on the ropes out of line

Supernatural School Pt. 2

Part 1 (X)


It always takes time to sort yourself out after a reaping, even a relatively pleasant one. That’s why, even though you’d like to rejoin Sam, Amanda and Lexi in the cafeteria, you head back to the dorms.

You don’t feel any different after. Some legends say that you eat the souls of the dead, praying on them for sustenance. You’d like to say that Reapers never do that, that they never commit such a heinous crime, but you’ve been around long enough to know better than to lie. There are words for Reapers who eat, none of which you’d dare say here. Names give things power and eaters get more than their fair share to begin with.

You shiver under the blazing sun and try to turn your mind to more pleasant topics.

You are halfway back to your room, when you see Ms. Jan, Mr. T and Principal Finn rushing towards the animal husbandry building. Mr. T’s upset enough that his mane has burst free of his button-down shirt though he’s the only one of the three so affected. Ms. Jan, all banshee characteristics gone, is composed as she leads the group, strides long and purposeful. Principal Finn is listening to her seriously, his wheelchair rolling over the grass easily, with a grim expression on his face.

This is, of course, until he sees you.

You keep your expression blank as Principal Finn says something to Ms. Jan and Mr. T, gesturing for them to go on, and then directs his motorized wheelchair towards you.

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8

Protests continue across the country in the wake of Charlottesville

  • Protests in reaction to Saturday’s deadly white supremacist gathering in Charlottesville, Virginia, continued Monday night as demonstrators from New York City to Utah came out to condemn the hatred.
  • In New York City, protesters lined the streets outside Trump Tower to welcome Trump, holding signs denouncing white supremacy and chanting “New York hates you” and “Shame shame shame.”
  • In Durham, North Carolina, Monday evening, protesters who gathered to speak about Saturday’s violence in Charlottesville surrounded a nearby Confederate statue, tying a rope around it and pulling it to the ground, the News & Observer reported. Read more (8/15/17)
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

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

Just a word to the wise: No Johnlocker that I know of uses the term “shipper goggles.” That’s just a thing you and your Sherl0llian friends do because you can’t ship sherl0lly without altering what you watch. We don’t need to wear “goggles” to see Johnlock cause its blatantly in the show. Just saying’.

And while we’re here:

List of things that don’t make sense that have nothing to do with Johnlock:

((bold=overarching, bigger picture plot holes))

- Why did they reuse the title “The Six Thatchers” that was already on John’s blog without drawing any connections/parallels to it

-Why did no one know John is the author of the blog when in previous seasons everyone knew that. He has his picture on it, it’s famous, and he writes in first person

-Why did Mary lie about AGRA being her initials in HLV if she thought John was going to read the flash drive? (I know that’s s3, but s4 is what showed us what AGRA really was)

- Why did Mary’s death contradict the previous “rules” about getting shot that were established for their universe in HLV

- How is Mary sending the CD’s after her death

- How did she even know ahead of time to make the videos, since jumping in front of a bullet is a spur of the moment thing

- How do they just expect to believe that it’s possible for Sherlock to predict everyone’s every movement down to the last detail two weeks beforehand? 

-And if he is able to to that, why didn’t he use that skill in any previous season since it would have been very useful 

-What was the whole deal with the girl on the plane and what did that have to do with anything and… why?

- How did they jump out of an exploding second floor window and survive

- And how did items like books/ paper survive the explosions

- How are we just expected to believe that Eurus has these mind controlling powers and could take over a prison like that? And when will they stop using “they’re geniuses” as a get out of jail free card?

- Why did they used Moriarty being alive as the big cliff hanger and have him barely feature

-What was the entire point of TAB proving that Moriarty was alive?

- Why does the timeline of Moriarty and Eurus working together behind the scenes not make any sense if this really has been their ultimate plan

- How did a detective (who is supposedly smart enough to predict everyone’s every move) manage to not notice missing glass

- Why did Sherlock remember Redbeard being “put down” if that was really his repressed memory of Victor

- And why was there a dog bowl

- How did John got out of the well using a rope if his feet were chained

- After everything Eurus has done, how are we to believe everything is just magically fixed with a hug

-Where were the “loads of clues and red herrings” alluding to Eurus besides that one line in HLV

Followers please feel free to continue.

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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Various couples, summer training

Jack and Bitty

They have different body types and different styles of play, so certain things don’t work. 

“I can’t–it wouldn’t be safe for me to spot that.” Bitty looks at the multiple 25 lb plates balancing Jack’s bar.

“Oh. Sorry.”

Bitty laughs. “Did you forget I’m short?”

Jack likes that he didn’t say weak, because Bitty isn’t weak. If you compare what he lifts to what he weighs he’s actually one of the strongest people on the team, literally. But weights are out.

Cardio, on the other hand…

Bitty sprints to the end of the block and then turns around, laughing. “You’re so slow!” he calls out, an instant before Jack collides with him. “No! No noggies!”

Jack is laughing as he scrubs his hand through Bitty’s hair. This, they can do together.

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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”?????????????????

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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just in time

@vlhoria asked: can you do an angsty fic that maybe ENDS with fluff but it’s peter x reader (and she knows he’s spider-man) and gets kidnapped and tortured reallllyy bad (almost dies) and peter almost doesn’t make it in time to save her? (i would prefer for it to end with a lil fluff but  you can run with it haha)

warnings: torture and angst 

word count: 2k

author’s note: this sucks but the request didn’t so i am deeply sorry for how rank this is.

Originally posted by winter-hunters


You hadn’t showed up at school today which Peter normally wouldn’t have worried much about, but the fact that he had only told you he was Spider-Man yesterday worried him, a lot. 

And now the sinking feeling of regret and panic settled in Peter’s stomach only growing more with each passing hour, it only seemed as the clock on the school wall moved slower and slower and him fearing for you safety he ditched the rest of the day and ran into the nearest alleyway to change into his suit.

He looked around making sure that no one was near before he pulled his blue sweater over his head and opened his backpack to get the red and blue suit Tony had made him. 

After he had removed his pants only leaving him in his plaid boxers, he quickly pulled the red and blue fabric onto his body along with the mask. He looked around one last time, seeing no one he pressed the spider on the front allowing the suit to wrap it self around his frame.


He first swung by your window landing on the fire escape with one hand in front of him and the other one behind his back. He pushed your window open and crawled into your room, and there was no sign of you there either.

He then pulled his mask off and walked around your house calling your name every once in a while knowing it was still a whole week until your parents got home from the business trip they had left for a couple of days ago.

It was quite obvious that you weren’t there so he picked up his phone and dialed your number for what felt like the hundredth time today. He waited and he waited until he finally heard the “Hi it’s Y/N sorry i can’t come to the phone right now leave a message after the beep!” 

He let out a frustrated sigh at this pulling his backpack off his shoulder so he could place the phone back in it, but before he could do so his phone dinged signaling that he had gotten a message.

His eyebrows furrowed in a questioning manner as he turned the phone around pressing the turn on button on the side. His phone screen lit up showing a notification that read ‘video message from Y/N’ he was quick to swipe right and unlock his phone to see what you had sent him.

He was hoping that it would be a video of you explaining where you were and why you hadn’t come to school today but judging by the thumbnail of it that was not the case.

He took a deep breath before pressing the play button, the video filling his entire phone screen. “Hello Peter” a rough man’s voice was heard as the camera pointed towards you hanging from two ropes that were tightly tied around your wrists, purple and yellow bruising already starting to form where the ropes were bound.

“Y/N here tells me you and Spider-Man are quite the ‘best buds’” the man laughed picking up the camera as to bring it even closer to your face, and when he did so Peter could see the multiple bruises and scars that covered it.

Anger bubbled inside him as he continued watching the video “so if ‘Spider-Man’ isn’t here within the next 24 hours I’ll make sure Y/N here gets what she deserves. Time starts now Pete so don’t waste it” and with that the screen went blank and it was replaced with a timer showing that he had exactly 23 hours 59 minutes and 45 seconds to find and save you.

He cursed to himself running back up to your room where he had left the mask laying on your bed. He was quick to climb out of your window and when his feet had landed on the fire escape he thought of every possible place you could have been held captive but his mind was blank and he was now aimlessly swinging around the city ignoring everything and everyone around him the only thing on his mind being to find you.

He eventually stopped on top of a fairly high building where he sat down on the edge of it groaning at how stupid he had been, before an idea popped into his mind. “Karen, can you track down Y/N Y/L/N’s phone?” he spoke remembering that your phone had the ‘find my phone’ feature “let me see” she spoke, a map appearing in front of Peter’s eyes as Karen tracked your phone down.

“Y/N’s phone is located at an abandoned warehouse not so far away from here, would you like me to lead you to it?” Karen asked, Peter’s ears perked up at this and he quickly answered with a yes the GPS that was installed into the suit leading him to his destination.

He quickly jumped off the building raising his arm up as he shot out a web that connected to another building, Karen’s voice telling him when to turn and where to go.

“Karen how much time do i have left?” Peter’s panicked voice asked as he swung from building to building “you have exactly 19 hours 29 minutes and 10 seconds” She spoke Peter pulling himself forward with much more strength and determination now.


“I don’t think you’re understanding the question little lady, so I’ll ask it again. Who is Spider-Man” the man yelled in your face a punch in your rib following soon after as blood spilled out of your mouth and tears made their way down your face.

“Go to hell” you spat at him, he could torture as long and as much as he wanted to but you would never give him the identity of the person you loved and cared for the most in this world, even if it would be the death off you which now seemed to be what would be happening.

“Wrong answer” he growled walking over to a metal table where he had numerous of weapons and tools laid out. Many of them he had already used on you and every single one felt as painful as the other but you had a feeling this would be the final straw.

He grabbed two items, the first being a knife and the second one a taser. He turned around a smirk playing on his lips as he tapped his finger on the silver material of the knife, painfully slowly making his way toward you.

When he was standing right in front of you he raised his arm up in a way so that you could clearly see the 6 inch blade he was holding a chuckle leaving his lips as he started dragging it down your cheek a blood curdling scream making it’s way passed your lips as he did.

“Do you want me to repeat the question?” he asked. You didn’t answer and kept your brave face on your lips forming a straight line “and again that’s just not the answer I’m looking for” he chuckled—yet again, as he pulled the taser out of his pocket and jabbed it into your side pressing the red button as electricity ran throughout your body and pain like you had never felt before consumed you.

You screamed, you screamed so loud you were sure everyone in the city had heard you. Your sobs filled the room as your legs gave out the only thing holding you up being the two black ropes he had tied you up with.

“Please stop” you begged finally finding the strength to stand back up but a fist connecting with your cheek sent you tumbling back down. Your vision started to blur and you knew in that moment the face of your kidnapper would be the last one you ever saw.

But a cold liquid pouring over you brought you back to consciousness and you gasped, your teeth grinding against one another. “This is no time for sleeping” the man chuckled “this oughta wake you up” he grinned going to tase you again so you closed your eyes and screamed yet again clutching the rope in both your hands as you prepared for the impact—but it never came.

You slowly opened one eye and saw the all to familiar red and blue suit consume your vision, you were glad he was finally here but you couldn’t keep your eyes open much longer and watching Peter fight the guy that had been torturing you tired you as you let your eyelids close and your body give out underneath you.

Peter had saw you slip into unconsciousness and a sudden rage bubbled up inside him a feeling he had never felt so strongly before. “Karen, activate instant kill” and with that his previously white eyes had turned into much smaller red ones as he lunged himself at the guy not caring for any damage he caused, the only thing he wanted being revenge.

“How dare you!” he yelled throwing the guy to another corner of the warehouse quickly picking him up again so he could toss him back down again. He had never felt anger like this before and he couldn’t control it. 

It was pulsing through his veins and he kept on screaming and yelling at the guy soon going in for the final punch that would definitely kill the man but before he could cause any more permanent damage his eyes landed on you.

He immediately dropped the guy and reached his arm up so he could swing toward you. When he landed in front of you he quickly cut the ropes that were bound around your wrists and let your body drop into his arms.

“No, no hey Y/N you’re okay it’s going to be fine” he tried to reassure himself “Karen call 911 and send them to this location now!” and after that Peter ripped his mask off and his gloved finger pressed against your neck a sigh of relieve falling from his lips as he felt your pulse.

“You’re going to be okay” he sobbed bringing your limp figure as close to him as possible. Strangled cries left his mouth as he brushed a lock of your hair out of your face and tucked it back behind your ear.

“I’m so sorry Y/N this is all my fault” he cried even harder feeling the previous anger that had consumed him being replaced with nothing but emptiness “I am so sorry”


You had woken up a few days later in a hospital bed where Peter sat next to you, his quite snores filling the room as his cheek rested in the palm of your hand.

You smiled at this and tried to move your hand so you could run it through his brown locks but as you did an overwhelming feeling of pain consumed you and you groaned squeezing your eyes back shut.

Peter quickly woke up at this and as his eyes met your now opened ones he grabbed your hand tightly in his and he smiled for the first time in days “you’re awake” he croaked out, a few tears slipping from his eyes as he pressed a kiss to your forehead so carefully you barely even felt it.

“Yeah I guess so” you managed to get out, although a burning feeling consumed your throat as you did. Peter seemed to notice this and immediately jumped into action “here drink this” He said as he handed you a plastic cup filled with water. You thanked him as you placed your hand on the cup and slowly brought it up to your lips.

The liquid ran down your throat and the previously burning feeling immediately faded away and you finished the entire cup in less then a minute handing it back over to Peter when you were done, where he placed it onto the table next to him.

“Thank you” you said smiling up at him but he only looked down at his lap and shook his head “why are you thanking me? This is my fault. It’s my fault you’re in here and it’s my fault-it’s my fault that you-you almost died!” he cried out standing up from the white chair he had previously been sitting on.

“No it’s not Pete, you saved my life and i can never thank you enough for that” you said your Y/E/C eyes meeting his brown ones. Peter quickly rushed forward at this and connected his lips with yours.

Your lips moved against one another for a few seconds before you both pulled away and smiled lovingly at one another.

“I love you”

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.

Desire (Minhyuk x Reader)

Admin: Candi
Request: “A smutty scenario with MONSTA X’s Minhyuk please (; - anon”
Fandom: Monsta X
Member/reader: Minhyuk x Reader
Genre/warning(s): smut, alcohol, masturbation
Words: 3.1k
Authors note: Y E S QUEEN, Minhyuk smut was a dream request for me. I know he’s all happy and all about that sunshine life but I honestly feel like he’d be so kinky in bed. Members said he’s the most perverted out of all of them so yesssss. Minhyuk snatched me so hard. Mimi and I have a problem where we can’t pick a bias from Monsta X so we just say all of them are our biases lmao.

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anonymous asked:

13 w/ bucky please!!!

“You want to know what happened to me? You! You happened to me.”


“You need to stop this,” he shakes his head, dark hair falling in his eyes. Desperately, his hands, metal and flesh, rake through the tresses. “You need to stop throwing yourself in the line of fire. God, it’s like you and Steve are mirror images now.”

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest, “Well, maybe if you weren’t so stupid, I wouldn’t have to.”

“I didn’t ask you to do anything for me,” Bucky retorts, his metal arm whirring with the excitement of the conversation. “You weren’t even assigned to those missions!”

“Someone has to protect you!” you shout at him, thrusting your arms in his direction. “It’s like you want to die. I get it, you were a horrible monster for a majority of your life. You’re hurting. But that doesn’t mean you get to go and die.”

He tosses his rifle onto the couch, causing Steve to look up from his novel. Bucky puts his hands on his hips, “I am a grown man, practically one hundred years old, and I can decide how much danger is enough for me.”

“Oh really?” You feel your voice growing louder the more indignant you feel You scoff, tossing your head back in dramatic mockery. “Because you are a grown man, you get to decide how much heartache and misery and anxiety you put your friends through? We don’t get any say in that?”

“Steve joined the military despite my wishes,” Bucky explains, looking over to his friend. Steve merely shrugs in response, glancing up from his book pages. “And you didn’t see me throwing a fit about it.”

“Of course you didn’t,” you answer for him. You feel as if you roll your eyes once more, they’ll fall clean out of your head. “But he was also a hulking he-man by the time you realized what he had done. No offense, Steve.”

“None taken!”

You look back to Bucky, your eyes narrowed. He sighs, shaking his head, “There was a time you were okay with playing den mother. You don’t really like using your powers. I don’t understand.”

“So all of a sudden I’m not allowed to like using my powers?” you taunt him, leaning forward as if expecting him to say the wrong thing.

He laughs ironically, shaking his head, “What’s happened to you? It’s like all of a sudden you’re a totally different person.” He takes a few steps toward you, and the mechanical sounds of his left arm calm you in the slightest. They’re familiar, normal. 

“You like using your powers, you like being on every mission possible, you don’t care if a few people die in the process. I don’t understand.”

“Oh, really?” you answer him in return. You hadn’t realized how close your bodies were, the heat from his radiating against your own skin. You feel sweat accumulating in your hairline from the anxiety of the conversation mixed with the leftover adrenaline and heat from the prior mission.

“You want to know what happened to me?” you mock him. You nod your head, clicking your tongue against the roof of your mouth. “You! You happened to me.”

You push your hands against his pectorals, barely moving him, “You put yourself in harms way, you act like you want every mission to be a suicide mission, and you don’t take care of yourself at all! You don’t eat, you hardly sleep, and the only time you aren’t carrying a rifle is when you’re in the bathroom.”

You sigh, feeling the tears welling up in your eyes, “I get that we put ourselves in danger, that we risk our lives for the sake of humanity, but it feels like you’re running directly into a smoking gun with the hopes that the bullet strikes you dead.” Your hand comes up to swipe underneath your nose, “I can’t deal with the thought of losing you to one of the big baddies. I couldn’t deal with the thought of you not coming home every night, so I went on every mission with you.”

Your heart aches within your chest, the nightmares of imagining Bucky strewn across the floor, blood pooling in his chest too much to bear. A sob escapes your lips, but you don’t care. If he’s going to throw himself in the line of fire, then let him.

“Hey,” you hear his voice soft and close. His hands reach out to touch your arms, “Look at me.”

“What difference does it make?” you snap, sniffling. 

He chuckles and you wonder how he can make broken sound beautiful. His warm thumb reaches under your chin and gently guides you to look at him. The blue of his eyes bring clarity, and the sound of his voice is like a rope pulling you to shore.

“I understand,” he tells you, his forehead rested against yours. “And I’m sorry.”

The tip of his nose touches yours and you feel like your heart is about to explode. Your hands shake but somehow you find the strength to grasp the front of his t-shirt until it wrinkles in your hands. 

“I shouldn’t be so selfish all the time,” Bucky explains, the edge of his nose brushing over the bridge of yours. “I’m scared, so I throw myself out there and hope for the worst. That’s not fair. Not to you.”

The bubble of laughter that fizzes from his chest makes your heart happy, “I should’ve known that I can’t be like this. I was scared. Of other people, of going to war, of you.” He closes his eyes and you can’t help but do the same. His voice is slow, mesmerizing, “The best part of my missions were coming home to you at three in the morning and listening to you rant and rave about how I was going to get myself killed.”

“You’re so lame,” you murmur, pushing against his chest. He nods, his lips dragging up from your temple to your forehead. “I know,” he replies, “I’ll be more careful next time.”

All the time,” you correct him, pointedly looking into his eyes. 

He smiles, and you swear the earth shakes with the beauty of it, “Every time.”

And he seals the promise with a kiss.

Originally posted by xopsychogirlxo

send me a prompt + a character!

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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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

Welcome to the Fold- Shed Your Skin Part 2

Originally posted by moondipity

Part 1 / Part 3 / Part 4

A/N: I split this in two because this part gets intense and I didn’t want anyone to have to read it who didn’t want to. I live for angst, clearly.

P. S. This isn’t a Bughead fic by any means so I didn’t tag it as such (I’m sorry, guys), but the pairing is included in part

Summary: Nothing is as it seems, but not everything can be so simple. Every family has it’s issues, The Serpents are no exception.

Word Count: 3,685

Warnings: Gang activity, drug/alcohol mentions, violence, swearing, blood/bleeding, cheating.

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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.

Butt in line? Nice try, girls

On vacation, my boyfriend and I stop at the Louvre. There is a line up at the little cafe/snack bar. They have those standing barriers with ropes to guide the line up, but the ropes aren’t pulled across - because people are grown ups and can see that its just a single line down one side of the  front display.

Cue a group of young, bitchy girls in blinged-out clothes deciding they don’t have time to stand in line. They go to the front and stand behind the person currently paying. They pretend to be oblivious to the 4-5 other people in line now giving them death stares.

I am not in line but I see their little act. So I go along and start hooking up the ropes.  The girls are gossiping together and ignoring everyone else around them, because hey, what do they care right? So they don’t notice when I move the barrier just a smidge forward … and hook up the rope in front of them.

The look on their faces when they turn around to order their coffees and find themselves quite obviously outside the queue was just… soooo priceless. Huffing and puffing, they had to totter their high-heeled asses to the back of the (now much longer) line-up.

Enjoy your coffee, ladies!

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?