Rain fell continuously around them. All was silent and empty in the street outside of Harry’s house and the only light came from the streetlight they stood under. Drops of water beaded and bounced off of Harry’s glasses and matted his hair to his forehead; Draco was out of breath and so cold, but Harry’s mouth was warm and just right. Harry balanced on his tiptoes to get a better angle and Draco had to bend his neck rather awkwardly to place his lips correctly. They would learn in time.
Classical music filled the crowded air in which they danced. Ladies in fine gowns twirled effortlessly about the room with help from their dates. Each man wore the most expensive dress robes Harry had ever seen and Draco looked the classiest out of everyone there. He stepped repeatedly on Draco’s feet, self-conscious of everyone staring at them. Why were they the center of attention, anyways? This was Ron and Hermione’s wedding, for God’s sake. Draco calmed his nerves by planting his lips on Harry’s forehead, a subtle reminder that like always, the prying eyes of the public didn’t matter. They swayed in the middle of the dance floor like that in a champagne haze, and Harry thought he even caught Draco smiling to himself later that evening.
Harry ran around the house, frantically picking up various articles of clothing from assorted pieces of furniture, desperate not to be late for his first day of work at the Ministry. Pecks were planted on Draco’s lips every time he passed by the chair he sat idly in with a cup of coffee. Harry could taste the sugar on his lips. God damn it, he knew he didn’t actually take his coffee black! He finally found socks to match his tie and babbled about how nervous he was to begin work as Draco fixed the wrinkles in his robes and pecked his lips six more times before fondly swatting him into the fireplace and handing him the Floo powder. Harry disappeared in a flash of green flames, and Draco haphazardly changed into a pair of slacks and a button-up shirt, waltzing out the door to his job at the coffee shop down the street.
They were a mess of arms and legs. Clouds hung low in the sky outside their window, as did the promise of winter. Blankets were strewn about the room and a chunk of Harry’s fringe fell endearingly into his eyes as they smiled at each other from mere centimeters away. Draco’s hair smelled like apples and leftover hair gel. Harry’s face asked questions as Draco leaned in for a needlessly sloppy kiss, ignoring the morning breath and lingering vodka from the night before. This was all he needed.
“Marry me,” he commanded between feather-light kisses on cheeks, noses, and lips.
They were the center of attention again, but this time they didn’t mind. Words poured out of Draco’s mouth faster than Harry could listen to them, and tears found their way out of his eyes before he could think of pulling out his handkerchief. He vaguely remembered pulling out a crumpled sheet of parchment from his back pocket and reading something he wrote down on it the night before, but the only thing that stuck in his brain were the two words that came out of Draco’s mouth when he was finished:
The kiss that followed wasn’t spectacular. There were sparks, a subtle shower of fireworks, and it was all followed by polite applause. They both knew they were saving the real pyrotechnics display for later that night.
Lol sorry this sucks I was just in the mood for taking a break fro my massive load of homework and writing some gooey mushy shit. So yeah. Idk what this is but!!! Enjoy xx
She was his prized possession and it wasn’t just for the money. Not any more. The amount of time he spends with her the more his heart fluttered and he knew what was happening to him but he didn’t want to admit it. The one thing he promised himself when he started this strip club. Don’t fall in love with a stripper.
Envy filled his eyes as he watched each man leave her room clothes sloppily put on, hair a mess and lust still fulling their actions as they quickly rushed out away from Suga. One by one he counted each man leave waiting for them all to go so he could congratulate her and look after her. As the last man went in Suga took a deep breathe as he prepared himself for the countless amount of noises that he had been hearing her make for quite sometime now but they never got old, not to him. “Professional Yoongi! Get it together” He harshly whispers to himself trying to snap himself out of his intoxicated state that was her.
Yet as tried not to concentrate on the noises his head was drifting into dark places. Where she was his and he was hers and they lived happily, peacefully together. Them being alone in a small little village house away from everyone as she had her body pressed closely against his bare skin, her neck thrown back as little whines and mewls left her sinful lips as his sinful hips struck gold. Suddenly his thoughts were ruined by a door shut and he stood abruptly waiting for the mans words. “Good?” Yoongi tormentingly asked as the young man stood before him looking lost and dazed. “Amazing” he whispers before walking out the door.
Gently Yoongi knocked on the door to hear a very tired “Come in” he sighed and pushed open the door to see her lying in the bed the duvet wrapped around her as the room had turned into a mess from her recent visitors. Yoongi’s eyes softened as he saw her fucked out state in her bed. “Well done Lucky. You didn’t have to take them all” He mumbled as he picked her up still making sure that the blanket covered her. Carefully he carried her to his bed and told her to stay there while he cleans up her room. “Can I please have the blanket so it can be cleaned?” he asks turning around as she pulls it limply from her body before diving into Yoongi’s soft blankets.
A low chuckle left his lips as he heard her struggle before mumbling a very sleepy and quiet “You can take it now”. He turned and smiled as her head resting gently on his pillow. Carefully he grabbed the blanket and quietly left the room before cleaning hers and putting every trace of the men in the bin. He sat in the room and noticed how everything looked more artificial than where someone lived and slept. A frown took over his lips as he noticed the very patriotic green that covered every inch of her room, she probably didn’t even like the colour green well at least not anymore thanks to the constant sighting of it.
She didn’t deserve the plastic that covered this room, this room wasn’t her! But what was her? He didn’t have a clue. Yoongi didn’t know what she was like, how she was when she wasn’t working. He definitely didn’t know about her life outside of “Heels & Lingerie Strip Club.”Hell he didn’t even know her real name. Yet she was special despite all of this, in all his years managing this strip club he has never felt this strongly about anyone so he had to do something. Something to show that he cares.
So he decided to look around her room to see if their was anything he could find that would give him in-tell in what her everyday life is like. He looked through countless draws of clothes and lingerie he had brought her but nothing that tells him anything about what she likes. That was until he stumbled across the jackpot which was hidden under her bed. Carefully he pulled everything out and saw a whole range of stuff. Comics, A guitar, notebooks and a small box filled with pictures, kid toys and messy letters. His heart broke as he saw a picture of her kissing some guy who must’ve been the same age as them both.
The heart breaking discovery turned into heart shattering as he saw a picture which brought so much pain to his heart as his scanned over every inch of the photo in front of him. Carefully he pushed the picture into his pocket before placing everything under the bed just as he found it. God, he wished he wasn’t nosy or so in love that it pained him to see her with anyone else even if it was her job and he was her employer. As he went to leave he gave the fake room one last glance before going to talk to one of the decorators about changing the room into her own little heaven and telling them to put everything from under the bed on display but to not look through anything.
Finally the day had finished for him and he could go upstairs to lie down and sleep completely forgetting about the love of his life was currently relaxing from the many rounds she had put up with just for him. Quietly he entered his room still seeing her asleep tightly wrapped in his blankets on his bed just as it should be if she was his as well. He got out of his clothes and placed the picture into one of the draws before lying down next to her and pulling her into his arms smiling as he inhaled her natural scent.
Yet his sleep was not peaceful as the picture burnt constantly in the back of his mind.
Finally part two is here! Thank you for all the love this series is already getting! Hope this part wasn’t a disappointment.
Another FNAF theory, and encase you weren’t sure; There will be spoilers. This theory is about why Ennard choose our body in Sister Location. Now I can here you guys and gals complaining, saying that Ennard did that as revenge for all the horrible things the “Purple Guy” did to all those kids. Well you would be wrong.
The final night we check the two rooms where Funtime Foxy and Ballora are found, only to see a man in each room hanging. Later in the night we have to go into Funtime Foxy’s room to get to the ending. In this room we hear something dripping and as you walk through the room it sounds like our character is walking in something wet and sticky. If you watch MarkiPlier’s Video Five Nights at Freddy’s: Sister Location - Part 4 (link right here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LJ7xi4GzLwc&list=PL3tRBEVW0hiDL09lO0xjKEix84OY27xet&index=47) at 6:14 Mark asks why things are so wet.(I recommend you watch and see what I’m taking about.) Look back in the picture, the person there is hanging by their neck. If you hang someone by their neck, they die of suffocation, or a broken spine depending on how the noose was made. Being hung from a noose thou does NOT cause the body to lose bodily fluids. Try to argue that it might be drool, or them decaying over time, but in truth they were there for ONE DAY. Not enough to decompose and fall apart. So what are we stepping in in Foxy’s room?
Those technicians were scooped. Not to see if the scooper could work on a human. Oh no much worst than that, they were test suits. Ennard had scooped them first and tried them on. They didn’t fit right, maybe too big and the skin sagged the wrong way, or too small and mechanical parts began to show. Either way, our main character wasn’t the first choose, he was the last. This is a theory I haven’t seen and I feel like it needed to be noticed.
I do NOT OWN the video, that belongs to MarkiPlier. (He was the only person I saw that noticed the sound too. I recommend watching his stuff, since I’m a big fan.) I don’t own the pictures as well. Tell me what you think in the comments below. Take care.
Spencer strolled through the abandoned basement, dirt clinging to the damp concrete, filthy water hugging Spencer’s trousers. The determined man scanning each darkening room for his small tortured family. Blackness possessed each corner, no sign of Y/N or Alexander anywhere causing Spencer to grow increasingly frantic.
“Spencer.” Derek’s voice bellowed through the empty basement, panicked voice causing Spencer to sprint towards him. A small hatch embedded in the eroding wall, moss escaping the open hatch. Without a thought, Spencer went to enter the mysterious hatch but Derek quickly halted his actions.
“You don’t know what could be in there.” Derek scolded, harsh eyes intensifying on Spencer’s determined form.
“My family could be dead in there.” Spencer growled, firmly pushing the muscular man and tearing though the weak, corroding opening. Spencer froze in his tracks, expecting to comfort his family but instead he was greeted by a candle-lit, uninhabited stone room. A small note was located in the middle of the desolated room, hauntingly illuminated by the candles. Spencer leapt towards the note, shaking fingers unfolding the blood-stained paper.
“She made a big mistake, worthless bitch. Catch us if you can.”
Spencer fell back, grip tightening around the crumpled note while tears cascaded down his panic-stricken face. His pessimistic body convulsed as his cries quickly turned into angered screams dominating his tight throat.
“Kid, let me see it.” Derek commanded, holding out his hand to the melancholic man. However, Spencer threw the flimsy note at Derek, his fingers moving to pull at his messy hair.
“I can’t do this.” Spencer cried, teeth nipping the inside of his lower lip. Derek frowned at Spencer, fury burning into his tongue. In effect, Derek thrust Spencer’s shoulders to face him.
“You’re giving up on them?” Derek challenged, tightening his grip on Spencer’s shoulders.
“I’m supposed to protect them.” Spencer croaked, guilt wrapping itself around his gravely throat. He bowed his head, tears flowing down his reddened face when Derek closed the space between them, wrapping his arms around Spencer to comfort him.
“You still can, kid.” Derek’s voice softened. Suddenly, a low vibration echoed from the shadows in the back of the room, revealing the original unsubs body. Spencer quickly broke away from Derek, kneeling beside the lifeless body.
For @meggieep…reader is an initiate as requested. Enjoy!
“Pick up your feet, Smith,” Eggsy’s voice boomed across the training room.
Currently, the newest Kingsman was overseeing the initiates train. They were in between tests, and the new Arthur figured it best for them to train. Since Merlin was currently helping with another case, Eggsy was put in charge. The man walked around the expansive room, observing each candidate.
“Kingsman don’t slack off, Romero,” the man chided another, “If you don’t set your feet right, then-”
Eggsy paused as Romero was punched several times in the face by another candidate. Romero dropped onto their back, huffing.
“You’ll be too slow,” Eggsy finished, “Good job, Hendrix. Be less obvious next time.”
The man continued to walk through the area. He slowed down as he neared his favorite candidate, Y/N. Though, he would never admit he had a favorite, not even to himself. He smirked as he watched her hit the punching bag. He leaned in closer.
“It helps to tighten your core, love,” he whispered. “Oh,” she yipped in surprise, “Right. Okay.” Eggsy placed his hands on her stomach and traced a small pattern. “These are the muscles that you want to be tight. It helps deliver a stronger punch.” Rattled, she nodded. “Thank you, sir.”
Eggsy smirked as he backed off. He watched her hit the bag a few more times. He nodded in approval.
“Good. Much stronger. Keep that up.” Eggsy spun slightly. “Jensen, keep the monologue for the theatre!”
Y/N smirked to herself as she bit back a giggle. Eggsy noticed Roxy in the doorway. Slowly, the man made his way over to her. She was smirking at him in amusement.
“What?” he questioned. “Oh nothing. How’s your favorite?” she questioned amused. “Come now, Rox. You know I don’t have one.” “Oh, so it’s a crush then?” she teased, “I know you’re not that nice to all recruits.” A faint blush appeared on his cheeks. “Don’t be silly.” “She’s right,” Merlin spoke suddenly, spooking Eggsy. “Where the hell did you come from?” Ignoring him, Merlin continued, “He’s always been soft on Y/N. And you know Eggsy, only soft on those he likes.” “I’m still here, bruv.” “I dunno, Merlin. It seems he’s extra soft on this one,” Roxy added. He comically raised a brow. “Do you think he’s reached puppy love?” “You two are…insufferable,” Eggsy murmured. “I think he skipped that and went to straight to head over heels.” “But he hasn’t been stuttering, so he must be a bit below that.”
Merlin and Roxy chuckled as Eggsy stomped back into the center of the room. Grinning, the woman held up her fist. Merlin bumped it.
“Ten pounds says he’ll ask her out before it’s over,” Roxy spoke. Merlin nodded before shaking her hand. “I’ll take that bet.”
It’s 2am and I couldn’t sleep, then I got super excited and inspired reading the #regionalgothic tag (check it out if you haven’t already) and got all homesick and proud of my creepy home town.
- There are bodies beneath the marketplace, your grandmother tries to explain, voice raised over the sound of children screaming. The queen Victoria market was a cemetery a century ago. You look to where the children’s screams are coming from but you can’t see them anywhere.
- As you enter each room the man in the suit tells you to acknowledge the traditional land owner. Respect the traditional land owner. Give thanks to the traditional land owner. You must give thanks. They will know if you don’t.
- Saturday is shopping day. You take the tram to chapel street. You follow the lady in front of you down the street. She buys a grey coat. They swipe her card. You buy the same coat. They swipe your card. You follow her out of the shop, into a sea of grey coats.
- You rent a house just off Brunswick street. Each night you are kept awake with sounds of dogs barking and voices but in the morning the streets are empty. It’s rubbish bin night tonight.
- You check your watch. It is Monday. It is raining. You check your watch. It is Monday. It is sunny. The time has not changed. No one seems to notice.
-The baristas on Degraves street eye each other with vicious determination. Each must have the best coffee, no matter the cost. They must feed their consumers. You order a latte. For a second the espresso pouring from the machine flows dark red.
- No matter how much money you put on your Myki it is not enough. You stand at the machine and feed it your coins. It is not enough. It is still hungry.
- There is nowhere to park at Highpoint. You follow the arrows down to the underground parking. You drive through a labyrinth of ramps and tunnels, slowly descending. You reach the bottom level. There is one other car, an old model, rusted and abandoned. You get into the lift. There is only a down button.
- The werribee line train home is always full. You catch the last train, crammed against the window. The train is empty the next morning. They say nobody leaves the west.
- On the platforms the metro officers dress in long coats and gloves. They do not stand in the sunlight. They do not smile. They check your ticket as you walk through the barrier to make their catch. You hold your breath. Fare evasion is at a record low.
- The store keepers in Footscray will sell you anything you need. Their windows are lined with spices, fruits, vegetables, all kinds of meats. You walk past the carcasses of hanging ducks, quails and pigs. You come across a shop on a side street selling cuts of meat you don’t recognise, too big to be pork or poultry. When you return the next day it has closed.
- The tourists laugh at the gaping mouth of Luna Parks smiling entrance, swallowing them as they enter. The locals know better than to go inside. From the right angle, a smile can look like a scream…
- You are on the ring road. You are always on the ring road. You don’t even remember where the ring road goes. The roadworks will be finished soon. Then you can go home.
Kazimeer and Damari were in the Russian man’s living room, just leaning against each other and snacking. There wasn’t anyone talking, and it was completely silent save for the crunching noise of popcorn and the sound of cupcake papers being crumbled.
That is, of course, until Kazimeer took it upon himself to steal Damari’s sock.
“You want it?”
“Of course I do!”
“Then come get it!~” Kazimeer laughed softly as he held the sock away from Damari, who made soft squeaks and groans as he tried to get his sock back. Eventually, he crawled on top of Kazimeer and looked to be straddling him.
“I NEED IT, GIVE IT TO ME, KAZIMEER!” Damari accidently spoke in an extremely sexual way, but the two men didn’t realize it since they knew what the situation was and what was going on. Kazimeer didn’t give the sock back, though, and Damari stayed pressed against him in hopes he would be able to reach his sock.
Hospitals Aren’t Always Sad // Closed // the-rightful-king-of-erebor
Bilba’s grandmother had turned up sick with a severe form of lung cancer, from smoking for 60 years and was in the hospital, which is a place Bilba never likes much. Everyday she visited her grandmother, and each week, she passed a room, 203, which had a man in it and no one ever surrounded him wishing him well or any balloons or cards or flowers, he was just alone.
And no one should be alone in a hospital, even if they’re the worst person in the world.
Chris Baio is an affable and jovial boy, reserved and groovy at once. In Vampire Weekend, he is the one who seemed the most discreet, but also has the best dance moves. We knew he was preparing a solo record, but what we did not know then was that he had a beautiful voice, serious, reminding us of Matt Johnson of The The.
The idea was his—it was a shame to play his song ‘Sister of pearl’ without bass or keyboard, but he came alone to Paris. The bearded man on vocals and guitar, a mustached man on bass, clean-shaven man on keyboard. We put each version in a different room, and made use of low-fi stuff to combine them. Here is the result: 3 in 1 Baio.