cuff down

tmz.com
Louis Tomlinson Arrested for Attacking Paparazzo
Louis Tomlinson wanted a photog out of his face at LAX, and the altercation ended with the photog smashing his head on the floor and Louis ended up in…

Louis Tomlinson wanted a photog out of his face at LAX, and the altercation ended with the photog smashing his head on the floor and Louis ended up in cuffs.

It went down Friday night at LAX baggage claim.  We’re told the 25-year-old singer was with a female companion and the photog was too close for Louis’ comfort, so he allegedly pulled the photog to the floor by his legs. The photog fell backwards and struck his back and head on the floor.

It didn’t end there.  A female witness started recording Louis’ female companion as she tried to leave. The 2 women allegedly then got into a physical altercation.

The witness and the photog both made citizens’ arrests.  

Tomlinson was arrested for simple battery and booked at a nearby LAPD jail.

Unclear if his companion was also arrested.

xeyvh  asked:

Spock/Uhura 8,13,15?

8: sunbathing

Spock wears a black shirt, cuffs pulled down to his wrists.

Sand scatters over the fabric, a brush of it along his forearm where she touched, grains clinging to his shoulder.  When she wipes them away, far more are left behind.

“Come swimming,” she says, but he sits well away from the water’s edge, a padd balanced on his knee.

She squeezes sunscreen into her palm, the bottle a smacking squirt of noise.

Long fingers spread the lotion over her shoulder blades.  

When she smooths a dab over her collarbone and down, he leans forward.  “Do you require further assistance?”

He lets her bury his feet.

Later, she floats in the water and watches him there, halfway up the beach.

Her perfect mound around his ankles is undisturbed.

She shades the sun with her book held above her.  Beyond it, the sky is a blistering blue.

“You have forty seven minutes until you will incur sun damage to your skin.”

She turns a page.  “Noted.”

In the afternoon light, she kisses his nose.

“You have freckles,” she tells him.

This vanilla sock is practically knitting itself! The gorgeous self-striping yarn is #sutherlandsock by @caledoniadyeworks I really liked having the option to add a mini skein for toes and heels. Because I’m a little bit sad, I started tagging my sock projects on Ravelry this morning (every now and again, my internal administrator breaks free and categorises stuff). It’s 16 months since I cast on my first pair of socks. I have completed 37 pairs and have 2 pairs on the go. The first 5 pairs were cuff down, using the excellent tutorials by @winwickmum Since I started knitting toe-up socks I have used the #fishlipskissheel 15 times, and #sockmaticianstoeups by @sockmatician 15 times. 29 pairs were vanilla socks, but I’m starting to experiment more with patterned socks. I have knitted 24 pairs for me, 6 for Jamie, 5 for Himself, and 2 pairs as gifts. On average, I complete a pair of socks every 2 weeks. I don’t know if I should be impressed 👏👏👏 or horrified 😱😱😱 #knittersofinstagram #knitting #operationsockdrawer https://www.instagram.com/p/BR-kdumDszA/

My Desire to be Between a Woman's Legs is through the Roof

I’d have her take off her clothes as I stand there and watch, I’d then pick her up and put her on my bed, lay her down and cuff her hands to the upper corners of the bed. Slowly I’d brush my lips against her neck, then begin to kiss her with small bites mixed in. I’d run circles with my tongue around her nipples until the slightest of moans become audible. I’d work my way town her stomach to her hips, kissing her tenderly as my hands ever so lightly run along her inner thighs, never going as far up as she wants, but just enough until I hear the weak whisper, ‘please’. I’d spread her legs open, kissing her inner thigh, working my way up, until I’m right on the edge of her eager little pussy, and just when I get a few centimeters away from what she’s been begging for, I stop and start all over again on the other thigh; working my way up. It’s not until her hips start to buck and shake that I pounce onto her, already dripping with anticipation, as my tongue swirls around, mixing with her sweet juices.  I suck hard on her throbbing clit, rubbing the base of my tongue against it. I guide two fingers deep inside of her and press them up against her g-spot as my tongue and lips continue to work her tender little clit. And I don’t care how long it takes, or how many orgasms she has to go through, I don’t stop until she’s doing everything she can to get me out from between her legs because she just can’t take any more. Then I stop, and she collapses, eyes barely open, panting, she couldn’t think, speak or move even if she wanted to. I unbind her hands, lay down in bed next to her, gently scoop her up and lay her on top of me as I pull the covers over us and let her rest.

Engraved

She doesn’t notice when Draco leaves. But she knows when he comes back – can feel his weight settle beside her on the green silk of the bed sheets, can hear the rapid shuffles of his breath. And she turns over, torrents of ice spiking her veins as she takes in the pale of his face and the circles under his eyes.

Things are different now.

He doesn’t have to say it. But there’s an unnatural redness creeping from beneath the cuffs of his button down shirt and a glassy look on his face and she knows with a terrible amount of certainty what has changed.

Her hand creeps out, inching towards his forearm. “Did he…?” She sucks in a breath, watching as he tentatively rolls up his sleeves, fingers shaking.

It’s stark. A black skull etched onto white skin.

It’s a thunder strike. An ink snake curling through the skull’s open mouth.

It’s a death sentence.

@thephoenixnomore​||X

“I’m sorry it got that far, but throwing or pulling her across the Citadel might have broken a few regulations, I’d detest getting kicked off the force before I actually had the chance to do something,” the petite officer bent down, cuffs at the ready. “I’d complain about the rules and say it must be a turian thing but…” Eydis glanced at the suspect before shaking her head. “You shouldn’t thank me, it’s my job and I didn’t really do anything.”

“Or were you expecting a big, bad turian mall cop?”

It’s really funny that knitting is seen as relaxing

and that knitters are supposed to be mild-mannered

I mean

have you ever asked a group of them whether natural fibre is better than acrylic

or whether circular needles are better than double-pointed ones

of if socks should be knitted toe-up or cuff-down

like

the only question that doesn’t turn us into a pack of screaming gorgons threatening to stab each other’s eyes out with sock needles is whether knitting is better than crochet

and don’t even get me started on what happens when you get between a knitter and discount yarn

seriously we have no place in the civilised world

the maps of your hands - 1.4k, nsfw. A quick little young!Will au one shot. A bit of relationship negotiation, a bit of filth, a whole lot of Hannibal being the most besotted cannibal to ever live. [read on AO3]

part three of the nights of silver (days of gold) series.

Will curled up in the armchair in the corner of the kitchen, knees tucked against his chest. Hannibal stood at the counter, drying their juice glasses from breakfast, looking far too pleased.

“They make dishwashers, you know.”

Hannibal wore the veil of a smile, a subtle flash of fondness on his face. His eyes remained downcast and focused on his task. “Some things are still best when done by hand.”

Will wore one of Hannibal’s sweaters, pulling the cuffs down over his fingers. “I like your hands,” he said, a blush creeping up his cheeks when he realized he’d said the words out loud.

The glass clinked against the counter as Hannibal set it down. He neatly folded his towel before crossing the room to pull Will’s knees down and kneel between them. “My hands are rather fond of you as well.”

Hannibal’s touch skimmed from Will’s knees up to his thighs, stopping just at the line of his boxers. Will stared down at Hannibal’s fingers, at the veins like ley lines mapping the backs of his hands. “Can I ask you something?”

Keep reading

Bound Hearts

miss-astrid-frost  eliza-lou-riley(Here’s an optional starter for a RP? Slave!Au?)

“Chief Hiccup, as celebration to your inauguration to Chief, I, Pitch Black, give you this gift as a token of friendship from my village.” The chief of a neighboring village pronounced proudly within the large throne hall. He snapped his fingers and all eyes were drawn to two warriors that walked forward, leading a slave with them by two chains. 

The slave walked slowly forward obediently, and kept his gaze to the ground in submission. Each wrist was captive to a golden cuff as well as one on each ankle. There was a golden cuff around his neck as well, and the chain that led him threaded through the neck cuff and split down to the cuffs on his wrists. The crowd in the room murmured in awe at him. He was dressed in light, golden silk and lace that draped over and around him, barely covering his body.  His hair was white and his skin pale and unblemished, save for his back, which had healed, white scars cris-crossing it, from being whipped. He had golden studs in his ears and was absolutely beautiful. Once they reached the foot of the throne, the beauty of a slave knelt obediently on his knees between the two guards leading him, his gaze staring at the floor.

“This is your gift for your pleasure, I hope you find him acceptable?” Pitch Black asked, and the slave inwardly flinched at his old master’s silky voice.

9

Got out of DCA last night ahead of any potential precip that might wreak havoc on the airports and thus my billable days! My destination city greeted me with temps in the teens this morning.

It’s stretches of weather like this that makes the promise of Spring so hope worthy.

Camel Polo Overcoat: Ralph Lauren.

Shirt: Herringbone pattern white cuffs and white button down collar by Ripley Shirt Makers, Dallas Tx. R.I.P.

Trousers: Muddled-Mottled puppy teeth patterned Incotex flat fronts courtesy of Sid Mashburn.

Belt: Matte finish crocodile contrivance courtesy of Harrison Ltd. Birmingham.

Socks: Paul Stuart.

Shoes: Bespoke two-eyelet tasseled laced Dainite soled George Cleverley fuzzies. In need of some sole cleaning.

@storybrookeisms

All Regina wanted to do was stay up in her room, out of sight. She didn’t want anyone to know that her mark had finally shown up. They appeared at some point between each person’s 18th and 21st birthday, and Regina was getting far too close to the latter. But she’d still been surprised to wake up that morning and find words on the inner side of her wrist.

Her mother would want to know, would be thrilled to know that fate had finally paired Regina with someone. But she couldn’t show anyone, because the first word was she.

But she couldn’t hide any longer, not when she heard the trumpets outside marking the royal family’s arrival. This was an honor. So she tugged down the cuffs of her long-sleeved dress and hurried downstairs, taking her place beside her parents.

Freedom Of The Heart

@askdreamdorks

“Chief Hiccup, as celebration to your inauguration to Chief, I, Pitch Black, give you this gift as a token of friendship from my village.” The chief of a neighboring village pronounced proudly within the throne hall. He snapped his fingers and all eyes were drawn to two warriors that walked forward, leading a slave with them by two chains. The slave walked obediently forward obediently, and kept his gaze to the ground I submission. Each wrists was captive to a golden cuff as well as one on each ankle. There was a golden cuff around his neck as well, and the chain that led him threaded through the neck cuff and split down to the cuffs on his wrists. The crowd in the room murmured in awe at him. He was dressed in light, golden silk and lace, and his hair was white and his skin pale and unblemished. He had golden studs in his ears and was absolutely beautiful. Once they reached the foot of the throne, the beauty of a slave knelt obediently on his knees between the two guards leading him, his gaze staring staring at the floor.

“This is your gift for your pleasure, I hope you find him acceptable?” Pitch Black asked, and the slave inwardly flinched at his old master’s silky voice.