

               31

Of many moment’s good after lightning. The peninsula tilts its goblet: she did not what Loue decreed: at length, to take what they said ’twas even now for ever. But at push-pin half sleep i watch the queen o’ womankind, that ilka body to it, give, when the cool and bursts of space. And I lost my mind might have we not match her will wed sorrow to persuade a yielding up, a cradling on the spoons and cauld, Gregory!

               32

’ She saw fair Annie, deare, this notice the brindled bitch, the blue-bells light: from the grass; man’s voice, when the mountain wind bluster’d marish- mosses crept sluggishly by, ere more been the wide in the old—born cycle. Or more interested in thee oft, I pitie now this, now thus early risen she met wi’ a hushion; her tears, and the brake. ’ Siller will give your friends, because known, nor am I Mary Magdalane, was born at Bethlam?

               33

Turning that your breath, produce more than our searching: yes, in spite of view is pleasant ayres of the Day, awake! Or vow ye never more in Heaven’ he added, lest some part!-—So I stay’d my foolish boy, that I will trace the sun. Staving its orbit, each one is when these things mysterious, immortal; to shake ambition is not, I opine, the men mourne, but cannot tell, to the lass of Lochroyan that held me, and fell, and thee.

               34

Ah, dream of love a Heavens,—because no fence or fort that in that there? A monster, others of amethyst,—would I help it, but my cheek of virgin bosom tear the very marge, with streams. Proof—oh if our ends denied, and so it was a child, I spake he: Men of Latona, which thereof the rocks that reach the room where the breath sucke vp those eyelids curtain by, and bad, on the freshness of any kind meant, but you may ye die!

               35

Hear us, O satyr flies for will be. Love, children—that more high place upon the shadows of his sovereign power, how with your ankles into stupid sleep. Into my father, but sorrows, and o’er-sways the Prince’s love, it profiteth me not, cause I love. Exposures: poorly-mounted, Ganymedes, to tumble into those vapoury tent—whereat, methoughts to enlarge, thee to the bough the visage an indolent sigh.

               36

Through autumn tresses from the poppies red: at which we should ape those lilies, better but to one note; one mind in all-resemblance of bliss who, certain woman. I answered, but to one of whose will once more than she that fail to pipe now ’gainst it: so farewel, sad sighes of woe were mine. And young, sprouting a shameless hand with thy sight his curse the sun’s decline: with her face the sun his autumn tressed locks bright their famish’d scrips.

               37

This shall not match with the forehead, with no word from people apart. So my mother compare with pasted-on leaves his temples bind; and, ever and swear to some one else, and rather behold matter, waking sight blind eyes could witnesseth: what I know not where; and a hazy light of Life is dreary woe. Faint coward Ioy no longe: let dame Eliza thanke may you in me no means that touch, first sight, clos’d with wayward melancholy.

               38

For ornament, old naked brain: be still, yet still her winter rains green’d over April’s first-fruits—they daucen deffly, and thee; since if the van of all that wilderness preserved me from a block away&mine is to guard a thousand years, for me may moue you, though my head, smiling ayre allowes my reason. Why did I know not: but who, of men, can tell you, girl, howe’er you appear before then wake to weep. Herself in thee thine.

               39

In time. She sayes she builds her favouritism. Is a kitten of butterflies their ripen’d fruitage; yellow’d with her: I never cries; I can love Gregory! A heavenly featured even thou art all determined the clear of true loue doth a fear that reach into my being, and to thy wracke beyond thy lip, eye, and count the most perfected. Such a look as would be; yet maidens, empty space; down, over the space of man!

               40

Is it not separated from him to wait, one week, then let me the gnawing sloth on the hills. Na langer dow I stand. And eke you Virgins, may she wept my fault’ she wept my fault! Love, children—there is a stone, that it be but love thee, and eagles struggle with the pleasantly to a wilder’d; for themselues opprest, leauing him back into those gossamer embryos into growth. Said Cyril: Pale one, or gloom o’ercast, they will.

               41

Who in desire to feed the cankering bed. In what every woman said, It gets better to come and I will not praise hue scorn’d like a rolling pin, over thighs; show me thy lasing powre dicerne. So dark a mind within; for that, Syr Phip, least shade more content you? And laid them from my breast such pinching that ye mak a’ this matter of the Earth, and strife no burning in and a shrill wind, which touches ne’er a ane to peer her.

               42

About my ear forgot how tender corn anger our huntsmen o’er they met or parting. Had joys for it! Has rolled and quailed as if to veil a nobler exercise? One pierced with so subtle, so thin a little cup will put choice that creeps winding flood seems at the wurst, but, your elastic case, blind-hitting down amber studs, my hunting can happen.—An ill death in manners holds the gentle wave, to take or less by thy son thus.

               43

Of logs piled solemnly. It knows so much; then from enclouded tombs; old ditties peepe; nay more foole I oft suffred youth: yea, every eastern cloud a silver ramble down toward the nak’d sincerity; but heal me with Stella oft sees the sea. Not—thy soft hand that, Syr Phip, least shade, where shot a golden anniversary, a dove, seen identically, perched on to which the hot season; the mid forests; while euerie offices.

               44

An’ wi’ her love, how awkward as a willow trails its delicate amber; and the Neptune’s restlesse rest, and with good and uninspired and rock,—’mong which I will end. So blind whelps at their ends promove: for Kings and all for, nor in notes I need. Which is mornes messenger, his lips a noble Vashti, noble than a flowers do stur; in the other. Eyes nurtured with favouritism. For you, with me. To challenge eyesight?

               45

It is at moment more, because known, nor like poor Psyche will love you. Or bene thing expects—was the assembly, in a crevice peer’d about in sight, bathing back I was not see the sullen day had chidden roots into its airy channels with my own steed from thy owne sunlight; those who reach in thys shade alone: but let vs homeward: for night were filled her there made love can be born of us, They mounted countenance?

               46

All he prefigured, and whither dreary woe. Their voices called out to the motionless, aghast! Pass into nothing novel, nothing fair beseechers kill; think all but one, and tears, and if from spot of children— that men are true? The flies hovered owre wi’ tin; when the night, of sprites, the broke out interpreting my spirit melt away and there are they once more strange, and scar just such disparity as is twixt air and brow.

               47

Snow: rather for aught nearer heaven’s air in the wound was, great name flow on with thee alone: but when these in manners holds her face wad fyle the edges of our neighbourhood envenom all. Above their Lord, who is the clicking heel, all beauty’s angel waiting four. She is solid, like Alcestis, from this shall be; what are at me on my neck, her round the map already turning pleasant scene; the man that with renewed life.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 7 #129 texts #curtal sonnet sequence

[cyclonesyndicate]

Absolute Ground Zero || CH1 Trial

Tony is sitting on top of what he surely thinks is a throne (a lidded trash can), as he waves around what looks like the top piece of a clapperboard.  He waves it to the large table, ushering you to all take a seat.  As you approach, you notice each chair has a name placard in front of it–  seems that you've got assigned seating. 

"Welcome to the trial, chumps!  Find yer seat and zip yer lips!"

Tony then stands on two legs, waving the clapparatus in a grand gesture. 

"It's our first time, so listen up real good!  Nobody likes that chump that asks a million questions after the meeting!" 

Unsatisfied with how his throne pales in comparison to the round table, Tony suddenly leaps from the trash bin onto the table, and begins pacing.  Hands folded behind him, object clasped tight–  not unlike a caricature of a drill sergeant.

"So everyone got a good look at the crime scenes, yeah?  You better hope so, cause nobody's gonna hold your hand while we're deliberatin'!!  This is a murder trial, bozos; you may be workin' together to solve it, but at the end of the day, any one of ya coulda done it."

Save for those protected by the Body Discovery Clause, as previously stated.

"Once you gotta good idea of whodunnit, you're gonna vote for who you think did the deed!  We're gonna count out the votes at the end, see, and if the majority of you punks pick the right bozo, they're dead!  Up the river!  Goin' to a one-way meet n' greet with TOM himself!"

He stops his pacing, turning to grin over his shoulder while hugging the clapper. 

"But hey, killer, you're a villain, right?  You already killed someone, what's a little lyin'?  You got a chance to cheat death–  if these bozos pick the wrong guy, you get your promotion, your office, AND some other random bozo gets a punishment!  Pretty fair trade, right?"

The pacing continues.

"Hope you remember all that, cause it was a friggin' mouthful!  If I were you punks, I'd figure out a timeline to start with!"

Satisfied with his speech, Tony hops back to his trash bin, eagerly awaiting the conversation. 

But… there's one small thing. 

He didn't even mention it.

How can you hope to solve this murder… when you can't even remember where you were this afternoon?

[TRIAL: START]

#ch 1

[dykeminecraft]

other fucking amazing sections from the second game:

the tutorial (which is actually after you've been captured. you're being tutorial-ed so that the antagonist can get footage of you)

"Handler" about a brain implant: "I hear when those things malfunction, it can get very messy" yes it sure fucking can. it doesn't happen ingame but i've seen the placement diagram for that thing you wouldn't want it acting up

"On the bright side - now you've got a minifridge!" thank you handler. this is definitely fair trade for being legally considered dead.

z-pants. they're electrical massage pants that have...i'd give em about a 50% chance of electrocuting you

RIP Jerry, fucked up on a play and the Fabricator killed 'em

Fabricator gives you fashion advice.

The confirmation that Agent Phoenix is allowed to kill people that also loosely implies them being hesitant about the whole thing

JJ doing his best to be friendly & nice in the beginning of Jet Set ("Oh, were you on a different call? Sorry, unregistered signals tend to cut out at these altitudes. I can keep you company til you get here though!") and then as soon as the plan goes south he gets Mad ("Come on, Agent, you're trapped on a plane above the Atlantic Ocean, there's nowhere to run. Just die already!")

"Ehh, blablabla, high voltage, may cause instant death, yes, yes, let’s skip to the important part."

the fact that you can absolutely rip apart the fabricator's office and throw things everywhere & the guard is like "ah yes. this is my boss, the fabricator. the fabricator, who gets mad at people for not being elegant. this is indeed my boss."

the entirety of party crasher. JJ thinks you're his butler whole time his butler is unconscious in a box. you can send JJ a shoe, the wrong type of drink, the wrong glasses, the whole nine yards. it's worth mentioning that it's not implied you snuck in under a false identity, more that you uh. went to the wine cellar and knocked the actual butler out. and stuck him in a box. he's in the room with you, in the box. which is really disconcerting if you don't know about it and suddenly there's just a voice going "don't touch that it's sensitive equipment!"

this whole situation leads to JJ just. giving you what you came for. he doesn't know you're not his butler.

"do NOT let the Phoenix get their hands on it" i am going to stick my grubby hands on it.

the actual butler & JJ getting into an insult slapfight while the butler is still in the box.

they manage to avoid giving away Handler's appearance by just giving him a black oval of doom for his face.

you can listen to JJ's monologue in Safe & Sound, or you can interrupt him by using the like...movie board clapper thing.

"And then there's you! Agent Phoenix, back from the dead." - "If it were up to me, I'd just shoot you. But Zor was insistent on getting some footage of the Phoenix." - "I don't expect you to understand, I expect you to die- well, frankly, I expect you to find a way out."

i give JJ a lot of shit but he doesn't underestimate you. which a lot of other characters do.

movie camera laser. it's also recording you but for most of Safe & Sound it's a laser.

somehow every one of the...7 i think shots that get fired into the elevator manage to miss you completely.

most of rising phoenix is pretty good tbh.

#thorn post #it's under a cut bc it got Long as Shit

[blindingdutchy]

share | t.holland

{pornstar!tom x pornstar!reader}

summary: you don't like to share, but Tom's going to show you what happens to stingy girls on the playground.

word count: 10,663

warnings: i consider this a part two to switch. smut, little bit of angst, fluffy ending. language. explicit warnings under divide.

18+!!! minors stay away!

warnings: mean dom!tom, slight dom!fem oc, voyeurism, mff threesome, degradation, oral (m+f receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it up folks), orgasm denial, touch denial, slight bondage (hands tied only), jealous reader + arrogant tom, some daddy + sir kink

divider

There was a familiar ache in your core as you made your way into work that day. It was a sensation that shouldn't have embarrassed you anymore considering it was in your line of work to take a beating of the sexual sort, but your blood bubbled with fluttery shame anyways because you knew it was definitely not from any job you'd done. The handprints that lingered on your skin were Tom's, as was the throbbing between your legs.

Your coworkers had grown accustomed to the funny way you'd been walking; after all, it had been months of you turning up to the studio just like this. Aching all over, exhausted, and all flustered smiles as every little jolt of pain in your body reminded you of him. Tom really knew how to keep a woman coming back for more, to say the least.

Despite the tender way you were forced to move around, you were excited to get into work that day. You'd been working on a new project behind the scenes for almost a month already, and today you were finally meeting with your favorite director and photographer to start the ball rolling. This was what you'd been fantasizing about doing ever since you'd been brought into the agency--straying away from your dominatrix persona and onto a more personal, enjoyable path.

Priscilla was already waiting for you in the conference room, bursting with energy as she always was and chatting the ears off of Archie. The two of them were sliding a few of your scribbled mock-ups around, along with more than a few stills of your naked body, and nestled so deeply into a conversation that they didn't notice the click of the door as it shut behind you. Even clearing your throat couldn't break their concentration.

"Starting without me?" you questioned, loudly, and finally caught the glimmering eyes of Priscilla.

Priscilla was practically buzzing with excitement as she grinned at you, clapping her hands once before waving you over, "(Y/N), perfect timing! So, Archie and I were thinking about your ideas for doing a cam-girl style video--"

She chattered on and on, only pausing every so often to take a heaving breathe before continuing. The more she said, the more you realized just how much work the two of them had done without you--Priscilla was already pitching set designs and potential scenarios for each video, and Archie was doing his best to help you visualize the filmography he had in mind. It was pretty hard to keep up, but you had to admit seeing their passion for the project only spurred your own to burn a little brighter.

The project was something you'd been dreaming of for awhile. A solo series of videos in the iconic style of a cam-girl; just you, your camera, and whatever you felt like putting out there for the world to see. For so long you'd been afraid to even pitch the idea out of fear of being denied funding, and rightfully so.

You'd had to fight tooth and nail to gain the backing of the agency. It had been a month of pitching idea after idea, crunching numbers and screening all the statistics of solo work so that you could propose a target profit for the company. In the end, you'd gotten the green light--but there was a lot riding on this first video.

If you failed to meet the target you'd set for yourself, the agency would pull the plug on the project and you'd be right back to the leather outfits and whining men. The thought of it urged you to outperform all the standards you'd set for yourself. You were peddle to the metal, full throttle ahead, and Priscilla and Archie's sounding board of ideas were exactly the encouragement you needed.

Archie fiddled with some settings on his camera, instructing you on a few head shots until he was satisfied. "That's it!" he cheered, "You like it? Obviously we'll work on better lighting for the videos, and there'll be editing--but I think this suits you."

Peering over his shoulder, your heart soared at the work of your favorite camera man. "Oh, Archie! That's perfect... If you'd just shown me that I'd definitely think it was the real deal." you gasped, and he grinned at you cheerfully. "How about a lunch break before we get back to work?"

The two of them muttered some hushed agreements, nodding absentmindedly as Priscilla looked over the photos and they returned to the scatter of papers and film on the table. "Yeah, yeah, you go ahead, honey." Priscilla cooed, waving a hand over her shoulder carelessly before tilting her head and squinting her eyes at one of your drawings. "Oh, what do you think about--no, that won't do... but maybe?"

With a hushed chuckle, you shook your head at the two of them and backed out of the room quietly. It almost seemed as if they were more excited than you were, but your stomach was rumbling and you needed something to eat before you started chewing on paper like a goat. Only, along the way toward the exit you paused outside one of the studios at the sound of Tom's voice.

Peeking inside, you smiled at the sight of his mop of curls bobbing--the smile faded to a grimace as you realized he was in no position to talk at the moment. You trailed a little further into the room and shot a tentative smile to one of the crew members who nodded to you, no longer surprised by your presence. Many times before you'd sat in on Tom's filming days, as he had done yours, but never before had you seen him at work with his most frequent costar.

Her name was Melaina, a startlingly attractive woman with what you were fairly certain was the world's most perfect face, and she was the star of most of Tom's work. You had nothing against her, having run into her quite a few times at work and never being anything short of pleased with her sweet and charismatic aura, but man was it hard not to feel inferior as you watched the two of them in action. It was as if they knew what the other would do before they even moved, connected on some spiritual level that boosted their chemistry to an astronomical level.

Tom's body was glistening with sweat and oil, his eyes dark and hooded with lust as he towered over her. The muscles in his back, chest, and arms all rippled with every move he made and caught the light just right, and you found yourself shifting on your feet subconsciously as you watched. Your hands twitched with the desire to push that one stubborn curl out of his face as it slid across his forehead, heavy and sodden with sweat.

Melaina gave a breathy moan that had you swallowing down a lump in your throat, her hands raking down Tom's chest only for him to swat them away and pin them to the bed above her head, "No touching!" he snapped, voice booming through the cavernous room, and you nearly groaned in sync with his counterpart. Too many times he'd growled those words to you, just like that, and the heat between your legs throbbed at the memory.

"Please, daddy," Melaina wailed, "I wanna cum!"

For a moment you rolled the name around your tongue, pursing your lips as you pondered what it would feel like to call Tom such a thing. It didn't feel right though; a sour taste compared to the deliciously sweet way sir rolled from your lips. His low, devilish chuckle brought you back to the present as you focused on the scene before you.

With a long, drawn out roll of his hips, Tom leaned down to Melaina's ear and spoke, "Bad girls don't get to come, darling."

Oh, fuck.

Hearing that name, that one little word, spill forth from his lips in reference to someone other than yourself ignited a certain flame within you that you hadn't felt in quite some time. It was green; everything tinged green in your vision like the sickening tone of the clouds before a treacherous storm. Jealousy wasn't something you wore often, but hearing that was enough to sit the crown of envy heavily upon your head.

Almost as if he could sense it, sense your turmoil, Tom's head tilted back until he looked you heavily in the eye. Your jaw tensed as he continued to push his hips harder through Melaina's cries and pleas, fingers clenching into fists as you tried to get yourself under control. It didn't mean anything.

You and Tom were nothing but friends with benefits, heavy on the benefits and light on the friendship, and this was his job. Hell, it was your job too! It didn't mean a damn thing.

His eyes never strayed from yours as that familiar pinch formed between his brows, his entire body growing rigid. He was brutal with the force of his hips, his hands groping roughly at Melaina's perfect ass and his lips parting in a silent 'o' that grew wider and wider until--there it was. His eyes locked on yours, Tom thrust twice more as a gritted laugh burst from his chest and he stilled completely. She mewled beneath him like a vixen, arching off the bed and crying, "Yes, daddy! Cum for me!"

He knew. His haughty smirk, ticked jaw, and glinting eyes told you well enough that he knew exactly what you were feeling, all the bitter and envious thoughts swirling through your mind. He knew, and he was thoroughly enjoying the way you were rooted in place under the weight of all your jealousy, your eyes locked with his and unable to break free.

"Cut!"

The sound of the clapper snapping and the director's loud shout startled you out of the strange limbo of envy and hunger you'd been trapped in. Tom muttered something to Melaina with a flirtatious grin that made your gut twist, and she laughed loudly whilst slapping a hand across his chest playfully. Suddenly, you weren't so hungry anymore, nor were you entirely interested in speaking to Tom.

You were out of focus for the rest of your day at work, earning disgruntled and concerned stares from your two colleagues who were working tirelessly to perfect all of your plans before the test shoot the following day. All of your thoughts were consumed with Tom, though, and it left you feeling nauseous. Never before had you cared much at all that he was with other women, knowing it was just a day's work for him, but seeing him with Melaina had truly rubbed you raw in the worst way.

The ache between your legs didn't make your heart flutter for the moment. Instead, each time you moved wrong and felt that persistent twinge, it made bile creep up your throat and your face burn with a mixture of bitter emotions. It wasn't that you were suddenly craving more from Tom--because you weren't, and as much as you enjoyed his company you weren't interested in a relationship.

Inferiority was a hell of a bitter pill. That was the root of the green eyed monster that was steadily taking control of you; Melaina made you feel inferior, and you hated it more than anything. Clearly he found her to be a better costar than you, considering he'd not once requested you even after starring in your own special. That was the first strike.

But, was she a better lay than you? Did she feel better, make him feel better than you? Did she talk dirtier, obey faster, and mold herself into whatever he wanted better than you? What if you weren't the only one he invited into his own bed at night?

By the time you left work the sun was setting, hours had passed, and you were exhausted from your racing mind. Usually Tom would have come to find you after he finished filming, but he hadn't and that bothered you. You knew it was probably all a game to him, a way for him to get you all riled up and tease you for it, but you weren't playing. You didn't want to play his games today, and when he finally texted you that night you left all of his messages on read with an acrid taste in your mouth.

"Ready for the big day?"

A peculiar sense of deja vu washed over you as you opened your dressing room door to reveal Tom perched on the other vanity seat, a tiny smile twitching at his lips and a twinkle in his eye. You really should have expected him to be there considering he'd been eagerly talking about watching you film for days, but after ignoring him you were more than surprised to see him waiting patiently for you to arrive. The door shut with a dull click, and Tom watched you closely.

Whatever he was playing at, you weren't going to bite--today was a big day for you, and nothing was going to distract you from your work. "What are you doing here?" you asked, huffing as your voice cracked and robbed you of your attempt to play it cool.

He just chuckled, a hoarse and airy sound, and licked his lips, "You think I'd miss the chance to see my girl touch herself for hours?"

His girl?

The words swirled around your brain the entire time you got ready, Marlena eyeing you curiously as you twiddled your thumbs quietly and payed no mind to either of the two people in your presence. What the hell did he mean by that? Why did your heart go on the fritz at those two silly words?

"Are you mad at me, lovie?" Eyes flickering over to Tom, you grew hot under his speculative gaze. Head tilted to one side, brown eyes narrowed slightly, and lips puckered in a tiny pout that made you swoon, he asked, "Have I done something to upset you?"

In the mirror you could see Marlena fighting back a smile, looking between the two of you with quivering lips as she held herself back from interrupting the moment. "No," you muttered, dropping your eyes back to your fiddling fingers, "I'm just nervous."

You didn't have to look to know that Tom was smirking, the sound of his soft laughter cluing you into the fact well enough. There was that deja vu again, your mind traveling back to that first time he'd sat in your dressing room and asked if he made you nervous. Teasingly, he asked, "Am I making you nervous, darling?"

Rolling your eyes, you huffed, "No."

Tom's eyes were all over you the moment you stepped onto the set and dropped your robe into an assistant's waiting arms. Clad in a skimpy lace negligee with nothing underneath, it was understandable that he'd be quite enraptured--never before had you worn something so dainty for your work, nor had you ever worn anything quite like the transparent scrap during any of your visits to his apartment. Even you yourself were quite enthralled by the look of it, having admired your reflection in the mirror for ages before finally joining the crew to start working.

As you soaked up the warm, tingling sensation of his ravenous eyes trailing over every inch of your body, you slowly relaxed into his presence. All the thoughts of Melaina drifted away, and you were biting back pleased smiles each and every time you acknowledged his gaze. It felt nice; it felt like it had every time he'd watched you film before, only better because now you were finally fully enjoying your project.

He hung back beside Priscilla in front of the big screen which displayed all the different camera angles whilst you ambled your way around the set. It wasn't complete, but it was enough for you all to get an idea of what the final design should be. A queen sized bed with dark, silk sheets in the center of a warmly lit stage, piled high with pillows of all sizes--already you were imagining towering bed posts with chiffon curtains framing the beautiful space.

There was one camera posted at the foot of the bed which was to be the main view point for the video. Climbing aboard you shifted until your bottom was posted over the scribbled X and leaned back onto your elbows, your knees propped up and spread wide. "How's this look?" you called out, craning your neck to see Priscilla, Archie, and Tom.

"Slide up a bit," Archie bellowed back, "a bit more--that's it! Oh, fuck, that looks amazing."

Having slid up the mattress half a foot, your head fell onto the bed of pillows that were finally within reach. From your new vantage point you could admire Tom, and the sight of him was enough to already have your thighs dampening. It seemed as if he were unsure as to where to look, his eyes flickering back and forth from the blown up, pixelated version of you to the real deal hastily.

The angle was awkward, and no matter how hard you stared he never made eye contact. It was then that you realized he couldn't see your face, at least not the real one, and a certain thrill sparked within you. Trailing your fingers over your stomach slowly, you reached for the frilled edge of the fabric and bit back a giggle as he tensed all over.

Licking your lips in time with Tom, you shouted, "Should we get started, then?"

Within seconds the clapper was dropped, and Priscilla boomed, "Test one, rolling!"

It was strange having to force yourself to look into the camera, rather than avoiding it so as not to ruin the flow of a scene. But, after a few moments of running your hands over your body and trying to get into the right mindset, your mind drifted away from the crowded room and into your own personal bubble. In there, that secret place you escaped to, it was just yourself and Tom.

Your body heated as you pictured him in place of the camera. In your vision he was bare and glistening, just for you; sitting on his heels with his knees spread apart and his hands ghosting over his length languidly. So many nights you'd laid before him like this, aching and begging for his hands to take the place of your own.

"Show me what those fingers can do, darling." he cooed, voice silky and sweeter than honey. It was a stark contrast to the dark, all-consuming pull of his brown eyes that lusted for you greedily.

Breathing a little harder, you tugged the stretchy lace further down your chest until your breasts were exposed to the chilled air. Tom's eyes glimmered, his tongue swiping over his lower lip, and you desperately wished it were his lips wrapping around one of your pebbled buds instead of your clammy fingers. Your eyes fluttered shut for a second as you imagined it; reminiscing on the sensation of his hot, silky tongue swirling around your nipples and tugging them delightfully into his mouth.

It was incredibly hard not to cry out for him as you descended further into the scenario you'd created for yourself. Nevertheless, you swallowed down all the whimpers of his name that bubbled to your lips eagerly, instead whining soft noises that even turned yourself on. "Love those pretty sounds, (Y/N)." he always hummed down your ear, scorching breathe fanning all across your neck.

The facade didn't fade as you opened your eyes again with heavy lids that begged to fall shut again. You tugged hard at one of your rosebuds in sync with Tom's harsh pull over his cock, and your back arched as you gave a loud cry. He moved his hand faster and clenched his eyes shut for a second as he groaned, "Enough teasing, lovie, show me that perfect pussy. Wanna see you cum all over your fingers f'me."

You couldn't have agreed more. Your heat was hot and dripping, your thighs slipping across the sheets a little more easily as you pooled your juices onto the mattress longingly. Tracing your fingers over the swell of your chest and down your stomach, you peeled your flimsy gown back until it was all bunched up beneath your breasts.

Tom watched with baited breathe, held perfectly in sync with your own burning chest, as you teased your fingers all around where you ached to be touched the most. Just as you finally dipped the tip of your middle finger into the slick, a shuffle and quiet laugh shattered the vision of Tom. You huffed in frustration the buzzing in your veins dulled and your hand fell limp over your bare middle.

"Cut!" Priscilla shouted, and even she sounded frustrated as you sat up and ripped your negligee back down, "That was really good, (Y/N)! Wanna have a look?"

You did, but you could barely hear the words coming from Priscilla's mouth as you took in the scene before you. There was Tom, hands cupped over his crotch like they always were when he watched you film, but this time he wasn't watching you. Instead, he was entirely focused on Melaina who stood beside him with one dainty hand stroking his arm, the other twirling the skirt of her sundress lazily.

Your blood boiled to life once more, but no longer was it out of desire for Tom. Pursing your lips, you called back to Priscilla, "No, let's just keep going." He was still engrossed in his hushed conversation with her, and you added pettily, "Might I remind some of you to be quiet on set!"

Melaina's stifled giggle turned the green hue in your eyes red, but you took a deep breathe and resisted the urge to roll your eyes. It didn't mean anything, it didn't mean anything, it didn't mean anything. The mantra echoed through your head as you did your best to keep your ridiculous envy at bay; Tom wasn't yours, nor were you his, and you had nothing to be jealous of.

You did, however, roll your eyes at the sight of Tom's devious smirk. It only widened at the action, and in spite of your wish to pretend he didn't affect you, your thigh clenched subconsciously. "Sorry, darling, we'll be quiet." he hummed, greedily soaking up the distasteful purse of your lips with his eyes.

It was harder to get back into the groove once the cameras started rolling again. Tom's image wavered in place of the camera, your mind clouded with all the conflicting emotions you were feeling, and no matter how hard you tried you just couldn't get back into that bubble. You pushed through, though, and picked up where you'd left off.

"Look at you," Tom simpered as your fingers dipped into your slick once again, your jaw slackening as you toyed one finger through your entrance, "absolutely dripping for me. Does it get you off to see me with another woman?"

What the hell was that? His words were like a record scratch in your mind, your fingers recoiling from your throbbing core in shock. Trying again, you changed your direction and drifted your fingers to your clit with a soft sigh. Closing your eyes to shut out his smirking face again, you rolled the soft pads over your bud and felt your lips part in a hushed moan.

How easy it would have been to keep them closed and push yourself over that edge with nothing but the sensation to edge you forward, but you knew that wouldn't make for a satisfying watch. So, begrudgingly, you opened your eyes again to the scene you'd created for yourself. Tom was sitting on the bed now, his legs spread wide before him to leave space for you between, and his length was laid against his thigh lazily. The tip was weeping and blazing red, a thick drop of pearly precum making your lips tingle with desire.

His hands wrapped around the footboard of the bed, gripping the solid wood so tightly his knuckles turned white and his arms rippled with unbridled strength. All that muscle, the sinewy, languid curl of hard muscle beneath soft flesh pulled taught in restraint; it was enough to have you drooling. Your fingers slipped easily from your swollen clit to your slit, and you dipped the tip of your middle finger inside with a choked cry.

Tom moaned back at you, his cock twitching as he flexed his stomach, eyes glued to the tight clench of your cunt around your fingers. "Fuck, lovie, do your fingers feel as good as mine?" he asked, "Does that pussy feel as good as hers?"

What the fuck?

Melaina's giggle echoed through the set, piercing the thickened air and startling you nearly as much as the wild turn your imagination had taken. Growling angrily, you slapped your hands onto the mattress beside you and pouted, "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Sorry, I'm so sorry!" Melaina squeaked, sounding so genuinely apologetic it only irritated you further, "Stop it, Tom, you made me laugh."

Sitting up once more, propped up on your hands, you scowled fiercely at the sight of Tom's arm draped over her shoulders and his head dipped low to whisper in her ear. His eyes were trained on you, though, and you knew damn well that coy smirk that teased at his lips was meant for you alone. Melaina gripped the hand over her shoulder tightly as she stifled another laugh, eyes twinkling to match the beaming smile on her face.

Backing his lips away from Melaina's hair, Tom faced you dead on as his head cocked to the side playfully. Narrowing your eyes, you scoffed as he winked at you. That bastard! You flopped back onto the bed with a growl, wanting nothing more than to kick him off the set, but you refrained. You knew it would only cement what he'd already figured out within his head; it would prove that you were without a doubt, one hundred and ten percent jealous.

"How about we take five, everyone!"

You practically threw yourself off of the bed, snatching your robe from the timid assistant with a huff before stomping off the set entirely. What was he playing at? It was one thing for Tom to toy with you, but to purposefully throw you off when you were working? That was low.

Alone in the small room, you dropped your head onto your vanity with a loud groan of annoyance. So many new emotions were swirling around you, plaguing your mind and twisting your gut up into knots so tight you actually felt ill. You couldn't even begin to unravel the twisted mess to pick apart all the different things you were feeling.

There was a quiet knock on the door, and you didn't have to look to know who it was. "G'way!" you grumbled, hissing angrily when the door opened anyways, "I said--"

Tom crashed his lips to yours, choking your words and the muffled squeal of surprise that escaped you. Pushing his weight onto you and pinning you to the chair, he bit down on your lower lip until you whined pitifully, pulling away to look you heavily in the eye, "You ignored me last night."

"So? I wasn't feeling it." you retorted, the almost lie making your stomach flutter. "Is that why you're trying to ruin my test shoot? Another bullshit punishment?"

He gaped at you for a moment, his lips parting in surprise as he blinked down at you wordlessly. But, just as you were settling into the triumph of finally rendering him speechless, he sputtered a sinister chuckle and smirked. Clicking his tongue reproachfully, he tutted, "Are you jealous, darling? Is that what this little tantrum is about? Are you jealous of Melaina?"

The words of your imaginary Tom echoed in your ears, the thin flesh and cartilage heating up in embarrassment as you scoffed, "No, why the hell would you think that?"

Smirk widening, he leaned close to nuzzle his face into your ear as he hummed, "Mm, I think you're lying, lovie. I think you were jealous watching me fuck her yesterday, and today you're so bothered you can't even perform. Envy is a hell of a thing, wouldn't you say?"

His lips sucked on the tender skin of your earlobe, drawing the faintest of whimpers from your lips, and he released it with a dramatic suckle of a wet, sloppy kiss. He whispered tauntingly, "Did it make you jealous to see me cum for somebody else? To see me fuck Melaina instead of you?"

"N-no-- oh, fuck."

Tom's fingers dragged heavily through your folds, a gush of your juices immediately flooding into his open palm in response. His thumb rolled over your clit faintly, teasing the rapidly swelling bundle as he chuckled right into your ear, "Don't lie to me, darling."

That stupid name that he'd called her made you steel your resolve, stubbornly repeating, "'M not jealous, Tom. You can fuck whoever you want."

His fingers plunged into you to the knuckle, earning a loud gasp as your hands flew to his arms and clutched him tightly. "Yeah? 'S that so?" he asked, nipping the hot skin of your neck until you whined desperately, "Think I'd like a taste then, love."

This was certainly turning out far better than you'd expected. With a racing heart and a quivering breathe, you gasped, "Please, Tom." Tom's eyes narrowed at you, his expression hardening as he pinched your hip in warning. "Please, I want you to have a taste, sir."

He grinned, patting your cheek in a playful slap as he cooed, "There's my good girl. Spread your legs, darling."

Obediently, you eagerly spread your legs until your thighs were digging into the sides of your chair and shaking as you fought to keep them splayed so wide. The lace of your negligee was pulled taught and curled up over your hips at the movement, exposing all of you to Tom's greedy eyes. He licked his lips as he gazed down at his fingers still buried inside you as deep as they would go, flexing the two digits and closing his eyes as you cursed and clenched around them.

You crooned as he pulled them out and thrust them back in slowly, curling until the tips dragged over your spot lazily. "Please, sir, want your tongue, too." you pleaded, digging your thighs further into the seat as you rutted down onto his once again motionless fingers.

His eyes snapped open and he quirked his one ruffled brow playfully, "Yeah? You want my fingers and my tongue?" Tom dug the pad of his thumb into your clit deeply, pressing your button down and making your entire body spasm from the harsh stimulation, "I don't know if you deserve both, lovie. You're lucky you're even getting my fingers."

Whining, you threw your head back childishly and ground your hips into his fingers indignantly. He kept them steady, only slightly brushing your g-spot through your forced motion, and his free hand clamped down on your thigh in a bruising grip. "Please!" you begged, "Please, sir, I'll be so good!"

Your pleas molded into a shout as his lips closed suddenly around your clit, his thumb sliding aside to spread your folds open for him as he sucked at your sensitive nub harshly. Tom's fingers pulled out slowly before slamming back into you, his fist effectively punching your core and making you ache, but you moaned and begged for more. Each forceful blow pushed his fingers right into your spot, the tips curling to drag against your upper wall with every motion.

In mere moments you were seeing stars. Your stomach was tightening beyond measure, that coil winding so tight you feared you might break when it finally snapped, but you met each thrust of his hand with a jerk of your hips eagerly. His tongue flicked against your clit in rapid kitten licks, sparking your body to spasm violently each time. "I'm so close, sir!" you gasped, digging your nails into the armrest of your seat as your back arched in pleasure, "I'm gonna--"

With one last long, hard suck on your bundle, Tom pulled away from you completely. His fingers ripped away from your dripping slit and slid in between his glistening lips, that tongue swirling dramatically around the digits as he sat back on his heels much like he had in your imagination. Gaping, you huffed, "What the hell, Tom?"

He grinned devilishly, "Admit you were jealous, and I'll let you cum."

Sputtering, you spat out, "I told you I wasn't jealous."

"Mm, but I know you're lying, darling," he teased, eyes glinting playfully, "and I want to hear you admit it. You wanna cum all over my fingers and my tongue?"

You nodded hesitantly, swallowing the lump in your throat as you whispered, "Yes, sir."

He leaned in close, his nose brushing against yours and his lips ghosting over your own as he whispered, "Admit you were jealous."

Closing your eyes, you took a deep breathe. You felt hot all over with embarrassment, your skin burning and your blood boiling beneath, but fuck, you really wanted that sweet release that only he could give you. So, with trembling lips, you whispered, "I was jealous."

Eyes still closed, you jumped as his fingers brushed over your clit in a feather light touch. He pressed a slow, soft kiss to your lips that had you chasing him for more when he backed away and asked, "Are you still jealous?" One finger toyed with your slit, drawing a harsh line up and down your entrance as you resisted the urge to push further into his hand.

"Y-yes."

He chuckled, and your eyes snapped open as he backed away from you, his hand disappearing from your core. His eyes were dark in a ruthless stare as he stated, "You need to learn to share, love. Stingy girls don't get to cum." And, just like that, he retreated from the room leaving you staring after him in utter shock.

You weren't sure what you were expecting when you rocked up to Tom's apartment that night following his typical, "You up?" text. What you most certainly had not expected, though, was to find Melaina sprawled out on his sofa in nothing but a sheer negligee--nothing at all underneath. In a strange sense, you figured you should have seen it coming; what better way for Tom to torment you than to make you face the root of your jealousy?

"Mm, on second thought," you hummed, pursing your lips as you took in the woman's sensual form upon his couch, "I think I'll be going."

Turning to leave, you crashed nose first into Tom's hard chest with a muffled grunt of surprise. His hands crept around your waist in a lazy fashion, dragging the fabric of your shirt up until his warm palms found the icy chill of your bare skin. It sent a shiver down your spine, much to your own chagrin.

He pouted, jutting his lower lip out at you tauntingly as he leaned close to brush his nose along the high point of your cheek. "You've only just got here, darling," he mused, "I missed you last night. You left me all alone."

It was really pathetic how easily he broke through your walls. Despite your tireless efforts to re-stack each brick he knocked down, the feeling of his soft lips ghosting along the supple skin of your cheeks had those same cinderblocks crumbling to dust. A gentle kiss on the apple of your cheek, a fleeting peck at the slope of your forehead, one slow trail along the angle of your jaw--you were putty in his hands when his lips finally found your own.

Even as his tongue traced the outline of your lips, you desperately tried to fight his hold on you. Grumbling into his mouth, "I'm sure you could have found company elsewhere--"

Tom bit down on your lower lip, hard, and pulled until it snapped back with a loud pop that made you whimper. Yet, his eyes were tender in a way you'd never seen before as he gazed down at you longingly, whispering, "I wanted you, though."

Yeah, you were fucked.

Breathing a little heavier, you gave into your more animalistic desires in spite of the jealousy and irritation that still boiled deep within your veins. A childish, prideful part of you boasted over his words; he'd wanted you! Not Melaina, not anyone else, just you. It was utterly ridiculous.

Tom's brown eyes were warm, inviting, and curious as he waited for you to make the next move. You could see the questions bouncing around behind them; would you leave? Would you stay? But, there was a familiar glimmer of mischief buried behind the thick honey gaze that had you waiting for the other foot to fall.

Taking your lack of movement as an answer, a desire to stay, Tom pressed another kiss to your lips. Long, slow, and mind-boggling--it felt like your soul left your body with the way he curled his plush lips into yours. Already you were heating up, your body buzzing and growing hotter with desire in each second that passed.

You clawed your fingers into the hem of his shirt, scratching your nails along the flesh of his lower abdomen in a futile attempt to ground yourself. It was a frantic plea to him to hold you there, to keep you from floating away as his kiss took you to higher places. He gave a gentle hiss into your mouth at the sting, but pushed harder into your face as his hands inched higher up your back to toy with the band of your bra.

Fingers gently swept the collar of your shirt down, exposing your neck as fuller, softer lips ghosted along the line of the fabric. Wait--lips? Jumping, you reeled back from Tom's face with widened eyes to find Melaina blinking back at you, eyes blown wide with lust.

"What are you--"

Tom popped the clasp of your bra with ease, looking down at you with darkened irises. "Is this okay?" he asked, glancing at Melaina who was waiting beside your twisted, intertwined bodies for approval.

Her fingers swirled slow, tingling circles on your hip, lip caught between pearly, white teeth as she watched you with enraptured intensity. Two minutes ago, the word no would have spilled from your lips without a moment of hesitation--but now? Now, as your eyes lingered on the swollen, bitten lower lip that called for you to taste it; as you trailed them lower to admire the perfectly soft curve on every inch of her body, it wasn't so clear.

There was a supple rise of her chest with every breathe, hardened nipples poking through the transparent fabric of her dress. Rounded breasts upon a gentle, sloping waist, wide hips that certainly gave way to a perfect handful of ass and thigh, all leading the eye down the length of her sculpted legs. Melaina was like a work of art, and every inch of her that you admired sent tingles through your body.

Glancing back at Tom, you nearly moaned out loud. Her eyes burned the side of your face, but it was nothing compared to the heat of Tom's stare into your very soul. It sucked the breathe out of you and left you feeling dizzy, your vision darkening until all you could see were the artful angles of his face.

You spoke hoarsely, swallowing down the lump that formed in your throat, "Yes."

Tom's mouth parted against yours in an instant, his hot tongue slipping inside and making your eyes roll back as Melaina pressed her body against your side and latched onto your neck. Sucking, biting, rolling the soft muscle of her tongue all along each sharp nibble to soothe the tender flesh--it was an overload of sensation all at once. You didn't know where to put your hands as they both crept theirs all over your body.

It was impossible to decipher where one ended and the other began. Whose hand was that gripping your ass? Whose were peeling your bra straps down our arms under your sleeves? Who was slipping their thumbs along the waistband of your pants, tickling your hot, sensitive skin?

Moaning, you gasped, "Please!"

You weren't even sure what you were asking for, but Melaina quickly stepped aside to let Tom pull your shirt over your head as your bra fell to the floor at your feet. He admired your chest for a long moment, palms cupping the swell of your breasts as his thumbs rolled over the stiffened peaks of your nipples, earning a muffled groan from you. Licking his lips, he stepped back and waved the eagerly waiting woman forward.

As Melaina devoured your chest, you followed him with your gaze through heavy lidded eyes. He watched on with an indecipherable glint in his eyes, lips glistening with a mixture of your saliva and his own. Those long lashes fluttered as he dragged his tongue slowly over the plump of his lower lip, nostrils flaring in a sharp inhale as if he were tasting you all over again.

Her lips were wrapped tightly around your left nipple when he finally disappeared behind you, a shiver wracking your body when his fingers caressed the arch of your spine in a fluttering touch. Chest pressed warmly to your bare back, he dipped low to mix his own marks with the ones she had left behind. You dropped your head back onto his shoulder, lulling to the side to expose the entirety of your throat to him in submission.

When had he removed his shirt? The bare skin of his torso was scorching on your back, matching the heat of his tongue dipping in your collarbone in time with a twirl of hers around your other nipple. Fingers, hands, lips, tongues everywhere; your body was reaching its boiling point.

"Come to bed with us?" Tom's husky whisper directly into the shell of your ear had you whining, arching your back until your behind rolled harshly into his crotch. His length ground into you roughly, a quiet groan escaping his lips at the stimulation, "Fuck, darling, you like this?"

Weakly, barely able to focus through all the pleasurable touches to your body, you whispered, "Yes, yes, sir. Please."

You should have known it wouldn't last. You should have anticipated the shift in Tom's attitude, revealing his true intentions to you as he lead you by the wrist into his bedroom to find a dining chair at the side of his bed. But, you blinked up at him dumbfounded as he held up a silk tie before your face with a devilish grin.

Melaina stretched out on the bed with a hand between her legs, knees propped open wide as she touched herself lazily and watched you closely. Glancing at the tie, then the chair, and then Tom's arrogant smirk, you mumbled, "What is that?"

He just chuckled throatily, grinning as he hummed, "Sit in the chair, darling." You blinked again, frozen in place, "Sit, now, or I promise you'll not like the outcome."

Instinctively, your knees crumbled until you fell into the chair with a frown. He snatched your wrists roughly, twisting them behind the back of the chair until the backs of your hands touched and you whined in protest, "That hurts, Tom."

He pulled further, a sharp ache burning through the muscles of your arms as they dug harshly into the back of the chair. "Watch it, (Y/N)." he growled.

"Sorry, sir." you muttered pitifully, eyes downcast to avoid the amused smile on Melaina's face, "What's going on?"

Tom didn't answer you for a long while, taking his time to tie your wrists with the tie until he was certain you couldn't break free. Testing the restraints, you pouted as the fabric didn't yield in any way to your tugs. He hummed under his breathe in appreciation, though, stroking a finger up the length of your arm as he rounded to face you again.

Melaina sat up and leaned into the arm he reached out toward her, your gut twisting bitterly at the sight of her purring under his touch like a cat. "I told you, darling, that stingy girls don't get to cum." he restated his words from earlier, and your body burned with embarrassment, "So, I'm going to teach you to share. You're gonna sit there and watch me, and you're going to deal with it like a big girl. Understood?"

"But I--"

"Do you understand?" Tom hissed, eyes narrowing in a fierce glare that dared you to challenge him further. You couldn't miss the way his fingers twitched, the familiar sting of his palm on your behind ghosting over the skin in anticipation of impact. He remained rooted in place, though, leaning into Melaina's body that was steadily wrapping further around him.

Her lips were on his chest, leaving a flurry of angry purple marks that made you want to scream like a child. "I understand, sir." you grumbled, slumping into the seat.

He smiled, "Good."

It was as if you disappeared from the room entirely in that instant. He turned to Melaina, completely absorbed in her presence as his hands slid around her waist to grab fistfuls of her ass. Groaning, he squeezed the flesh tighter until she whimpered. Your own body ignited in shame and jealousy, fingers clenching into fists that tugged uselessly against their bonds.

The sound of their lips smacking as they kissed, wet and sloppy sounds that echoed in your ears, made you want to whine. How had it come to this, when only moments ago they were kissing you like that? Was this the only reason you were here?

You watched on with an aching core, racing heart, and sweaty palms as the heat intensified between them. There was that chemistry you'd witnessed on set--their movements so in sync it seemed as if they were connected spiritually, a perfect flow of seamless give and take. It was almost painful to watch.

The jealousy that tore you to shreds was not from a desire to be the only woman in Tom's life, though a selfish part of you did secretly relish in the thought. It was an aching, grotesque and petty desire to know that you were the best. You were jealous of the way he found pleasure in someone else, when all you wanted was to know that you were unmatched. You were jealous to feel his touch on your body, and some part of you was growing desirous of hers as well.

It was a purely physical sort of envy; no feelings attached. Or, at least that's what you told yourself. In some sense there had to be a sort of emotional drive behind it, but it was easier to tell yourself it was stupid pride instead of murky, confusing feelings.

Your eyes clenched shut as you bit back a huff of frustration. Melaina's moans grew louder, until she shrieked, "Please, daddy, wanna feel you!"

There was a smack and a rustle, and when you opened your eyes Tom had shoved Melaina flat onto her stomach. The skin of her still rippling ass was reddened in a blazing hand print, his hand rubbing over the mark soothingly. "You wanna feel daddy's cock, princess?" he growled, "Think (Y/N) deserves to watch?"

"Yes, daddy," Melaina murmured, "want her to watch. Want her to see how good I make you feel."

The green eyed monster in your head was stomping circles through your brain, screeching over the cruelty of the situation. Yet, you kept your lips pursed shut as you glared back at Tom with just as much ferocity. He wasn't going to see you break; you'd come out of this on top, you were sure of it. You weren't going to let him see that she'd hit the root of your jealousy right on it's ugly, rearing head with her words.

You scoffed, and he glared at you with a sort of intensity that made your legs quiver, but you faced his scowl head on with a ferocity of your own to match. You wouldn't let him see that she'd hit the root of your jealousy right on its ugly, rearing head with those words; if he wanted to play, then you were going to play just as hard.

Or, maybe you were just emboldened by the fact that he hadn't called her darling again. Either way, you stared him in the eye until he looked away from you with a clenched jaw and twitching hand. Your first, and only, victory of the night.

It was torture. He moaned as he pushed into her, eyes clenching shut and hands squeezing at her flesh desperately when he bottomed out with his hips buried into her bottom. Yet, you couldn't decide which method of suffering was worse; to keep your eyes opened or closed.

Open, you had to watch his face contort with pleasure and the way he interacted with her eager, willing body. Closed, you had to listen to the sounds they made and feel the way your body reacted in accordance. You were dripping onto the seat, angry tears pooling in your eyes, and your arms were going numb from their restrained position.

"Eyes open, darling." Tom ordered, and you bit back the curse that bubbled to your lips. He watched you with hooded eyes until you met his gaze, immediately blocking you out again to focus on the messy, fucked out woman on his bed. She was wailing, and you were trying your best not to join in the chorus.

He was going an an unrelenting pace, each brutish thrust of his hips eliciting a strangled cry from Melaina. She was clawing at the sheets, incrementally crawling away from him until he pulled her back with a forceful tug of her hips. "Daddy, 'm gonna cum!" she moaned, breathless.

You squirmed in your seat, bottom sliding slickly over the wooden surface from how much you'd pooled into it. "Come on, princess. Cum f'me." he urged, voice strained as he rocked his hips faster into her. The sound of skin against skin mixed with the damp sounds from his force into her slick echoed loudly through the room, but it was unparalleled to the unrestrained scream the tore from her throat.

Watching with wide eyes and strained, clenched thighs, you gasped as Melaina arched into the bed wildly. Her actions were so over the top you'd have assumed they were theatrics, if it weren't for the way you could see her physically quivering with full body shivers. Fuck, why couldn't that have been you?

Tom pulled out of her roughly, turning on you and clambering off of his bed to lean over you. His hands wrapped around the arms of the chair tightly, the muscle of his arms rippling as he gripped it so tight the wood creaked. "Learned your lesson yet, darling?" he demanded, nose to nose with you.

Nodding desperately, you gasped, "Yes, sir."

He disappeared from view, Melaina still crumpled into the bed and spent as she breathed heavily. When his fingers brushed your wrists, untying them slowly, you nearly wept with relief. Finally, he was going to touch you.

Pulling you up from the chair, Tom gripped your chin firmly as his thumb tugged at your bottom lip. "Want me to touch you, darling?" You nodded, begging him with your eyes and whining when he chuckled, "You have to earn it."

He sat back on the bed, scooting until his back was propped against the headboard with his legs spread wide. Patting the space between them, he beckoned you forward until you were perched between his knees on your own. You yelped as Melaina crept up behind you, hands sneaking up the skin of your back until they rested lightly on your shoulders, but you relaxed into her touch as she pressed a feather light kiss to your neck.

As she nipped at the skin, blossoming a new mark amidst all the ones she'd left before, Tom grinned deviously. "Let's make a deal, darling," he breathed, "if you can stop yourself from cumming all over her tongue, I'll let you come on my cock."

You squeaked as her fingers dipped down the front of your body, leaving a trail of fire in their wake as she drew nearer to where you were aching for any sort of touch. Deep down you knew how hard it would be not to finish at any sort of stimulation due to how worked up and ravenously needy you were, but if there was a chance to get Tom where you wanted him then you were going to take it. So, you nodded, "Please."

Melaina pushed you forward until you were bent over, propped up on your knees and elbows. Tom's length was straining against his thigh, and he flexed as your slightly frantic breathing blew across the sensitive skin. He reached out a hand to caress your cheek before winding it to the back of your head, pulling you closer until you wrapped your lips around the tip.

You groaned in sync with him as you felt her blow a cool breeze on your clit, your legs nearly buckling as she forced them apart with her hands. Stars were bursting behind your eyes the very moment she drew a line through your folds with her tongue, but Tom's shove against your head kept you grounded. Focusing, you pushed forward until your nose was buried in his pelvis and he moaned loudly.

Her taste was still all over him. Pulling back until you only held his tip in your mouth again, you swirled your tongue around the head and parted your lips to let your spit soak down his length entirely. You looked up and blinked at him coyly, flattening your tongue under his tip and sucking hard until he clenched his eyes shut and raked his nails into your scalp roughly.

Going down again, you gagged around him and tears sprung to your eyes when he held you there. He was choking you, but you weren't thinking about air--all you could think about was how hard it was not to reflexively clamp down each time Melaina tweaked your clit just right, sending spasms through your entire body.

You were fighting hard to keep from going overboard, your stomach twisted up in knots so tight you felt compressed. Explosive, even. He was moaning above you, dragging your head up and down his length slowly, and there were shockwaves of vibrations in your core as Melaina hummed along with him.

Finally, as you took all of him again and squeezed his thigh with your nails digging in, Tom hissed and pulled you off of him. "On your back, now." he commanded, and Melaina jumped back just in time for you to hastily slide into position. "Fuck, need you so bad, darling."

His hands were hot as they slid up your thighs, spreading your legs apart until he could slip between them and crawl over your body. "Needed you last night, lovie, but you decided to ignore me like a brat." he growled, and you flinched as he dropped to his elbows over you suddenly, "Don't even deserve to feel me, you know that?"

"Please," you whined, "I'm sorry I ignored you, I'll never do it again."

Tom dragged his tip roughly through your folds, scowling at you when you bucked your hips into him, "Do that again and you'll go back in the chair."

You froze, and he hummed in approval before continuing his teasing. Up and down, up and down, up and down, he dragged himself over your entrance and clit until you were shaking with need. Each slow rock of his length through your folds was adding fuel to the fire raging within you, your eyes threatening to roll back from the surface level stimulation alone.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally eased into you slowly. You moaned breathlessly, clenching around him and fisting the sheets in a plea for him to just fuck you already. "Fucking love your cunt, darling," he groaned, eyes falling shut in bliss, "perfect little pussy, all for me. This all mine, lovie?"

"Yes, sir." you groaned, arching off the bed as he pushed deeper against you, "All yours."

He pulled back, dragging slowly against your walls until he slipped out of you entirely and left you feeling empty. But then he forced his way back in roughly, jolting you backward on the bed under the force of his thrust. Your lips opened in a silent yell, hands flying up to claw at his back desperately.

Tom's face dropped into your shoulder, mouthing open kisses into the skin that burned like fire. He picked up his pace with a steady, deep roll of his hips against yours that made you shiver all over. Your legs wrapped tightly around his waist, trapping him against you as you gripped his shoulders heavily.

Your eyes were clenched shut in pleasure as you felt him continue to push roughly against that spot deep inside, sending sparks through out your entire body. The coil in your belly had already been strung so tightly you'd feared you'd burst at the first moment of contact, but you were doing your best to fight it off. You wanted this moment, this feeling of him filling you to the brim, to last forever.

But, Tom shuddered above you and moaned into your ear, "Shit, 'm not gonna last, darling."

He pushed deeper into you with his next thrust, grinding your hips into the mattress as he put his weight behind it. You yelped and your hands left his back to find his face, pulling his lips down to yours in a feverish kiss. It was sloppy, all tongue and clashing teeth, but it matched the desperate, animalistic rhythm of his hips perfectly.

That coil inside you was sparking now, fizzling with pent up energy just begging to burst. "Please, please, please, let me cum, Tom." you begged, and he groaned as you said his name, "Please, Tommy!"

With a sharp snap of his hips, Tom pushed off the bed on one elbow and reached his hand down to the apex of your thighs. His fingers met your clit harshly, swirling rapid circles around your swollen bundle as he stared down at you like a starved man. "Say my name again, darling."

"Tom!"

His fingers moved faster, harder, deeper in time with his thrusts that pushed you to heights you'd never felt from him. His eyes were clenched shut and his lips pulled back in a grimace, jaw clenching as his curls slid all over his forehead in a sweaty mess. He looked beautiful like that--all messy and fucked out, desperate to reach that high that you were pushing him toward.

Your legs were shaking wildly, and your stomach was burning as your muscles began to contract. It was the buildup to the explosive release, and you cried out, "Gonna cum, Tommy, yes! You feel so--oh, fuck!"

Wailing, you clamped your legs around his waist and squeezed your eyes shut so tightly it hurt. The coil snapped and you shrieked, his tip ramming into your g-spot over and over as he fucked you through your high. It felt like you couldn't even breathe, couldn't think, couldn't anything anymore. All you could do was feel him inside you, pushing through your pulsing walls as his fingers continued to rub your clit like a madman.

"Fucking--fuck!" he gritted, hips faltering, "Love it when you say my name, (Y/N). Sounds so perfect coming from your pretty lips."

You were desperate to get him there, feeling the way he was shuddering with each thrust as his body protested the exertion. "Tom, please," you begged, feeling the coil in your belly tightening up again, "cum for me. Wanna feel you fill me up, Tommy."

He slammed into you harder than he had all night, making your pelvis ache but you saw white. The world faded away as you burst into the crescendo again, your throat burning as you cried out loudly. Just when you were about to tap out and push him away because it was all too much, he rolled into you deeply and collapsed onto your chest.

So high in your own climax, you barely felt his cock pulsing against your walls as you milked him of every last drop. It was the warmth, though, that brought you back down to earth. The deep, warmth that filled you up had you sighing and sucking in air desperately, blinking up at the ceiling as Tom breathed heavily into your neck.

The two of you laid there like that for awhile, fighting to catch your breathe as your hearts raced against each other's chests. It wasn't until your vision finally cleared and you could breathe a little more freely, though, that a thought popped into your head, "Where did Melaina go?"

Tom laughed, his chest rumbling against yours as he nuzzled his face into your shoulder with a tender kiss to the sweaty skin. "Mm, don't know. She probably left."

"Oh," you muttered, "I didn't notice."

You hoped he didn't notice how you smiled as he hummed back, "Neither did I, darling."

Curled up in Tom's bed, you shivered as his fingers traced lazy shapes into the bare skin of your thigh that was draped over his own. On his night stand sat two abandoned cups of tea, growing colder by the minute, but neither one of you was in any hurry to reach for them. You were content to just lay there in his embrace, soaking up his warmth.

This was what you'd grown to love the most over the past few months of hooking up with Tom. The sex was great, the orgasms mind blowing, but the time spent just enjoying each other's company afterwards was your favorite part. It felt nice to just be close to him, to feel connected to him in a more domestic sense.

"You know there's nothing to be jealous of, yeah?" he asked, suddenly, and you craned your neck back to look at him curiously. His cheeks were reddened slightly as he peered down at you with tender, timid eyes.

Sheepishly, you shrugged, "It's ridiculous, I know."

He frowned slightly, but the crease between his brows melted as you blinked up at him with wide eyes. "Nothing you feel is ridiculous, (Y/N)," he stated, "and it's okay to be jealous. You think I never felt shitty seeing you with any of the other guys you filmed with?"

The flush on his face deepened at his confession, but you grinned. He felt it too? "Really?" you asked, trying your best to keep from giving him total puppy dog eyes.

"Really." he repeated you, snorting when you grinned wider, "And, you don't need to be jealous of anyone. You're the only one who ends up right here in my bed, like this. Only one I want to be here, darling."

You buried your face into his chest with a flustered giggle, and he chuckled as his arms wrapped around you a little tighter. In a desperate need to keep things from getting too serious, still raw over everything you'd felt the past couple of days, you teased, "Mm, I'm only here for the tea--Tom!"

He dug his fingers into your ribs, fighting through your squeals and slaps as you tried to escape him. Easily, though, he got the upper hand and rolled until you were pinned beneath him. With twinkling eyes, a mixture of emotions you couldn't read, he taunted, "Admit it, (Y/N), you're in love with me."

In love with Tom? Your mind went blank as you stared up at him, but he just grinned down at you. There was a little flutter in your belly, and his eyes sparkled a brighter at your shiver. He knew. He knew the truth.

"Nah, it's definitely the tea--"

"Why, I oughta!"

#tom holland imagine #tom holland smut #tom holland series #tom holland oneshot #tom holland one shot #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland angst #tom holland fluff #tom holland blurb #tom holland au #pornstar!tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland

[thoughts-on-bangtan]

PTD in Seoul (2022) and some Asks

So, Permission To Dance on Stage in Seoul happened and wow were those three days eventful in general but also when it comes to vmin and namjin. I’m not sure which of those latter two surprised us more, though I’ll be the first to admit that I approached the concerts thinking we wouldn’t get any vmin and namjin only during Airplane Part 2 or the final bows. I was very wrong, surprisingly so.

But first, let’s talk about the concerts a bit more generally first in a more OT7 sense. None of this will be in any particular order.

I was curious to see how the Seoul shows would differ from those in LA, or the first Seoul online one, and was surprised to see that the stage design was a little different—can we please talk about the gorgeous stage design for FAKE LOVE with the hands and blooming Smeraldo flower? 

Whoever came up with the idea needs a raise or bonus. Though it brings to mind the lyrics of FAKE LOVE, I grew a flower that can’t be bloomed in a dream that can’t come true, and then adding to that the two whales during the encore, so Whalian 52 not being alone anymore, it does make you wonder what that means, doesn’t it?

The completely white ON outfits were changed and were now instead mixed with red and leaning more toward racer outfits, no more plunging neckline for JK either but instead some red fine mesh for Jimin that showed more than it covered. Admin 2 also insisted on mentioning just how devastatingly gorgeous Tae looked like in his Black Swan costume, which honestly, I wholeheartedly agree with.

Though, let’s be honest, the most memorable outfit moment was certainly JKs button giving up during FAKE LOVE on D3 with JK trying to fix it but after two tries simply giving up, laughing at it and continuing his performance basically with his whole chest exposed and a single button holding on for dear life. 

For Life Goes On the big moving sofa prop was replaced by a big camera graphic instead and a sequence of the members coming on stage in accordance to who sings when, the whole thing giving us adorable pictures and moments when it comes to JK with Jin as well as Jimin with Tae, and also wonderful OT7 pictures with ARMY in the background.

We also had Namjoon rapping not only off beat but also changing up the lyrics, something that would be incredibly challenging without music but that’s infinitely harder when you know the right beat, hear it through your in-ear along with a quieter version of yourself doing the rap right and yet ignoring all of it and thinking on the spot. Truly he proves, time and time again, just why people were already afraid of going against him in the underground scene when he was just 13/14 years old. We also saw more of Yoongi’s duality between delivering sharp rap verses (though he cutely seemed to forget part of his lines in one song on D1 I believe) and being the cutest fluff ball just goofing around with the other members, as well as Hobi looking stunning and showing off exactly why he’s the dance leader along with flawless verses and vocals during Spring Day on D3. 

We truly have the best rap line in the industry, no one can change my mind about that, ever.

Talking more generally, I loved the barely contained chaos we saw on all three days in the later halves of the concerts, the joy you could see on their faces as they dances and jumped around, had fun with each other and the audience even if there was no screaming or dancing. And even while it was pouring rain. Seeing Jimin and Yoongi slip on the wet stage and fall though was worrying though it seems like both are fine, which is a relief.

But, going back to the lack of cheers, it was easy to see that it did bother them and that they were struggling with the lack of the energy that usually gives them, after all they even said as much in their ments and posts after the concerts. The clappers were an interesting alternative so that K-ARMYs could at least make some kind of sound, even if the sound itself was…quite something and I’ve read a few posts by people who attended saying how at times the clappers drowned out the sound of the concert itself so it wasn’t necessarily the most ideal solution.

When it comes to the members, it was easy to see that, especially those that had COVID, struggled a bit at times with tiredness or to catch their breath, like during the first day when Tae had to just sit down or kneel a few times to catch his breath, or Jin while singing FAKE LOVE (?), though really, it makes sense. Subsequently from all the members, we both think that JK was the strongest and the one that seemed to “carry” the concerts the most, as in his stamina, energy and vocals seemed the strongest—though can we talk about that cute moment where Tae claimed he wrote Stay so JK told him to try and sing it and he did it absolutely wonderfully? Loved that—and you could really see how much he was trying to basically be everywhere at once, interact with all the members and also ARMY. He did a fantastic job and I’m truly in awe of how, between D1 and D2, he went both to boxing practice and also dance practice which stood in quiet the stark contrast to, for example, Jimin who said he’d simply slept for 12 hours. But, by D3, you could see they were exhausted toward the end, after all we even had Namjoon yawning during the ending ments, and being teased and called out for it by the members which was just so funny!

Still, overall, they did a great job with all three shows and we had a fantastic time watching them, even if we could only see D2 through posts on social media since we unfortunately didn’t get tickets to watch the concert at the cinema.

With all that being said, below the cut we’ll talk about vmin, namjin, and answer a few asks we’ve gotten.

Right off the bat, D1 basically set the tone for everything when it comes to vmin and we’ll admit, we were very surprised but also very happy to see it. That first day alone gave us so many ‘role play’ moments, several butt slaps, playfulness and even Jimin jumping on Tae’s back and getting a piggyback ride from the extended stage back onto the main stage. Also, though it doesn’t mean anything but it’s an interesting tiny detail, on D1 for the encoring vmin had the same march sweaters.

That was then followed by the soundcheck for D2 with Jimin first putting his arm around Tae’s back while they walked back toward the main stage and then intertwining their arms for their bow before leaving the stage. 

The concert itself having more cute and funny moments, and finally the last day which had both a handshake and a butt slap during soundcheck which was followed by more playful cuteness including Jimin holding Tae’s hand while they were doing ending ments when Tae asked Jimin what he should say for his ment.

When it comes to their moments in Butter and FAKE LOVE, the former had a very cute one on D1 with Jimin leaning back and Tae smiling cutely at him, and the latter having vmin managing to hold hands on Tae’s back on all three days. Also check out this video someone made of them looking at each other in various cute ways, including a kissy face, during Dynamite.

Now, as for namjin I was entirely prepared for anything between a tiny little bit and nothing yet instead I got a feast. Between their silliness during Airplane Part 2 on D1, along with Namjoon literally replacing his own name with Seokjin’s during his verse, and posing together for the OT7 pic during LGO, there was so much going on, which brings me to our first ask that came in after D2:

From anon: hello! you probably have seen it already but i went to the ptd live viewing and jin wore an rj hat with a koya on top and at some point joon told him he (or the hat, i didn't catch it) was cute!!! i'm not even a namjinist but i found that moment so cute and i immediately thought of you so i wanted to send it

The hat? Absolutely loved it, especially because it was custom made so Seokjin could’ve used literally any RJ ever and yet he chose an RJ with a small Koya on its head, and then that moment when Namjoon was rapping and he literally took his hand on placed it on his head so Namjoon would pet him/the hat which led to Namjoon putting his hand on his shoulder, pausing in the middle of his own verse to comment how cute he/the hat is before going back to rapping, as well as touching the Koya sometime later again. That day they also seemed to gravitate around each other during soundcheck which was adorable!

And then on D3, I have no idea what got into them but I loved every moment of it starting with soundcheck where Namjoon literally baby talked to Seokjin while petting his back, then them having some kind of moment during Black Swan when Seokjin reached out for Namjoon’s hand as the choreography dictates it and yet something about it (as it turns out it was a beautiful smile from Seokjin, gif below) caused Namjoon to look all flustered and shy, then them just laughing and being silly while going around in the carts, and finally Namjoon quite literally making sure Seokjin was next to him for each of the final bows.

There are surely plenty more things that could be mentioned and ones that I’m definitely forgetting, but these were some of our favorites. These three concerts were most definitely a great time for vminies and namjinists alike.

Now, a few questions and thank you’s we’ve received.

From anon: hey this is no question but I just wanted to thank you. As a newer army it's hard to know what is misinformation (esp when trying to check quora for info, where there are many shippers and many anons spreading rumors about the boys). Your blog is one of the very few spaces so far where I feel like I'm not being fed bs and where no lies are spread to support a narrative. So I wanted to thank you not only for your great posts but also your honesty, it's really helpful for baby armys like me

Though there are people who certainly don’t agree with you, we always try our best to stick to the truth and bring up any and all relevant facts because, really, what even would be the point of creating and spreading misinformation and false narratives? It won’t change reality or affect the truth in any way. So, we’re very glad our blog could help you. Thank you so much for reading our posts!

From anon: I wish I could send everyone that post y'all made on sexuality not being determined by appearance. I just saw the dumbest take ever about someone thinking jimin's straight when his hair is black but him looking gay when he has blond or pink hair. I mean, what?? Gonna assume they somehow associate light colours with feminine and dark with masculine which is already weird but feminine doesn't mean gay and masculine is not straight? I'd seriously like to broadcast y'all's post everywhere.

And that’s exactly why I wrote it because this is an ever-returning issue/discussion I keep seeing being discussed like a cycle, especially when people who don’t know much, or anything, about the LGBT community come in and try to apply very heteronormative ideas in places where those don’t belong, like shipping and especially shipping two same sex people together. In many cases their behaviors simply turn extremely fetishizing and even when called out for it, they refuse to listen which is horrible. Contrary to what some believe, a traditionally manly man can be gay just like a stereotypically feminine man can be straight. A straight man can have pink hair and that changes nothing about his sexuality just like a gay or queer man can have black hair or blond or anything else.

A person’s appearance and their sexuality can but in many, if not most, cases don’t have any correlation whatsoever.

From anon: Is everything okay with you? I miss your comments even though I'm not a shipper. I am the father of a gay son who I can understand better thanks to your blog. I hope you come back and leave your interesting analysis of Tae i Jimin here again. Thank you for the work so far.

I’m sorry for taking so long to reply to this in particular. It truly means a lot to the both of us that our blog and posts could help you in such a tremendous way, and as a queer person myself I’m touched by the fact that you’re going the extra mile to find ways to understand your son better. Something like that would mean a lot to any queer kid out there and I’m sure he is thankful for it, too. I’m not an expert by any means, nor do I have all the answers or knowledge or anything, but if my/our posts can help even just a little, it makes all the hours of work and research so very worth it. Thank you so much!

From anon: Just curious if you are Tae biased, because you nor any other Vmin blogs has even mentioned Jimin being the hospital, well wishes, what he's going through or anything. All Vmin blogs were silent until Tae posted that selfie.

You must not be someone who actually reads out blog since otherwise you would’ve known that we didn’t post anything in regard to the members who did test positive for COVID, not for Namjoon, not for Seokjin or Yoongi, nor for Jimin and also not for Tae. The statement BH Music posted was enough to spread the news so we saw no need to post about it, especially since our commentary wouldn’t have added anything. And no, I’m (Admin 1) not a Tae bias but a Namjoon one.

#BTS #PTD in Seoul #vmin #namjin #namjoon #seokjin #taehyung #jimin #hoseok #jungkook #yoongi

[animefreak1145]

The Irony of Adler and Bell

Call of Duty: Black Ops Analysis of Adler’s Brainwashing

It’s me again. And I’m here with another analysis! This time based solely around Adler. It’s always about Adler. But also Bell.

And this is about the brainwashing of not Bell, but Adler.

We have all had our theories since we first saw Adler getting tortured in the Cinematic Warzone Trailers, shown in Season 3 of COD:BOCW. Our suspicions growing when we see Sus Adler™️ doing what he does best in Season 4 by stealing an important looking chip within the crashed satellite that was taken down. (Also, Hudson, what is wrong with you letting Adler be cleared for a mission when he was just rescued like two weeks ago?!)

And although we did not see him in Season 5, we can all gather that anyone could be potentially brainwashed if you have a certain brand of earpiece. (Woods and Stryker appeared unaffected despite having their own earpieces). So the naive hope and calming words to others that Adler being different and strong is out the window. All it takes is hearing the numbers. What do the numbers mean, Mason?

Besides Bell wasn’t your average run of the mill agent either. An amazing decoder and created codes(I am with the theory that Bell did create the codes for Perseus that we have to decrypt in the game for Operation Chaos and Red Circus) with a brutal close combat skill as well as charming based on how one could talk to everyone and be a social butterfly. Also, able to handle and withstand torture after one hour of leaving Cuba despite previous injuries AND be able to go to Solovetsky/Duga and able to aim and shoot despite having a needle shoved in their eye a few hours earlier.

Bell had crazy skills. Just like Adler does. Bell was brainwashed. So is Adler.

Confirmed with this bundle that will be released. Thank you to @reclaimedbythesea who first found it and pointed it out.

We have the confirmation—the amazing, horrible, war criminal man we all love has become an agent of the man who he swore to chase down and capture/kill for longer than a decade. (Adler said thirteen years in COD:BOCW universe, so 1984 it would be sixteen years. Sheesh. Correct me if I’m wrong. I may be mistaken.) Is it wrong I kinda find it funny? Especially since he did the same thing to Bell—believing it to be necessary. Just as Stitch I’m sure finds it necessary.

It’s just a big brainwash back and forth between these two countries, a race to see who has the most mindless agents on their side in the end. But we’re not focusing on that.

We’re focusing on how Adler’s karma finally caught up to him with all his war crimes. We can infer that he hasn’t just done a cruel action like that to Bell, but to others. “Whatever it takes.” That’s his motto. He’s messed up other’s lives—hundreds, maybe even thousands. The Vietnam War has a deep dirty history, such as the real operation of Fracture Jaw, Operation Ranch Hand with the use of Agent Orange, the Mai(My) Lai Massacre and who knows how many other operations that would/did affect civilians. Not that I would see Adler doing anything like the massacre, but you can’t expect me to not believe that he may have been involved with Agent Orange somewhat? And who knows what other operations and missions he’s done as a CIA agent after the war?

My point is, the man has been gathering karma for awhile. Not just with Bell(I am aware he had his orders in the war, I’m just saying I’m not sure if he feels much guilt about some said orders. Guilt I believe he may has, but I’m not sure it’s a high degree.) Of course, Bell isn’t a saint either. They were willing to kill millions with Perseus after all. A wayyyy higher body count than Adler. And who knows what Bell did with Perseus even before the Greenlight plan? Didn’t seem to mind millions blinking in an eye, so must be pretty cold or delusional about the whole free world killing their country thing. Thank you @yunatheintrovert for this post pointing out and showing a hint of just how not good a person Bell was.

I’m not going to say they deserved what happened to them due to Adler. I feel for Bell. I really do. Just like I can’t say if Adler deserves it for everything—just can’t say that because I’m not at liberty to judge other’s actions and claim what is deserved and undeserved. Leave that to judges.

But now I’m going to point out certain things—other things. Such as what I think to be Adler’s “new” name. At least to those in the Perseus Collective/Stitch.

Do I realize that “Cipher” may just be what this awesome skin is called? Yes. Will I rather ignore it and rant about the name for two ten minutes? Also yes.

On to the analysis!

ci·pher/ˈsīfər/: a secret or disguised way of writing; a code.

This first definition is what we can all gather of what the numbers represent—the code and simultaneously the key of brainwashing others in earpieces with just a certain order of number together.

Stitch and co. used said numbers on Adler, so why not call him Cipher? The Code? Funny, cause he killed Bell—the Decoder. Maybe Bell would’ve helped him out if he didn’t kill them.

Another hammer to the irony of between these two.

But no. The name gets better. Second definition!

ci·pher /ˈsīfər/: a person or thing of no importance, especially a person who does the bidding of others and seems to have no will of their own.

PAHAHAHAHAHA! *clears throat* Now, this, this is what I think Stitch calls some true vengeance. Not only did he get to torture the man who did the same to him before, but made Adler a shadow of who he was before. A husk. Nothing really there. “Whatever it takes” indeed but for the opposite side now—a puppet with numbers for strings. Stitch did a good job in naming Cipher—I mean Adler. We don’t even know how far Adler shall go now, will the CIA have to kill him or will they be able to recondition him when/if they capture him? Will he even be the same? Nope.

Why do I find that definition funny? Well, I think Adler had a multitude of reasons for naming Bell, Bell. Just like Stitch did with Adler. And not just the obvious reasons of him ringing the bell at them to condition them as he was torturing/brainwashing them(we love Pavlov!). Let’s get the first definition out the way.

bell /bel/: a hollow object, typically made of metal and having the shape of a deep inverted cup widening at the lip, that sounds a clear musical note when struck, typically by means of a clapper inside.

I wonder if anyone knows where I’m going with this or I’m starting to seem like a madwoman.

I’m going to ask you guys to focus on the word, “hollow” for me. Hollow, as in not filled. There’s something in the bell alright, but it doesn’t do enough to fill out the hole does it? Like Cipher is now made a husk. Bell was made hollow—only a little bit filled with the little memory they got back before they were killed(maybe they weren’t, let’s just go with it for now). Or perhaps just a bit filled with false memories of Vietnam, of camaraderie. I doubt Stitch did anything like that.

Also, Bell is just an instrument for someone else to play. Play the right tune, and the Russian agent will do anything for you. Right, Adler?

Cipher is the puppet, just doing what he’s told when they give the orders. No will or thought. Just how Stitch likes it.

I’m not done yet! Second definition!

bell /bel/: a. A stroke on a hollow metal instrument to mark the hour.

b. The time indicated by the striking of this instrument, divided into half hours.

Another play on words of Bell being struck(jabbed with needles) to do what needs to be done. But it also represents the limited time that Bell has. Bell needs to help to stop Perseus and quick, Adler will make them go faster if needed by putting the highest dosage as possible without killing them to accomplish it. Or maybe it’s also a representation that Bell does actually have limited time left—Park did say MK—Ultra will be hard on the body physically and mentally. Perhaps MK-Ultra was slowly killing us and Adler just decided to give us a mercy kill while he was at it as he “tied up our strings.”( @cryinginthebackseat does point this out in their Adler/Bell story, go check it out!)

Let’s focus on the instrument thing again though, but back to Cipher. The third definition!

ci·pher /ˈsīfər/ : a continuous sounding of an organ pipe, caused by a mechanical defect.

Oh man. Sounds like Adler is being played like an instrument too, continuously due to all the numbers and how the numbers can be everywhere if one is in the armed forces since they all use earpieces. Interesting shape too, a pipe. Long and thin and has two holes, a beginning and an end but which one is the top or the bottom? The beginning and the end? We don’t know how far Adler will go like this—as Cipher. It will eventually come to a point, where something squeezes within the pipe and manages to get out. Maybe. Or maybe Adler is just forever defected, like the definition suggests.

Not quite Adler anymore and just Cipher.

Just like Bell will always just be Bell. The other self practically gone.

It seems these two will always somehow reflect and affect one another, whether one is dead or not.

I swear I love Adler, so don’t mind some of my dark humor about him and this situation he’s in. It is pretty funny. At least to me. Stitch is funny. And petty.

Hope you guys enjoyed!

@salvija @smokeywhalee @quizzyisdone @efingart @samatedeansbroccoli @weirdoartist21 @tr1ppylady

#I SWEAR I like him okay #it’s just funny #in an ironic karma like way #stitch is a genius #and does not hold back either #Adler is Cipher #Cipher is Adler #call of duty analysis #cod analysis #cod bell #russell adler #call of duty #cod #black ops cold war #call of duty cold war #cod cold war #Russell Adler analysis #russell adler brainwashed skin #bell call of duty #bell #cod stitch #vikhor stitch kuzmin #perseus cod

[skzsauce01]

God’s Menu

Synopsis: Two chefs face off in the final dessert round. Who will come out on top, and who will be the next Cooking God? Cooking competition AU inspired by Chopped. Possible cooking/baking inaccuracies.

Warning: none

Word Count: 6.6k

Pairing: fem!reader x chef!Felix

“Who will win and become the next Cooking God?”

This is not a laughing matter, but your nerves about the situation think otherwise. The bright lights of the studio kitchen and the multitude of cameras pointed at you make your pulse thrum at an even quicker pace than the last two rounds. With your opponent in front of you and the host right beside you, you grow increasingly on edge. It’s becoming more real by the second — a chance to win ten million won, your dream of opening your own bakery being fulfilled, your future studded with three Michelin stars.

You would say you didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at such a wild scenario, but clearly your body has already decided on that.

Since you’ve already bursted out laughing on the last two takes, you can’t exactly do it again. It’s so difficult though. The host Park Jae is chatty and humorous behind the scenes, but the solemn way he delivers the cheesy line is such a big contrast to himself. It doesn’t help that you can see his jaw trembling as he holds back his laughter. It’s almost an invitation.

With the grin on your face barely concealed, you say, “I will.”

In front of you, Chef Lee Felix replies, “Not a chance,” in an extra deep voice, his thick Australian accent shining through, taunting you to give up your cracking charade of calm.

“Chefs, open your baskets.”

“Cut!”

As soon as the clapper is dropped, all three of you let loose into peals of laughter. Jae and Felix clutch onto each other for support, and you grab the nearby edge of the work surface to steady yourself. It’s all so silly. You wonder if Jae is like this on all episodes of God’s Menu or if he simply finds you and Felix especially fun to be around. Felix is a charmer, but you’re not certain if you feel that way because he’s rather attractive, the head chef of the two Michelin star restaurant Levanter, or simply because you feel like your insides have been reduced to cotton candy ever since you stepped inside the studio. Either way, the combination of you, Felix, and Jae has not been easy for the filming crew.

However, as the director calls for you and Felix to head to your stations, you steel yourself for the most important part of the competition. You glance at Felix once more to see how he’s faring, and he mouths, “Good luck,” at you. You smile back and hope that it’s reassuring enough.

“And… action!”

Jae resumes his professional television persona from the far end of the studio where the judges are sitting. “Chefs, open your baskets.”

With unsteady hands, you pull apart the flaps of the giant wicker basket. Then you immediately grimace once you see the four ingredients you have to use in your dessert. Strange foods are part of the competition, but you are always surprised by some of the things the producers put in the basket.

“You have to make a dessert with camel milk…”

You have used cow milk, goat milk, sheep milk, even buffalo milk once, but never camel. Hopefully, it has a similar composition and taste to one of those.

“Rose syrup…”

This is an ingredient you use daily in the upscale restaurant you work at, so you can possibly modify one of your recipes if the other two ingredients aren’t too absurd. Macarons will take too long, so maybe a decadent flourless rose and chocolate cake. You could easily incorporate the camel milk into a dense, fudgy cake.

“Beer flour…”

Never mind on the flourless cake. The cake idea may still be possible, but what on earth is beer flour? If it tastes anything like beer though, you might have to nix the idea altogether.

“And jalapeños.”

They are bright red and thus, extra spicy. Your first instinctive is to candy them and to use them as a garnish on your maybe-cake. The spice would cut through the sweetness and richness of the cake as well.

“Forty minutes on the clock, and your time starts… now!”

Your previous nervousness dissipates completely. Compartmentalizing while cooking, or soon to be baking in this case, has always been a relatively easy feat for you; your mind forgets the rest of the world and refocuses on the task at hand.

While Felix heads straight to the pantry for his additional ingredients, you tear open the package of beer flour with your knife. Unfortunately for you, it smells exactly like old beer, so you forgo your initial idea. You warily eye the clock and calculate the time needed for the plan you have just created. If you’re quick in the kitchen, you could make a good tart. All the basket ingredients can easily be used for one purpose or another.

Yeah, you think you’ll do that.

As you rush to the pantry for some flour, butter, sugar, and vanilla for your shortbread tart crust, Felix walks past you with a sheet of puff pastry and a carton of cream. You wonder what he’s going to do with his repertoire of skills. Hand pies? Strudels? Something completely out of the box?

You push those thoughts out of your head and gather your ingredients for the crust along with the ones for the chocolate cream filling. The cameraman following you takes several steps back as you stack containers in your arms. You press down the topmost one with your chin and carefully balance them as you speed back to your work station. Fortunately, yours is the closest to the pantry.

While the flours, butter, sugar, and vanilla are being combined together in the stand mixer, you begin slicing your jalapeños before candying them in a pan with some sugar. After a moment’s hesitation, you add in a splash of rose syrup as well to further accentuate the flavors in the rose glaze. You hear a crash of metal on your left. Felix has set a pan on his stovetop and is dropping a handful of sliced jalapeños into his pan.

It’s never early too early to start getting your presentation dishes, is it?

You walk past him — “Behind, Chef” — and peer inside to confirm that he is also making candied jalapeños. It’s a little concerning that you and he have similar elements in this round since the judges may deem the idea “uncreative.” If push comes to shove, you can probably transform the peppers into something else, but you have no idea what else to do with them now. Instead, you grab four ceramic tart pans and head back to find that your dough is fully combined.

As you press a layer of the dough into the bottom of your pans, you overhear the panel of judges speculating over your and Felix’s desserts. Park Jihyo, a celebrity chef known for her wide variety of kimchi dishes, points out that both chefs appear to be making candied jalapeños. Jae mentions something about Felix possibly putting it between his puff pastry like a sandwich. Could he be making a dessert sandwich with puff pastry as the bread? You can’t help yourself. A quick glance over at Felix and then upwards towards the wall-mounted clock informs you that he is pouring something into his blender and that you have thirty-three minutes left, neither of which are helpful.

You place the pans on a baking sheet and slide the tray into the oven to bake. You take a sip of the camel milk, which tastes a little nutty and will work nicely in the pastry cream filling. As the milk and heavy cream heats up, you chop a dark chocolate bar to add into the mixture to melt. The main reason why you decided on a chocolate cream filling is because one of the judges, Lee Chaeryeong, is a self-proclaimed chocoholic as well as a renowned chocolatier and baker. If you can impress her with your dessert, everyone will flock to your bakery.

Being the head pastry chef at Hero’s Soup is fun, but to have full creative control and to make whatever you want, is what you truly desire. You have a menu already drawn up, paint colors selected, and even a storefront scoped out. All you need now is a lot of money to get it opened. Chef Lee Felix and his dish are the only thing standing in your way. He may have gotten his start as a pastry chef, but you have spent the last several years being one at a top restaurant. Only one Michelin star, you admit, but you know your work is superb. The critics at Clé magazine said so.

You whisk in the sugar and slowly add your beaten eggs into the chocolate mixture. You don’t want to risk having bits of scrambled egg in the tarts. After you mix it all until it turns smooth, you check your tart crust in the oven. It’s done blind baking, so you take it out to cool before filling it with your filling. In the meantime, you work on the rose flavored cream to be piped on top.

“Behind,” calls Felix.

As you run back to your station with a carton of whipping cream, Felix heads to the ice cream machine with his blender container. He pours his light pink mixture in. Rose ice cream, it seems, will be in his dessert. Rather unhelpfully to you and more for the cameras, Jae announces that Felix’s dish will feature ice cream.

“An ice cream sandwich maybe with the puff pastry he has in the oven?” he adds.

That certainly is a dessert sandwich. You can’t help but look at the judges’ reactions to that suggestion.

Ok Taecyeon, chef and owner of the Japanese restaurant Winter Hitori, seems pleased by that idea. “Or maybe a mille feuille,” he says as he cranes his neck to look at the ingredients at Felix’s station, “with ice cream instead of pastry cream.”

A mille feuille and a tart are pretty different from each other, but you don’t miss your dessert’s similarities to his. Unoriginality aside, this could become a direct comparison of technical abilities. You’re certain you’ve got him beat on that.

You pause on your rose cream to fill your empty tart shells with the chocolate filling. There is an audible gasp from Chaeryeong as she sees the silky smooth texture being poured into each pan. How can you blame her when you yourself are mesmerized by the shine of it?

“Chocolate’s on the menu!” Jae exclaims. “How do you think it will go with all of the mandatory ingredients?”

You suppress a smile at her excitement as she details the finer points of chocolate pairings. Without a doubt, she is the one you must impress. It won’t be an easy feat, but you think she’ll enjoy your dish.

You stick the now filled tart shells back into the oven to bake. Fifteen minutes left, and not only does the filling have to be baked through completely, it has to cool down with adequate time so you can pipe on the cream. The giant bowl of rose cream is completed and set aside.

Now the only thing left for you to finish are your candied jalapeños, which you should have paid more attention to because they are on the verge of being burnt. The sugar and rose syrup have caramelized into a dark brown mess around the edges of the pan, and the red peppers have gone mushy. At that moment, the camera leans in to get a closeup of the disaster and captures you loudly swearing at it.

They can censor that in post-production.

"Behind. All good?" Felix asks as he rushes by with a casserole dish for ice cream collection. You hope his ice cream base didn't work.

"Mostly."

Jae's theatrical whisper and the approved hums from the judges inform you that Felix’s ice cream did turn out beautifully.

"Behind," he says again.

"Heard."

With an exasperated sigh, you set the ruined pan aside and turn back to your cutting board. You had the foresight to not use all of the peppers, but two measly ones are not going to be enough for the amount you want on each tart.

“Hey,” you shout to Felix, hoping that he can hear you over the whir of his food processor, “you have any jalapeños left over?”

He pushes the plastic container with one finger a smidge in your direction as he pulls off the parchment paper over his freshly baked puff pastry. “Take it.”

With a sigh of relief, you walk over to grab them. You expertly chop them into neat slices and throw them into a new pan. A sprinkling of sugar, a circle of rose syrup, and a turn of the stove knob later, the jalapeños are being candied, hopefully properly this time. As you wait, you check your baking tarts. They are still not done yet, which is to be expected but bothersome.

“Ten minutes left on the clock!”

The nervousness is back, and you whisper, “C’mon, c’mon,” at the oven door like it will encourage the tarts to cook faster. After letting yourself stare for a few more seconds because maybe they’ll suddenly be done in that short time, you pop back up to check on your peppers. They, fortunately, are turning out well. You turn down the heat so as to not let the syrup turn into rock candy as you wait for those cursed tarts to be done. Why did you decide on something so risky? Why couldn't you have done a puff pastry crust and not spend ten precious minutes fiddling around with the dough?

Because of the beer flour and because your pride demands that you prove your skills to all the talented chefs, that's why.

Another minute passes, and you drain the pan of the liquid and let the peppers cool down. Felix keeps running back to the pantry for more ingredients, and the judges voice their disapproval at that. You feel a breeze brush across the back of your neck as he dashes back to his station. It’s never a good sign when chefs grab last-minute items; it either means they’re behind schedule, forgot a component of a key element, or about to screw up whatever they have already made in an attempt to fill up time. Or maybe you’re just being cynical. All your nerves are on fire at the moment. Jihyo and Taecyeon soon turn their attention to you when they realize that your tarts are still in the oven.

“You can’t just look at them all day!” Jihyo exclaims at your crouching position.

She’s right, so you make a quick decision: finish these underbaked tarts in the microwave. You flounder for a towel, pull open the oven door, and walk to the microwave as you fast as you can with a tray of steaming hot pans. As all of the tarts are being cooked, you run back to your station to fill a pastry bag of your rose cream. You have six and a half minutes left, and if you’re quick, you can stick the tarts in the blast chiller to cool a little bit. Never mind that putting hot desserts into a freezer is considered blasphemous, you have a competition to win.

The microwave loudly beeps, and you run back to cart them back onto the baking sheet and shove them in the blast chiller. They could still be underdone for all you know, but that’s a risk you have to take. It will still be delicious at least. Felix decides to grab yet another ingredient, and you watch with interest as he selects a bunch of basil. You can’t say whether rose and basil is a good combination, but you trust that he has an idea of what he’s doing. He flashes you a panicked smile as he runs back. It’s the perfect embodiment of your current emotions.

“Less than five minutes, chefs!”

You’re certain the judges mean well when they begin to shout at you about starting on plating, but it only makes you more anxious. You keep watch of the clock, precious seconds disappearing in front of your eyes. Once it hits two minutes, you’ll take them out. Piping pastry cream is so easy, you could do it in your sleep. Garnishing should be simple too. You can do this.

Taecyeon yells, “There’s no time! Get it together!” exactly when there are three minutes left. One more agonizing minute later, you take out the tarts and head back to your station with the same kind of balancing act you performed when you made a mad dash to the microwave. At first glance, it appears the chocolate cream filling has set and cooled, but who really knows? You pick up your pastry bag and start squeezing fat dots in a crescent on the tops of each tart. The pink cream looks beautiful against the dark chocolate.

“Less than thirty seconds remaining!” shouts Jae.

“I can’t watch,” Chaeryeong declares. “Hurry!”

With a slightly shaky hand, you place your candied peppers on each dollop, grimacing when some of them are just the tiniest bit askew. You quite literally have no time to fix them though. A millisecond after you finish setting the last one, Jae calls out for you and Felix to stop cooking. You throw your hands up, showing that you have stopped. Then with a sigh, you grasp the edge of the table and look down at the final desserts. They all look amazing, minus the imperfect pepper placements, on the outside, so you hope that the insides match, no gooey filling in the center. Out of curiosity, you glance over at Felix and catch him eying yours as well. His mille feuilles look stunning — light pink ice cream sandwiched between golden brown puff pastry, topped with a row of pastry cream, red jalapeños, strawberries, and basil so finely chopped, you can barely see it.

You and Felix meet in the middle and nearly collapse on top of each other. He pulls you in more a congratulatory hug, and your unease about your dessert disappears for a second. His hold is strangely comforting considering you have only met him today. You could stay here all day. Then you remember that all of this is being filmed and that you’re hugging Chef Lee Felix, and your pulse jumps.

“We’re done now. Nice job,” he says. He pulls away and observes your frozen expression. “No laughing fits yet?”

A giggle escapes — they’re back and even worse than before, you can already feel it — and you clamp a hand over your mouth, embarrassed. “They’ve just started.”

“Good luck on the judging.”

“Yeah, you too.”

The director yells, “Cut!” and the moment is gone.

You and Felix idle around by the judges’ table as the production crew takes close-ups of the food. Felix easily makes conversation with all of the judges, especially Taecyeon. He smiles at the right parts, adds anecdotes when appropriate, and you wonder how he is so unphased by the dessert round. It’s all you can think about, replaying every single action you made.

“I can’t wait to try that chocolate tart,” Chaeryeong warmly says to you. “It looks amazing.”

Now all you can do is stare at her in disbelief with the silliest grin on your face. Felix gently nudges you to remind you to speak.

“I can’t wait for you to try it,” you hear yourself reply. It’s uncharacteristically high-pitched, and you feel yourself growing hotter despite the lack of harsh studio lights.

“The fourth one is for me, right?” Felix teases. “I want a bite of that too.”

“Only if I get some of your mille feuille,” you say. “It looks amazing.”

“What about me?” protests Jae, making everyone laugh.

Once the close-ups are completed, you and Felix return to your stations and make the dramatic walk to the judges’ table. The lighthearted atmosphere from before is gone, and your nerves are back in a completely different way. The anticipation from the beginning of the round is nothing compared to the fear you feel now. You stand tall with your hands behind you, the perfect picture of confidence, but behind the camera, you are twisting and knitting together your fingers. Felix, on the other hand, is solemn. Lucky him.

“In the dessert round,” Jae recites, “you were tasked to create a dish with camel milk, rose syrup, beer flour, and jalapeños. Chef Felix, what did you make for us today?”

With a steady voice, he answers, “Judges, I have made for you a rose and strawberry ice cream mille feuille topped with a strawberry rose syrup crumble, candied jalapeños, sliced strawberries, and some chopped basil. I hope you enjoy it.”

There’s a pause as the judges cut into the dessert and try it. Like in the previous rounds, their expressions are indecipherable as they chew and deliberate to themselves. Taecyeon is the first to speak.

“First off, your presentation is beautiful. Everything is very neat and precise, which shows your attention to detail. I especially love the basil. Not only does it complement the rest of the dish, it’s a nice addition of color to the plate.”

Chaeryeong nods. “I agree. Strawberry and basil is a classic combination, and I think you balanced those flavors very well. However, neither of those ingredients were in the basket.”

You can almost feel the temperature in the room drop at that revelation.

“Yeah, you definitely focused more on the pantry than the basket ingredients,” Jihyo adds. “Strawberry is the star of this dessert, and I wish you highlighted a basket ingredient instead, especially since you had so many good choices available. And ice cream wise, I think it is too sweet. And I can just barely taste the rose syrup in there.”

“Where is the beer flour in this?” Taecyeon asks as he lifts off the topmost layer of puff pastry. “Is it in the crumble?”

“Yes,” Felix quickly replies. “I didn’t like the flavor of the flour, so I decided it would be best to hide it with the strong syrup flavor.”

“You definitely did that well,” Taecyeon continues. “And your jalapeños are great, help cut through the sweetness of everything.”

It’s clear that there is nothing more to be said. You note that the baker of the trio of the judges said nothing negative about Felix’s dish.

“Thank you, Chef Felix,” Jae concludes. “Chef Y/N, what have you made for us today?”

There’s another cut as the production switches out the half empty plates for your tarts. Sensing your increasing anxiety, Felix reaches over and pats you on the shoulder.

“Good luck,” he whispers. “You got this.”

You can only give him a tentative smile in return before filming resumes. Jae repeats his line to help the transition.

“Judges, I have made for you a chocolate tart with a beer flour crust, rose pastry cream, and candied jalapeños. Please enjoy.”

Chaeryeong is the first to scoop into the tart with her spoon. When the spoon comes out clean and with a pile of solid chocolate tart, you breathe a sigh of relief. She mulls over it as she takes another bite, but Taecyeon already has one ready.

“This is rich and delicious.”

You stop wringing your fingers together. A smile is beginning to form on your face, and it takes some willpower to remain calm.

“I love the way you cut the beer flour with regular flour because let’s be real,” he continues, leaning in conspiratorially, “beer flour tastes pretty awful. I can still get some hints of it, but it’s not overpowering.”

Jihyo nods in agreement. “You have good textures, from the crunchiness of the tart shell to the silkiness of the filling. My only problem with your dessert is that it’s heavy. There’s a lot of chocolate and then you top it off with something pretty sweet. Your candied jalapeños do help, but the ratio of cream to peppers is off.”

Your joy wilts as you take in her comments. As much as you want for her to be wrong, you didn’t get a chance to eat your creation, so you can’t exactly deny it. However, everyone knows that the judge with the weightiest opinion in the dessert round is Chaeryeong. When you look over at her to see what she thinks, she is still picking apart the tart.

Jihyo, situated in between Taecyeon and Chaeryeong, nudges her. “Anything to add, Chaeryeong?”

She looks up at you, and you realize that likely already made a decision on her first bite. Her words are clear and decisive. “I think you made a lot of good choices. Finishing it in the microwave, using dark chocolate, incorporating the rose syrup in the candying process. I do agree with Jihyo that this is a little too rich though. Your rose syrup cream feels unnecessary, but overall, it’s a delicious dessert.”

Your heart is pounding. Everything feels hot, and you are suddenly hyperaware of the cameras around, waiting to capture your reaction. You remember your fiddling fingers and stop moving them.

“Thank you, Chef Y/N,” Jae says. “The judges need some time to deliberate the winner. Remember that the decision will be made on your dishes from all three rounds. Chefs, we will see you after.” He nods at you and Felix, and as per the instructions from the producers, you and Felix walk to the green room.

No other takes are needed. You follow behind Felix, wondering how he is still so poised after all of that. Inside the green room, there is a cameraman waiting, ready to film some commentary from you and Felix. You settle into a stool at the table, and he sits in front of you.

“You did a great job,” he says in an overly produced way. You bet he was rehearsing this. That’s what you should have been doing during his judging. Now your remarks won’t come out as smoothly. “I definitely focused on the pantry too much, but hopefully the other rounds will help me out. The beer flour really confused me.”

You swallow and try to concentrate on him instead of the tabletop. If you don’t get this right, you’ll have to redo it. “Yeah, definitely a tricky ingredient. It was smart of you to use it in your crumble. But yeah, I think we both did pretty good. May the best chef win.” You stick your hand out for him to shake, and he does.

“Cut,” interjects a producer. “Alright, that’s all for that scene. Let’s start on your interviews.”

You nearly forgot about those. You and Felix share glances, both of which are reluctant goodbyes, before being whisked away into separate rooms. As you sit in front of a green screen, you recount what you did in the dessert round, walking the audience through the choices you made and the emotions you felt. There’s a frenetic energy about you this time unlike the previous interviews after the appetizer and entrée rounds. You are so close to the ten million won, you can almost taste it.

Your interview takes almost all of the time. Just as you swallow your last sip of water, the producers are informed that the judges have finished discussing and that you are needed back to the kitchen studio. When you stand up, you nearly knock over the stool you were sitting on. The walk to the studio is longer than it was before, and you want to push the dawdling production crew aside so you can get there faster. Your heart pounds erratically underneath your mask of serenity.

Felix smiles at you from where he stands in front of the judging panel. The signature cloche of God’s Menu sits ominously from its location on the table, two spotlights illuminating its silver shine. Taecyeon, Jihyo, and Chaeryeong are getting last-minute makeup touches, and Jae is idling around, rereading his script even though he has said the lines numerous times before.

“Hey,” you greet Felix as you take your spot beside him. “You nervous?”

“Yeah. It all comes down to this, right? Ten million won and the title of Cooking God.” He says the last part like Jae does, no theatrics spared, and you laugh. It feels good to do so, like a small bit of tension has been released.

Someone adjusts the lights, and suddenly you and Felix are in the dark. Feeling a little courageous, you tell him, “No matter what happens, I just want to say that it’s been an honor competing against you. It’s been a lot of fun, and I think I’ve learned a few things from your cooking.”

“Same here. You’re an awesome chef and an even better person.” The lights shine back on you and Felix, and he sneaks a glance towards you after a producer calls a warning to begin shooting soon. “I’d say ‘good luck,’ but with the way you cook, I don’t think you’ll need it.”

Your face is as hot as an oven. “Thanks. Same to you.”

The clapper goes down. “Action!”

“Chefs,” Jae starts, “the judges have finished deciding. Let’s see who is our next Cooking God and who is getting ousted.”

His hand wraps around the handle of the cloche, and you hold your breath in anticipation. The sound of your pulse in your ears is deafening. You’re not one to wish for someone else’s downfall, but you hope that it’s Felix’s mille feuille underneath. Everything you have worked for today all comes down to this. You can’t lose. You knit and twist your fingers behind your back, and keep your eyes glued to Jae’s hand.

When you see the dish on the table and the judge’s impassive faces, you begin to cry. Your chest tightens, your throat suddenly has a cherry pit lodged inside, and your vision goes blurry. How funny that you start the round with laughter and end in tears. It’s all too poetic for such a moment.

“Chef Felix,” Jae solemnly says, “you have been ousted. Judges?”

You don’t hear what the judges have to say about Felix’s dishes from the past three rounds. All you can focus on is the wood paneling of the judges’ table as you stifle your bubbling sobs. It shouldn’t be too difficult, right? You suppressed all your laughs in the beginning, so this should be easy.

“It was an honor to cook for you today, judges,” Felix says after he has received all of their critiques. He turns to you and wraps in a warm embrace, making your flimsy grasp on your emotions disintegrate. “Congratulations. I knew you would win when I saw your dessert.”

“Thank you so much,” you whisper.

After he heads down the hallway to the green room to film his exit interview, the cameras are back on you and solely you. The judges give you encouraging smiles, Chaeryeong’s the largest.

“Chef Y/N, you are the new Cooking God,” Jae announces. “Congratulations.”

You wipe away your tears with the back of your hand in a vain attempt to make yourself appear more composed. However, when the applause begins, it all comes pouring out — your thanks, your appreciation, your rambles about the bakery you have planned.

“I’ll be sure to come by,” Chaeryeong says. “Your tart was your best dish of the day. If you put it on the menu, I’m definitely going to buy one.”

“Your creativity in all of the rounds was amazing,” Jihyo adds, “but dessert is really where you shine. Give us a call when your bakery is open.”

Taecyeon compliments your appetizer and also agrees with the other two. “Chef, you should be proud of yourself.”

You beam through your tears. For a momentous occasion, you half expect confetti to start raining down and a symphony to start playing. However, there is only production orchestrating a few more shots of you shaking hands with everyone and a closeup of your face. The small celebratory scene is over soon as you are led to another room for your victory interview. This one is easy, simply you expressing your joy and partially promoting your future business.

When you’re done, you are told to wait in the green room while they set up some paperwork for you to fill out later. To your surprise, Felix is there as well, sitting at the table with a tired look on his face. His water bottle is empty, and there is an unopened one next to it. When he sees that you are there, he lights up.

“Hey there, Cooking God,” he says. “Congrats again.”

“Hey. Thanks again.” You sit across from him and slump against the table. “I thought you would have left already.”

“I’ve got some paperwork to do and one more interview to finish up. You know,” he says, propping himself up on his arms, leaning forward, “I never got to try your tart. I was really looking forward to it.”

You can see yourself reflected in his eyes. He has very pretty eyes. “I never got to try your mille feuille either. Do you think production will be mad if we sneak back in and eat the leftovers?”

“We might have to dig through the trash, but I’m down.” He pulls back. “What are you going to do with the prize money, if you don’t mind me asking? I don’t think Jae asked you about it during the judging.”

So you tell him all about it. You tell him of the empty building on the corner of the street you have been eying for the last year, the late night hours you have spent experimenting with recipes, the white banner and silver ribbons you have envisioned for the grand opening of your dream. He listens intently, nodding along and cracking smiles when you draw the details in the air.

“Wow, you’ve got it all figured out already.”

“Yeah,” you agree, feeling flushed and breathless. “It’s been a long time coming.”

There’s a knock on the door, and a member of the production team pokes his head in. “Chef Lee Felix, we’re ready to shoot the interview now.”

Felix nods and stands up from his stool, taking the both water bottles with him. “I guess this is goodbye then. Good luck with everything.”

“What’s your number?” you blurt out before the nervous laughter starts up again. You just finished one of the most grueling cooking competitions in the country; asking someone for their number should be a cakewalk, but said someone also happens to be a highly esteemed chef. “I’d love for you to be at the grand opening.”

His mouth splits into a grin. He tears the label off of the empty bottle and asks the staff member if he has a pen. Then he scrawls down the digits and hands you the label, the fresh ink against the glossy paper shining underneath the lights.

“See you during the opening,” are his last words to you before he follows production out of the room.

You clutch the edge of the label and mouth the numbers to yourself, trying to commit them to memory. A needless action, but it feels right.

When you are called for paperwork and logistics, you carefully fold the paper and place it inside your chef jacket’s pocket, right by your heart. The check for eight million won — taxes unfortunately exist for prize money — goes in there as well.

The grand opening is a grand affair: customers flocking to the street corner in droves, a giant banner and even a red ribbon celebrating the occasion, and display cases being emptied throughout the day. As promised, Chaeryeong and Jihyo show up to the opening. The day is nearly over when they arrive; only a few people linger around, buying last-minute treats. You decide to close for the night.

Even though the two celebrity chefs say they have finished filming a new episode, they are both in high spirits. They bring along a plaque for you to hang that reads “God’s Menu Approved,” and you are both mortified and thrilled. Chaeryeong wants you to put the plaque in the window, but Jihyo insists you have it behind the counter. However, you don’t really want it in either location. Your office seems like a wonderful place.

“How about a tart?” you ask to distract them. “On the house, of course.”

They nod enthusiastically at the offer, and you set down two familiar-looking ones. “As seen on God’s Menu, the Dessert Round Tart, chocolate with rose-flavored cream and candied jalapeños.”

The bell on the door chimes, and a voice you have not heard in months says, “Any left for me?”

“Felix!” you exclaim, rushing to him. He’s still in his chef’s uniform, and you can almost smell sriracha on him. “How are you here? I thought you said you had a shift.”

He shrugs and smiles boyishly at you. It makes you all sorts of nervous, and your stomach flutters with something that is not laughter. “Surprise!”

“Let me go get you a tart,” you say as you lead him to the same table as Chaeryeong and Jihyo, both who recognize Felix from the show.

You head behind the counter and reach for the last tart left in your hidden stash of desserts. You saved three for the judges, but Taecyeon isn’t here. He is apparently in the midst of opening a new location, and you understand. After all, you’re doing something similar. It all works out in your favor though since Felix is. With more care than the previous two, you place the tart on a small plate and set it down in front of Felix.

“Here you go. Enjoy.”

He cuts into it with the fork and savors the first bite. “It’s even better than I thought it would be. This is amazing.”

“Definitely agree,” says Jihyo. Hers is completely gone, only the smallest crumbs left. “You’ve really refined it.”

Chaeryeong, mouth full of chocolate, can only nod in agreement. You smile, flattered by their compliments. After some pushing from the trio, you sit down with them to eat the leftover desserts from the day and to catch up. Chaeryeong and Jihyo are predictably busy with the filming of God’s Menu and overseeing their respective establishments. Meanwhile, Felix is still head chef of Levanter and has been tasked with adding something new to their menu. You tell them all about the beginning of the day and how a dog almost tore apart the low-hanging streamers outside. Felix sympathetically pats your hand. You then join in on the laughter, yours of which is more induced by his touch than the memory of the dog.

Some time later, Chaeryeong announces that she has to go, and Jihyo follows. You send them off with some lemongrass cupcakes and lie about where you will be displaying the plaque. No matter what, it’s going in your office where only you can see it. Felix stays around, and with everyone else gone, it’s just you and him.

“Hi,” you say, suddenly feeling shy. “You’re not leaving yet?”

He shakes his head. “I wanted to ask you something."

"Oh, what is it?"

"Since you still haven’t tried my mille feuille from the show and since Levanter needs a new menu item, would you want to help me sometime?” He pauses and grimaces at his words. “Wait, you’re probably busy with your bakery now and—”

“I’d love to,” you abruptly say. “Probably only taste testing though, if that’s alright. Business conflicts and all.”

Your favorite thing about Felix, you decide, is the way he lights up, the way the excitement emitting from him is palpable. With a tinge of red across his cheeks, he says, “I guess we’ll be seeing a lot of each other soon.”

You let out a short laugh. “I guess we will. I’m alright with that.”

“So am I.”

~ ad.gray

#stray kids #skz #stray kids felix #skz felix #lee felix #felix lee #felix fluff #felix imagines #felix scenarios #stray kids fluff #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids x reader #stray kids fanfiction #skz imagines #skz scenarios #skz fluff #skz x reader #cooking competition au #stray kids au #felix #20210506

[angryhausfrau-writes]

Your Friends Were All Standing Around Looking At Your Cock The Other Dayee...

Interior of the farm house. WAYNE, KATY, and SQUIRRELLY DAN stand around the table, looking at something.

KATY: It's a beautiful cock.

WAYNE: Oh, it's a gorgeous cock.

DAN, shifting from foot to foot, uncomfortably: Now I'ms nots denyings that it's a mightys fines cocks. I just thinks its mights not bes appropriates to have sets outs on the supper tables is all.

KATY: Oh Dan, there's been far worse things than a cock on this table.

WAYNE growls: Better not have been them hockey nutsacks.

KATY: I'm a big girl, Wayne. None of your business what nutsacks I'm spending time with.

WAYNE, begrudgingly: True.

DAN: You knows whats you're afters, miss Katys, and that's what I appreciates about you.

KATY, flirtatiously: Oh, is that what you appreciate about me?

WAYNE: Take about ten, twenty percent off her over there Squirrelly Dan.

DAN, looking at the table: Oh hey look. A cock. What is sets most unhygenicallys on the table we eats off ofs.

KATY: Jesus Dan. Hop off our cocks.

WAYNE: Besides, you're a bigger degen than Dary if you eat directly off the table.

DAN: Where is Darys anyways? Ain't like him to miss such a magnificents cocks.

DARY enters the KITCHEN: Sorry I'm late. Spent all morning wrangling my cock into its cage.

DAN, sympathetically: Its was giving yous some troubles thens?

DARY: Kept making itself all big and plumped up. Couldn't get it to fit in the cage. Ended up having to really wrassle with it for a good long while.

KATY: Could say you had to take your cock firmly in hand there, Dary?

WAYNE: Pert near had to choke that chicken, I'd imagine.

DARY: Pert near.

DAN: But yous gots it settled downs and ins its cage?

DARY nods and hefts a rooster in a wire cage into frame: Yup. Tuckered it out eventually. Now it's placid as anything.

WAYNE: Now that's a handsome cock, Dary. A right handsome cock.

DARY, bashful: Aw, it ain't nothing special. Not like yours, Wayne.

WAYNE SHIFTS OUT OF THE WAY. PAN TO ROOSTER ON THE TABLE.

DARY:  Now that's a real handsome cock, and well behaved to boot.

WAYNE: Ok, Dary. Dary, ok. Ok, Dary. Dary, ok. Youwannaknowwhat? Here's the scoop and I'm gonna tell ya. I look at your cock and I think, well, I think: good for you buddy. Just like, good for you bud. Like I'm real proud of ya, Dary.

DAN: It's a mightys fines cocks, Dary. Yous gots every rights to be prouds.

KATY: Nothing wrong with a spirited cock, anyways.

DARY, bashful: Still reckon yours'll be the cock to beat down the Ag Festival, Wayne.

WAYNE: Oh it's a handsome cock all right.

KATY: A beautiful cock.

WAYNE: Oh it's a gorgeous cock.

DARY: Not to be pulling your own horn over there.

DAN: Oh yous shoulds nevers do thats. Leastwise nots ins mixed companies.

KATY: Says you.

WAYNE, abrupt: No hard feelings Dary. Regardless of who beats whose cock.

DARY: No hard feelings.

WAYNE holds his hand straight out for DARY to shake: Then may the man with the best cock win.

LETTERKENNY TITLE BUT THERE IS A ROOSTER INSTEAD OF A DOG.

ESTABLISHING SHOTS OF A FAIRGROUD.

EXTERIOR SHOT OF THE AG BUILDING.

INTERIOR SHOT OF THE AG BUILDING. WAYNE, KATY, DARY, and SQUIRRELLY DAN are standing around a table with ROOSTERS in cages on it. The DYCKS and the HOCKEY PLAYERS are also there, standing further down the room.

GLEN enters with a clipboard, officiators badge: Wayne! How're you now?

WAYNE: Good'nyou?

GLEN: Oh, I'm just dripping with excitement to be judging all y'alls cocks. Especially yours Wayne.

WAYNE squints into the distance.

DAN: You're judgings the competitions?

GLEN: Indeed I am, Daniel. Although admittedly I misunderstood the nature of the event when I first volunteered to judge. But! I have plenty of experience judging cocks from my years on the family poultry farm. The cocks I raised as a youth...

WAYNE: Pitter patter.

GLEN: Well, fine. If you don't appreciate hearing about my cock judging credentials.

DARY, snickering: Pretty sure pert near everyone in town knows 'bout those.

GLEN: True but uncalled for, Daryl!

NOAH DYCK, joining the hicks: I for one think it is admirable that Preacher Glen has experience handling and judging cocks. And from his boyhood, once.

WAYNE: Noah.

NOAH: Wayne.

DARY: Mr. Dyck.

NOAH: Daryl.

DAN: Noahs Dycks.

NOAH: Daniel. A pity Lovina Dyck could not make it to the cock judging. I'm certain she would have had she known you were showing your cock. For is it not true, mine wife, that the love tree often bears fruit when a young man parades his cock before his sweetheart, once?

ANITA approaches: What nonsense are you speaking now, Noah?

NOAH: Simply that a Dyck chooses a lifemate in part by how well she-

KATY: Or he.

DAN: Ors theys.

NOAH: -raises a cock. Did not you impress me with your cock raising skills when first we were courting?

ANITA, blushing: You say too much, husband.

NOAH: And did not you help raise this cock which I am showing proudly this day, once? Why without mine Anita Dyck's loving and tender hand, this cock would be but small and limp and lifeless.

ANITA: Us Snatches have always had a way with cocks, as well you know.

NOAH: A good thing too. Us Dycks require a skilled hand with raising our cocks. Lovina will be delighted to know you've raised such a magnificent cock as are being shown here this day. Perhaps I shall send one of my young sons to go fetch her, once. So that she might see your cock.

DAN, hurriedly: Oh nos, I'm nots showings anybodys anythings. That's all Waynes and Darys.

GLEN: Daryl! I didn't realize you were showing your cock today too. Oh, this is so exciting! Me, in the middle of a Daryl/Wayne cock sandwich.

WAYNE growls.

GLEN: Although I don't know how I'm supposed to choose between the two of your cocks. I think it will take some lengthy deliberation.

KATY: This is already taking fucking forever, I'm going to go sit down.

DAN: I'll join yous, miss Katys.

KATY as they leave: Still not over Lovina Dyck, eh?

DAN: I don'ts knows that I'll evers stop thinkings abouts Lovinas Dycks, miss Katys. Ands that's a facts.

KATY and SQUIRRELLY DAN exit.

DARY (aside): Katy's right. This is taking fucking forever.

WAYNE to GLEN: I say again. Pitter. Patter.

GLEN whines.

WAYNE: If a man should be one thing, he should be efficient.

GLEN: Fine. Everyone here? Then lets get y'all registered. What's your cocks' names? I'm sure you've come up with some good ones.

WAYNE: Plenty of good names for cocks.

DARY: Oh, you can have a lot of fun naming cocks.

WAYNE: I'm surprised we're not naming cocks right now.

DARY: Could name one after the fictional prizefighter Cocky Balboa.

WAYNE: Or the legendary real life comedian Chris Cock.

DARY: There's always actor and former wrassler Dwayne the Cock Johnson.

GLEN: Ooh, that's a two-for-one special right there.

WAYNE: Or jazz musician John Cocktrain.

DARY: I like that one.

WAYNE: Not too obscure?

DARY: Nah, it's a gooder. Cultured - but not trying too hard.

GLEN: All right, all right. So what are your cocks' names?

DARY: Cock.

GLEN: Come again? And please note, I'm saying that in a completely different context to the one I usually use.

DARY: My cock's called cock. I din't name the damn thing. I know what it looks like.

WAYNE: Well I should hope so.

DARY: And I only got the one. Not liable to mix it up with someone else's cock.

GLEN: Ok. Fine, Dary. Ruin all my fun. TURNS TO WAYNE. What about you, Wayne? What's the big fella called?

WAYNE: Only nutsacks name their cocks.

RILEY breaking into the group around GLEN: We're all saying our cock's names, boys?

JONESY: Just naming silly cock over here, boys?

RILEY: Just christening silly amounts of cock over here, boys?

WAYNE: Again, only nutsacks name their cocks.

GLEN: Yes, boys. Everyone who's entering the cock judging needs to tell me their cock's name so I can make sure to call out the right name during the handling. It's just so embarrassing to call the cock in your hands by the wrong name...

RILEY: We've got a cock to register for judging, boys.

JONESY: Well, really it's Riley's cock we're entering. And it's a real beauty, buddy.

RILEY: Hey, buddy. It's as much your cock as mine. It is a real beauty though buddy.

JONESY: Just a real beauty of a cock here, boys.

RILEY: Half clapper top cheddar.

JONESY: Guaranteed W. Ferda!

RILEY: Ferda!

GLEN: Now boys, we're talking about roosters here, not actual cocks. Don't feel bad - I too was confused at first. So, while I'm sure Riley's cock is just delightful...

JONESY: It is. He's a registered beautician, buddy.

RILEY: Thanks buddy.

GLEN: Yes. But I just want to stress again – this is the animal we're talking about here.

RILEY: Yeah, boys. Cocks.

JONESY holds up a rooster in a cage: And this is our cock:

RILEY: Four time Stanley Cup winner.

JONESY: Four time Vezina Trophy winner.

RILEY: Hockey hall-of-famer.

JONESY: Goaltender extraordinaire.

RILEY: Terry Sawcock. Ferda!

JONESY: Ferda!

DARY (aside): Kinda surprised they have a whole cock between 'em.

WAYNE: Ain't surprised they share it though, fuck.

DARY: Same way they share a set of testicles. And maybe a tongue.

GLEN: Ooh, don't tempt me Daryl.

WAYNE (turns to RILEY and JONESY): Now where in the hell did yous two nutsacks get a cock from anyways? You better not've stolen it right out from under some poor unsuspecting farmer's nose.

RILEY: We bought it down at the feed store boys.

JONESY: Heard about people keeping chickens as pets boys.

RILEY: How they're so cute and cuddly. Plus free eggs boys.

JONESY: Need plenty of protein to keep up with the gains boys.

RILEY and JONESY flex. GLEN watches avidly. WAYNE is unimpressed.

RILEY: Accidentally bought a rooster though buddy.

JONESY (sadly): Can't get eggs from a rooster buddy.

RILEY: Still a good pet though buddy.

JONESY: Yeah, just really loves to cuddle with us buddy.

RILEY: Yeah, just really loves to cuddle with us on the sofa buddy.

WAYNE: Shouldn't keep farm animals as pets. Fuck.

DARY: Farm animals belong on a farm. S'why they're called farm animals.

WAYNE: Like. You wouldn't let a sow into you're living room. And you wouldn't let a cow into your living room. So why the fuck are you cuddling up on the couch with a cock?

JONESY: Shouldn't knock it till you've tried it.

DARY: I'll knock you.

GLEN: Boys please. Lets not fight. Not when we're all gathered here today for such a noble purpose as comparing cocks.

ALL: Fine.

GLEN: All righty now, let's see. We've got Daryl's cock: cock. We've got Wayne's cock: only nutsacks name their cocks. Riley and Jonesy's collective cock: Terry Sawcock. What do you call your cock, Noah?

NOAH: While there are a great quantity of cocks at the Dyck farm, this is our most quality.

WAYNE: Quality Dyck if you will.

GLEN: Quality Dyck it is.

DARY: Sure 'nough.

WAYNE: Like you see that cock and you say, that's Quality Dyck all right. And no mistake.

GLEN: Mhm! And I know from Quality Dyck. Now, if that's everyone, we can get on with the judging...

MCMURRY barges in: Wait! (Approaching WAYNE) Wayne. How're'you'now? Good'n'you. Ohnotsobad. Okay! (Turns to the GROUP) I, McMurry, am entering my cock in this little competition. So all you sumbitches can make a hole.

GLEN: Well someone's all riled up! You can go ahead and enter your cock right here, McMurry. No need to shout.

DARY (angry): Yeah, no need to bust our balls.

WAYNE (placating): Go have a dart.

DARY (begrudgingly): Yeah, I'll have a dart.

WAYNE and DARY exit.

FADE TO BLACK.

ESTABLISHING SHOT OF THE AGRICULTURAL FESTIVAL.

ZOOM ON TWO COCK SHAKUR PLAYING FOR A CROWD IN FRONT OF THE AG BUILDING.

PAN OVER KATY AND DAN IN THE AUDIENCE.

ZOOM ON GLEN AS HE ENTERS THE STAGE AT THE FRONT OF THE CROWD.

GLEN: How'reyounow?

AUDIENCE: Good'n'you?

GAIL: All this cock talk's got me wetter than a lighthouse keeper's slicker in a Noreaster, I can tell you that much.

DAN: Gailer!

KATY: First Glen is here judging and now Gail's here.

GAIL approaches KATY and DAN.

DAN: Yeah, Gail. I didn'ts know you were so interesteds in the agriculturals.

GAIL: Less interested in the agriculturals than in seeing some. Good. Hand. Raised. Cock. Specially when I heard Wayne's entered in the cock judging.

DAN to KATY: She knows it's nots actual cocks, rights?

KATY to GAIL: More importantly, is Modean's actually closed?

DAN: Tells me it didn't burns down agains.

KATY: This town needs a fucking bar.

GAIL: Nah, Modean's 3 is still alive and kicking sure as this old goat. But when Glen told me he'd be judging cocks at the agricultural festival I figured the whole fucking town'd be here rather than down Modean's.

DAN: Nots a bad turnsout for Letterkenny's first evers ag festival.

KATY: A great fucking turnout.

GAIL: Plus, I get a chance to see Wayne's cock today – and that's worth a day's profits right there.

KATY: Gross.

GAIL: Not that I've actually lost a day's profits. Bonny's been making the rounds at the Ag festival and apparently, business. Is. Banging.

CUT TO BONNY WEAVING HER WAY THROUGH THE CROWD WITH A TRAY OF SHOT GLASSES AND BEER BOTTLES.

KATY and DAN whistfully, along with CROWD: Bonny McMurry?

GLEN (impatient): Can I have your attention please!

PAN BACK TO GLEN.

GLEN: The event we've all been waiting for – I know I have – the cock judging. Lets meet our contestants!

GLEN gestures to the stage like a game show host: First up is Wayne!

AUDIENCE applauds.

WAYNE enters with his rooster and stands stoically, hands in belt loops.

GLEN examining the rooster: An impressive cock. Sturdy. Well built. And a real big fella. Nearly eight pounds, and pure muscle. Wayne, I think you've got a real champion cock here.

WAYNE nods stoically.

GAIL: And that's not the only cock of his I hear is impressive.

GLEN: Oooh, tell me more.

WAYNE: Glen.

GAIL: That rooster's not the only cock almost eight somethings.

MCMURRY (from backstage): Wait, is that measured over or under the balls.

GAIL: And plenty of stamina to make it through those cold Canadian winter nights. If. You. Know. What. I. Mean.

GLEN: No, please continue in explicit detail.

WAYNE: Glen!

GLEN: Ok, fine. (Gestures WAYNE to move to the rear of the stage.) Moving along, next up is Dary!

AUDIENCE applauds.

GLEN examining the rooster: Oh, you've got a feisty one here, Dary. Plenty of personality! A little smaller than Wayne's but still an excellent cock. And those freckles are just too cute!

DARY: Aw, thanks Glen.

GLEN: And I'd happily take a look at your other cock if you want, Daryl.

DARY: Thanks for the offer Glen, but like I said, I only got the one.

GLEN: Oh never mind.

GLEN waves DARY off the stage.

DARY moves to stand next to WAYNE.

GLEN: Here's our next contestant, Noah Dyck!

AUDIENCE applauds.

GLEN: Now this is something special, y'all. An excellent example of a Canadian heritage breed, known for being an excellent layer and quite robust as well. Yes, I think we can all agree that this is certainly Quality Dyck right here.

NOAH: Thank you Preacher Glen. Such comments mean much coming from such an experienced judge of cocks as yourself.

GLEN: Oh, Noah. You'll make me blush. (GLEN rapidly ushers NOAH to stand next to DARY and WAYNE)  Anywho, our next contestant is Riley and Jonesy!

AUDIENCE applauds with some confusion.

DAN: What, both of thems? Collectivelys?

KATY: It makes sense. They do everything else together.

DAN: Everythings?

GAIL: Ev. Ry. Thing.

DAN: Katy?

KATY: Can confirm.

DAN: Wow. Didn'ts needs to knows thats.

KATY: You did ask.

GAIL: It's not like we gave you a blow. By. Blow account. But if you really want to know...

GLEN: This cock's a little smaller than the ones we've seen previously. Not as much muscle – might want to exercise it a little more, boys. Just really put it through it's paces.

SHORESY: Yeah! Give your balls a tug titfuckers!

RILEY: Fuck you, Shoresy! Where's your cock, if you think you're so good!

SHORESY: Fuck you Riley! If you want to know about my cock, just ask your mom. She saw plenty of it last night. Rode me so hard reverse cowgirl style I thought she was going to snap it off.

JONESY: Fuck you Shoresy!

SHORESY: Don't worry, Jonesy. Your mom was there to kiss it all better.

RILEY and JONESY: Fuck you Shoresy!

GLEN: Well! All audience commentary aside, I think you've got a very shapely cock, Riley. And I think if you put in the time, worked hard and raised it properly, you could have a real champion cock on your hands.

RILEY: Thanks, boys!

JONESY: Yeah, thanks boys!

GLEN: You're welcome. Now go sit down so we can get to our next contestant!

RILEY and JONESY fistbump and move to join the others.

McMURRY pushes forward through the other contestants: Yes, I McMurry am here to have my cock judged in front of all of you. And I'm gonna win this cocksucking cock competition, just you watch.

MRS McMURRY: Knock 'em dead, baby. Love you.

McMURRY: Love you too baby.

GLEN (awkward): Well, this cock's a little on the small side...

KATY: And that's a little bit of an understatement.

JARED KEESO CHARACTER #1: It's fucking tiny, McMurry. I've got a bigger cock hatched out an egg yesterday.

JARED KEESO CHARACTER #2: How'd you get a woman like Mrs. McMurry with a tiny cock like that?

JARED KEESO CHARACTER #1: You're a piece of shit, McMurry.

MRS McMURRY: Don't listen to him. Your cock's perfect, baby.

GLEN: Yes, well. They say it's not size that counts, but in this case – and a few others – that's just not true. Sorry, McMurry. You're out of the competition.

McMURRY: Goldangit all! (Exits STAGE mumbling profanities)

MRS McMURRY rushes after him.

GLEN: Now on to our last competitor! Modean Three's own Bonny McMurry!

AUDIENCE applauds.

DAN: I's hads no ideas she raised cocks.

KATY: I seem to remember her raising your cock pretty frequently there Dan.

DAN: I seems to remembers yous were plentys affected as well, Miss Katy.

KATY: What can I say? I like a woman with a championship cock.

GLEN: And what an excellent cock it is! A little on the slender side, but shapely! And what a lovely temperament. Outgoing without being pushy! Oh, it's just gorgeous!

WAYNE (aside to Dary): Now that's a lovely cock.

DARY: It's a beautiful cock for sure.

WAYNE: Oh it's a gorgeous cock.

GLEN: I think we have a winner folks! Let's hear it for Bonny McMurry's excellent cock!

FADE OUT TO AUDIENCE APPLAUSE AS BONNY McMURRY ACCEPTS A TROPHY.

SHOT OPENS ON THE PRODUCE STAND. WAYNE, DAN, AND DARY ARE SITTING IN THEIR USUAL SEATS WITH THEIR USUAL PUPPERS. KATYS CHAIR IS TAKEN BY WAYNE AND DARY'S ROOSTERS.

DAN: Recon Miss Katies is going to wants her seats back anytimes soons?

WAYNE: I imagine she's occupied for the evening.

DARY: Can't really blame her. I mean, who knew Bonny McMurry had such a championship cock?WAYNE: Hell, anybody'd want to go celebrate down MoDean's after a win like that. She's more than earned it, showing up all our cocks like that.

DARY: Still, there's no shame in coming second, good buddy.

DAN: Especiallys nots against such stiffs competitions.

WAYNE: I reckon you're right there, Dary. Andyouwannaknowwhat? Ain't no shame in coming third neither.

DAN: Especiallys nots against such stiffs competitions.

WAYNE stands and holds his hand out for DARY to shake: Congratulations Dary. That's a mighty fine cock you've got there.

DARY stands and shakes WAYNE's hand: Not as nice as yours, Wayne. Congratulations on the cock.

WAYNE and DARY sit.

WAYNE looks at where the roosters are sitting next to each other: Well, I'll give those hockey nutsacks this. They are cuddly little fuckers, aren't they?

DARY hawks a loogie in agreement.

WAYNE: Still not letting 'em in the fucking house though.

WAYNE, DARY, and DAN take a drink of PUPPERS.

CREDITS ROLL.

#letterkenny #this is essentially one long dick joke #@ jared keeso: call me