on the ropes out of line

Ok, here we fucking go:

  • thelostspecial.com has existed since the 31st (I believe, as just a solid black website). Yesterday, a header image appeared of Sherlock sitting across from Moriarty in TRF, with several messages hidden inside. Over the course of several hours, pages were added and removed, discoverable only by manually editing the url.
  • The message above was hidden in the source code of the page.
  • 2 messages hidden in the header were “MISS ME?” in black on the TV and “40″ hidden in the wallpaper. The third alteration was a partial reflection of a creepy elephant. More on that in a second.
  • Some /messages only led to clues to figure out final pages. For example, /elephant led to a message that read “WHICH ONE?” /mary led to “Be more specific,” /marymoran to “Who?”, and /marymorstan to the cap of Mary with devil horns.
  • /tjlc and /johnlock loaded pages, unlike incorrect guesses, which would just be black with the header. At these 2 pages, an image w traffic cones read “404 Error” (4x04?)
  • At /cluedo, we got this image:
  • Many images were associated with character names and the episode finales, Moriarty-heavy, these were early on so it may have just been helping us figure out how to use the site.
  • At /black, there was a comment box where we could briefly communicate, which they seemed to interact with–someone mentioning norbury led to a /norbury page, for example, and I believe this is how they figured out we were “Stumped on 40” and, at the new /ineedaclue, told us “Go to the source. The real source.” 
  • Other oddities included /januscars (cap of the logo), /old (the victorian baker street mantelpiece), /new (a hotel room bath in niagara falls), /coffee (Sherlock in ASIP drinking coffee with “WRONG WAY” superimposed over it), /dymm (moriarty on the picadilly circus screens), there are too many to cover here tbh. 
  • At /solveme/, this message reads:

Which translates to the Henry V quote, I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips, Straining upon the start. [The game’s afoot.]

  • So what’s with 13.9.16? Oddly enough, this is the day that the elephant, /murderousmary, was executed. The image that appeared at /murderousmary is here, it’s a smidge disturbing. Hmm… which elephant?
  • More of a stretch,13.9.16 is also the date that Mark trashed a Grimm’s Fairy tales Reichenbach theory in the papers, and Moriarty says “every fairy tale needs a good old fashioned villain” at minute 40 of TRF.
  • CANON references to 40, which seems closer to accurate, appear in TFP and The Lost Special. There’s contingency over what the 40th story is, we’re between The Valley of Fear and The Second Stain (and the Red Headed League??) at the moment, which are all relevant.
  • TFP: In three days, on Monday next, matters will be ripe, and the Professor, with all the principal members of the gang, will be in the hands of the police. Then will come the greatest criminal trial of the century, the clearing up of over forty mysteries, and the rope for all of them–but if you move at all prematurely, you understand, they may slip out of our hands, even at the last moment.
  • THE LOST SPECIAL: A telegram sent at 6:40 reads ““To James Bland, Superintendent, Central L. & W. C., Liverpool. - Special passed here at 4:52, well up to time. - Dowster, St. Helens.“it’s the telegram that says the train was on schedule and on the appropriate line, right before it disappeared” (from @edwardhardwicke)
  • So far, the message in the source code reads:
  • You see, but you do not observe.
    I see you like greyhounds in the slips, Straining upon the start.
    Murderous Mary. (Every fairytale needs a good old fashioned villain.)
    XXX.
  • Hmm. What appeared at /xxx, at the very end of the game?

Most pages have now disappeared, along with the header, leaving a mostly black site once again.

Take it as you will.

Mile High Club

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: NSFW, blowjobs

Word Count: 785

Prompt: The reader finds a quick way to calm Dean down during a flight.

Beta: @impala-dreamer

Originally posted by wellcometothedarkside

“Dean, you need to calm down. You’re freakin’ everyone out here,” Sam grumbled, punching his brother’s shoulder. “It’s a plane, not the Titanic.”

“Planes can crash,” Dean countered. “The Titanic sunk, it’s possible that this metal thing could just blow up any second.”

A woman in front of Dean turned around, shooting him a glare as she tried to comfort her young son who was now about as freaked out as Dean. “Planes are built to fly. They always check them before they go up,” she stated matter-of-factly. The second she turned her back, Dean was mocking her. This time you punched his arm.

The plane hit a bit of turbulence in the air, and you grit your teeth when Dean’s nails sunk into your arm. “Release the death grip, my arm’s gonna fall off.” He sighed, unleashing your arm. “C’mon, let’s go see if we can get you some water.” You suggested, having had enough of Dean’s panic.

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I get a totally different feel off people depending on which homestuck character is their icon like

John: probably rly sweet and doesn’t like discourse
Rose: analytical in depth posts one minute and shitposts the next
Dave or davesprite: really cool and gay, posts about how gay they are
Jade: a sweetheart who will drag you if you step out of line
Jane: draws fanart, usually of jane, and they’re rly peaceful
Roxy: The Best™ posts, and a fun personality
Dirk or lil hal: cool but shitposts about their feelings, gets a lot of asks
Jake: I already love them based on the pfp
Aradia: they like femslash rarepairs, draws them
Tavros: really defensive over homestuck and doesn’t get memes
Sollux: a lot of shitposting. A lot.
Karkat: Sweet and wonderful. The best blog.
Nepeta: they post memes and art
Kanaya: Super Sapphic on the way
Terezi: a rolemodel who knows the ropes of homestuck tumblr perfectly
Vriska: get ready for some discourse on your dash pal
Equius: will hug you if they could, but is bad at replying to ims
Gamzee: either just started homestuck and is sweet or gets into a lot of discourse
Eridan: acts like a big deal but don’t know how to edit their theme
Feferi: a literally sweetheart who posts cute aesthetics
Calliope: seems sweet but they can destroy you
Caliborn: acts tough but can’t handle anons
Davepeta: wonderful n nice but they may be a furry.
Jasprose: their blog is anarchy
Any other sprite: a wildcard but i trust them
Any guardian but bro: a mature person, good place to go to for advice
Bro: no
Any carapacion: sweet and good
Any lepricon: gay and mysterious
Fancharacter: Cool™ and probably has a lot of art

say if it’s accurate for u in the tags I need the data

Your Sam

Summary: The reader and Sam have a much different sex life once Sam returns from Hell. Pure porn.

Warning: smut, soulless!Sam, dom/sub dynamics, use of a flogger, restraints, dirty talk

Word Count: 1500ish

A/N: It was fun to write Soulless!Sam again. Hope y’all enjoy! XOXO


The ropes cut into your wrists and ankles just enough for you to feel them, for them to remind you that you’re totally helpless, naked and spread out on an unfamiliar motel bed in an unfamiliar town.

The man standing at the foot of the bed is unfamiliar too, though he shouldn’t be. You know every inch of that body, have kissed and touched it a million times, have stared at that face until you knew it better than your own.

But it isn’t Sam’s smirk on that face. It’s a little harder. Darker. And it isn’t Sam’s hands wielding the flogger. They aren’t gentle or playful enough.

Hell has turned your Sam into some unrecognizable version of himself.

And honestly, you love it.

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so who does the haus bills???? i’m pretty sure there’s no rent bc the hockey team owns it but who does the bills? who checks the mail and makes sure they don’t throw the envelopes out?? who makes sure the cable and heat and water and electricity is covered?? i’m sure ransom has made a spreadsheet for all the expenses, but who makes sure to pay it all on time??????? who sends out the reminder in the groupchat to give them money “unless you guys are fine taking cold ass showers for the next month”?????????????????

i can’t wait until harry and louis hold hands in public and the anchor and the rope line up so i can pass photos of it out to strangers on the street and have it painted onto my car

Plotting a Series

I’ve gotten a question about whether the process of plotting a single book is the same as the process of writing a series. The answer is: yes, but no. They’re similar in many areas, but there are some differences.

1. In the first book you’ll want to introduce the main conflict first, and then a smaller, less important conflict a little later in. The smaller conflict will be resolved by the end of the book; the larger conflict, which is the main conflict of the series, will not.
As an example, take the Harry Potter series (I use it because it’s well-known and won’t take too much explaining). In The Philosopher’s Stone, the first couple of chapters are about Harry and who he is, how he ended up with the Dursleys, what happened to his parents – these chapters accomplish backstory by introducing Harry and his family situation, and introduce the main conflict by telling of the death of Harry’s parents, and by Dumbledore expressing uncertainty about how defeated Voldemort really is. Then, a few chapters in, after being admitted into Hogwarts, Harry finds out that someone is trying to steal the Philosopher’s Stone – the book’s short term conflict.

2. Each short-term conflict should move the long-term conflict closer to a resolution.
For example, at the end of Philosopher’s Stone, the stone is safe (the short-term conflict resolved), but it’s been discovered that Voldemort is still alive and is still trying to gain power – the stakes of the long-term conflict are raised. At the end of Chamber of Secrets, the diary is destroyed, but we have some of Voldemort’s backstory, and it seems that Voldemort is gaining power. At the end of Prisoner of Azkaban, Wormtail is introduced – this seems to have nothing to do with the main conflict, but it’s important, because it brings some of Harry’s parentage back to him (although it’s secondhand, only stories of his parents), and because Wormtail turns out to be Voldemort’s right-hand man. At the end of Goblet of Fire, Voldemort regains his body, and at this point you could argue that the long-term conflict is about halfway through its rising action; at the end of Order of the Phoenix, Harry finds out that he must kill Voldemort or be killed by him, and that only he can defeat Voldemort; at the end of Half-Blood Prince, Dumbledore (the one person Voldemort was said to truly fear) is killed, Snape’s loyalty is in major question, and Hogwarts has been overtaken – Harry decides to continue Dumbledore’s work in looking for the Horcruxes. Finally, at the end of Deathly Hallows, Voldemort is defeated and a lot of the smaller loose ends (smaller-scale antagonists like Bellatrix LeStrange and Lucius Malfoy) are taken care of. Over the course of seven books, the long-term conflict – Voldemort trying to return to power and create a society that pampers purebloods and tramples poor wizards – has been resolved.

Basically, draw a circle on a piece of paper and put your main conflict in that circle. Then draw smaller circles stemming from that bigger circle and write your short-term conflicts in those. From there continue – subplots can be drawn stemming from your short-term conflicts. (If you don’t know how to create subplots, this post may help – in it I describe the same process of mapping out possible sub-conflicts to your main conflict, but probably describe a little better.)
If you don’t know what your short-term conflicts are yet, then think of your long-term conflict as a straight line of rope – then ask yourself how you can knot up that rope. What processes do your protagonists have to go through to get to a solution, and how can your antagonists gum up the works? For example, in the Harry Potter series, the long-term conflict is that Harry has to defeat Voldemort. What gets in the way of that? I can name a few things, from various places in the books: Minister Fudge refusing to believe him when Voldemort comes back after the events of Goblet of Fire, having so much difficulty finding and destroying all the Horcruxes in Deathly Hallows, Dolores Umbridge preaching that Voldemort is not alive when in fact he is, and is growing stronger.
(There are a million possibilities for your story’s short-term conflicts, because depending on your characters’ dispositions, they could cause a few themselves – for example, one of your characters could feel they have something to prove and end up getting themselves in trouble, and the plot of an entire book could be finding and saving that character before time runs out.)

I hope this helps! - @authors-haven

Sterek A-Z Challenge: one word prompts

Week 14: N - No

The thud of the bass rattled Stiles’ bones as he approached the sketchy club. He’d taken a cab from his and Derek’s apartment as instructed because Derek hadn’t wanted him wandering around the city so late at night by himself, and Stiles actually agreed. New York was nothing like Beacon Hills.

Sure, there was chaos, murder, and mayhem, but of a completely different nature. The supernatural, Stiles could handle, but human…

His third week in the city, Stiles had been mugged. Derek had been furious with him.

It wasn’t a fair representation of the city. New York was great, and so were the people. The city was surprisingly high on the list of safe major cities as opposed to how it was portrayed in the media and Hollywood, but Stiles had been so used to knowing what goes bump in the night, that he had completely forgotten humans could be just a vicious and cruel as any supposed mythical creature.

So, Stiles now cabbed everywhere he went, usually. Of course, the next time he’d ignored Derek’s mild request to take cabs or wait for Derek to pick him up, Stiles was kidnapped by a grief-stricken, slighted werewolf hell bent on revenge against Laura Hale.

Stiles shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his red straight cut jeans that he wore with one of Derek’s sweaters. Not a club outfit, but Stiles wasn’t at the club to party. He was there to listen to Derek DJ his first gig, or whatever it was called. He bypassed the growing line and walked straight up to the big burly bouncer dude holding a clipboard.

“Sup, dude,” Stiles said. He flashed a grin of false confidence as he rocked forward on the balls of his feet. “I’m on the guest list. Stiles Stilinski.”

The bouncer eyed him and snorted before he consulted the clipboard. “Sure. ID,” he said.

“Oh, yeah. Sure.” Stiles fumbled for his wallet, nearly dropping his license when he pulled it out. It was brand new and still glossy. His license had expired a few months ago, and he’d had to renew it in New York. “Here ya go. I’m totally underage. Not trying to sneak in to drink. Just here for the music.”

The bouncer checked his ID, eyes darting between Stiles and his grinning picture, then back down to the guest list. “Sorry, kid. Can’t let you in.”

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Challenge me - 5SOS

Originally posted by eldvinaaa

This is quite easily the dirtiest thing I have ever written and I hope you enjoy it…bringing 2k16 out with a bang…quite literally I guess? There’s no backstory to this…just pure smut…ten pages of pure…smut…

Warnings: Spanking, verbal degradation, DP (double penetration for you virgin souls), boy x boy, anal, mild choking, Dom/Sub…I think that’s it. If you see anything else, let me know


“No, Luke, the other one,” Ashton’s voice commanded. Y/n pulled lightly on the ropes binding her arms, her skin tender from the initial pulling, quickly learning it wasn’t a good idea if she wanted to finish this with skin around her wrists. Her world was dark, line of vision completely blocked from the blindfold covering her eyes trying to listen to the voices just on the other side of the door wondering what their plan was.

She didn’t know how she was feeling about this, the entire scenario starting because of a small, blown out of proportion argument she had had with her boyfriend Ashton about him being too soft on her, somehow ending in the challenge that he wouldn’t share her with his band mates…and here they were, not even twenty-four hours later, her pussy already sore from the pounding Ashton had already given her from the argument, not slightly regretting edging him on, but there was enough lust flowing through her veins to push any of those feelings away quickly.

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In honor of Yom HaShoah, I wanted to share links to the songs my synagogue performed at our memorial tonight. links are in the titles - just a warning, if you watch the videos on YouTube, some of them do contain Holocaust/Nazi imagery.

El Maleh Rachamim - a prayer traditionally sung at funerals and remembrance days for the dead. it’s a very beautiful melody.

Dos Elnte Kind (The Lonely Child) - a Yiddish song dedicated to Sarah, the daughter of Rachel Pupko-Krinski. they were separated during the war, but both survived and immigrated to America. the woman who sang this at my synagogue this evening was a close friend of Sarah’s daughter, and she was wearing a necklace left to her by Sarah.

Yisrolik - a Yiddish song about orphaned children of the Vilna ghetto

Flying - an English song by folk artist Laura Wetzler, who performed it for us tonight. she and her partner are both the daughters of Holocaust survivors, and she wrote this for her mother-in-law, a partisan whose sister Hannah (ZK”L) was murdered by the Nazis after they were discovered smuggling resistance newspapers

Minutn Fun Bitokhn (Moment of Confidence) - a Yiddish partisan song from Krakow. my favorite line, which isn’t translated exactly the same in the lyrics I found online, is “Revel, dance, you hangman! It won’t be long, I hope. Once there was a Haman–then there was a rope.”

Zog Nit Kein Mol (Never Say) - also known as Partisaner Lid, the Partisan Song, this is one of the most famous songs to come out of the war. it was written by Hirsch Glick (ZK”L) in the Vilna Ghetto after he learned of the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising.

Hatikvah (The Hope) - a Hebrew song associated with the Zionist cause, which was often sung in concentration camps after their liberation and in Displaced Person camps (if you look online you can find a recording of the inmates of Bergen-Belsen singing this song in 1945). it is now the national anthem of Israel.

chasingbutterflies  asked:

consider: the theatre tech majors who use iron nails in all of their set pieces, hang horseshoes over the doors to dressing rooms and wardrobe, the stage manager who leaves out bread and cream and maybe, if the show is going poorly during tech week, barters the ring her friend gave her in exchange for a smooth show. the light ops who accidentally slip into the in-between and are led out by the crows with new designs for the fog machines and hazers, sound ops with recordings of who-knows-what

the fly rail keeps their pulley system protected by an iron cage, the ropes woven with rowan, the costumers instruct actors to keep costumes inside out during rehearsals and only wear them properly during shows, with the exception of undergarments. salt is in all rehearsal foods, lines of it are drawn outside the booths and used to keep the headsets protected. if lobby decorations involve running water across the entrance, well, it’s a production of the tempest, what else was expected?

Allura + Earth

So last night at like 1AM, instead of sleeping I was crying because “Who’s gonna adopt Allura when the war is over??” and I was sad for about five seconds before the solution became clear: the paladins will have joint custody of Allura. As in, when the paladins go home for some R&R before flying back into space to deal with the problems left behind by the defeat of the Galra Empire, Allura will spend x amount of time with one paladin and their family, then she and Coran will move on to the next paladin and their family.

And then I lost control of the idea and I’ve been weeping ever since. So! Here is a list of ridiculous feelings and headcanons about Allura on Earth. Warning: It’s long.

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Genuine

Bit on the ‘what if’ side of things, but I think we would all want a girl like this for Harry, in one way or another. (On a side note this is my all time favorite gif of him) 

Let me know what you thought, here, loves! I am accepting requests :-)

Originally posted by 1dcaradelevingne-blog


Harry had a habit of keeping you close.

Always, but most especially when it came to being out in public. The fans, well, it was no surprise that despite their dedication they were a bit much at times. Not just with their words, but their actions too. He wanted to protect you from it, because as much as he loved his fans, he loved you more.

He kept you tucked tightly to his side whenever he could, whether it was you two grabbing some food or simply leaving for a quick stroll, he didn’t like you being too far away. It was this fear that had kept him from admitting his feelings to you and from taking the jump from really good friends to significant others. His life was crazy, and he didn’t want that to affect you. Even when you two had been the best of friends, he had kept you hidden from the public eye. You were his, and his alone, private, a hidden treasure of sorts and he wasn’t quite ready to share you with anyone else, let alone the world.

Even today, he’s gripping your hand a bit too tightly as you struggle to keep up with his long strides. Admittedly, it’s a bit crazier than usual. It’s one of the boys’ biggest concerts on this tour, which is exactly why Harry had insisted on flying you out for it. It’s not that you hadn’t seen the boys perform before, you had. You’d been backstage at the X factor and with Harry every step of the way since then. However, you had never been to a show in the U.S., and Harry knew better than to listen to your protests of the plane ticket being too expensive. “Doesn’t matter, love. Want yeh here.”

It really came as no surprise then,  that the fans are lined up outside the hotel in a gregorious multitude, and that the roped polls and army of men dressed in black and appointed to your protection  looked significantly tiny in comparison.  The concert isn’t until tomorrow, the boys getting a much needed day of rest before. Or, they had planned.

You can’t help but look around in awe at all the commotion. Despite the lack of red carpet under your feet, you feel like you are indeed walking one. The fans are screaming left and right, startling bright signs waving around carelessly in exchange for even a second of the boys’ attention. There’s crying too, a lot in fact. You can hear it from all different directions as breathless pleas and sobs echo back and forth around you. The other boys were already inside the hotel lobby, behind the glass doors and away from the quiet roar of the crowd. They had opted to make Harry and you sit in the very back seats that the car offered, something about not wanting to lose lunch being their reason. Harry’s still stringing you along, mindful that you’re taking it all in but hurrying to get the pair of you inside as one of the bodyguards on his right is talking to him about god knows what.  His head is low as he listens intently to what the man is saying. When Harry’s career had first taken off, he would come home every once in 

awhile and be ecstatic about the fans, telling you stories about how heartfelt they were. It was so endearing to watch him, his green eyes alight as he recalled to you the moments that stood out to him in the sea of press releases and talk shows and signings. As time went on, though, it wasn’t that his stories diminished but rather the light in his eyes did. He still had lots to tell you, but you knew Harry well enough to know something was wrong under the surface. 

“Already tired of the fame, Styles?” You had teased him with a  quirk of your eyebrow. 

His head had snapped up from his phone at that, eyebrows furrowed and forehead creased. “No. Never. Yeh know that, love. S’just…” He mumbled, trailing off as he closed his eyes and ran a hand down his face. 

You had frowned at that, leaning across the booth and grabbing his wrist in your fingers. 

“Harry, what is it?” You ask, dragging his hand away from his face. He sighs, opening the tired eyes you had been avoiding to acknowledge since he came back. 

“They’re lovely, the fans. I would never question that, yeh know? We wouldn’t be anything without em. I- we, owe them so much.” He rambles, eyes narrowed as he tries to find the right words. 

“Harry.” You whisper softly, releasing his wrist to intertwine your fingers with his. “Look at me.” You demand after a quick beat. 

He does, blinking at you. 

You shake your head at him gently, “You don’t have to convince me love, I know exactly who you are. S’me you’re talking too, remember?”

His shoulders had sag a bit at that and after a little more coaxing he had admitted to you that it was exhausting at times, but there isn’t a thing he would change.

“Harry, you’re entitled to be tired. You handle it so well, you know that don’t you? All those interviewers looking to get a rise out of you.. You’re wonderful, Harry, and I’m glad I’m not the only who knows that.” You had responded with a squeeze of his hand.

He had flashed you a grateful smile in response.

“Although, I can say it was easier when thousands of girls weren’t pining for you, love.” You tease with a smirk, earning a loud chortle of laughter from him and a shake of his head, brown curls flopping around.

“S’only one girl I fancy, really.” He responds, lifting his hand to his mouth.

And you’re just about to enter the hotel, a mere few steps from the stairs when you spot the neon sign. It’s hard not to see it, really, but the words scrawled onto it is what causes you to come to a  stumbling stop. Harry comes to a stop too when he has to tug on your hand, your grip loosening from his. He’s instantly alert, ignoring the babbling man next to him as he lifts his head and turns over his shoulder to look at you. You’re turned away from him, staring somewhere off into the crowd and he wants to grab your attention, lean forward and grab your hand once again but he knows you’d only stop if it was important.

You don’t wait to offer him even a look of explanation as your step away from him, backtracking a few feet. The bodyguards and security members they have stationed behind you two and babbling away into their walkie talkies, spreading the news of the sudden stop. You’re stepping dangerously closer to the poll, the fans all screaming at you but you seem unphased. “Harry, she can’t just-” One of the bodyguards begins to lecture, and Harry knows he should say something. He takes a step forward to call after you, the guards around him mimicking his moves and keeping a tight box around him. But that’s when he notices the sign the girl you’re headed for is holding. He feels his heart pang a bit, every time he reads one of those signs he feels so.. Powerless. Him, big star Harry Styles who feels as if he’s the most menial man in the world were confronted with those ferocious words. Through twitter dm’s and instagram comments, to the posters he’d seen and the things he’d heard about fans, young girls thinking such disheartening things. He felt most frustrated with this, out of everything that came along with his career. 

You’re stepping closer to the fan whose eyes are wide as she lowers the sign and her mouth takes a widening ‘o’ shape. The guard closest to you grabs your elbow a bit possessively, causing Harry to frown. You turn, looking down at your elbow and up at the guard and although he can only see the side of your face Harry knows you’re giving the burlish man the sweetest of smiles. He’s talking to you in an urgent voice but you shake your head at him, extending the arm he isn’t holding onto to pat his forearm gently. Harry smiles a bit, the tension between his eyebrows unfolding. He recognizes the action all too well, it’s the one you give him when he’s worried or stressed or simply frustrated. A simple pat to the cheek and a kiss to his forehead with a placating, “Relax, love. You’ll be just fine.” The bodyguard, fond of Harry, turns to give him a questioning look and Harry nods at him. He releases your elbow, and you unaware of the exchange step closer to the fan.

You smile at her, black letters painted across her flushed cheeks, 1D taut against her freckled skin. You lean forward and offer your hand, and she carelessly drops the sign to the floor to hold on it. 

“Hi, love. What’s your name?” You ask over the roaring girls around you, everyone spreading the word that Harry Styles’ girlfriend is speaking to fans. 

“C-caroline.” She stutters, eyes wide and voice trembling not nearly as much as her hand is in yours. 

“That’s a lovely name, I’m Y/N, it’s nice to meet you.” You respond with a smile. 

“I know who you are! I mean- I..” She stutters, ashamed of her sudden outburst. 

You smile at, flushing yourself. “I saw your sign, Caroline.”

  Her eyes go wide and her face drops to stare at said sign, laying on the ground with the word side facing up. Harry, you saved my life. 

She glances up at you, eyes swimming a bit. Caroline clears her throat, blinking at you, “Can I tell you?” She gestures to the sign with her foot.

You nod at once, and she begins to spill as much of her story as she can, tripping over the details and gasping with deep breaths to share enough in the short time you two have together. You nod along when you can, encouraging her with your eyes. The girls, around you and maybe a bit farther away too have fallen quiet as well.

When she’s done, you smile at her. “Oh, love. I’m sorry to hear that.” She smiles at you and even without the cameras on you, you would’ve considered your words just as carefully.

You clear your throat a bit and you address not just Caroline but all the girls around you, You shake your head at her, bringing your other hand up to sandwich hers between yours. “Being a teenager is a  proper pain in the arse, isn’t it?” You ask, addressing the girls around you two that leaning on their toes to get a better angle with their smart phones and listen to your words.

They laugh in response to your inquiry, nodding. You grin at them, taking in all of their wide eyed faces and expectant stares.

“I hope-” You stop at that, biting your lower lip and shaking your head before you start again, “I want you all to know it gets better, yeah? I know it seems like it won’t ever end or get better, but I promise you it does. And you’ve got to keep your pretty heads up. Focusing on the good things, it’ll help loves. Good people, good books, I mean you’ve already got good music to keep you company.” You add with a smile.

The girls nod all together and you feel your heart swell a bit when Caroline finally flashes her smile at you.

“You’ve got a beautiful smile, Caroline. Should wear it more often.” You offer as a parting sentence, before you pull your hands away from hers and wave at the group before turning back.

“Wait! Could- do you mind signing this?” Caroline cries, sign outstretched towards you. 

Your eyebrows furrow together, “Me?” 

“Yes, you’re awesome!” She screams, causing you to laugh. 

“I haven’t got a pen..” You mutter slightly, glancing over your shoulder at the bodyguard who gives you a pressing look. 

“I’ve got one, pet.” A warm voice says as a hand slips around your lower back. You turn and see Harry beaming at you with a pen in his hand. 

“Thanks, love.” You respond as you sign it for Caroline before she asks for Harry’s, who obliges, and after that the fans pick up the ir screaming again hand outstretched and waiting to grab at your boyfriend. 

“Let’s go yeah, unless yeh want to stop for anymore detours.” He mumbles into your ear before pressing his lips to your temple.

 “No, no, let’s go.” You nod and let him lead you towards the stairs, waving at the girls one last time.

The glass doors shut behind your and the other boys have taken a seat in the waiting area, standing up with a dramatic sigh when you two finally enter. You shoot them a quick look before Harry is towering in front of you with his hands locked tightly around your waist.  

You glance up at him hesitantly, expecting a scoff with a wild “what were yeh thinkin’ love?” but instead a met with a warm smile. Harry’s smile. His dimples are popping and his eyes are shining and you know it’s not from the reflection of the florescent lights in the hotel lobby. 

“What’re you smiling about?” You ask, leaning up to poke his dimple.

 He chuckles, turning his face to press a swift kiss to your finger. “Jus’.. happy, sweetheart.” He mumbles, leaning forward and impatiently kissing your forehead. 

You hum, gripping the fabric of his jacket and pulling yourself closer to him. The cameras outside are probably having a field day with what had just happened and Harry’s sudden burst of affection. “She was lovely, wasn’t she? Caroline.” You clarify, glancing back out the glass doors at the still boisterous fans. 

“She was.” He agrees, one hand reaching up to tilt your chin back in his direction.

You humph at him, “Needy, aren’t you?”

His response is a grunt and pressing his thumb deeper into your chin, before he grabs it and brings you forward in a scorching kiss.

When he finally pulls away, forehead resting against yours and puff puffs of breath warm against your cheek, he speaks, “Thank yeh for that, love. Yeh didn’t have to.. That was sweet of yeh. That girl’s gonna remember that for a long time.” He mutters, kissing your cheek.

It was the exact genuity that had attracted him to you in the first place. How simply it came to you to make someone else’s day better without a second thought. 

You smile at him, eyes narrowed in confusion, “All I did was talk to her, give her a listening ear. Anyhow, she adores you  and I reckon if we could leave her a little piece of you, she’d have something to cheer her up a bit. At least for a while, you know help keep her grounded. ”  

Harry shakes his head at you, ringed fingers brushing across your cheek, “Yeh did so much more than that, angel.  Don’t think those girls are gonna be thinking about me at all. The difference yeh just made…“ He trails off before clearing his throat and restarting, “Love yeh. Yeh know that, right?”He gripes suddenly, forehead bumping against yours to punctuate his words. 

You give him a genuine smile, laughing slightly as you tilt your head up to brush your nose against his lightly, “Love you, Harry.” 

Drarry Smut

Warnings/Information: Harry Potter, this takes place in Deathly Hallows (Part 2), is when Harry, Hermione, and Ron go in to look for Rowena Ravenclaw’s diadem in the Room of Requirement and Draco and Crabbe and the other guy come in, modified canon stuff, mildly nonconsensual but also consensual idk?, Draco Malfoy x Harry Potter, gay shit, gay smut, two men doing sexual things, gay gay gay gay gay, kinda angsty/saddish at the end, and warning: IT’S LIKE, LONG, SO YEAH XD, also the indentation is fucked up because I copied and pasted it from Google Docs because I don’t trust Quotev not to delete my shit again.

FINAL WARNING: THIS IS SMUTTTTTTTTTT OKAYYYYYYY? OKAAAAAAAY.
Also I don’t own Harry Potter. Obviously. Or Drarry would be canon af.


An Even Exchange


Harry’s face lit up with a victorious smile as he fiddled with the diadem, caressing the metal and feeling his heart leap. He was now so close to being one step closer to killing Voldemort

Suddenly, he felt as though he, Ron, and Hermione weren’t alone anymore… He turned around, letting the diadem fall back into the box, and met Malfoy’s gaze.

“Well, well,” murmured the blonde. “What brings you here, Potter?”

Harry straightened himself up. “I could ask you the same,” he responded.

“You have something of mine,” Draco stated “I’d like it back”

“What’s wrong with the one you have?” Harry retorted passively, gesturing towards the wand Malfoy held in his hand, pointed at him.

“It’s my mother’s. Powerful… but it’s… not the same. Doesn’t quite… understand me. Know what I mean?” Draco’s words hit Harry deeper than Harry meant to let them go. His own wand had been splintered to pieces earlier in the year when Voldemort’s snake, Nagini, had attacked Hermione and him in Godric’s Hallow.

“Well too bad, Malfoy. I won it from you, so it’s only fair that I keep it,” Harry responded finally.

Malfoy’s face twisted into a frown, but then softened slightly, a smirk making his lips turn upward. “Fine then, Potter. I’ll just have to take something else.”

Harry laughed, amused. “What else could you possibly take, Malfoy?” The words slipped from his lips incredulously.

Malfoy didn’t respond. “Crabbe, Blaise! Get Granger and Weasley out of here.”

Almost instantly the four afore-mentioned people were fighting, shooting hexes and curses at each other. In the midst of all the chaos, Harry was caught by surprise as Draco quickly hexed him, grabbing him by the collar and dragging him away from his friends.

The moment Harry recovered from being stupefied he began struggling against Draco. “G-Get off me!” he growled.

“Accio wand,” Malfoy muttered.

Harry’s wand flew out of his pocket, into Malfoy’s awaiting hand, which tucked it into his pocket. Before he could protest, however, Malfoy was pushing him backwards. Harry landed on something soft: a bed. Wait. A bed? That surely hadn’t been there before. Why would a bed be in the Room of Requirement? There was no need for a bed…

And that’s when he looked up to see the smirk on Malfoy’s face. “I’ll just have to take you, Potter.”

Harry’s eyes widened at the dangerous implication the Slytherin’s words held.

“You don’t mean… Malfoy…!” Harry sputtered out the other’s name, his cheeks flushing rather quickly.

“Ah, shut it Potter, it’s not like you’ve never imagined this.”

Harry’s mouth opened, then shut. It wasn’t like he could deny it. He mustn’t tell lies, and to say that he’d never wanked off to Draco’s incredibly handsome face would be a complete and utter lie.

Malfoy was removing his shirt now, undoing his green tie and tossing it aside carelessly when it was loose. His other free hand held Potter’s wrists above his head. He was straddling Harry, his hips settled on top of the Gryffindor’s crotch and his legs keeping strong control over Harry’s ankles, making sure he wouldn’t kick.

All the while, Harry stared at Malfoy, unable to think straight. Draco’s elegant fingers popped open the buttons of his own shirt.

“Fulgari,” Draco murmured, pointing his wand at Harry’s wrists. Harry’s wrists were instantly bound in shining ropes, and now Malfoy was free to shrug off his shirt, throwing it to the right.

Harry jerked, his mind being yanked back to reality rather quickly as he heard some curses being shouted in the distance, Ron and Hermione’s voices standing out.

Before Harry could even turn to Draco to say something along the lines of ‘let me go!’, Draco had muttered a silencing charm, and all was quiet once more. Harry’s mouth opened, but then snapped shut as Draco’s nimble fingers skittered down Harry’s shirt, undoing buttons along the way.

“Malfoy, stop,” Harry hissed through his teeth as the large field of skin littered with bits of sparse, dark hair was exposed.

“Yeah? Why?” came the response. Draco’s fingers were twisting the hair gently

“B-Because,” was the half-assed answer.

Malfoy laughed, amused. “Yeah, right, Potter. Maybe if you had a good reason I’d actually give it a thought, eh?”

His fingers found Harry’s nipples, and now they were tormenting them, sending little sparks of something throughout Harry’s body. Harry bit his lip rather harshly.

“Scared, Potter? Scared of me defiling you?” He paused, his eyebrow quirking upwards. “Or perhaps, you’re scared of the noises you’ll make while I’m fucking you?”

It was a rhetorical question; Malfoy wasn’t seeking any answers. His words, however, had caused Harry to flush a deep red and bite his lip even harder as Draco dipped down to suck on one of Harry’s sensitive buds.

Harry’s head thudded back against the pillow. He was breathing too heavily, getting too caught up in the moment. Don’t get hard, don’t get hard, don’t get hard, he repeated to himself in his mind, reciting the mantra but in vain. Don’t get hard, fuck, you’re getting hard, it’s failing, maybe he won’t notice…

Alas, but with Malfoy’s position on Harry, his hips perfectly aligned with the other’s hips, he could feel the way that Harry’s pants were tighter than they used to be, could feel the growing bulge. Harry glanced down at Malfoy, his breath hitching when he realized that the blond was smirking back up at him.

He didn’t even notice the way that Draco subtly scooted backwards, the way that his hand was snaking downwards at a rather alarming pace, until he felt the button on his pants be popped open.

“Merlin,” Harry whispered, the words almost coming out as a whine.

Next thing he knew, the zipper was coming down as well, and then in a blur his pants were gone. His maroon boxers were strained, and Harry panted slowly as he stared steadily up and nowhere else.

It was quiet for a moment, and so Harry gasped as his boxers were brought down sharply and quickly without any fair warning. He closed his eyes, his face scarlet, as waves of humiliation thrummed through him. He refused to look Malfoy in the eye while he was in such a vulnerable state.

“Want me to stop now, Potter? Because your prick says otherwise,” Malfoy’s voice rang out.

Harry trembled as Malfoy’s slightly cold, smooth hand wrapped around him, jerking him off at an agonistically slow pace. The brunette wanted to say that he wanted Draco to stop, he really did, except if he did, it would be a lie and both of them knew it.

The slow pace started gaining speed, getting a bit quicker, and Harry’s jerking breathing morphed into a series of breathy pants and gasps. “M-Merlin,” Harry whispered again, his hips moving against his will.

Then it all stopped, and Harry let out a whimper of disappointment without even realizing it.

“Look at me, Harry,” Draco demanded. Harry grit his teeth, his arousal spiking at the use of his first name. “Look at me,” he repeated when Harry shook his head adamantly.

“Harry, if you don’t look at me I’m not going to let you come,” Draco warned.

“Bloody hell,” Harry groaned quietly, slowly letting his eyes flutter open, meeting Malfoy’s grayish blue gaze with his own, greenish blue eyes.

“That’s a good lad,” Draco praised, his lips turning upwards in a smile.

Before Harry could come up with a retort, Draco’s lips were on his own. Harry’s mouth fell open in shock and Draco moaned softly as he shoved his tongue into Harry’s mouth. Harry was trying not to think about how good Malfoy’s lips felt against his own, of how soft his skin was and how wet his tongue was as it explored Harry’s awaiting cavern. It proved to be an impossible task.

He started gently and instinctively kissing back, a hint of shyness evident in the way he did so. His lips parted again as Malfoy’s hands snaked downwards again, once again taking hold of his erect cock and stroking it at a rhythmic, even pace.

Harry started succumbing to the pleasure, his hips thrusting upwards at an erratic pace with no rhythm at all, and he whined childishly as the touch slowed. He stopped though, when he saw that Malfoy’s hands had instead gone to his own pants, undoing the button and sighing in relief as the tension was lessened slightly. For the first time, Harry realized how tight Malfoy’s pants had been, and as Draco ditched the pants, his eyes traveled down the Slytherin’s body without being able to help it.

Potter’s trance was broken with Malfoy’s voice, causing him to start to attention. “Enjoying the view from down there, Potter?” he drawled, a hand slipping beneath the hem of his boxers.

He slid the boxers down confidently (or at least, if he had any worries he hid them quite well) and Harry knew that Malfoy was smirking down at him, reveling in the look on Harry’s face, but he didn’t care. All he knew was that Malfoy was hot. His cock wasn’t any less beautiful than the rest of his body, and it matched the rest of him beautifully.

Malfoy was a masterpiece.

All these romantic thoughts were thrown from his mind as he realized Malfoy had ducked down to start kissing at his chest again. He lingered a little at Harry’s nipples before licking and sucking and nipping his way up to the brunette’s neck and then stopped to loiter there. Harry let out a quiet sort of gasp which was magnified to a moan as Draco straddled Harry once more, his hips matching up with Harry’s and causing their cocks to slide against each other in the most pleasurable way.

Malfoy was unabashedly moaning, vibrations traveling up his neck. He bit down slightly, making Harry’s back arch in a painful pleasure, before Malfoy’s lips made their way up Harry’s jaw and finally landing at their destination on the other’s lips.

The feeling of Draco thrusting and rubbing against him while he pleasurably abused his lips with his own was incredible. Harry’s mind wasn’t sure where to go and what to think; all he knew was that this felt amazing.

He was so caught up in the pleasure that he didn’t even see the way one of Malfoy’s hands was caressing his thigh, dangerously traveling between his legs slowly. The feeling of a nimble finger prodding at his entrance was enough to jerk him back to reality, and Harry jolted backwards nervously. He glanced up at Malfoy, who had broken the kiss, and found himself oddly comforted by the gentle smile that the blonde was giving him.

“Don’t worry about it Potter, I’ll make you feel good…” the Slytherin murmured in a low, lusty tone.

This time, as Draco pushed a finger into him, Harry didn’t stop him. Instead, he took a deep breath and lay back, relaxing. The Gryffindor wasn’t exactly a complete stranger to this feeling. He had gotten a little curious a couple times, and it had just… happened, he supposed, while he was having a little time to himself. But someone else doing it? And Malfoy, for that matter? This felt completely different, and a lot more pleasurable…

Malfoy had added another finger, now scissoring them and curling them and stretching him in the most divine way, searching… searching for the spot that would make Potter see stars…

Harry’s back arched suddenly, and a rush of air escaped his lips, forming the word ‘Malfoy’ as he did so. Harry had tried, but never quite found, this place within him. And now that Draco had found it, he wasn’t stopping at relentlessly pressing up against it with, now, three fingers.

The brunette’s hips were thrusting forward, essentially doing the task of fucking himself upon Malfoy’s fingers. His head lay back against the pillow, his eyes closed in bliss.

But then his eyes flew open as the fingers left him. Malfoy wasn’t replacing them with something better, bigger, and Harry whined in protest.

“Merlin, please, M-Malfoy,” he panted, his hips left thrusting against air.

“Please what?” Draco responded oh-so innocently, a smirk playing at his dainty lips.

“Y-You know what,” Harry responded with a huff.

“Ah, but I can assure you that I don’t know what,” came the teasing reply.

“Fuckin’ hell,” the Gryffindor hissed.

“My, such language from the chosen one,” Malfoy smiled, running his fingers across Harry’s lips. “Beg for it, Potter.”

Harry’s lips set in a firm line, and he shook his head. His pride was so far gone at this point, but he still had a shred of self-respect and he did not want to beg for Malfoy’s cock. His beautiful, pale, hard, delicious…

“I want you,” he murmured weakly.

“Where?”

“In…. in me…”

“What in you?”

“Your… m-merlin, Draco, you know what I want!” Harry burst out, exasperated and embarrassed.

“Yes, but I’m not going to give it to you until you assure me that you want it,” Malfoy responded slyly.

“You can’t m-make me.”

The Slytherin hummed in response, his head lowering. Harry’s breath hitched: Draco’s lithe tongue had darted out and lapped up the pre-cum beading at the tip of Harry’s cock and was now forming little circles around the tip.

Sparks like electricity were rushing down to his groin, and his hips jerked upwards. Malfoy relaxed his throat, going down deeper on Harry, who let out a high-pitched whimper.

Harry was utterly defeated. Having Malfoy sucking him like so was heavenly, but Draco knew what Harry really wanted… to come with Malfoy inside him, filling him up and fucking him into the bed.

“Dracoooo,” he moaned.

“Hm?” came the response, sending vibrations through Harry’s cock and putting him near the edge.

“F-Fuck me! Please, merlin, fuck me… please, I want to c-come with you in me, please,” the brunette gasped, finally breaking.

Promptly Malfoy’s mouth was removed from Harry’s cock and the blonde was straddling Harry, spreading his legs and using one hand to guide his cock towards Harry’s entrance. The head of Draco nudged at the hole, causing Harry to let out a string of curses and whimper to Malfoy to “Just do it already”, to which Malfoy abided by quickly.

As the head breached Harry’s entrance, Harry struggled to keep his hips under control, knowing if he thrust himself towards Draco it’d be too fast and too big. The Gryffindor did, however, let out a strangled moan. He looked upwards, seeing Malfoy’s head tipped back in pleasure, his bleached hair falling in just the right positions, his eyes closed and his lip caught between his teeth as beads of sweat trickled down his body. Malfoy was the perfect picture of what pleasure looked like, and Harry’s eyes couldn’t help but to travel down his body, his mouth agape in awe of Draco’s beauty.

He let his hips move forward slowly, jolts of pleasure going straight for his cock as Malfoy filled him. He felt himself gradually opening up to welcome Draco’s hardness willingly. The pain was little, the pleasure vast, and he scooted forward more to fill himself up more, needing more of Malfoy in him. Then he slid back, letting instinct take over, and began fucking himself on Draco slowly at first, then faster. Malfoy let him do the work at first, partially unable to do anything for a moment as he was full of shock and intense pleasure, and then he started thrusting his hips into Harry. Both of them let out long-awaited groans and moans, their voices mingling into one. Harry’s fingers at first clenched the sheets, but then found comfort in holding onto Malfoy’s arms, which were planted on either side of Harry.

The Gryffindor hissed in unadulterated pleasure as the thrusts sped up steadily. Draco jerked, a strangled moan escaping his lips. Malfoy stopped abruptly, panting heavily and clearly trying to regain control of himself.

“Fuck, Harry, don’t d-do that…” he stuttered out.

Potter’s hips gently continued thrusting up against Draco, who whimpered in pleasure and squeezed his eyes shut.

“Do what…?” the brunette responded, mildly confused but smirking.

“The.. hissing…”

Oh. So Draco was affected by hissing, was he?

“So oh-so perfect Draco Malfoy has a weakness, hm?” Harry let the Parseltongue slither from his lips easily, and Draco positively mewled… Harry chuckled. “You don’t even know what I’m saying yet you’re still so affected… I could be reciting potions ingredients for all you know, yet you’d still be getting off…”

“H-Harry…! Stop, please… fuck, I’ll come…” Malfoy’s hips jerked and his body trembled, tensing.

Harry obliged, chuckling lowly. Malfoy’s eyes opened, a mild glare but much lust hidden within them. “How long has that been a thing?” he prompted, subtly drawing out his S’s.

“Since… s-second year…” came the reply.

Harry’s face turned a red comparable to the rubies within the hilt of Godric Gryffindor himself’s sword. “That long…?” he whispered, half to himself.

“F-Fuck off,” Malfoy growled.

Harry swiveled his hips, and the growl swiftly shifted into a whimper. Potter was in control, and both he and Draco were aware of this fact.

“Come on, don’t stop…” Harry hissed out, thrusting his hips so Malfoy would get the idea despite the fact that he didn’t verbally understand Harry’s words. “Fuck me!”

Oh, and Draco did. The thrusts sped up quickly and soon the air was filled with the moans and gasps of the two young men.

Harry’s head lay back, his calloused fingers grasping at Malfoy’s own delicate ones as he lay with his mouth open, eyes closed.

“H-Harry… Parseltongue…” Draco stuttered out in a whisper.

When Harry opened his eyes to gaze at Draco, his face was contorted with pleasure, his hair damp with sweat.

“Come for me, Malfoy…”

Malfoy whimpered and came, his hips jerking one last time as he panted heavily, his eyes closing.

When he’d come down from his high, he pulled out gently, before leaning down.

“You haven’t come,” he observed, watching as Harry touched himself, giving himself long strokes. “I’ll fix that, love…”

And Harry didn’t even have time to process the fact that Draco had just addressed him as ‘love’… ‘love’, for Merlin’s sake… because Draco was prying Harry’s hands from the unsatiated cock and replacing them with something better, more… His lips were opening…

Harry welcomed the familiar feeling of Draco sucking him, gasping but feeling terribly empty. Malfoy, thank Merlin, seemed to sense this by the way that Harry’s legs spread a bit, and started fingering him, massaging his prostate gently but just enough to make him see stars as he hit the edge.

“M-Malfoy…” Harry whispered as he came into the mouth that belonged to the name he’d just let loose from his own lips.

The blonde swallowed, licking his lips, before hastily casting the countercurse to undo the silvery ropes around Harry’s wrists, then laying down somewhat nervously beside the Gryffindor.

The two just lay there beside each other quietly, not exchanging any words.

For just having received the best sex of his life, Harry couldn’t help but feel a bit broken inside…

Malfoy and Harry were on opposite sides, you see… It was incredibly and painfully likely that this would only be a one time thing. Yet seeing as how this was the case, Harry didn’t get up and run off… this was why Harry was laying here, his hand now tracing Malfoy’s hand.

Just them.

Harry Potter, and Draco Malfoy.

anonymous asked:

Shinee in a recording studio?

yesss the boys at work!! i imagine as 9-year idols they’re pretty relaxed but still focused af. here you go anon! 

 onew:

  • why do they always record at the buttcrack of dawn 
  • gets the members warm cups of green tea to ready their voices 
  • what song are they recording again?? 
  • honestly all his  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ is a LIE 
  • belts out his lines like the pro he is in a strong af voice and like he wasn’t just complaining about missing his bed  
  • does nod off during taemin’s recording but otherwise laser!!! focus!!!!!

jonghyun:

  • already vocalizing from the van over 
  • pretty much everyone in the sm building can hear him (employees: “ah shinee’s preparing for another comeback”) 
  • wearing all of his concert swag 
  • was not successful in convincing the other members to match with him 
  • his kazoo is in his pocket bc maybe they’ll let him use it in one of their songs this album
  • always looks like he’s making out with the microphone 

key:

  • his copy of the lyrics are highlighted and marked with arrows to signify changes in key/tone etc 
  • his notes are neat and important looking but pretty indecipherable to anyone else 
  • is usually done with recording the fastest (”i’m just too good”) 
  • when someone’s done too he always compliments on what they did well and cheers them up when they don’t look too happy with themselves 
  • if he laughs inside the booth he makes sure to turn his head so he doesn’t murder the sound crew’s ears 

minho:

  • standing at the soundboard like “ah yes reverb, amp, …… volume” 
  • resisting the urge to slide something 
  • should ask one of the noonas to teach him one day bc it’s looks interesting 
  • ropes kibum into a rap battle (key just uses raps from their songs when he runs out of rhymes) 
  • stands in the middle of the room and starts rapping quietly to himself 
  • when it’s a song he sings in he tests out his lines with shinee for feedback (he also smiles really wide when they tell him he sounds good and to do what he was doing) 

taemin: 

  • does that thing with his headphones where it folds one of his ears over and he keeps it like that like it’s not bothering him
  • how is it not bothering him 
  • mini-dancing while singing 
  • those hips cannot lie 
  • trying not to smile at the rest of shinee who are making faces at him from the other side of the glass 
  • he is the youngest or are all they?????
Company | Isaac Lahey

It’s been a long time coming but here is the moment you’ve all been waiting for. if you would like an explicit photo version, let me know, otherwise, enjoy.

You chose Isaac The Smooth Panty Dropper

Song inspo: Company by Tinashe

I don’t need no problems wit nobody
And I know how to get there, don’t follow me
I just need a moment, fuck and leave
You can say you had it all
No strings

Part One


Guys have the tendency to believe that girls can’t engage in sexual relationships without catching feelings of some sort. Classic guy thinking. All you wanted was to feel good tonight. Isaac has been hitting on you all throughout the game and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t turned on when he nibbled on your ear and whispered the most foul things that no one would ever think to come from a cute-scarf-wearing kid who’s practically nice to everyone. Just remembering sitting on his lap…You shifted your legs to try and get rid of the ache between them.

Isaac blew out a puff of smoke, sitting on a comfy chair out on a balcony. Time seemed to slow down just enough to still the particles in the air. The slide door behind Isaac slid open then closed.  Isaac looked at you and smiled. Instead of sitting you just leaned against the glass and stared at him. “What?” Isaac held the joint in between his fingers. You took off your shoes and walked over to him. Just as Isaac was going to bring the joint to his lips, you straddled his hips and grabbed it from his fingers, inhaled the smoke, and blew it out in his face.

The simple gesture triggered something inside Isaac. His eyes darkened with lust as he licked his lips. You did it again but this time you wrapped your arms around his neck and held the smoke as you connected your lips to his. The fiery smoke could be tasted in the intimate exchange. Isaac ran his hand down your back to grasp your ass in his large hands, giving them a little squeeze and making you gasp in the middle of the kiss. Your surprise gave Isaac the chance to slip his tongue into your mouth, beginning a tango with your tongue. Things began to heat up as you tangle your free hand into his hair, using your weight to grind on him, back and forth, until he let out a sexy, deep moan from the back of his throat. He used his thumbs to hook them into your hips then pushed you down so you could feel how much you were turning him on.

Isaac dived for your neck, leaving behind marks, enjoying every second of you purring against him. He helped you take off your shirt and immediately latched onto a nipple once it was exposed. At this point, you dropped the weed and enjoyed the swirls Isaac gave you by artfully flicking his tongue over your nipple whilst paying the other nipple good attention then switching over to make you feel equally good. “Isaac…” At the sound of his name being tangled in your moans, Isaac pulled back to watch your face. “Take everything off, I wanna see all of you.”

You take off your shorts slowly while Isaac scrambled to get his clothes off. He was naked by the time you got to your panties. Isaac bit his lip, watching you dance in nothing but your underwear. “Turn around,” You did as you were told and looked over your shoulder while swaying your ass from side to side. “Bend over so I can see that beautiful ass.” You pulled the underwear up so your cheeks swallowed them, intentionally giving yourself a wedgie. Isaac used his hands to caress your golden globes, carefully touching at first, then he forced you to get on all fours and pushed and pulled your cheeks apart with rough movements. Your pussy dripped with natural juice, soaking up the underwear. Isaac got a whiff of your sweet smell and hummed.  “You like it when I touch you, don’t you Y/N?” Isaac pressed a thumb to your entrance and massaged the area, making you moan. Every time he moved, his nail would barely touch your clit, this made your clit feel neglected. By now, your panties were sopping wet. Before you had the chance to beg, Isaac hovered over your body, his hard erection poking against your underwear. His hot breath fell on your ear, “do you want me to fuck you?”

“Yes”
“Even if its outside where someone might see you?”
“I don’t care”
“How do you want me, then?”
Isaac took your earlobe into his mouth, playing with it just the way you like it.
“L-like th-this,” you struggled to say.
Isaac bit a trail down your neck all the way down to your shoulder, his dick kept rubbing your clit and you never wanted to be fucked so bad before.
“Please…Fuck me like this,” your breath was jagged and desperate.
Isaac laughed at your pleas, “I will fuck you over and over until you have to be hospitalized.”

You don’t know how but your underwear snapped and was pulled out of your ass, the cold air hitting your pussy like a whip. Isaac lined himself up, using his tip to play with your entrance. He only slid the tip in and reached around to massage your clit. You cried out in pleasure at the sudden action. Not knowing where to focus your attention, Isaac slipped himself in your slippery cunt and moved with a purpose. He didn’t stop and make you beg or give you proper time to adjust, Isaac thrusted his pelvic bone against your ass, his hand never coming off of your clit. A knot formed in your stomach and you could feel your tight walls clamping down on him. “Keep squeezing my dick like that baby, I love that, cum if  you need to, cum all night.” Your knees felt weak, his dirty talking made you reach your orgasm faster than you initially thought.

Isaac held you by the waist and pushed you up against the glass door. He used his strength to hook his arms behind the back of your knees. Still recovering from your first orgasm, Isaac pushed you down on his long, hard prick. Your slick, drenched entrance welcomed him again, your walls were more responsive to his shaft by gripping it as it went in deeper. “look at me baby, I wanna see your face,” you wrapped your arms around Isaac to keep your balance and obeyed his commands. His eyes were so beautiful as was the sheen of sweat rolling down his forehead, the fire behind the lust.

“You’re so tight, I’m gonna cum,” Isaac rested his forehead against yours before you pulled him in close for a passionate, sloppy kiss. Fingers at your clit made you break the kiss, his driving hips slammed against you and the dual stimulation was too much for you to bear. “Oh my… Please don’t stop!” Isaac licked a line along your neck, his thrusts becoming more frantic, “I’m not, I won’t.” Suddenly, he stiffened, and with a loud groan, he shot long, white, ropes of cum into you. Despite his orgasm Isaac fell true to his word, he didn’t stop fucking you. If anything, he went deeper, his strokes long, but his speed remained constant. You could feel his cum sliding in and out of your overly wet pussy, the feeling incredible. He wasn’t going to stop until you came again. Luckily for him, it didn’t take that long for you to get back on the edge. Your vision blurred as you locked your legs around his hips, crying out your release. The constant tightening and releasing, forced another orgasm out of Isaac. He erupted a huge load into you, then a second, third, and fourth until his erection went away and his thighs began to quiver.

Isaac and you didn’t have the energy to clean yourselves up and make way into the bedroom. You both laid on the ground, looking up at the beautiful night sky, even if you couldn’t see the stars. “So that’s what sex with you is like.” You smiled and snuggled into his chest, “Isaac?” Isaac hummed and rubbed small circles on your back, “I can’t feel my legs.” Isaac let out a laugh and gave you a smirk, “I told you I was going to do more than just fuck you.” After a few more quiet minutes his face grew with concern, “wait, are you serious?”

Valkyrie has the vapours

Sooo… I am on week 3 of being sick with bronchitis and/or walking pneumonia, so forgive me for my ramblings and for taking so long to post.  Here’s my report from the front lines.  (I’m without my laptop so this will be a challenge.)  You might want to grab a beverage because I’m going to put this all in one post.

THAT HORRIBLE FEELING WHEN YOU REALIZE YOU MIGHT NOT MAKE IT TO THE CON IN TIME:  I came down with a stomach bug on Wednesday night (on top of the bronchitis) and was too sick to fly on Thursday morning.  Though the airline was able to rebook me on an afternoon flight, delays meant I would miss my connection.  After an hour standing at the JFK ticket counter during which options slipped away, I was finally able to secure an alternative flight… but had to endure a coach window seat for 6 hours despite having paid for a first class seat.  Thank god for the copious amount of drugs in my system that I was able to remain calm and get a little nap before running through LAX, rebooking yet again when I discovered a better connecting flight, and finally arriving at SeaTac after 1:00 am - 12 hours after I was originally supposed to land. The silver lining was that I was too distracted by the drama to be nervous about what I would say to Cait and Sam.

WAIT, WE’RE QUEUING UP HOW EARLY?  Luckily @chrismosstree and @myguiltyolpleasure scoped out the situation on Thursday afternoon and figured out exactly when and where we needed to be.  I awoke around 5 am after a couple hours of sleep to bid them farewell as they headed for the convention center, taking advantage of their generous offer to hold a place for me in line. Despite being dizzy and queasy I made my way down the street to our “holding pen” outside the main hall to wait for the panel discussion with Sam and Cait.   We were able to meet up with the lovely @supertam87, @sileas84, and @side-eyeing-you and chatted with a lot of other fans while we waited… and waited… and waited.  Seriously, you guys, attending a comic con is all about standing around and monitoring your fluid intake to make sure you don’t have to go to the bathroom at the wrong time.  Luckily I was dehydrated from the decongestants so I didn’t have to worry too much.

OH, MY GOD, IT’S STARTING!  Being in line so early paid off as we got 5th row center seats in the auditorium.  The hall was huge and completely filled up in a matter of minutes.  I feel like you miss so much in the room because you’re trying to switch from watching them on stage, to seeing them blown up on the screens to the side of the stage, to snapping pics, to trying to anticipate whether they are about to do something cute so your camera is at the ready.  Initial impression was that the panel was merely okay, but I’m jaded by having attended the NYC Apple Store event last year where it was a much more intimate setting and they were less guarded.  I’ll have to watch the video to see what I missed because I’ve seen a lot of cute gifs on tumblr.

GOOD LORD, HAVE THESE PEOPLE NEVER MANAGED LINES BEFORE?  The convention organizers came across as very disorganized.  Rather than routing us toward the hall through a series of roped off rows like an airport security checkpoint, we were crammed together in a pen behind some gates like cattle in a feed yard about to go to slaughter.  That set the tone for the day as staff struggled to figure out what to do with us as we queued for photo ops and autograph sessions.  All sense of time was lost as we stood packed cheek to jowl in very stuffy conditions.  By the time we approached our solo pics with Sam I was a sweaty mess - some combination of nerves, the cramped quarters, and the Robitussin.

A TOTAL OUT OF BODY EXPERIENCE:  I turned into a blithering idiot during the photo ops.  For those of you who haven’t done this before, the process is similar to school picture day but with more yelling.  There is a tiny mirror hanging outside this curtained off area.  I seriously thought I was going to hyperventilate as we got close to the front of the line.  You have only a second to realize you are a sweaty mess before you give your ticket to someone and are waved into the booth.  You see Sam smiling with a fan plastered to his side while a photographer screams, “READY!”  *click* “NEXT!”  Then you are thrust toward Sam and he says hello while clasping you tightly.  You are too tongue-tied to say anything and too blinded by his beauty to look him in the eye.  "READY!“ *click* "NEXT!”  It’s over.  You can’t believe it happened, but you assume it did. Emotions were running high and we skipped away, giggling uncontrollably.  Then got back in line for the joint photo op and the solo Cait session…. which took all afternoon.  Observations: I’m shorter than I thought I was after seeing myself next to them.  Sam’s jacket is unbelievably soft and I’m surprised I didn’t pet him (or maybe I did - who can remember).  He smells really good (not that @chrismosstree would know…).  He’s also thinner than I expected.  Not skinny, but not beefy like in S1.  (He’s the same height as my brother but seems so much taller.) Cait’s legs are ridiculously long and her waist is in line with my bust.  She glows. It was all a blur.  I pride myself on being unflapable, but I was - well - flapped.  I was shy and embarrassed and nervous and excited and couldn’t put a sentence together, all at the same time. 

“THAT IS SO COOL!”  On to the autograph session and a two hour wait to deliver the Doll Frasers to Cait.  They had been packed in their little trunk and carried around all day while I mentally rehearsed what I would say.  A few people asked what was in the box (I carried it in a giant clear zip lock bag to guard again rain.) As I explained that our friend makes costumes for a set of Jamie and Claire dolls and poses them in scenes from the show, one woman asked if @outlanderedandoverhere had a booth at the con where she could buy her own set!  (There’s an idea for a revenue stream, Fiona…)  There were handlers taking each item to be autographed and passing them to Cait and Sam so that by the time you were in front of them the item was signed and you could be on your way.  I was a little worried that they might not allow gifts because I didn’t see anyone in front of me doing it and I had visions of carrying the trunk around for the next week only to have to ship it back to the U.K.  I knew I had to be quick and concise, so I removed the trunk from the bag and unlatched the lid.  I flipped it open and set the thr trunk down in front of Cait, telling her that we saw the Doll Fraser calendar on the wall in their makeup trailer and thought the cast and crew might like their own set of dolls to play with.  She said, “Yeah, yeah!” and lit up like a Christmas tree.  Seriously, smiling ear to ear and digging through the trunk.  I pointed out the charity t-shirts and she said, “That is so cool!”  She just could not stop staring at them while I babbled on about how the Doll Frasers have been adopted by our community.  Finally the handler tried to move on to the next fan and Cait sighed and reluctantly closed the trunk before tucking it under the table.  She even made a little sqeeing noise.  Sam was sitting too far away and occupied with signing to notice, and they were running waaay behind, so there was noopportunity to alert him to the transaction. However, the Doll Frasers were clearly a hit.  No telling where they go from here (I assume all gifts were sent to production offices in Scotland) but hopefully we’ll see or hear about them again at some point.

After that we were FINALLY finished for the day and headed out to meet up with other fans for dinner.  And, honestly, that was the best part of this event: meeting up with so many of you.  I have laughed (and coughed) so much in the last week that my abs might actually form a “six pack.” 😂  And I love how willing everyone is to share their experience and that so many are interested.

Some of you have asked about the cock blocking story.  It’s not that interesting and requires props and facial expressions to convey properly so it’s best done in person.  For some reason (ahem, @c2bend and @rainmanjdog) it’s taken on a life of its own.  Truly, I’m not trying to be a tease so I’ll see if I can figure out a way to tell it with @chrismosstree’s help.  We’re off to dinner now but will be back online later. 

tl:dr  Overall impressions are that Sam seemed very tired and a little guarded, Cait could not have been more lovely nor down to earth, and that we are an amazing, funny, smart, and lovely group of women.  Mwah!

Beyond the Horizon: Chapter 40

Fic Update: Beyond the Horizon

Summary:  When Princess Emma’s ship is captured by the Jolly Roger and Captain Killian Jones, she offers herself as a hostage for ransom if he will let the ship and the other passengers go. With Emma, Killian remembers the honour he once held dear, and Emma catches glimpses of the gentleman Killian had been. Against all odds, the pirate and the princess begin to fall for each other.

Read this chapter on ff.net here


                                              Chapter Forty
                                                Pixie Dust


Killian took a deep breath when he came up on deck, inhaling the sweet scent that perfumed the air in the small cove where the Jolly was anchored. Lieutenant Courtice’s accusations had burrowed under his skin more than he wanted to admit, each expertly-aimed barb reminding him of the man he used to be. Or the man he still was, a few recent good deeds could hardly be enough to wash away the considerable sins of his past. The lieutenant clearly didn’t think so, and neither did Emma’s father, Killian could tell. There was no sign of the the two of them or of Emma’s mother, and he wondered if Courtice had gone to tell the king and queen about his many crimes, letting them know exactly why the name Killian Jones was feared and reviled across the sea. Perhaps he was even pressing his own suit, putting forth his name as a possible match for their daughter once they returned to the Enchanted Forest and regained their kingdom at last. He wasn’t a prince or a lord, but Killian was sure the lieutenant came from much more honourable stock than he did. The glory that would have redeemed the Jones family at long last had died along with Liam, when he’d been cast adrift in the world to forge his own destiny alone.

It was warm in the cove but not humid, not like the thick jungle on Neverland where sweat had beaded on his brow and plastered the linen of his shirt to his back as he’d followed Liam unknowingly into danger. Everything about that island had been wrong, it had felt wrong, it had looked wrong, it had even smelled wrong, though lush and green there had been an unmistakable whiff of decay hanging in the air like the rotting of overripe fruit left too long on the vine. But the Fairy Queen’s domain was as beautiful as a perfectly cut jewel and when he took another deep breath the smell was like a mix of all the good things he could think of. Freshly baked bread and highest quality rum, and the sky after a heavy rainstorm, when the clouds parted and everything had been washed clean and fresh from the downpour. But most of all it smelled like roses, a scent he was rather more intimately familiar with now than he ever had been before thanks to the soap he bought Emma every time they made port. The floral aroma was particularly stubborn, it clung to the collars of all his shirts, lingered in his bed linen and permeated the handkerchiefs she unabashedly stole from him while he pretended not to notice. Would the scent of roses remain even after she was gone, another ghost to taunt him in the dead of night when he was left alone in a cold bed and sleep wouldn’t come no matter how much rum he drank?

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I’m on a bit of a Batdad kick and I’m trying to write stories that focus on Bruce bonding with his kids. This one is Bruce and Cass bonding. I hope you guys enjoy.

Summary: Bruce takes Cass to a ballet 

Rating: G

Words: 3k (ish)

AO3 Link


Bruce adjusted his tie, straightening it in his mirrored image before he reached into his jacket pocket to make sure the ballet tickets were still in his pocket. With how much funding he gave the theater they were more for appearance than an actual requirement, but they felt important all the same. He pulled his coat back into place and checked the tie one more time before a voice called his attention to the door.

Cass stood frowning at him. “We will be late.”

Bruce turned to smile at her, undaunted by his daughter’s apparent impatience. “Alfred is a fast driver; I think we can spare another minute or two. What do you think about this tie?” he asked his tone teasing.

Cass ignored his jab and stalked forward, “No messing around, not tonight.” she was stern as she pushed him from behind, out the door and down the hall.

When she reached the stairs she paused to move next to Bruce and hooked her arm through his own and continued to pull him down. Bruce let her drag him the whole way, an amused smile tugging at his lips. He loved the bright eager impatience pushing her feet to make sure they made it on time.

They were just passing the living room and Dick, when he leapt to his feet and darted in front of them both, camera in hand.

“Move.” Cass told him.

Her hands went to her hips, dragging Bruce closer in the process, since their arms were still locked. Cass didn’t seem like she was going to change poses soon so he stepped over to relieve the pressure, and looked to Dick. His oldest was shaking his head.

“I want at least one picture. Alfie’s not here to take it, so you’re stuck with me.”

Cass crossed her arms and frowned at him for a moment. Then she went to push past him, and drag Bruce with her, but Dick scuttled in front again.

“Dick, you know the paparazzi will take plenty of pictures, pay one of them for some.” Bruce said as he was jerked to another stop by his children’s bickering.

“Just one, Cass. Please?” Dick asked, all his attention on her. “The reporters will photoshop all the pictures and none of them will be natural.”

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