#in ensuring that fans are focusing on things besides his music/success

[alltheselights]

.

[jwillgoose]

The record is finished... what now?

We finished our fourth album last week, so I thought it might be interesting (spoiler alert: it probably isn’t) to do a quick post about what happens once a record is ‘finished’ these days, and why it can seem to take so long between an album being completed and actually being released.

Before I stumbled upon a career in making music, my attitude would’ve been similar to that of many fans, I imagine - why not just put the record out as soon as possible? It’s done, you spent (presumably) ages on it, surely you just want people to hear it and shower you with praise and damning reviews? After all, that’s what Radiohead and Beyoncé seem to do, and they don’t mind if the vinyl follows several months later.

Well, Radiohead are Radiohead and Beyoncé is Beyoncé, and both of those artists (and only a handful more) releasing records is Big News in and of itself. Smaller bands and artists need to use their new record as something to build around, to try and fight desperately for attention in a very competitive industry, to route tours around, even simply to remind people that you still exist (often, admittedly, to their distress). Otherwise it’s all too easy to put something out only to see it burn out very quickly, for it to fall to the bottom of people’s ‘recently played’ streaming algorithms and swiftly fall out of the public consciousness pretty much altogether. 

That's why it’s better for 99% of bands and artists to wait until everything is ready and to try to go for one big, focused ‘bang’ (often still a whimper, admittedly), rather than trying to hit the front page of Pitchfork with a near-instantaneous release. And the main thing we’re all waiting for these days, especially with its continued resurgence and importance to artists, labels and fans, is vinyl.

Vinyl lead times pre-pandemic were already a bit ridiculously long because a large number of the pressing plants from back in the day went under or severely reduced their capacity, so we’ve been left with a relative handful of potential suppliers and an awful lot of demand from all corners of the music industry. I think The Race For Space (released Feb 2015) was mastered at the end of October 2014, so made it out there in just over 3-and-a-bit months, and that was with two test pressings after the first failed. By the time Every Valley rolled around (released July 2017) we were already at four-months-and-counting, and don’t even get me started on the White Star Liner EP (tail end of 2018, and the vinyl was late because of test pressing issues).

Anyway, you get the picture, and that’s all pre-COVID, which obviously has done precious little to improve any aspect of the economy, besides enhancing Jeff Bezos’ already undignified / obscene wealth. We were initially quoted 7 months for this album but have managed to get it down a bit from there - still, you’ll no doubt have noticed a lot of delayed releases recently and I am taking nothing for granted, on any level, with this record.

We might seem like a modestly successful band but we are also still very much a small team of people. The sheer amount of work it is to get everything ready, besides ‘just’ the music itself, necessitates a bit of a delay between completion and release. Even now, the artwork, liner notes, credits, administrative aspects (PPL IDs and so on) are queueing up for attention; that’s to say nothing of band photos, press releases, updated bios, pitches for various media features (often with ridiculously long lead times of their own), music videos, remixes, instrumentals... in short, a lot.

Then for a band like us there’s the whole tricky chicanery of designing, building, programming and rehearsing a quite fiendishly complicated live set, all while navigating the risks and uncertainties of doing so during what we hope is the tail-end of a pandemic. It normally takes me about 2-3 months to get an album ready to play live, and that’s just the music side of it - then I need to edit videos to run concurrently, give various assets to Mr B so that he can have more to play with than just an on-rails video, then all get together in a room to see what works (hint: not much) and what needs more work (hint: nearly everything). Mr B also needs a lot of time - justly so - to put together his fiendish set creations as well as creating a lot of original video output himself. Popping up on the radio to do a quick session somewhat belies the amount of work it takes to get new material ready for that stage (should it arrive - we certainly don’t assume it will).

But the main thing, still, is to try to garner as much attention, wake as many people as possible up to the fact that yes, you still exist and yes, you’re still flogging the dead horse that is your band and creative output in a perhaps vain attempt to try to prolong an unlikely career and yes, you can order the Amazing New Record soon in at least 5 different colours to ensure its safe arrival in your homes at the very second of its official release. Hello! We’re still here! Hello! We have a new record! Er.. anyone?

Anyway, that’s just a few items from the very long list of things preoccupying me and the other denizens of PSB Towers between now and release. Hopefully everything will run smoothly, the record will come out when we say it will come out and we can even entertain modest hopes of another reasonably-well-charting album. On that note, a brief aside - chart positions are still incredibly important, if only within the record industry itself. A high chart position makes a lot of people sit up and take notice - bookers, agents, festival promoters and so on - which is another reason why it’s important for those of us who aren’t in Mr Yorke’s merry gang to try to get everything out all at once (in its right place, if you will) rather than staggering digital / vinyl release dates.

Hopefully you found this mildly diverting. It’s mostly served as a nudge in the ribs for me to remind me how much I still need to get on with, so without further ado, off I will go, and on with I will get.

Yours pre-releasedly,

J. Willgoose, Esq.

(PS I’d like to make it clear I love Radiohead, and none of this is even a mild dig at them. They are one of the most wonderful musical outfits ever, and they also have the rare privilege of being able to do what they want, when they want to, which really must be lovely.)

[tabloidtoc]

National Enquirer, January 18

You can now buy a copy of this issue for your very own at my eBay store: https://www.ebay.com/str/bradentonbooks

Cover: Bill and Hillary Clinton 

Page 2: Katie Holmes’ friends are warning her to wise up about her hot-tempered beau Emilio Vitolo Jr. after he went on a profanity-laced rant -- Emilio’s been in an edgy mood over his family New York City restaurant losing money while they’re forced to stay closed because of the pandemic and he’s definitely let his nice guy mask slip and it’s affecting their relationship and everything was all peaches and cream before but now it’s strained and difficult at times -- Emilio showed his ugly side when he raged against New York Governor Andrew Cuomo for shutting down indoor dining on his Instagram Stories 

Page 3: Tom Cruise’s chemistry with his latest Mission: Impossible co-star Hayley Atwell has spilled over to real life but it’s no surprise because the British beauty is the mirror image of Tom’s ex-wife Katie Holmes and Tom deliberately hunted down a Katie clone to be his on-screen leading lady and Hayley is everything Tom is looking for in a partner and more -- physically Katie was Tom’s definition of total perfection which is brunette with an athletic build and he’s been quietly looking for a girlfriend for some time who had the features he loves which is brown hair and a squarish jaw and hazel eyes

Page 4: Stressed-out and scandal-scarred Ellen DeGeneres in binge eating her way toward an early grave and Ellen is burying her sorrows by bingeing on junk food and milkshakes -- she’s packed on 30 pounds in 30 days after Kelly Clarkson beat her in the ratings for the third week in a row -- Ellen is convinced the world has turned on her and hides in her dressing room and locks herself in her bedroom and eats until she can barely breathe and it’s the only thing that gives her any comfort these days and the results speak for themselves because she’s bursting out of her clothes 

* Radio shock jock Howard Stern has blasted back at former staffers who painted him a cheap and petty monster -- the King of All Media said at the end of night he sleeps fine 

Page 5: Concerned mom Andie MacDowell is fearing for the safety of her starlet daughter Margaret Qualley after she was caught canoodling with accused abuser Shia LaBeouf -- no one can understand why she’d be with this guy after he’s been accused of such horrible things and Andie is beside herself with worry and she fears Shia may have staged his PDA with her daughter to polish his tarnished image 

Page 6: TV couple Chip and Joanna Gaines have prepped for the reboot of their wildly popular Fixer Upper reality show by undergoing extensive renovations on their looks and they spared no excuse in getting personal makeovers for the show’s return -- they are splurging on trainers, stylists, new clothes, designer makeup, at-home spa days and pricey hairstyling plus other indulgences

Page 7: Blake Shelton and Gwen Stefani have called of their spring wedding plans after they were caught on camera in a vicious street fight -- they’ve been fighting about everything since they got engaged and all that tension finally exploded in a brutal screaming match -- the ruckus erupted over groomzilla Blake’s feeling that Gwen has given him little support after he’d spent endless hours and millions of dollars planning their over-the-top nuptials and after all his plans Gwen suggested they simply elope and Blake blew his stack -- Blake was already bristling because Gwen seemed more focused on jump-starting her career than their wedding plans 

* Jennifer Lopez recently confessed she and retired slugger Alex Rodriguez are mulling never getting married after benching their wedding plans amid the coronavirus crisis and she’s been spotted without her engagement ring 

Page 8: Barbra Streisand and James Brolin have bounced back from the brink of a $400 million divorce and now they’re even talking about making a movie together with Babs feeding him directing tips -- they’ve had their ups and downs but they’re getting a second wind and believe doing a project together will give their relationship the kick-start it needs -- James has seen his career revitalized with his role in the sitcom Life in Pieces and directing several TV movies and his recent success is pretty exciting to both of them -- James’ dream is to direct a big-budget feature starring his son Josh Brolin and Barbra wants to help him realize that goal 

* Barely a year after leaving Britain broke and beaten Meghan Markle has regained her Markle Sparkle with Hollywood flooding the former D-list actress with movie scripts and big-bucks deals  -- the wife of Prince Harry is savoring her triumph as Hollywood’s newly crowned queen and thumbing her nose at the royals -- since leaving the cable TV drama Suits Meghan has missed acting and now she’s looking for the right big-screen project to relaunch her career 

Page 9: Sex and the City is on track for a reboot only this time without black-sheep cast member Kim Cattrall -- Sarah Jessica Parker, Cynthia Nixon and Kristin Davis are all reuniting for what Sarah has called a revisit of the hit series -- Kim who has had widely publicized spats with series star and producer Sarah over the years has complained about the fan backlash she received for bowing out of a third Sex and the City movie follow-up 

Page 10: Hot Shots -- Tiger Woods hit the links at a Florida tournament with son Charlie, John Legend and Chrissy Teigen walked hand-in-hand during a hike with pals in St. Barts, Pete Davidson took a stab at knitting, Paris Hilton with white roses 

Page 11: Bill Cosby is refusing to shower with his fellow prisoners because an outbreak of COVID-19 in the SCI Phoenix prison has caused the fallen funnyman to steer clear of the showers

* Martha Stewart turns 80 in 2021 but the scrappy senior’s been working her farm like an energetic 20-year-old -- the domestic diva has been riding out the pandemic at her 153-acre farm in Upstate New York but she’s doing anything but taking it easy as she’s up early milking cows, shoveling snow and even chopping wood for the fireplace and she hasn’t ignored her Martha Stewart Living lifestyle empire 

Page 12: Straight Shuter -- Ryan Seacrest personally tapped Billy Porter as his co-host on Dick Clark’s New Year’s Rockin’ Eve because Ryan is Billy’s biggest fan 

* Kanye West and televangelist Joel Osteen have parted ways -- Joel loves the spotlight as much as Kanye but he wasn’t prepared for the backlash after they were criticized for their walking-on-water stunt and that was when things started to sour 

* The Kardashians’ new show on Hulu promises to spark even more controversy as it will show a much more X-rated version of the family 

* New Bachelor Matt James gets in a round of golf near his home in Jupiter, Florida (picture) 

Page 13: Michael Douglas was over the moon after becoming a grandfather again at 76 and has big plans for the Douglas family dynasty -- reformed bad-boy Cameron Douglas and longtime partner Viviane Thibes welcomed son Ryder nearly three years after their daughter Lua -- making him a grandfather again is the greatest gift Cameron could have given his poor old dad and Michael hopes he loves to be 103 like his dad Kirk Douglas so he can watch Lua and Ryder grow up 

* Reba McEntire’s new beau Rex Linn is a junk food junkie and she’s worried he’s digging his own grave with a knife and fork -- Reba loves Rex and he’s the sweetest guy in the universe but it’s just troubling the way he eats everything in sight -- Reba’s worried he’ll be six feet under if he doesn’t change his ways soon and she’s desperate for him to lose 25 pounds and she’s determined to put him on a sensible mostly vegetarian diet but Rex keeps sneaking chips and sweets when he thinks she’s not looking 

Page 15: Four years into their brutal divorce battle Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie are entering into a new custody battle this time for their pets -- the fractured couple’s clash over their five youngest children remains at a standstill as Angie refuses to budge on her demand for full custody -- while Brad continues to battle for shared custody of the kids he’s now making moves to ensure he has equal time with their critters as well -- Angie’s house is full of animals many of which Brad helped choose and raise and while he doesn’t want full-term custody of them he’d like to at least have them accompany the kids when they visit because Brad has noticed the children miss their pets when they’re with him and he wants to rectify that and he thinks they’ll want their visits to be longer if they have their pets with them 

Page 16: Scandal-tarred Prince Andrew faces a shocking new investigation into how he lives like a billionaire despite being cut off from British taxpayer funds -- the disgraced playboy stripped of royal duties in 2019 over his involvement in the Jeffrey Epstein sex scandal has no steady stream in income to explain his lavish lifestyle of private jets and ski chalets and luxury cars -- but Randy Andy has apparently been secretly trading on his blue-blood roots to sponge off Arab princes and score lucrative deals with shady tycoons and cash-rich international oligarchs like Qatar’s Minister of Economy and Trade Sheikh Mohammed Bin Ahmed Althani and Secretary General Issa Abu Issa -- a probe of his financial dealings could see Andrew further shamed and banished from the royals forever 

Page 19: Taylor Swift’s heady brew of mysticism in her new album Evermore has fans wondering is Tay Tay a witch -- in a music video for her song Willow she pursues a magical glowing thread through an enchanted forest and joins in with a witchy circle of cloaked revelers -- Wiccans are rushing to embrace her but others are wondering whether Taylor’s interest in witchcraft is merely to boost sales 

Page 22: Devastated Lisa Marie Presley struggled through Christmas as the heartbroken mom is still coming to terms with the suicide of her only son Benjamin Keough -- her holiday was somber after she wasn’t included in her mom Priscilla Presley’s holiday plans -- Lisa Marie arranged to spend one night at Graceland to be with Ben at his final resting place 

Page 26: Health Watch 

Page 34: Kat Von D has made herself at home in a haunted house -- she left L.A. with her husband Leafar Seyer to give their son a more normal environment and instead they wound up in a seven-bedroom Victorian mansion in rural Vevay, Indiana that has 13 fireplaces and a local reputation as a retreat for ghosts 

Page 36: Grateful Dead fans have been dying violent and mysterious deaths for decades sparking fears the hippie band’s superfans are being targeted by a bloodthirsty serial killer 

Page 38: John Mulaney chatted up young girls on sex sites and sent nude selfies that suggested he was doing cocaine before checking into rehab -- the married star decided to get help after girls who partied with him online threatened to expose how he’d broken his 15 years of sobriety 

Page 40: Garth Brooks confessed his life in lockdown with wife Trisha Yearwood hasn’t been in perfect harmony because he’s driving her bonkers with his nonstop whistling 

* Hollywood Hookups -- Joe Giudice showed off his new squeeze who is a lawyer, Tyler Perry and Gelila Bekele split, Ariana Grande and Dalton Gomez engaged 

Page 42: Red Carpet -- Duchess Kate Middleton in 2020 

Page 45: Spot the Differences -- Tichina Arnold and Beth Behrs on the sitcom The Neighborhood 

Page 47: Odd List -- two months after hoofing it from a New Jersey slaughterhouse a runaway goat was captured and given a new lease on life according to the animal rescue that snagged the fleet-footed critter, a Texas man helped his boss turn the page on an old debt by settling his 48-year-old library fine as a joke 

[prettywordsyouleft]

Through His Eyes - Part 13 [Final]

Summary: Losing your sight after your accident was traumatic, and Jaebum’s guilt of knowing it should have been him instead creates an intricate bond between you both, as you overcome adversity and try to find your way in life again.

Genre: angst / romance

Characters: Im Jaebum x female reader

A/N: This story is emotional and raw compared to some of the content on my blog. It is in no way an attempt to glamourise or undervalue the lives of those who suffer from something similar. This story is purely fictional.

Index:  Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13

Jaebum was unable to relax.

Over the last year of your relationship with him, he believed he had mellowed out considerably. You had found yourself when you were apart and only continued to flourish at his side. If anything, you called the shots more than he did.

Which was rather refreshing.

Sometimes he didn’t agree with some of the choices you made, and since both of you were stubborn, it had led to a lot of arguments. Only to end up back in each other’s arms, apologising, compromising, reconnecting.

Jaebum had been adamant about refuting one thing you wished to do, however.

“Come on, like it’ll happen again,” you whined, and he groaned loudly, reaching down to fill Nora’s food bowl and then turning to the breakfast dishes pointedly.

Your arms slipped around his waist soon after, and he paused in scrubbing the plate, your lips finding his bare skin easily. After a series of kisses that led up to his ear, you sighed into him, Jaebum not needing to turn to see the pout now upon your lips. “Just one time, please?”

“I’m not relenting on this,” he announced and for three months, he had successfully stuck to this vow. He couldn’t fathom having you in the same situation as you had been that day. Even if you both agreed that your accident had to happen for you to be this in love with one another, Jaebum still wanted your eyes to see the world that he did. He knew in some sense, you did. Your artwork had been recognised and now you were being offered the opportunity of holding an exhibition. You spent just as many hours working as he did now, sometimes your schedule was fuller than his was. Your paintings and sculpts littered his apartment as much as your own, taking up as much residence as you did in his home.

Not that he minded, he loved whenever you stayed over with him.

But he had to admit your world had grown considerably larger and you weren’t struggling to keep up with it. And that was one of the reasons why Jaebum had eventually been overruled with his protective stance. There were only so many excuses he could use that you couldn’t refute. With the growth of your business-like mind, your tact and articulation exceeded his, presenting him with even a list of reasons why he shouldn’t hold you back from what you wanted.

With the last line of, ‘if anything were to happen, I know you’d be right there’ as a reminder, he had caved, allowing you this one visit.

Jaebum knew that if this went well, you would request more opportunities and that was what accompanied his nerves as he got his makeup done, the realisation that you were dynamic, able to achieve anything you wanted, regardless of how much he tried to ground you.

Once you had taken flight, there was no stopping you.

“It’s going to be fine,” Jackson assured from the seat beside him and Jaebum half-smiled, still unable to accept those words. He had chanted them since waking up this morning, and still, they held no true belief in his mind. He knew he needed it to be fine, a perfect execution with your safety paramount. Sure, onsite accidents had decreased since new regulations came into place after your loss of sight. His company held stringent checks on all places their artists performed now, and Jaebum had been relieved that the concert hall passed all safety checks the day before.

His nerves didn’t dispel, no matter how many reassuring hugs Mark gave him, or firm squeezes of his shoulder that came from Jinyoung. And when you stepped into the bustling environment with the help of his manager, Jaebum’s movement faltered, his eyes holding onto your approach and checking everything that surrounded you as fast as his brain could process.

Why had he agreed to this?

“Noona!” Yugyeom cried as he leapt off the stage towards you, and you grinned, hugging everyone who came your way before slipping into Jaebum’s arms.

You tensed only for a moment, your head snapping up to his, shooting him a reproachful look. “Are you seriously this worried about me?”

“He’s been driving us insane all morning with how anxious he is,” BamBam announced, and Jaebum glared in his younger friend’s direction.

Youngjae chuckled. “I’m convinced you are the most important person in his world after today.”

“Is that right?” you murmured, unable to hide your elation. Jaebum flushed with colour, which you managed to pick up on, allowing him the chance to bury into you. As everyone else moved off, back to their positions in the rehearsal, you gently rubbed circles on his back, soothing his wired body.

Jaebum was exhausted, and he had not even performed yet.

“Relax for me, hm?”

“Easy for you to say,” he retorted, stepping back just enough to look down at you. Now that you were here, Jaebum was conflicted. He felt your effect relaxing some of his physical reaction but his mind was still concerned for your protection.

“If you’re not relaxed then how can I enjoy your performance? You forget how easily I can hear when you’re out of tune or offbeat now. I’ll only be disappointed in myself if I’m the cause to all your fans having a sub-par performance from you.”

He gaped at you. “Y/N, are you playing the guilt trip on me now?”

“No, of course not,” you responded sweetly, a giggle soon escaping you. You patted his arm and then ushered him off. “I’ll be right here, listening on and expecting a good rehearsal from you.”

With a final grumble and farewell, Jaebum headed back up onto the stage, looking out to where you had taken a seat with some of the other staff. You were already animatedly conversing something with his stylist and Jaebum smiled, it was just like you to find a place in any setting these days.

Rehearsals continued for the majority of the afternoon and by the time the last song ended, Jaebum was in a different element. He was no longer fretting about your appearance on set; instead, it had propelled him to put on a better show. The reactions you gave were genuine. He watched all your emotions that you openly showed for each of their songs, laughing with the playful moments in the segments and then rendered speechless with the powerful way he and the six other members performed. Even if it was a dry rehearsal, you were impressed and Jaebum was feeling accomplished because of it.

He knew that taking you on tour now would be something he would no longer fear. Even if something were to occur, you could both face it together.

It was how you had come thus far as a couple, after all.

He didn’t allow himself to focus too much on you when the show actually began. Sure, he would look towards your seat next to where the members’ family sat now and then, grinning when he noticed how bright you looked and the way you fondly held onto his mother’s hand throughout. Jaebum focused on putting his all into his performances, not just for you, or the fans, but for himself as well.

He hadn’t felt this at home on stage since your accident. It was as if having you present could allow him to finally reach for his passion and share it around the arena all night long.

He had been exhausted earlier in the day, but after stepping off stage, he was full of energy.

It was you who was wiped out from the experience.

“I didn’t expect it to take that much out of me,” you admitted as you departed ways from the small gathering after the concert, leaning into his side as he slipped into the driver’s seat of his car. Jaebum glanced at you, leaning in to kiss your head softly. You sighed, your hand moving over his waist and holding him tightly. “It was a success.”

“You told me not to worry,” he reminded you and you sighed, not lifting your head up to face him.

“I’m glad you stopped and allowed me to in your stead.”

He grinned; he had noticed now and then you would slowly look around during the rehearsal, jumping when someone would start banging on something in the stage setup. It would be just like you to take on the universe and ensure him to leave it all to you. He nudged you lightly, starting up the ignition. “Next time, don’t try to take on so much.”

“I’m exhausted mostly because of how many emotions I faced due to your music, not because of that,” you stated, pulling away from your position against him, avoiding the vibration of his chuckles.

Yet you held his hand all the way to your home.

When the car came to stop in the parking lot, neither of you moved to get out of the car immediately, savouring your time together. Jaebum knew your mother would want to have you home tonight. Her concern over you would not always be at ease, even if you were proving to be a capable young woman despite your life changing almost two years ago. It was a mother’s right to worry for her child and in your case, she always would. Allowing you to come out to the concert had been a big thing for her, especially doing so without chaperoning. It was up to him to deliver you back tonight, safe and sound.

That much he would do.

He just didn’t want to say goodbye just yet.

And neither did you.

“What if I went up there, said hello and then came back?”

Jaebum chuckled, shaking his head. “I’ve been with you for most of the day; let your mother have your final hours before bed.”

“If I make an hour, I’m so tired.”

“See, so it’s better you just go home and unwind with her before sleeping. I can come around for breakfast tomorrow,” Jaebum suggested and you let out a small huff of air. He knew that you had conceded, even if you weren’t openly happy about it.

“My bed has space for you,” you attempted and Jaebum leaned over to draw you into his arms, uncaring of the gearbox between you both. “Come stay with me. Mum won’t mind.”

“Not tonight.”

“Why?”

Staring at you, he brushed the hair away from your face tenderly. He couldn’t wait for the time when you would fall asleep and wake up in his arms every day. You stayed over at his whenever he was home, sometimes going an entire week before you trudged back home, albeit with a delighted greeting for your mother when you saw her. You really did love the woman, even if you protested leaving his company every time. It was why he made a point of taking you home even when he didn’t want to let you go.

Jaebum knew your mother had been hinting at putting a ring on your finger lately, her not so subtle answer to allowing him what he craved. Only when you were truly bound to him would she allow you to leave the nest he had first found you within. Back then, your wings were unable to fly to his house, and she had nurtured you more than he could have.

It meant a lot to him that your mother was allowing him the ability to be that strength at your side now.

That’s why he made sure you spent as much time alone with your mother presently. When you moved in with him, he might not be as willing to let you stay away from him.

“You know you have a really bad habit of overthinking and not giving me an answer, Im Jaebum.”

He snapped out of his thoughts with a smile, which you reached out to touch with your thumb. He pursed his lips into you, kissing your hand softly and then undid your seatbelt. “Come on, let me take you home.”

You obliged despite his lack of an answer, swinging your linked arms softly with every step you made together. Soon you were standing outside your apartment and turned to face him, attempting to shoot him a luring smile. He laughed. “I’m not coming in.”

“No? Your loss then,” you tempted and he stepped up to you, hugging you warmly and kissing your forehead. “I’m going to go to bed and dream of someone other than you.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes,” you informed, though you were smiling too much for it to be effective. “Since you don’t want to be at my side tonight, I’ll choose someone else.”

“Suit yourself, Nora will be all too happy to take your spot anyway.”

You huffed again and he laughed. For a moment you were both jovial and then his smile faded, his eyes searching yours.

Even without sight, they were beautiful. The colours, the depth, he had fallen in love with them. In the hallway lighting, he spotted your faint scarring, the lines he had traced upon your face many times over. He had come to love them too.

All of you.

Yet the question remained on the tip of his tongue and he rocked back on his heels, unsure if he should ask it. You placed a hand on his cheek, rubbing it gently. “What is it?”

“Do you ever miss it?”

“Miss what?”

“Seeing the world,” he admitted, watching as you blinked slowly.

And then you shook your head. “No. I don’t any more.”

“Really? Wouldn’t you love to see what’s around you? View the things you haven’t in so long? What about the people you hold dearly in your life now, do you crave to see them at least once more?” Jaebum wondered, holding you back in his arms again. He was confused; he had thought there would be a small part of you that would long for vision of some sort. Some times, on your better days, you could make out vague shapes for moments at a time. That was the extent of your recovery. The doctors had ruled you wouldn’t perform some sort of miracle and gain your sight back.

Smiling again, your hand still on his face shifted, feeling along the strength of his jaw and up his cheekbone. Your fingers lightly dusted over his eyelids that, with instinct, he shut upon your touch there. When you stopped, he reopened his eyes, gazing at you and anticipating your answer.

“I already see enough of the world through you. Why would I crave anything more?”

Leaning into kiss you, Jaebum allowed the tears to fall from his eyes. He never knew what to expect with you sometimes.

But he would take care of his sight as best as he could.

Since he knew you would look through his eyes forever.

 The End.

_________________

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[thenamesseven]

Warnings: Language and mentions of sex.

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

Shownu stopped the car in front of the club you supposedly owned, or at least, that’s what the documents the chief gave them said. Whoever entered the club was in your mafia or working with you, which basically meant you controlled everybody who got in and out, it sounds impossible and even ridiculous but it was probably true, it was obvious strangers weren’t allowed to come in a club where you did all your business, right? They all knew that as soon as they stepped inside their inner yet old criminal would have to come back out if they didn’t want to get killed on the spot, there wasn’t any margin for mistakes and hesitation, it was a now or never situation. Their life after jail had been deleted from any online site to ensure their security once they went undercover, it was obvious you would check all four of them before accepting them into your gang and nobody wanted to risk their lives.

“Can we go over the plan one more time? There are things that I still don’t understand” Minhyuk asked nervously, staring at the huge security guard at the door who hadn’t seen them yet. “Like, why am I the one that has to approach her?”

“We all agreed you’re the best meeting people” Kihyun answered with a small shrug “You’re nice, funny and let’s just say you’re handsome, she, at least should let you buy her a drink”

The four of them had studied every single piece of information about you that were in those pages, which wasn’t too useful to be honest. All that said was you grew up in a really poor and dysfunctional family and that your mother’s death and your father getting arrested turned you into the criminal you were born to be since you were just following the example your parents gave you. You ran away from every orphanage and somehow ended up in the mafia, being one of the most wanted criminals in the whole country. Your rough past wasn’t a surprise for the guys though, all of them had their own little story along with the motives of why they became what they were, nobody joined the street gangs out of boredom like most people think. There’s always feelings such us vulnerability, fear or anger that push you to do it and by the time you realize you’ve done the wrong thing it is simply too late.

Also, the fact that you were a female was something that scared Jooheon the most. Females aren’t as weak as most people think, they are colder than any male when they get mad, they’re pretty smart and it’s not easy to trick them. All of those facts were kind of intimidating but he was almost sure they could find a way to break your walls and invade your personal life, he didn’t even need you to trust all four of them, as long as you trust one enough, the hardest task of the plan would be done.

“First of all we have to get in the club though” Shownu answered from the driver’s seat, his eyes on the security guy.

“No shit?” Minhyuk asked slightly frustrated

“I mean, he probably knows everybody who comes in” Shownu replied rolling his eyes “Not everybody can get in there Minhyuk, we’re talking about the Mafia” 

“We could use the back door” Kihyun replied, shrugging “I bet that one is not being watched”

“Cliché” Minhyuk rolled his eyes “What if someone sees us?”

“Act important” Jooheon muttered looking at him “If we’re inside it means we’re working for the mafia or with the mafia, so we should look like powerful people” He explained biting one of his nails, it’s been so long since last time they did this that he couldn’t help but be slightly nervous “Act cocky, arrogant, like the world is yours” 

“Got it” Kihyun nodded “Then Minhyuk is supposed to look for (Y/N)” He looked at his mate, waiting for him to nod before he kept explaining “Approach her calmly, as if you didn’t know who she was and just give her some conversation”

“Wait” Shownu frowned softly noticing something weird in their plan "Wait, wouldn't she notice he's new around? I mean, if the security guy knows everybody she surely knows who is dancing in her club”

Jooheon smiled “That’s the thing” He sighed, leaning back against his seat “If she is as powerful as it seems, she and her minions will notice we broke in and that we’re not a little stupid gang fucking around” Jooheon turned on his seat to look at the other three guys with a small smirk on his face “I don’t think she’ll get mad, if she is the kind of person I think she is, she will get interested and play our game”

“That’s when we make a deal or something?” Minhyuk asked scratching the back part of his neck, he really didn’t feel good about the plan “Ask her to let us work with her?”

Jooheon shook his head no “We won’t ask her that, she will come to us” Seeing the confused expression on everybody's face, he kept explaining “We’ll just have some contact with her tonight and leave her intrigued enough to look for us when she need us, if she really owns the streets like chief think she does, then she will want to know us and why we’re suddenly in her territory” 

“She will want to know if she should play with or against us” Kihyun muttered finally understanding what Jooheon plan was

“If she wants to play with us then she’ll lead us to the other three people working with her, tell us to join her and that’s when we will have enough time to collect enough evidence to arrest all of them” Jooheon finished 

“What if she wants to play against us?” Minhyuk asked

“Let’s hope that doesn’t happen” Shownu replied getting slightly tense “We don’t want to be on a Mafia boss’ black list”

Everybody gulped nervously, staring ahead at the probably crowded club with music loud enough to make the floor shake as hard as their heart was pounding against their chest.

It was time to get out of their car.

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

It was a busy night, the club was more crowded than usual but so far nothing interesting has happened. You talked with a couple of people interested in making deals with your boss, you also had a delightful conversation with one of your boss’ new business partners in which you were forced to be as sweet and stupid as possible. Your boss always took you to his meetings so he could ‘show off’, you just had to act like a stupid girl that didn’t know she was dating a mafia owner, the worst part was when you had to talk with all those other girls who truly were idiots, you always felt like slapping them so hard.

Sighing softly you looked around the room, your eyes landing on the dance floor where lots of people were dancing -kind of grinding against each other, some of them even having dry sex right there- or making out. You were pretty familiar with all the faces around, your boss never allowed strangers into the club where he dealt with his most important businesses. Getting in might be easy but getting out after being found out was another story.

Your eyes spotted Wonho, who was in a corner whispering something to two blondes that seemed to be giggling like crazy. A huge smirk made its way up to your lips, he looked so confident and so cocky that if you told those females how scared he got whenever there was a storm they would call you crazy. Unconsciously, you bit your lip when your eyes went down on his semi opened white shirt, letting everybody see his flawless pale skin and but when you looked even lower, right down his tight jeans you literally had to force your eyes back up to realized he had caught you staring. One side of his lips lifted up while he winked at you, making your cheeks turn slightly pink. 

He is such a player.

In the seating area, a way more calm place than the dance floor, were Changkyun with his eyes glued to his phone which meant he was already looking for a new car either to steal it or buy it, along with Hyungwon that lazily leaned back against his seat, looking around the place slightly disgusted by the way people danced so close to each other. He just wasn’t a huge fan of people getting into his personal space.

You turned around on your stool, focusing on the drink that was in your hand. You usually didn’t drink too much alcohol but after the success of the other day in the alley way the boss had allowed the four of you to get a little break, which meant, a couple of days without running after somebody or without having to act like as trophy while you intertwined arms with the chief. 

Although if you were honest with yourself, you weren’t a huge fan of breaks. You were too used to the daily action, the tension of following somebody, the adrenaline when bullets flew around you or the thrilling sensation when you broke into somebody’s place so when you had breaks you didn’t have anything to do unlike the rest of your friends. Wonho liked to spend the majority of his time in his bed with a girl or a couple of them if he was lucky, Hyungwon just liked to spend the day in his apartment watching TV and I.M was either getting into some illegal races to “train” his cars or looking for some new ones. You just had no hobbies or people to spend those days with and that, as lame as it sounds, made you feel slightly lonely.

“Ah, such a cold night”

A male voice dragged you out of your depressing thoughts, the easy going comment made you smile a little. It was unusual for you to have casual conversations, whenever somebody approached you it was always about business and not to talk about random things. You kept your eyes down on your almost empty glass, twirling the ice around to distract yourself.

“Get me a whiskey and refill the lady’s drink”

Now that was something even more unusual for you, was he trying to flirt? Didn’t he know who you were? Trying hard to keep your poker face on, you lifted your eyes up to see his face just to find an absolute stranger sitting on the stool besides yours. A mix of different feelings flowed through your body, the first one was confusion since it was the first time somebody had managed to break into the club and have guts to approach you like that. Was he retarded? Or didn’t he really know who you were? Then it was rage, was this some kind of joke? Because she was definitely not in the mood to fuck around but then a glint of curiosity shone in your eyes, this was something new, something to entertain her boring night.

Jooheon noticed your expression and a small smile made it’s way up to his lips. Walking in the club hadn’t been as easy as they had expected since the back door was also being watched by another huge security guard. Minhyuk had been the chosen one to entertain him enough for Shownu, Kihyun and him to get inside the club before he got back in their car in case the other three needed to run away. Shownu was sitting by himself further in the bar while Kihyun was in the dance floor, both of them scanning the place with the intention of finding your partners.

“Nice club isn’t it?” You asked taking a sip from your drink, your eyes on his face.

He was handsome, that was the first thing that crossed your mind when you saw him. Although you couldn’t look better at him thanks to the dark lights illuminating the place. The little dimples that appeared on his cheeks when he smiled didn’t went unnoticed though.

“Really nice” Jooheon nodded, his eyes watching your face carefully.

As soon as his eyes landed on you, he knew there was something off. Either you were a really good actor and were trying to look extremely pitiful to everybody around you or you weren’t as cold and rude as the documents said. Mafia made you rough, made you insensitive but the longing, the hopeful look you had in your eyes when you were looking at the dance floor wasn’t the look a Mafia boss had. He could be wrong but it was pretty weird for his instincts to fail like that.

“My name is (Y/N)” You introduced yourself casually, pulling up your hand for him to shake.

“I know” He said with a cheeky smile. Jooheon grabbed your hand gently but instead of shaking it he pulled it up to his lips and left a small lingering kiss on your skin “Jooheon, nice to meet you” He saw the curiosity flashing in your eyes, trying to decipher what was he doing there

“Ah, the pleasure is mine” You replied “New around?”

Jooheon chuckled looking down at his drink, not holding eye contact with you meant he was confident enough to not control your every single movement and that surprised you even more, who was he? “I think you already know that, am I wrong (Y/N)?” The way your name rolled off his tongue got your ears turning slightly red. He said it without crying, without fear or anger...It sounded so damn good.

“What are you doing here?”

“Heard some stuff about you, me and my friends got kind of interested” As soon as you heard the word friends you tried to turn your head to search for more strange faces but Jooheon stopped you, if things went south and you decided to go after them it would be a good thing that you only knew his face and not his friends’

“Eyes on me doll” You scoffed rolling your eyes, moving your face away from his big yet soft hands.

“Who do you work for?” Jooheon noticed you went stiff, maybe touching you hadn’t been a good idea.

“Myself” Jooheon replied shrugging “We just go from one city to another, meeting people, doing some works” He took a sip from his drink “The usual business, you know?”

“Mhm” You muttered watching him “So you came here to work?” You asked with a small smile, really interested on him now.

“Maybe, maybe not” Jooheon shrugged “Is there work to do?”

“Maybe, maybe not” You shrugged in return, making him smile even more

Jooheon glanced down at his watch, they have been thirty minutes inside and they had ten minutes to get out before Minhyuk started freaking out by himself in their car.

“I would really like to continue our conversation” Jooheon said letting out an exasperated sigh “But this” Suddenly the club’s lights went out. They didn’t need to do this, it was just to show off, to show you he had enough reasons to be confident “Is my cue to get out” 

“Wait” You grabbed his wrist before he could walk away “Will we see each other again?”

Jooheon smirked. He did it. He got you interested.

“Maybe” He whispered gently moving his hand away from yours “Maybe not”

[mf-despair-queen]

What Happens At Comic Con - Dylan O’Brien

Author: @mf-despair-queen

Characters: Dylan O’Brien/Reader

Word Count: 17,252

Summary: Comic Con turns steamy when Y/N finds herself in the wrong place at the wrong time - under the table at the Teen Wolf panel in front of her biggest crush.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Unprotected Sex, Protected Sex, Oral (both receiving), Multiple Orgasms, Doggy, Spanking, Hair Pulling, Choking, Public Sex, Bondage (handcuffs and blindfolds), Wall Sex, Daddy Kink, Squirting, Boob Job, Mentions of Alcohol, Mentions of Practicing Safe Sex, Public Teasing, 69

Notes: Y’all wanted kinky daddy Dyl. Here you go. Takes place during 2015 SDCC. Thanks to @malia–stilinski and @roscoeknows for lurking and proofing. Ria also wrote the summary because I suck at them LOL. (PS Mobile is dumb but the read more IS THERE. Do not message me about it.)

You trudged through the people on your way into the San Diego Convention Center, your badge flopping around on the lanyard against your stomach. You fanned yourself with a piece of paper you had clasped in your sweaty palm from the intense July heat, rushing through the crowd of people towards where you were supposed to report that morning. You muttered low apologies when you bumped into different people, glancing at your watch every few seconds to make sure you weren’t running too late.

Two minutes.

You finally broke through the final crowd, pushing into the door that read Authorized Personnel Only, flashing your badge at the security on the other side. Eric, the guard current on duty, shook his head, covering his mouth to shield his low snickers. “It’s only day one, Y/N, and you are already running late?”

“Not late yet!” you screamed back at him, practically slamming into the keycard scanner to start your shift. You rapidly typed in your information, the ding from the machine signalling your successful shift sign in. You checked your watch one last time, slumping against the machine. “Safe. Thirty seconds to spare.”

“Damn,” Eric hummed, turning in his seat to watch you. “I lost my ten bucks.”

“You and Tim bet on me again?” you asked with a slight scowl on your face.

“You know it. New year, new bets to make.”

“Well, good luck next time, tiger,” you told him sarcastically, dropping your purse into your locker. “Do you know where I am today?”

“Check with Let. She’s in charge of scheduling this year. She’ll probably have you working with Bel and Ria though getting panels set up,” he informed. His lips curled into a smirk, leaning over the back of his chair. “Maybe you will get to work the Teen Wolf panel this time and see that guy you like.”

Your face lit up like a firecracker, turning a bright shade of red. You turned away from him to clip up your hair, letting a few strands hang loose. “I don’t know what you are talking about,” you mumbled, knowing he heard your clearly.

In the few years you had worked for San Diego Comic Con, you had silently hoped and prayed to work the Teen wolf panel. You had watched the show since it first aired in 2011 and fell in love with it. And even more, you absolutely loved one of the lead actors - Dylan O’Brien. Since the moment he came on screen, you were smitten with the sarcastic man. He was a genuine personality from what you knew about him. He was a mixture of smart, funny, talented and an overall kind person.

When you got hired to work in the audio-visual department full-time every year, you hoped for the chance to meet the man you adored for so long. But no. You always seemed to miss him, getting assigned to other jobs and never getting time to even see him personally. Your friends were always the ones to interact, confirming the things you had heard about him. Their words would just set you into a fit of depression and every night, you would find yourself eating a tub of chocolate ice cream. It was a simple hope to meet him, but at this point, it seemed unrealistic, like the world was determined to keep you just from saying hello to him.

“Whatever you say, Y/N,” Eric mused, nodding when someone walked through the door, showing their badge. “Get to work, squirt.”

“Just because you are old enough to be my dad doesn’t give you the right to call me squirt,” you grumbled, smacking the back of his head as you passed him, darting down the hall. “Don’t work too hard, Er!”

You ran into the meeting room where you found Let waiting. “Bout time,” she cracked, tapping her clipboard.

“Com licença,” you mumbled to the Brazilian, her lips curling. “I clocked in on time. I swear.”

“I know. I saw you,” she laughed, making you stick your tongue out. “Hey, be nice or I will change my mind.”

“On what?” you questioned.

“Your tasks for today,” he hummed. She slid a paper over to you when you sat in the chair across from her, letting you glance over it. “I have you set up for ‘The Autobiography of James T. Kirk’ at ten-forty-five, ‘Call of Duty Black Ops III: Zombie World Reveal’ at one, you will take your lunch after that. When you come back, maybe touch up on some things here before you head to Ballroom 20.”

“What’s in Ballroom 20?” you asked, her grin deepening.

“Well, I figured you were the right person to help with the ‘MTV’s Teen Wolf’ panel at five.”

“Wait,” you started, blinking multiple times to process her words. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Seriously?!”

“Seriously!” She laughed. “You will be working the Teen Wolf panel this year. Maybe you will get to say hi to the actors when they gather backstage.” She went a sly wink your way, your cheeks tingling pink.

“I don’t know what you are talking about. I-I’m not a fan of Teen Wolf,” you tried to say, voice cracking and squeaking with each word.

“Never said you were. So, thanks for clarifying,” she cackled, making your cheeks darken.

“You’re a horrible person.”

“I know,” she grinned. “Now, do I get anything for this amazing daily setup?”

You stood from your seat, rounding the table until you stood beside her. Without a beat, your arms wrapped around her in a tight hug, bouncing in your spot. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! Obrigado, Let!”

“You’re welcome. Now go get to work!” she joked, pushing you off. “Ria and Bel are waiting to head to the Kirk panel.”

“You won’t regret this!” you told her, backing out into the hallway to face two grinning females. You turned to them after the door shut, quirking an eyebrow. “What?”

“Well?” Ria asked.

“Do you have anything to say?” Bel inquired, both leaning in close to catch any response you might have.

You tried to keep a straight face, but couldn’t for very long. The sheer thought lingered in your mind, the words Teen Wolf racing through it like one of those scrolling signboards you see at sporting events. Finally you let out a scream, pulling them into a giant hug, the three of you bouncing in circles a couple times. When you broke away, your high-pitched squeals continued as you bounced down the hall, doing small dances to nonexistent music. You cheered yourself off, shaking your ass to the beat in your head, finally jumping to clap your heels together, though it only succeeded in making you fall to the ground in a pile of limbs.

Scrambling to your feet a few feet away, you dusted off your clothes, looking back at the girls. “I’m ok,” you tried to claim, narrowing your eyes on the snickering females. Ria had her phone out, camera pointed your way while Bel narrated what was happening with the jig you had produced. “Delete that.”

“Hell no,” she laughed. “This is going on Youtube.”

“Delete it or I erase you from life.”

“You wouldn’t,” her eyes narrowed.

“Wanna bet?”

“Guys, we have a job to do,” Bel broke in, yanking the phone from Ria. It was stuffed in her back pocket, Bel linking her arm with the Canadian’s before looping her other one with yours, dragging you both down the hall. “But, let’s be honest. That was a great video.”

“I hate you both,” you grumbled.

“No you don’t,” they replied simultaneously.

~

You glanced over the AV panel backstage of Ballroom 20, just short of five pm. The others were rushing around and getting the microphones set up, ensuring the cameras were prepped for the actors that were to arrive shortly. You fought against the rapid pounding of your heart, your eyes constantly darting to the time in anticipation. The actors would probably be arriving soon, someone getting them situated in proper order or walk onto the stage. That would mean feet away, Dylan O’Brien would be standing…

No, ignore that. Focus on your job, you scolded yourself, shaking our head and adjusting the way you sat in your chair. You turned a few knobs on the main panel, listening to Ria test each of the microphones.

“Everything sounds good on my end, Ria,” you told her, the girl cheering, though it was slightly muffled by the sound of the guests that had filled the hall completely.

“It’s a full house out here,” Bel mumbled through your ear piece. “Popular show, eh?”

“You have no idea,” you laughed slightly. “It’s a great show, guys. And the actors… They’re amazing, alright?”

“Soon,” Ria sung into your ear. “Very soon you will meet the love of your life!~”

“Shut up,” you grumbled. The line went silent, the feed cut until it was needed again, your eyes focusing once more on the screens in front of you. Your rapidly skimming eyes halted on one small blue screen a frown forming on your face. One of the microphones that had previously been working was no longer active, a big, fat error blinking on the screen. “Dammit, Ria must have accidently kicked the table or something when she was done and loosened the wires.”

You glanced around, everyone too busy with their work to worry about the minor issue. You almost felt like an inconvenience to grab someone to help with the issue, mostly because you knew it was a simple fix; it was something you could run out and fix in a matter of seconds. You were sure you knew exactly what the issue was, so why would you need someone’s assistance fixing it?

I just have to sneak out there, fix the connection under the table and get back before the panel starts. They won’t even notice I’m gone. Easy peasy lemon squeezy! You told yourself, taking out the earpiece. You ignored the commotion of people around you as you took cautious steps towards the stage, peeking out at the crowd. Bel hadn’t lied when she said it was a full house. Every seat was filled with eager fans, all excited to see their favorite actors on stage in a matter of minutes.

You looked back once to see if anyone was paying attention to you, seeing everyone with the backs turned. With a final deep breath, your ducked low, slithering forward onto the stage so the audience wouldn’t see you sneak by. You had to crawl between the chairs, shifting them subtly to slip by, lifting the table cloth to sneak under it. The cloth fell limp behind your, your small form safely under the table so you could look at the wired connections for the microphones.

“Let’s see,” you mumbled to yourself, following wires to check that each was properly plugged in to the main console. “Aha! You are the problem child, aren’t you?” you said to a loose microphone wire that had been knocked partially free from the port. With a single click, it was back in place, the table shifted so it wasn’t near the console again. “Now, we are all good in the neighborhood.”

“Hey, hey, hey!” Kevin Smith, the moderator for the panel said, your heart officially stopping.

“Oh, God no.”

“How is everyone doing on this hot July day?” He said, the crowd cheering in response. “That’s good! Welcome to San Diego Comic Con to our favorite Teen Wolf panel! Let’s hear it!” The crowd roared louder, yet all you wanted to do was hit your head on the ground, cursing loudly at the situation you found yourself in. “So, y’all seen episode one of season five of course, yes?”

“Who hasn’t?” you grumbled lowly.

“I’m a man who loves a bromance. I’ve made a few movies where dudes are in love with each other and stuff. So naturally naturally, the Sciles relationship is very close to my heart. That being said, as you recall, the end of the episode, it’s not just those two but everybody going into the library, writing their initials on the shelf with the yearbooks and stuff. Which, right away, appealed to me on the sentimentality of like ‘oh, I’m forty-five. I think I remember going to high school’ and stuff like that, but I loved it. It’s a beautiful scene, like, there we are in Beacon Hills High School and watching all the friends together and that’s great. And then they took it one level up. And that’s what this show always does, and does so exceptionally well and why I will tune in and watch a show. Why y’all are here today to see the people behind it.”

“I wouldn’t know. I’m under a table,” you seethed. “I was supposed to see Dylan finally. Fuck my life.”

“They gave us something even better. All of a sudden, we see Scott take out the marker and he writes Allison’s initials. And I started bawling as I was watching the scene.”

“I would say grow a pair if I too hadn’t cried my eyes out at that scene,” you muttered.

“I start crying. Now, I was watching on my laptop and my wife is sitting over at her desk. She’s watching a totally different program. She sees me crying and she’s like ‘what’s the matter?’ and I was like ‘he just wrote Allison’s initials in the library!”

“Kevin, I love you, but I feel bad for your wife right now,” you snickered to yourself.

“And my looked at me like ‘I can’t believe I sleep with you’.”

“I knew I always liked her,” you grinned.

Kevin cleared his throat. “But, ladies and gentlemen, there’s a reason we’re gathering here today man. I, like you, love Teen Wolf. Give it up for Teen Wolf.” The crowd burst out into a round of applause, while you sat back, giving a fake clap with a deadpanned, unimpressed face, almost mocking the predicament you were in. “We’re gonna be lucky enough to sit here today and talk to the people behind it. The people that make it happen man. I’m gonna bring the out. Give it up for each one as they come out as if they’re, you know, Jesus coming into Nazareth or something like that. Without this guy, ladies and gentlemen, you got no show man. He created it, he runs it, he’s the man. Give it up for Jeff Davis!”

You heard footsteps through the loud cheering, the table cloth shifting slightly. A pair of legs appeared under them at the right end of the table - the left facing the audience. You face paled, slowly looking over the chairs that were in front of you. “Oh fuck me. They’re going to sit here and potentially kick me. Or worse, know I’ here.” You ran a hand through your hair. “Even better, my first Teen Wolf panel experience is under a table. Good job, Y/N. Real piece of work here. First, you miss Dylan then you get to listen to his sexy voice under the table. Ten out of ten would go again.”

“You know. It’s-it’s a boy’s world in Teen Wolf. Not so much. It’s girls as well man. Lots of ladies on this show who kick ass. Here’s one of them man. Give it up for Shelley Hennig!”

A pair of orange legs appeared next, black heels covering her feet. “To think, the first thing I see in person of my idols are their legs. What a memory.”

“I’ve watched this kid become such a great actor over the last five seasons. I stole him and put him into a movie called Yoga Hosers man. He is the teen wolf man. Give it up for Tyler Posey!”

You heard his thudding footsteps followed by a crash. You ended up having to bite your lip to remain quiet, a hysterical laugh bound to escape if you weren’t careful. He sat next to Shelley, the seats before where you were sat dwindling rapidly. Literally. There was one seat directly in front of you and whoever was next would be the one to kick you if they so pleased.

“We didn’t break anything this time, did you?” Jeff asked through the crowd, his voice echoing slightly because of the microphone. “No broken toe?”

“No broken toes this time,” Posey laughed. You shook your head, thinking how he didn’t need a microphone for people to hear his cheerful voice. “I don’t think so. I may have broken my butt though.”

“I don’t know how you follow an entrance like that but there’s one guy who’s gonna be able to do it man. He’s half of Sciles. Give it up for Dylan O’Brien!”

Part of you wanted to clap wildly like the inner fan you were, joining the crowd in the applause the man deserved.

Part of you wanted to crawl away and die in a hole because you wouldn’t even get to see his face.

The last part was already dead with the realization of where you sat. Dylan’s name was called and he would sit next to Tyler. The chair in front of you was next to Tyler. There was no where you could run without risking the cords getting knocked loose or making noise so someone could hear you. Now, sometimes, you were regrettably bad at math, but if things were adding up right in your mind, there was only one possible outcome.

You were essentially going to be sitting between Dylan’s legs for the next hour during this panel.

Though there was a second possibility with relatively high probability that he would kick you in the face.

There was a loud thump again, and you knew he had fallen the same way Tyler had when he entered the stage. That preciously awkward clumsy nugget. Dylan, you stole another piece of my heart without me seeing you. Tyler stood from his seat, his legs disappeared from your view. The table cloth was raised enough that you could see his shoes beside Dylan’s worn brown boots he occasionally wore since that boy only owns approximately six outfits in total.

Their feet neared the table and everything seemed to go in slow motion for you. Your heart stopped pumping and your hearing went silent. Your eyes widened to the size of golf balls while your sweaty palms clenched tightly. You shuffled in your kneeling position, the ache of your bent knees overshadowed by the fear and anxiety you felt. With each step closer, you saw a piece of your life flash before you eyes.

Ok, a bit dramatic, but it felt like that.

You were ready to pass out by the time he finally sat down. Your body grew exponentially hotter than it had been all day and it wasn’t from the July heat or being confined in the smallest space ever. It was from the fact that you were sitting between Dylan O’Brien’s legs. They were spread slightly, the man slouching slightly in his seat. The table cloth rests against his hips, giving you the ideal shot of his shirt riding up. The dark hairs of his happy trail were visible and you felt a bit like Pavlov’s dog, drooling because you were ready at the ring of the bell. Or, in this case, the melodic voice that hovered above you.

“Hi.”

Holy god, he sounds a million times better in person.

His khakis hung love on his hips, your fingers itching to reach forward and trace the defined v-lines that were embedded into his skin. You marveled at the little bit you saw of him, afraid of what you would say or do if you were staring at his face. Letting your eyes slide shut, you could picture his face already. A thin layer of scruff along his jaw because he hadn’t bothered to shave all week. The stubble hid the moles you loved, the constellation of marks something that never failed to make your world twinkle and sparkle with happiness. He was probably wearing some kind of Mets hat much to your delight. His hands would rub and his knees, veins protruding from the skin and running up his arms, dancing between the dark hairs that laid against his skin.

In that moment, you tuned Kevin out, ignoring when Holland, Sprayberry and Cody sat down next at the table, completing the row of guests. You missed the questions he began to ask everyone or the commotion that was spurred when Posey gave Kevin a Beacon Hills lacrosse jersey of his own. The voices around you felt muffled besides his - the voice of the angelic man you admired for his personality, talent and wit. Yes, he was handsome but he was more than that.

He was perfection.

As the panel trudged on, you only listened to him, noting the tiny nuances of his actions when he spoke. He couldn’t sit still, sometimes straightening in his seat so he could lean forward into the microphone while other times his hands would be clasped in his lap, subtly adjusting himself in his jeans. His legs would kick out when he got excited, barely missing your scrunched up form. You heard his hands clap together whenever something happened. You knew he fidgeted with the Mets hat on his head occasionally by the way his body would shift against the chair. You would grin at the idea of his hand running through the silky dark locks, your body fidgeting with an unneeded - though not unwanted - desire. His joy brought you immense happiness, the butterflies rebelling inside you and trying to escape their cage.

You inched closer unconscious, watching as his hand rubbed over the crotch in his khakis against, adjusting himself as he sat. When his hand pulled away, you blink, leaning forward to get a better look. He had a bulge in his pants and it wasn’t small by any means. You could easily make out the shape of his length pressing into the tanned fabric, the fabric occasionally jumping when it twitched. H-he’s… he’s horny now? In the middle of the panel? You tried to sneak a glance up at him, the tablecloth in your way. Is this normal for him? Does he just get hard randomly? I know guys are always horny but now? What do I do? Stare at his erection the next thirty minutes?

You gnawed on your lip, slowly reaching forward. Your hand pulled back a few times, debating what to do the entire time. You were potentially risking your exposure under the table, between his legs, all because of your insatiable desire for him. Your body burned and the thought that he had a erection hiding in his pants made you wet in your jeans.Your core throbbed with want. The heat was becoming unbearable.

Was the fear worth it, knowing that he potentially wouldn’t want what you were willing to offer? Yes

Was the risk worth it, exposing yourself to him and willing providing sexual favors that you were more than ready to give without knowing who he truly was? You knew who he was but you didn’t know him, but the answer was still yes.

Just do it.

You hand brushed his crotch lightly, easily popping the button and sliding down the zipper. What you didn’t see above the table was the actor’s honey caramel orbs widen in shock, his lips tugged into a tight line. His eyebrows raised with his exasperated expression and he nearly choked on his water when he tried to cover the shock with a drink. Posey sent him a strange look, Dylan subtly shaking his head to rid his best friend’s worry. When Posey returned his ever watchful gaze to the audience and Dylan was sure that no one was looking really, he lifted the tablecloth that rested against his hips.

He was shocked to meet your eye, you hand creeping into his pants and pulling out the erection he had. His heart thudded rapidly, his cheek twinging a light pink from your beauty that he pushed away immediately.

His mouth went to fall open when you placed a finger to your lips, signalling him to remain quiet. And instead of him blowing your cover and stopping you like you feared he would, he nodded slowly, dropping the tablecloth back over himself. He slid himself further down in his seat to give you better access, sliding one hand under the tablecloth to help reveal himself fully to you.

Holy shit. He’s ok with this? He wants this? You asked yourself on rapidfire. But why? Is it because of me, or is it because I’m offering to blow him? I hope it’s the former… Well, no time to question right now.

You slid forward on your knees so you were nestled between his legs better, using a hand to stroke him slowly. Dylan was struggling not to make a noise of pleasure, his attention split between the guests he was addressing and the events in his lap. His fingers curled against the black tablecloth, teeth gritting together so he could utter his answer through clenched teeth. His voice was strained and you could tell. You knew his voice like the back of your hand and the tone was off. And the more your hand moves, the more it grumbled together, dropping a few octaves between words. You could picture his Adam’s Apple bobbing with each dry swallow - and he was doing just that.

He slid forth slightly, giving you enough access to wrap your lips around the head of his cock. His voice jumped with surprise as he answered a question about what supernatural creature Stiles would be. His chin leaned on his conjoined hands, his body wiggling at the pleasurable sensation of your moist lips around him, hollowed cheeks sucking at the sensitive tip. Your tongue smoothed over the slit, tasting the precum that seeped out from your gentle strokes. He was a tad salty, but most sweet, just like his extraordinary and unique personality.

With the small amount of room you had, you began to bob your head along his length, careful not to bump the underside of the table whenever you pulled away from him. Your hand continued to stroke what couldn’t fit in your mouth, your mouth and digits in perfect sync. Your could feel yourself growing more aroused with each passing second, your panties growing slick in your jeans, the droplets beginning to coat your thighs. For a second, you were thankful you wore black jeans. The more you sucked at him, taking every inch of his gigantic cock in between your cheeks, the wetter your grew.

The throbbing was becoming unbearable, your heart racing in time with the pulses that weaseled their way from your groin through your veins. With your free hand, never letting your motions falter, you popped the button on your jeans, unzipping it slowly and quietly. Your hand slid between your legs as best it could, a shiver running up your spine when you made contact with the moist core. It was dripping down your fingers without remorse. You let out an inaudible whimper around him, letting two slim fingers sliding into yourself. Slow thrusts into your moist center matched the perfectly timed bobs of your head.

Dylan was struggling even more than before to keep calm and collected, his orgasm quickly approaching. When he wasn’t busy answering a fan, he thought back on his love life, trying to recall the last time he had a blowjob this incredible. The answer was never. The way you hand gripped him and the way your mouth formed around him. The way the tip would occasionally hit the back of your throat and you wouldn’t halt for a single second. The way your tongue would swirl about his entire length, tracing along the pulsing vein that wa protruding on the underside of him. He was impressed, aroused and pleased. He was ecstatic and, deep down, he was enjoying every second of it.

For you, you were on cloud nine. You pleasured yourself while pleasing him. You savored his salty sweet juices while letting your freshly manicured nails scrape at your tender walls, gracing over your g-spot occasionally. Your thumb pressed to your clit for extra bliss. Your hand that was wrapped about the base of his shaft moved to fondle his balls, pushing his boxer briefs out of the way as much as possible. Your mouth did the remainder of the work, sucking deep and long at his erect cock.

Dylan, who had his head buried in his hands to keep focused, snapped to attention when a fan asked him a question, the man stuttering out an answer. He was so close - he was nearly there. And in the middle of his answer, he resorted to one of the things that came naturally to him: comedy. He let out a disgruntled laugh to cover a moan that threatened to slip, his eyes squinting and his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth like a dog in heat as he gave the girl of hysterical answer to her question.

It was all a facade though. His pulsing length twitched wildly, long strings of white spilled from the end down your throat, his burning hot seed dripping down your throat as he came. You quivered yourself, a mild orgasm hitting your system. It didn’t stop you from swallowing every last drop he ejaculated into you mouth. Dylan had to dig his nails into his palms to keep silent, his body shaking from the orgasm that was raining over him. His eyes fluttered shut briefly, opening quickly to make it seem like a few rapid blinks of his long, gorgeous eyelashes.

You pulled away as he began to go limp, your tongue running over your lips to gather any drops that may have escaped. Your hand pulled from your core, wiped on the bottom of your jeans to clean them of your arousal. You were left with a silent prayer that no one could tell what you had done and why your pants were damp with your core’s fluids. You fixed your pants first before fixing his, giving him a light pat on the crotch when you were done so he knew he could relax and sit up,

“And that wraps up our time for today. Everyone give it up for one more time for your Teen Wolf cast!” One by one, they stood up from the seats, presumably waving at the crowd as they were announced. “Jeff Davis! Shelley Hennig! Tyler Posey! Dylan O’Brien!” At that, Dylan stood up, leaving you alone under the table. “Holland Roden! Dylan Sprayberry And Cody Christian!” A round of applause filled the room, the low sound of footfalls disappearing from the stage. “Thank you everyone and enjoy the rest of your day!”

You slowly lifted the bottom of the tablecloth, peeking out to make sure the coast was clear. Kevin was gone and the stage was empty. Before you waited a second longer, risking getting caught, you crawled out, shuffling back behind the stage. You heart was pounding rapidly, having yet to cease from everything that had happened. Pushing your hair back, you sat at your sound panel, waiting for whoever was there to relieve you. They showed up quickly and you found yourself briskly walked towards the door.

On your way out, you passed the Teen Wolf cast. On a normal day, you would stop and talk to them, considering how much you adored them and their show. But considering what just happened, you weren’t in the mood. You missed Dylan’s eyes following you, his mouth falling open to call out to you. You didn’t hear his steps following after you hastily, leaving his friends behind.

“Hey! Wait. Please!” he tried calling, one hand reaching out to try and stop you from escaping.

You face lit up, too embarrassed to face him after what happened. Instead of stopping like you would have loved to do, to turn and face the man of your dreams, you pushed through the personnel doors, disappearing from his view.

His face fell, his hands hanging limp from his side. He watched the door shut behind you, taking his hat off to ruffle his hair. “I just wanted your name…”

~

“Get a move on guys! We have a panel that starts in ten!” Ria shouted to the bustling crew, Bel sitting at the audio panel. You strut over to her, glancing over her shoulder.

“Everything looks good,” she chimed happily, giving her thumbs up. “Everything is working perfectly. All mics are functioning, cameras are ready. I think we are all set for the panel!”

“Thank god something can go right today,” you laughed.

Friday had come faster than you could blink. After the Teen Wolf fiasco, you had rushed home, curled up in bed and hid under the covers until your alarm blared that morning. And so far, everything seemed to go wrong. Equipment malfunctions, late panel starts, employees and volunteers not showing up. You even spilled your morning coffee over your shirt, having to swap it for a spare you kept in your locker. And this was all before noon. You took a fast lunch, sadly dreading your next task.

Managing the Maze Runner panel.

The first movie was marvelous but the potential of running into Dylan again was racing through your mind endlessly. You could physically feel your blood pressure heighten, your body unable to stay still since you walked into the convention center. You were afraid of the man you admired. You couldn’t imagine looking him in the eye after everything that had happened between you both.

With a low sigh, you collapsed in a chair at a table, taking a sip of water before the action got started. You hadn’t seen the actors arrived and you hoped to keep it that way until you could slip away from the panel unnoticed. You knew it would be a long two hours while the panel ran. You glanced at your watch as you sipped the lukewarm bottle, setting it down to fan yourself with some random papers that were scattered on table.

“Hey.”

You squeaked in surprise, the papers going flying while your head whipped to the source of the noise. Dylan sat with his perfectly round bum on the table, his head turned to you. His honey eyes flickered with amusement at your squeal, his lips upturned in a goofy grin. He took off his hat to run his hand through his silky locks, replacing the Mets cap backwards over his chocolate colored hair. His face was lined with scruff like you always loved, the moles scattered across his cheeks barely visible but looking extra delicious.

“D-Dylan,” you managed to get out, Dylan nodding partially in agreement.

“Yeah,” he laughed. His voice was melodic, the pitch perfect to match his looks. It wasn’t insanely deep and gruff, but it wasn’t like his balls hadn’t dropped either. It was literal music to your ears. His throat vibrated with his words, ringing like a perfect harmony as he watched you closely. “I’m Dylan.”

“I-I know,” you cracked, looking away from him. He continued to smile, shifting in his position to look at you better. His hands rested in his lap, watching you expectantly.

“And you are?” he finally asked. You flushed a bright red, realizing he didn’t know who you were like you knew him.

“O-Oh. Sorry. I-I’m Y/N,” you said, tucking some hair behind your ear.

“Beautiful name for a beautiful girl,” he rasped, scratching at his stubbled chin. You looked down at the table, a small smile tugging at your lips. “You know, I think I’ve seen you somewhere before.”

“Oh really?” you asked, your heartrate picking up. You dared to glance up at him, a glint hidden behind his eyes.

“Yeah. I feel like I’ve seen your before today. And I just had to come talk to you because I kinda missed you after you took off after a panel,” he kept saying, his vague words causing your foot to tap anxiously.

“W-well, we definitely have never met. Trust me on that,” you confirmed.

“I don’t know,” he continued, licking his lips. “Are you sure you haven’t been under any tables lately?”

Your heart stopped. You slowly looked up at him, expecting him to be angry. “I’m so sorry about that,” you let out before even seeing the expression on his face. Your nails scratched at the wood on the table, leaving a line of indentations from the countless scratches. “I-it was a complete accident I swear-”

“Y/N, calm down,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “You don’t have to apologize. I… I really enjoyed it. I never thought I’d say that aloud, trust me. But what you did was phenomenal.”

You blinked at him, gaping like a fish. “Wait, really?”

Dylan gave a sheepish smile, winking before his name was called. His castmates were waving him over, the panel getting ready to start. “Well, hopefully we can get to know each other better. You can sneak under more tables if you want,” he whispered, giving a toothy grin. He leaned closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Or, next time, I can please you in return.”

You didn’t get a chance to respond. Dylan slid off the table, giving another wink while backing away. His eyes bore into you, darker than before. He strut away quickly, greeting his friends with hugs and laughs. Your eyes remained on his backside, licking your lips at his tight back muscles through his shirt and his plump ass through his black jeans. You felt your body heating up, stomach churning with an uneasy want. Your loins were burning in your jeans, replaying the words he said, picturing the flirting he was doing moments ago.

“Y/N.”  

You squealed once more in surprise, turning to Ria. With a hand on your chest to calm your heart, you glanced at her quirked eyebrow and silly grin. “You people really need to not sneak up on me.”

“You people?” she inquired. “As in, me and Dylan O’Brien?” she hummed.

“Shut up.”

“Alright, alright,” she said, waving her hands in defeat. “We need you on the floor.”

“What?” You asked, forehead wrinkled in confusion. “Why?”

“Alex, the new guy for camera work, didn’t show up,” she hissed. “We need you to fill in.”

“Why me?” you whined.

“Because you are free and the best one we have,” she chimed.

“Fine,” you growled back, standing from the table. You grabbed a headset to head the others while working, Ria grinning at your side. “What now?”

“So, you and Dylan? What was that all about?”

“Oh my God, Ria. Not now,” you grumbled.

“Fine. I expect details later,” she said, skipping away to Bel’s side. You rushed out to the cameras just as Chris Hardwick, the facilitator for the panel walked out, greeting the fans. He gave an intro for the fans, getting them hyped for the trailer that was to premiere. You grabbed a camera to take a few photographs while the cast and crew walk out, getting it ready while the trailer played. You watched the trailer quietly, smiling at what was coming.

As it ended, the cast and crew walked out. You snapped photos while they entered the stage, pausing when Dylan was announced. His eyes found yours quickly, a confident smile on his face as he waved at the crowd, clapping for his fellow castmates. You shook off the butterflies that formed from his glance, trying to focus on the photos you were taking.

Though, he made your job hard for the two hours you were on the floor. You caught pictures of him staring at you, occasionally catching the winks and smiles he sent your way. He would purposefully run his hands through his hair, tugging at the collar of his shirt as if he were hot just to show his defined collarbone. He gave subtle gestures towards you such as running his tongue over his lips slowly and tauntingly or letting his hand disappear under the table like he were palming an erection that he was now sporting. He was playing with your head and your hormones, the delectable man seeming to want more of you.

But, two could play his game.

You tugged your shirt low after standing up, giving him a better shot of the cleavage you were displaying. You had worn a push up bra because of the shirt you had originally worn but after the whole coffee ordeal… yeah, now you were sporting a line of cleavage that would make any man wet themselves. Dylan let his eyes trail over it slowly, pressing his tongue to the roof of his mouth to keep in an undesired noise of approval. You wiggled your hips while you worked, sticking your ass out whenever you moved to take photos of the cast. Your jeans made your butt look incredible and you were willing to flaunt it to the actor of your dreams. You twirled strands of hair, fluttering your eyes at him, the man returning the gesture with his own winks and fluttering eyelashes.

The tension between you both was palpable but more than warranted and desired. You welcomed it and you only hoped he did as well - though, it felt like he did.

When the panel was over, the actors standing to wave at the crowd happily, you heading backstage to gather your stuff. As you were piling up your random papers, you felt a hand wrap around your wrist, giving a sharper tug than they really meant. You looked up at a frazzled Dylan, his eyes brighten but dark.

“Hey. Sorry. Didn’t mean to do that as hard as I did,” he mumbled, keeping your body upright when you stumbled from his tug. “I-I just needed to talk to you. Like, right now please? Alone?”

“O-Oh. Um,” you tried to say, no words coming out. He took the silence as approval, glancing around to see if he was being watched before pulling you away quickly. You struggling to keep up with this long strides, Dylan almost running through the back stage to get to whatever destination he was planning. “Where are we going?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, your face paling as he pushed through a set of double doors, looking left and right before continuing. “I just… I needed to get away.”

You looked him over as you walked, stopping to spy the tend in his jeans. He was horny again. He needed a release you presumed. He was struggling to keep in control, his face scrunching in anger when he couldn’t find a place to get the release he desired. He had an antsy bounce in his step, his hand squeezing at your wrist uncomfortably.

“Next right,” you told him, Dylan pausing to look back at you. “There is our staff bathroom. It’s a single person bathroom.”

“Perfect,” he uttered to himself, rushing off against. Following your direction, he found the room with ease, flicking on the light before tucking you in. The door was slammed shut behind you, your back pressed against it. His fingers fumbled with the lock, his body pressing against yours.

“God, you are a horrible tease,” he grumbled lowly, playing with the hem of your shirt. Your breath came out in uneven puffs, waiting for him to do something more. “Watching you throughout the panel was torture. All I could think about was yesterday and finding you under the table. I could only think about you sucking my cock. But actually seeing you this time made it ten times worse. You’re fucking gorgeous and I couldn’t stop thinking about the different things I’d do to you when I could get my arms around you.”

“Dylan,” you wheezed, meeting his eyes.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked, your head nodding swiftly in response. “If you ever want me to stop, you tell me. I don’t want to push you into anything you aren’t comfortable with.”

You groaned, Dylan turning from aroused to confused. “Why do you have to say that?”

“W-was that bad to say?” he panicked. “We can stop this completely.”

“No, it’s not that!” you said. “No guy has ever cared that much to say anything like that. Every other guy just cares that they get to fuck me and not if I want it or not. I knew you were amazing but fuck, you blew me away even more.”

“Oh,” he mumbled, a smile on his face from the compliment. “But you should want this too.”

“I know,” you hummed. Your arms wrapped around his neck, tugging him closer. “Now, I want you to kiss me. And if things get intense, I will tell you to stop.”

He nodded once, pressing his lips against yours in a heartbeat. You melted instantly, returning the kiss that he dominated. His lips were wrapped around yours completely, dragging them along yours to elicit the low smacking sounds the reverberated off the walls. Your fingers played with the hairs at the base of his neck, his tugging at your shirt and jeans. You let him have control, the residual pleasure from whatever he did making your stomach clench and your limbs shake.

His tongue tapped at your lips, asking for permission that you didn’t hesitate to oblige. Your lips parted, the wet article from his mouth sliding in without hesitation. It found yours, the two swirling together in quick circles. You moaned into him, the vibration drawing his own moan out. His tongue commanded yours, tracing the outlines of your cheeks amidst the kiss and memorizing the shape and taste they held. You only would pull apart for bursts of air, returning to the kiss more than before.

His hands slid down to your ass, giving it a firm squeeze before moving to your thighs. With a single tap as an indication, you jumped into his arms, Dylan supporting your weight without much difficulty. Your legs wrapped securely around his waist, the actor keeping a firm grip to your backside to keep you pressed taut against him. Once situation, he backed you away from the bathroom door, shuffling further into the small room. He didn’t pull away, but he was less focused on the kiss he was giving you, his attention split between you and finding a place to set you down.

He settled on the toilet, carefully lifting his foot to close the seat before placing you down. He leaned over you, his lips still attached to yours, sucking at your tongue and lips passionately. His hands worked on your jeans, the button popping and the zipper sliding without you knowing it. It was only when he linked his fingers through the belt loops and gave them a simple tug that you knew what was happening. You bottom lifted off the seat long enough for him to tug the dark denim down your legs, pulling off away from the kiss to pull off your flats before removing them completely. They were left in a pile beside the toilet, Dylan sitting back to admire the pale blue cheekster panties you had worn, pale pink flowers printed all over the pleek material. It hugged your ass perfectly, Dylan tracing his fingers along your smooth skin.

“Beautiful,” he uttered under his breath, his eyes swapping between your face and your groin. He gave them a light tug, silently asking if he could pulled them off, which you gladly allowed. The floral print cheeksters were left with your jeans, your core fully exposed to him. He swallowed drying, Adam’s Apple bobbing as he did, eyes narrowed on it. “Fucking gorgeous like I thought.”

“Please Dylan,” you whimpered out, two fingers dipping down to rub at your own clit, spreading yourself open to him. “You said you would return the favor. I’m waiting.”

His hand darted out before you got too comfortable, pulling yours away from yourself. “Don’t even think about it, sweetheart. You are all mine.”

Fuck, that’s hot.

You nodded, submitting yourself to his reign. He tugged you forward so you were slouched against the placing teasing kisses to your core. His tongue ran through your folds slowly, prodding at your core with the tip. You whimpered and whined for more, practically begging him to continue.

Finally, his tongue slip inside you, slurping noisily at your entrance. Your back arched off the  back of the toilet, your hand reaching out to knock his hat off and tug at his luscious hair. His licks and sucks didn’t stop, Dylan’s eyes closed as he lapped at your pussy restlessly. His tongue swirled and traced along your sensitive walls, trying to find the spots that made you louder than before. His hands kept your legs spread, circles drawn to yours skin that made you shiver with excitement.

“More,” you pleaded. “Please, I need more.”

He didn’t respond, only pushed himself between your legs more. He pulled away from your core, licking at the swollen nub of your clit a few times, drawing random shapes and letters that you could barely discern as his name before returning to your pussy, trying to make you moan loudly. Your mind was buzzing with a million thoughts, but only one stuck out and that was the impossibly amazing feeling he was giving you. You body was wracked with shivers, your stomach bubbly with bliss with each lick and swirl of his tongue.

His tongue finally found your g-spot, your moan rippling around the bathroom loudly. You tugged at his hair, your hand moving to your mouth so passerbys wouldn’t hear whatever noises you let out. Dylan seemed satisfied and had no intention on stopping, finding the same spot every time he dipped back inside you. Your walls spasmed occasionally, trying to clench around his tongue.

“Dylan,” you whimpered, giving his hair a firm tug. “More. Please.”

He pulled away, licking his lips as he stood from the kneel position he had settled into to eat you out. He leaned back over your somewhat weak form, the pleasure making it hard to concentrate. He gently tilted your head up, pressing his lips to yours in a fierce kiss, tongues dancing together instantly. You disregarded the taste of yours on his lips and tongue, pushing up to kiss him back. He pulled away after a second, a string of saliva connecting your lips.

He fumbled with his pants, letting them drop to his ankles before pulling you off the toilet seat. His large, veiny hand pressed against your back, kissing you when you colliding with his chest. “Why did you stop?” you asked through his countless kisses, moaning at the way his swollen red lips would dance over your cheeks. When he stopped to answer, yours repeated his process, kissing along the stubbled awline of the actor like you always wanted to. His cheeks were soft and plump and insanely kissable since he was a mere eighteen starting on Teen Wolf.

“Because I want to please you even better than this after what you did yesterday,” he hummed quietly, smiling into a short kiss you placed to his lips.

You could have sworn you were dreaming honestly. Here was this one of a kind man who not only gave you by far the best oral you ever had despite the lack of orgasm it resulted in, but now he was saying he wanted sex in the bathroom during Comic Con. This was something you never thought would happen. Could it be a ploy to have sex and he would never talk to you again? Absolutely. Was it worth it? Absolutely.

He backed you into a wall when you didn’t respond, kissing at your neck. “You want more, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice low and husky. You shivered in response, trying to nod. “You want me to please you?”

“Yes,” you struggled to get out, tilting your head to give him better access. The shirt blocked him from going lower, his hands tugging at the bottom. You pushed him away to strip it off, Dylan’s eyes widening at the pale blue push up bra, the floral print matching the panties he loved. “Please.”

His head dipped to kiss your collarbone, red marks lining the exposed tops of your breasts. “Please what?” he asked. “Do you want me to fuck you against this wall? You want my huge cock inside you? You want me to please you?” he continued. “God, I want to please you so bad. I want to hear you moan my name so loud, you can’t say anything else. I want to see you unravel like I did yesterday when I came in your mouth during that panel. I know I can make you feel good, sweetheart, so let me please you.”

Your legs felt weak. You loved how sure of himself and you felt like putty in his hands. You were willing to do whatever he wanted at this point if it meant he would please you. You pushed your chest against his, snapping the band on his boxer briefs. “Please, Dylan,” you whimpered. “Do whatever you want. I’m all yours.”

“Alright, if that wasn’t the hottest thing I’ve ever heard,” he rasped, pushing the Calvin Kleins down his legs to join the black jeans that were still bundles around his ankles. “I um… I don’t have…”

“It’s fine,” you said, kissing his stubbled chin. “You’re clean, right?”

“I-I think so,” he fumbles. “I just had a check up a few weeks and they didn’t say I had anything. B-but I-”

“It’s fine then,” you laughed. “If I come up with anything later, I’m suing though.” His face paled slightly until you shook your head with a laugh. “I’m kidding! I trust you, Dylan.”

“I don’t know if I trust me at this point,” he utters sarcastically. He proceeded to lift you from the floor however, his shaft sliding through your folds as few times when you wrapped your legs around his waist. “God, you’re so wet.”

“P-Please,” you stammered, clawing at his shoulders through his blue shirt.

His head buried in your shoulder as he slid inside, stretching your walls to accommodate his large size. Your face buried in his neck, wincing at the feeling considering he was probably twice as large as the last man you were with. He stilled once he was buried hilt deep, taking deep breaths to remain in control. He let you get used to him inside you, kissing your bare skin to try and relax you.”

“You are so fucking tight,” he mumbled. “Tight and warm and wet. God, you feel better than I thought you would. It’s ten times better than your mouth. I don’t know how I will even last inside you.”

“Please, just fuck me,” you whined. He pulled away to send you a worried glance, his puppy dogs eyes wide and bright despite the lust in his system. “I’ll be fine once you start moving. Just move, Dyl.”

“I like when you call me Dyl,” he whispered, pulling back to ease himself back in slowly. He repeated the process, slow thrusts into you gradually speeding up. The faster he went, the more the pain dissipated, turning into pleasure. You moaned into his neck, hugging him close. “You like this, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” you cried out, nipping at the skin of his neck. His skin covered your countless moans, his thrusts hitting your g-spot already. “So good.”

“You want more?” he asked, his voice on the edge of cocky as if he already knew what you would say. “You want me to please you more baby?”

“Yes please,” you whimpered. His thrusts got faster still, cock pistoning in and out of you rapidly. Your hips clapped together noisily, the sweat that covered your skin increasing the volume of your skin against his. His balls hit your folds every time he slid in, lingering sometimes while your walls hugged around him.

Slowing down, he uncurled one leg at a time from his waist, your leg strewn over his arms. The back of your knees rested in the crevice of his arms, dangling openly on either side of his body. Instead of supporting himself on the wall, his hands slid up your body and under your bra, giving each perky mound a firm squeeze in his palms. His fingers toyed with your hard peaks, tugging them until they were stiff and taut to his touch.

When he sped back up, your head fell back against the wall, loud moans of his name escaping your lips. Dylan smirked, biting at his lip so he could quietly watch your face as he pounded you into the wall. Your beautiful eyes that plagued his mind since the panel were closed, your nose flared in pace with your heaving chest, and your lips puckered in concentration, parting to moan his name every time he hit your sweet spot. Watching you kept him going, determined to please you just as you did him.

You were weak, shaking in his grasp. You continued to claw at his shoulders, trying to keep your head on straight with the things he was doing to you. You weren’t lying when you said he could do whatever he wanted because he made you feel amazing - out of this world. He could bend you over and spank you, taking you from behind, and you would take it gladly. Hell, you would thank him for anything because he made you feel that good.

The closer you grew to your orgasm, your moans turned from just his name to a chant of the words “Fuck me, Dylan” over and over again. Each thrust of his cock into your wet pussy made the words come out, Dylan speeding up more and more. The slapping skin grew louder and he held your harder, knowing he too was getting close. More red marks were left on your skin as he kissed all over it.

He grunted at how tight your walls became, feeling your body shake in his arms. Your nails dug through his shirt, a loud moan bouncing off the walls. Your juices splattered against your walls, coating the length of his cock. Your toes curled in the open air, letting your moist core aid his thrusts, a slick sound coming from his fast thrusts. Dylan was struggling to remain in control, your tight and wet center making his head spin. His lips pursed together, biting at his tongue and helping you ride through your high until it was too much.

He carefully let your down, his hands on your waist to make sure you were steady before pulling out. He kept one hand on your waist, the other furiously pumping his own cock to reach his end. He let out a low grunt and it wasn’t long until strings of his hot seed shot from the tip, coating your stomach in drops of sticky liquid. Your shaky hand met his, helping him jerk himself through his orgasm. Your lips met his in a tender kiss, a smile on your face.

He broke the kiss, giving you a lopsided smile before backing away. You watched him waddle to the sink, grabbing multiple paper towels and wetting them to clean you and himself. “I’m sorry I made a mess on you. I didn’t want to cum inside you because… you know.”

“You’re just being a gentleman,” you giggled, kissing him as he wiped the sperm from your stomach. “You’re being precautious, Dyl.”

“I still really like hearing you call me that,” he chuckled. He tossed the used paper towels in the trash, pulling up his pants and boxer briefs, placing his hat back on his head. You fumbled your way back to the the toilet, waddling like a penguin until you got to the seat and collapsed on it. You slowly pulled back on your undies and jeans, groaning when you spotted your shirt across the bathroom. Dylan chuckled, going to grab it for you, watching you pull it on over your head. “Better?”

“Just kind of sore now,” you laughed, Dylan smiling. He kissed your forehead tenderly, wrapping his arms around you.

“Sorry,” he said wholeheartedly. He dug into his pocket, his phone in hand. “Hey, I was wondering-”

His phone started ringing, Dylan frowning. He held up a finger, signalling to hold on a moment while he answered the phone. He talked quietly, signing into his phone. He hung up a minute later, shaking his head. “Sorry. That was Thomas. They’re looking for me because I bolted right after the panel and we have interviews and stuff.”

“Makes sense,” you laughed. “We kind of snuck off pretty fast. Do you want me to show you out? I work here so it works out.”

“That’d be great actually,” he laughed. “But first, I was going to ask if I could get your number.”

You blinked. “Wait, what?”

“Your number. So I can call you? Text you? We can hang out?” he said, somewhat confused. “I mean, I’d like to get to know you more.”

“Oh,” you mumbled. “Alright.” You took his phone, typing in your number, snapping a quick photo of yourself to set at the picture. You had to take a second to make sure you looked presentable post sex prior to snapping the photo. You sent yourself a text to get his number as well, handing him back the phone. He smiled, staring at the new contact before stuffing it back in his pocket.

“Awesome,” he said with a little pep. He held out his arm, allowing you to link yours with it. “Shall we?”

“Absolutely.”

You both made sure the halls were clear before sneaking out of the bathroom, heading towards the Young Hollywood room for his interview. The entire time, your hands remained linked together subtly, unable to be seen by anyone. You only broke when you got the the room, both of you sadly looking at each other while parting ways. You frowned as the door shut, turning to head back to work.

He’ll call, right? This isn’t the end, right?

~

The sun had set and the EW annual bash was underway. Everyone that was present were talking vibrantly amongst themselves, enjoying the festivities. You were standing behind the sound panel, in control of the music that was playing through the large speakers. You picked at your nails, watching everyone interact. You almost wondered if Dylan was around with his friends, enjoying his night.

I mean, there is an open bar. He could at least come for a few drinks, right?

“Hey,” was whispered in your ear, making you jump. You turned to the course, Dylan smiling at you. He had a smile on his face, raising the bottle of Budweiser that was in his hand as greeting. You groaned, moving the mic on your headset away from your mouth so your coworkers wouldn’t hear you.

“You really need to stop sneaking up on me,” you told him flatly. “Especially while I’m working.”

“I just wanted to see if you would get a drink with me,” he laughed.

“Did you just miss the part where I said I was working?” you asked, trying to be serious. The adorable look on his face broke you though, a smile forming.

“Well, when do you get done?” he asked.

“Really, Dyl?” you chuckled, looking at him.

“Deadly,” he said with a wink.

“Oh, so I blow you once and we fuck in a bathroom once and you think I will get a drink with you?” you inquired.

“Well, I…” he paused, blinking. “I got nothing.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You’re impossible.”

“So I’ve been told,” he grinned. “So, what do you say? I was being serious earlier when I said I wanted to get to know you. You seem like a cool girl outside of the whole sex thing that’s been going on. Is it bad that I want to talk to you and get to know you?”

“No, I guess not.”

“You are an amazing girl, Y/N. And I really hope you will consider it. I’d like it so much-”

“Alright,” you said, cutting him off. “I have an hour left before my replacement shows up. Meet me at the bar then.”

“Oh,” he let out, his face heating up. His grin filled his entire face, beaming at you. “Alright! Cool. This is awesome. Right. An hour. I will meet you there. Definitely will meet you there.”

“Dyl,” you said, patting his cheek. “I have to work. Go. I will see you soon.”

He smiled, giving you a wink before taking off, running into Posey. You watched him until he disappeared into the crowd, but not before he turned to look back at you, sipping from his bottle to hide the obvious smile. You blushed, fixing your headset to continue your work.

At the end of the hour you wandered towards the bar, sitting at it to wait for the chocolate-haired actor. You were about to take a sip of the beer you got when two arms wrapped around your waist, the person’s chin on your shoulder. “She’s here!” they hollered, Dylan’s angelic voice directed in your ear. He placed a wet kiss to your cheek, obviously more buzzed than before, releasing you to slide into the seat next to you.

“Well, hello handsome,” you smiled.

“Hi beautiful,” he returned. “So, tell me about yourself. I want to know everything about the most amazing girl in San Diego.”

“LA, actually.”

“Wait, really?” he asked, appalled.

“Yeah,” you giggled. “I lived in San Diego when I started but I only work when there are conventions. So I make the two hour commute to SDCC every year.”

“Damn,” he mumbled, staring at you intently. “Hottest girl in LA. Hello.”

You laughed, inching closer to him as you immersed in a long conversation with the man. For the next hour, you drank and laughed, chatting with the actor about anything and everything. You shared likes and dislikes, stories of your pasts, and even talked about current projects that you were doing. You just took turns asking each other about things leading to a lack of dull moments between you both. You loved hearing about the man just as he seemed to be thrilled about everything you told him, never letting his eyes stray from you as you talked. You didn’t pay attention to the diminishing crowd, only focusing on the Dylan.

“So, you claim you can’t sing but you go to karaoke all the time?” you asked through a laugh, Dylan rolling his eyes.

“Karaoke with my friends is fun!” he defends. “We’re just really drunk normally and sing horribly together.”

“You must have some great friends though,” you hummed. “You know, I’ve been wondering something. Why didn’t you stop me during that panel?”

“I don’t know,” he hummed. “I think part of me was interested in the idea of being blown publicly during a Comic Con panel but the other part of me was thinking ‘Damn, this beautiful girl is interested in blowing me.’ Then the bathroom.” He rubbed his cheek in thought. “I can’t say for sure.”

“I see,” you hummed. You stared at him, thinking about everything you knew about the man. “Oh my God. I just remember you were dating Britt Robertson, right? I didn’t even think about that. I didn’t like… make you cheat on her or anything right? Oh my god, I’m a horrible person.”

Dylan laughed. “No. We broke up when I started filming the Maze Runner actually. Just drifted apart because of working all the time. We still chat occasionally and she’s happily dating some guy she met on her most recent film. You didn’t ruin anything and you aren’t a horrible person. If I were dating, I would have stopped you, alright? I’m not going to cheat on my girlfriend because some wonderful female is willing to suck me off randomly.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” he reassured you. “No harm done, I promise. Plus, I enjoyed what we did way too much. I don’t think I could reasonably enjoy it knowing I had a girlfriend.” He leaned on the bartop, staring at you. “”And, if I’m being honest, Britt was great but you were better. I have never had better orgasms. I’ve never had a better blow job. I’ve never had that great of sex, and that was in a bathroom!”

“You know, I thought the same thing,” You told him. “It was better than anything. You were better than anyone. I always knew you were great because I told you how big a fan I am, but man, it’s insane how much better you are than what I imagined.”

“I’m flattered,” he said. “You know, maybe I’m just tired of being single. It’s been over a year and man, does it suck. I want an amazing girl to call my own again.”

“Oh God, do I get that. The last guy I was with ended up being a total prick and left me because I had to drive to Anaheim for Wondercon. It took a bit to get over it and now I just realize how lonely I am. Then I met you and I feel myself falling for you. I can’t get you out of my mind. It was a risk to do what I did, but I don’t regret it.” You laughed at yourself, shaking your head. “I’m probably talking too much. I think I’ve had too much to drink. And I’m probably just making you dislike me because I’m just super crazy and silly and not what you thought I would be. And I don’t blame you if you want to run away and not call-”

He silenced you with a kiss, your body melting into his touch. His hand caressed your cheek, the pads of his thumb running along your cheekbone slowly. He kept you close, his lips dragging down down with a subtle smack. He pulled away slowly, eyes barely open as he spoke. “You’re not turning me away at all. Quite the opposite really. You’re so silly, I just want to stay and listen to you ramble all day. You’re so amazing, Y/N.”

“Not really. I’m just me,” you told him. Your eyes cracked open, staring at his darken orbs.

“Well, I like you,” he said, kissing you again. It was a bit more heated this time, his tongue slipping through a crack in your mouth, tracing your cheeks before pulling away. You let out a small whine, wanting more. His hand ran through your hand, pulling you closer by the back of your head. “You’re so amazing. And it’s been a while since I’ve felt this way for a girl. And the more I get to know you the harder I fall.”

“Just shut up and kiss me you fool.”

Dylan did as you requested, kissing you harshly. The kiss was instantly steamy, Dylan sliding off the bar stool to stand between your legs. His head tilted to get a better angle, his nose hitting yours whenever he pushed harder into you. You returned to kiss, letting him move you as needed, letting him control the kiss completely. Your arms wound around his neck, playing with the hair on the back of his head. You were glad he had left the hat at his hotel because he looked incredibly sexy without it. One of his hands sat on your hip while the other pushed against the small of your back until your chest pressed flat to his. His tongue massaged yours, an intense game of tonsil hockey taking place between you.

He pulled away for air, resting his forehead on yours. “Maybe we can take this back to my hotel,” he whispered lowly, licking his lips. “It’s getting late after all.”

“I’d like that,” you told him back. “Whatever you want, Dylan.”

He tugged you off the chair, downing the remainder of his beer before stumbling towards the exit. His driver was waiting, not questioning when Dylan had you in his arms sliding in the back of the black car. Your lips met his once the door shut, both of you sharing heated kisses the entire drive to the hotel. You had to keep your moans quiet, not wanting to disturb the driver.

The ride was short, Dylan piling out of the car and pulling you into the fancy hotel he was staying in for the weekend. He jammed his finger on the elevator button, bouncing eagerly to get back to his room. You rubbed at his shoulders, his hands finding yours to link your fingers. Once the elevator dinged, you rushed inside, Dylan jabbing at the floor he was on. His lips found your neck before the door shut before your eye, a moan escaping your mouth. His arms circled your waist, playing with the bottom of your shirt.

The ride seemed short and before you knew it, you were shoved against the door of his hotel room, the lock clicking. His lips were back on yours after he pulled his shirt off, yours following immediately after. His veiny hands rested on your sides, tugging you until you were limb for limb, standing flat and pressed between his body and the door.

He backed from the door with your lips attached in a heated connected, messy kisses shared with each step into the room. You kicked off your flats, Dylan struggling to remove his boots as your inched closer to the bed. You were undoing his jeans while he worked on yours, the denim dropping low on your hips after the buttons were popped and the zipper dropped. Your fingers moved to trace his v-lines that became exposed. Dylan let his hands slid in the opening in the back of your jeans to grip your ass tightly.

The back of your knees hit the bed, Dylan tugging his hands out to let you fell back. You watched with dazed and half-lidded eyes as he kissed down your body, trailing between your breasts to your stomach and finally your waist. He kissed along the hem of your jeans before give them a swift tug, pulling the material down your legs. He left them in a pile without care, burying to face between to your legs to kiss your covered core.

He didn’t linger there long, sliding back up your body to kiss you fiercely. You were frantically trying to shove his pants down his legs, the actor kicking in an attempt to rid them from his body. The fell over the edge with a clink of his belt, your hands moving to fumble with his Calvin Kleins. He tugged you into a sitting position before you could get them off, the material ending up bunched around his thighs instead. His arms wrapped around your form, unhooking your bra with a single snap. His fingers dragged the straps down until he could remove the floral print and toss it behind him, far from your mind and body.

Your sloppy kisses kept on, your bodies resorting to rolling on the bed in ecstasy. Your forms rolled against one another perfectly, his hips rocking against yours and yours matching his form. In the middle of the rolls, he was able to kick the boxer briefs off, letting them join his jeans on the carpeted floor. Your tongues battled for dominance, though he was able to win with ease, stroking your tongue lucidly and teasingly.

You ended up on top, pressed flush against him while you kissed. Your breasts were smashed against his broad chest, the hairs that lined the space between his pecs tickling your skin. His hands had found home once more on your ass, pushing it up in the palms and fondling your skin playfully. He played with the edges of your cheeksters, tugging them so they inched down your body bit by bit.

Before he could have the pleasure of getting them off your body, you pulled from the kiss. Dylan let out a disgruntled whine, his voice deep with want. You placed a chaste kiss to his lips before wiggling out of them yourself, dangling the fabric from your fingers. You mumble a taunting ‘whoops’ when they fell to the floor, your body twisting on the bed so you were facing his erect cock that kept teasing your core whenever he rocked his body against yours. It was as brilliant as you recalled, maybe even better.

As they say, third time’s the charm.

His hot, uneven breath fanned at your wet pussy, his hands moving to caress your ass. You felt him part you folds with his thumbs, exposing your entire wet self to the man’s prying eyes. “Holy shit, you’re soaked,” he let out, panting harder than before. “You want me to eat you out, baby?”

“Yes, please,”  you whimpered, licking the head of his cock. It twitched happily, Dylan letting out a vibrating groan.

“You please me, sweetheart, and I will please you,” he offered. “I want to please you while you please me.”

You complied silently, wrapping your lips around him. He reciprocated your movement, flicking his tongue through your parted folds. Once he touched you, you moaned around him, trying to focus on bobbing along his shaft. Your nose hit his balls, instantly going for the deepthroating action he loved from the secret blow job you gave him. You fought against the gags, the taste worth it. Your tongue swirled around his shaft in time with his tongue flicking and dipping into your pussy.

You moaned around him, smoothing your tongue over the slit and along the pulsing veins that protruding from his length. He twitched wildly when you hit the sensitive one on the underside, grinning like the Cheshire Cat at the way he reacted. Yet, he returned the favor, playing with your clit, giving it harsh sucks, nipping the swollen nub with his teeth. His tongue proceeded to slide deep into your pussy, circling it quickly until he met your sweet spot, making shivers run up your spine.

You could hear his breathy moans from behind you, eliciting your own moans around him. You shook above him, feeling the knot unraveling. You bobbed harder, trying to urge him to his own and tell him that you were close. Without a second thought, though, not registering if he responded to your efforts, your walls attempted to clamp around his tongue, your fluids dripping onto his taste buds. It seemed as if the taste of you on his tongue made his cock twitch against your cheeks, his seed shooting down your throat in long stringing waves. Dylan lapped at your juices as you swallowed everything he shot into your mouth, relishing the taste the opposite party had to offer.

You pulled away with a pop, taking a sharp breath before licking his tip clean. You could feel Dylan’s chest heaving, his tongue slowly running through your still parted folds to clean you up. When he seemed to be done, you went to roll off of him back onto the bed; only, the bed wasn’t met. You had rolled the wrong direction, your mind buzzing with your orgasm so you didn’t realize you had, finding yourself on the floor instead. You let out a loud grunt of pain, laying sprawled naked against the carpet.

“Oh my God. Y/N, are you ok?” he asked, rushing off the bed to help you up. He wobbled slightly, the alcohol mixed with sexual arousal not having fully worn off from your intense activities. He steadied your body against his, running his hand along your back to ease the pain.

“That was fun,” you muttered sarcastically, Dylan chuckling. He kissed your forehead, hugging you to his chest.

“You’re alright though?”

“I’ll live,” you joked.

Dylan continued to smile, rocking you back and forth. But his cock was still hard, stuffed between your bodies and pulsing incessantly. You giggled, burying your head in his chest. “God, you’re so fucking good. I want to please you all night still. God, I want to make you scream my name until you can’t scream anymore.”

“What’s stopping you?” you bluntly said, looking up at him. You pushed up on your toes, kissing him softly. “Just tell me what you want. I’m all yours. I want you to please me however you want, daddy.”

“Wait,” he mumbled, blinking. “What did you just call me?”

You flushed. “Oh jeez, did I really just say that? I-I meant Dylan.”

“No, no. It’s fine. I…” he licked his lips. “I’ve never been called that before in bed and I would be lying if I said it wasn’t super sexy and that I’m not turned on by it.”

“Really?” you asked.

“Yeah,” he hummed, kissing you deeply. His voice dropped, huskier as he said, “You can call me daddy whenever you want, sweetheart.”

“Mmm,” you hummed playfully, your lips brushing his as you spoke. “Daddy Dyl.”

“Oh yeah,” he rasped. “What do you want Daddy Dyl to do to you, sweetheart?”

Your heart jumped at the sexy tone he held, your thighs becoming slick with your juices. Your shivered at his words, ready to submit yourself completely to whatever he wanted to do. You were comfortable with him and you trusted him completely but the thought of him slamming into you in different ways made you wet. You would do whatever he wanted and never complain because in the end, you knew you would enjoy every second with this wonderful man.

“I can make you feel so good,” he continued to whispered, running his hands along every curve of your body. “I can make you cum so many times. I can make you scream my name. You won’t be able to fuck anyone else after tonight, sweetheart. You’re all mine and I’m all yours. I only want to hear you scream my name - and not in the way a fan does. I want to hear you intimately say it so it haunts my dreams when we are apart.”

You shivered at his words, melting completely. Your legs wobbled uneasily, ready to collapse in happiness. “Anything,” you finally mustered, pushing harder into him. “Anything you want, daddy. Just please, fuck me.”

Goosebumps ran up his arms, joining the veins that stuck out. He licked his lips, amused at how his confidence made you weak. You sat in the palm of his hand and as gentle as he was with you, he wanted to mold you into whatever would make you both happy. You were literal putty to him, shaping up to be the most amazing girl he had ever encountered - both in normalcy and sexually.

“Alright, baby,” he said. “Stay right here.”

He moved to his suitcase, pulling out random things. A box of condoms was placed on the desk near him, your face flushing at the XXL that covered the front of it. Sounds about right. You heard a bag rustling, Dylan mumbling in success before hiding whatever he had behind his back. He motioned you over with the curl of a finger, your footsteps moving before you could tell your mind no; you know, if you wanted to say no.

“Do you trust me?” he asked seriously.

You pondered for a second, already knowing the answer. You had known him a day at most if you consider your first meeting during the Teen Wolf panel, but even then, you knew you could trust him with anything. He made you feel safe. Slowly, you nodded. “Absolutely.”

“Alright,” he hummed. “If at any point you want to stop because it’s too much, you say so. I want you comfortable with this and if you think we are going too fast, I will understand.”

With another nod, he revealed the fluffy blue handcuffs from behind his back. You stared at them for a moment, finally raising your wrists so he could put them on. He gave a small grin, locking the cuffs around your wrists, leaving the key on the desk.

“Can I ask why you have these though?” you joked, clinking the cuffs playfully.

“Tyler,” he said. “It’s a running joke actually since we started coming to Comic Con. We always buy each other a little gift while we are here to commemorate another year on the show. And this year, he bought me these.”

“Any reason why?” you asked. Dylan remained quiet, running his fingers over the tops of your hands.

“I may have mentioned I was crushing on a girl yesterday. So he took it as he was going to help me get laid.”

“I don’t know if I should question or think that’s the most adorable friendship ever,” you cooed. “So, you have a crush?”

“I do,” he breathed, tugging you against him, kissing you lightly. “Her name may be Y/N and she may have blown me secretly under a table and she may be the best girl in LA. And we may not be talking about this because I’m about to bend said crush over this desk to fuck her endlessly.”

You shivered with excitement, leaning your conjoined hands on the desk. Your ass stuck out to him, wiggling side to side with anticipation. “Well, what are you waiting for?” you asked seductively. “Fuck me, daddy.”

“Oh God, yes,” he breathed. He moved behind you with a few long strides, running his length through your folds a few times. He fumbled with the box of condoms, tearing the wrapper open with his teeth. The rubbed slid down his length with ease before he slammed into you from behind. You let out an odd squealing moan, head falling back.

Dylan didn’t wait for you to adjust like he did in the bathroom. The slapping of his strong, bony hips against your ass filled the room, mixing with your loud moans of his name. His hips bucked into your relentlessly, his cock sliding in and out of you rapidly. The feeling was less intense than the bareback sex you had already shared, but he still managed to fill you to the brim.

“You feel so good, daddy,” you whimpered at him, Dylan grunting in response. His hand shot out, tugging at your hair to pull your head back slightly. You were tugged back enough that he was able to lean against your back, turning your head to place his lips to yours. You mewled slightly when they met, your stomach burning from the pleasure on either side of your body. His lips molded with yours completely, his cock never slowing in its thrusts.

“You like me fucking you like this, baby?” he asked against your lips, his hand tightening in your hair. You nodded quickly, mumbling his name in unison. “Let me hear it then. I want to hear you scream for me.”

The hand in your hair moved to your neck, giving it a tight squeeze that made your eyes dot with blackness. You were suffocating but the restriction made your body smolder in the searing fire you sat in. The hand he had kept on your waist move to your leg, helping you lift it so your knee was on the wood top. The new angle made your pussy tighter and his angle deeper, the tip hitting your g-spot every time he pulled out and slid back in. You moaned louder than before, body shaking from the pleasure you were bestowed.

“Come on, baby,” he whispered in your ear, nipping at your earlobe. The subtle actionamde your body wrack with shakes, Dylan knowing he had successfully found one of your many erogenous zones. He continued to tease it, mumbling dirty things repeatedly that made your nails scratch at the desk happily.

His hand connected to your ass in a loud resounding slap, a small scream escaping from the pain and pleasure mix you were undergoing. He carefully caressed the red handprint that was beginning to form, placing a second slap in the same spot. You screamed again, louder this time. Your mind was gone after the second slap, only registering the slaps he gave you, the thrusts of his cock into you that made your walls clench with bliss, and the tight hold on your neck that amplified the overall experience.

“Cum for me, baby,” he grunted, eyes squinting through his own orgasm that was approaching. “Cum for only me. Cum for daddy.”

“Oh God, Daddy Dyl,” you mewled. Dylan shuttered, loving to hear those words. He never thought he would but he couldn’t unhear it after everything that had happened between you both. The name made him weak, his tightened gut ready to snap. Your walls made it hard for him to concentrate, the spasms they were having around him, intensifying the feeling of sex. He watched your toes curl in the open air, wishing he could see the face you made as he made you cum.

With a loud moan, you body collapsed into the desk, shaking with the orgasm that washed over you. Your juices coated the condom around his shaft, hugging him so tight that it was hard to move. Dylan would feel the moisture through the rubber, the heat of your core making his pulse and twitch. And before he could blink, he was grunting out his own orgasm, his seed filling the gap at the tip of the condom. His thrusts eased, riding out your highs and ensuring the condom didn’t break at all before he could pull out.

He pulled out, removing the condom. It was tied off and tossed before he turned your body around, moving your linked arms around his neck. You wobbled in his grasp, Dylan placing a light kiss to your nose. You smiled and giggled, running your fingers through his frazzled locks.

“How are you feeling?” he asked sincerely.

“A tiny bit sore but I feel like I’m in heaven right now.”

“So,” he started, dragging out the ‘o’. “Does that mean you’re up for more?”

“More of daddy Dyl?” you asked, Dylan giving a somewhat cocky smirk. “Depends what he has planned next. How is daddy going to please his sweetheart?”

“I have an idea,” he mumbled, kissing you softly. He moved your hands from his neck. Smacking your ass to usher you towards the bed. “Lay on your back, baby. And don’t you dare move a muscle.”

You did as he said, swaying your hips as you headed for the bed, laying back flat to the mattress. Your hands rested on your stomach, waiting for Dylan to make his move. He grabbed a black tie from his suitcase and the box of condoms, placing them beside you before stradling you. He leaned over you, his lips missing yours to place kisses down your jaw to your neck, finally trailing them to your chest. He moved your hands above your head, letting his lips wrap around your erect nipple.

Your back arched from the bed, your hands not above your head longer than a minute. Your fingers twisted in his hair, tugging at the roots as he ravished your chest, kissing at your nipples. He tugged them playfully, blowing cool air over them before flicking them with his tongue. They were rigid from his actions, standing taut for his dark honey eyes. He let his hand fondle the other breast, tweaking the nipple between two fingers, tugging it playfully.

He swapped breasts, repeating the process, succeeded in drawing out more moans from you. Your tugs got harder, yanking the roots from his scalp at your pleasure. Your legs bent on either side of him, wishing to ease the throbbing that was forming between them. Your were stopped by his hips, your legs digging into his sides and threatening to crush him where he laid.

He finally pulled away with a distinct pop, watching your chest heave with ragged pants. He grinned, kissing his way between your breasts up to you lips, kissing them swiftly. His body inched up, carefully perching himself against your ribs. His cock laid in the valley of your breasts, hard and oozing with precum. His hips oscillated back and forth between your breasts, grazing your skin as he did.

“I want to cum on your face,” he whispered deeply, your face flushing. Your hands reached up to him, Dylan taking your hands in his. The way you laid, your arms hugged your breasts around his shaft. “Fuck, just like that.”

His rocking against your torso sped up, his cock sliding between your pushed together breasts with surprising ease. There was a bit of friction but it felt phenomenal. His hands squeezed at yours, his eyes closing to focus on the feeling of your soft mounds around him. He grunted in appreciation, speeding up occasionally.

You struggled to lift your head, trying to lick at the tip, wanting to taste the precum he was secreting. Dylan grunted louder, hearing your mewl when the salty sweet liquid hit your tastebuds. Your back arched under him, squirming from your lack of attention. You needed more of him but you could only deal with the droplets you were able to muster from the tip.

Dylan’s nose flared with his increased breathing, his cock twitching involuntarily between your inner breasts. He was mumbling how he was close, his lips puckering in concentration. He was chasing his orgasm, the peaks getting harder to come by. But he was able to muster his orgasm, cracking his eyes open with his loud groan. Your mouth was open, tongue extended so the streams of hot cum that spewed from the tip sink straight down your throat. Drops of course coated your cheeks and chest, some even getting in your hair, but he was able to get most to land on your tongue. It was hard to milk him for every drop he had built back up considering the lack of firm grip around him, but he managed to have a fantastic release.

He grabbed a handful of tissues from the bedside table, cleaning what he could from your skin. The bits that stuck in your hair were harder to get out, both of you knowing you would have to shower later. He moved back between your legs, tugging you up by the chain of the handcuffs.

“Still ok?” he asked.

“I’m horny,” you admitted. Dylan cracked a large smile, sliding a hand between your bodies to touch your tender clit. You moaned loudly the second he hit it, his fingers coated in layers of arousal.

“Fuck, you are,” he grunted, feeling his cock harden post-orgasm. He grabbed the tie, licking his lips. “You still trust me?”

“Stop asking. You know I do,” you laughed. “Tho I am trying to figure out why you have a tie.”

“I always bring some kind of dressy wear for these events. You never know when you will be asked to dress fancy,” he chuckled.

“So, instead of being fancy, you’re going to…?”

Dylan smiled, tying the tie around your eyes, your world going black. Your ears twitched when he spoke up, knotting the tie behind your head. “I’ve heard that blindfolding your girl can heighten the feeling of sex. Because it’ll help stimulate your other senses. And I want to give you the most mind blowing orgasm you’ve ever had.”

“Been there, Dyl,” you laughed. “All my orgasms with you have been better than any I’ve had before.”

“Excuse me. What did you call me?” he hummed deeply. He spanked your ass, making you jump against his chest. The feeling of his slap was definitely heightened already, your body shaking in pleasure. “What’s my name, baby?”

“Daddy,” you said quietly, Dylan spanking you again.

“Louder.”

“Daddy,” you tried to say firmly, though your voice cracked.

“What do you want, sweetheart?” he asked, spanking you a third time.

“Fuck me,” you pleaded. “I want daddy to fuck me. Fuck me hard and fast. I want daddy to rub my clit until I cum all over his large cock. I want daddy to please me in the way only he can.”

“Alright, that was hot,” he let out, pushing you back to the bed. You bounced slightly, unable to tell what he was doing between your legs. You squirmed uncomfortably, waiting for him to do something, the agony of your uncovered pussy becoming unbearable. It was hurting because of the lack of release you had watching him fuck your breasts and all you wanted right now was for him to be inside you.

Your eyes rolled back i your head when he slammed into you, pistoning into you vehemently from the get go. He was groaning loudly, holds your knees as he slid into you, the skin of your thighs sticking to him with sweat. Your head fell back into the pillows, back arching far off the bed because of his tip constantly tapping at your g-spot and cervix, the pleasure and bliss you felt from him being inside you ten times higher than normal. You screamed for him loudly, Dylan more than pleased with the sound.

His hands moved to the back of your knees, lifting your legs into the air. His delicate fingers slid up your legs until they were on your calves. Your legs were fully extended at this point, Dylan spreading them wide to form a V shape. His hips rolled against your core, hitting your clit and digging as deep as he could. You screamed as loud as you could, your throat beginning to hurt but you absolutely loved the feelings you were getting.

He kept his promise of going hard and fast, the ceaseless clapping of his hips against you echoing around the room. His speed was godly and he shoved himself deep inside you with every thrust he did. Your ass lifted from the bed when he was hilt deep, the strength of his thrusts pulling you off the bed.

“Oh god,” you panted. “Fuck me daddy, fuck me daddy, fuck me daddy,” you chanted, twisting anxiously on the bed. Dylan grit his teeth, his own head falling back at the noises you made.

He draped your legs over his shoulders, moving down to rub rapid circles to your clit. You squealed when the pads connected to the engorged nub, rubbing at it as fast as he could. He could hear your voice wavering in your chants, your body quaking under him. Your walls clenched involuntarily, hugging around him in sharp spasms. You had completely lost control of your body, your body aching with the orgasm you needed. You almost wanted him to stop, the pleasure becoming too much, but you were so close to your release. You craved it.

“Oh God,” you gasped. “Oh God. I love you Dylan. Oh God, yes! Fuck yes!”

Dylan watched through hazy eyes as you came, liquids squirting out against his fingers and abs. You shook violently, a elongated moan filling the small hotel room. Your walls clung to him, juices spilling out around him and coating your walls. Your toes curled and you arched off the bed, your arms falling above your head, still shackled by the blue fluff. Dylan stuck his tongue out at the way your perky breasts stood up happily, somewhat flopped to the side without a bra to keep them in place. He thought it was still beautiful the way your nipples stood upright when you arched off the mattress. He admired the way your face contorted with bliss, taking a mental picture to remember always.

He finally grunted, his messy thrusts easing as he came, his seed spilling out of the tip. It was the most powerful orgasm he could remember having in his lifetime, more sperm escaping even after three other orgasms. He used one hand to draw circles to your leg, his face burying into the opposite one to relax from his high. He placed soft kisses to your skin, finally coming to a stop.

Your legs were dropped and the tie was removed from your face after he pulled out. You blinked multiple times, trying to adjust to the low light, your orgasm having blinded you completely for a moment when you blacked out. You watched him stand from the bed, rolling off the condom you hadn’t realized he put on, tossing it with the other one. The wrapper still sat torn open on the bedside table.

Dylan grabbed the key from the desk, removing the handcuffs from your wrists. He placed light kisses to the red marks that had formed before kissing your lips. He crawled into bed next to you, pulling the duvet over your already hot bodies.

“I cranked up the AC because I’m fucking sweating like a pig,” he said, playing with your hair. “But I’m too lazy to shower.”

“Same,” you chuckled.

“So, you won’t leave me in the middle of the night, right? This wasn’t just a one night stand because of the effects of alcohol?” he asked, half serious and half joking.

“I’m pretty sure the alcohol wore off around when you fucked me over the desk,” you giggled. Dylan smiled, kissing the side of your face multiple times. You turned to look at him, staring at his bright honey eyes. “You know, I really like you. Is that silly?”

“No,” he said, kissing you sweetly. “I get it. Because I like you too. And you know you totally said you loved me before you came?”

You blushed, hiding in his shoulder. “Spur of the moment.”

“It’s fine. In time, you will love me,” he quipped. He hugged you close, running his fingers along your back. “So, when we get back to LA, you’ll let me take you out on a date, right?”

“I don’t know,” you mused. “Should I let you take me out?”

“I damn well hope so,” he laughed. “We did things a bit backwards, but it was definitely worth it.”

“Well, when you put it that way,” you mused again, kissing him softly. “Tell me a time and date and I will be there for an amazing date.”

“Good,” he laughed. He moved to grab his phone, holding it above your heads to snap a photo despite your nude forms. He placed another kiss to your lips, snapping the photo of you both embracing. He easily captioned it ‘My girl’ in the photo. He texted you the photo, dropping his phone back on the table, mumbling something about him saving that for later. Probably a wallpaper or to put on the secret Instagram he told you he had so only his friends, and you now that you had it, would know. “Thank you, Y/N.”

“What for?”

“For making this an unforgettable Comic Con.”

“I should be saying that to you,” you laughed. You curled into each other, hands clasped tightly between your bodies. “Thank you for the best Comic Con ever.”

“Just do me a favor,” he chimed, kissing your forehead. “Never risk blowing me under the table again. I won’t be able to stay quiet next time.”

You giggled, nodding. “Noted.”

“And remember, what happens at Comic Con stays at Comic Con,” he laughed, poking your nose. You smiled, nodding again.

“Double noted.”

Errthang Tag 2.0: @catcrown21; @parislight; @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone; @savage-stilinski; @honeymoonmuke; @rumoured-whispers; @youshiverwhenyouhearmyname; @caitsymichelle13; @addicttotw; @fox-lau; @addicttotw; @kaelyn-lobrutto24; @lobrien; @kal-pal; @espermirror@xmadwonderland; @nowthisiswaar; @belleknows; @ashpie97; @mixedupsammy; @dylobrienlover; @newtosaur250; @bandsweyhey; @offthewallspidey; @livinginadreamersparadise; @tommyswolves; @veronicarapp; @bilesbilinskix; @danathewitchywoman; @thisismexxo; @you-all-have-guns; @soulaura-canavel; @bojabee; @obrienswxlf; @feelingsareharddd; @xoitsjustmexo; @supernaturaltakeover; @suggsmate; @cassiee867; @malia--stilinski; @barryallenplease; @flirtstiles; @bottleoffirewhisky; @jadalecki-jackles; @evansesdust; @everythingthatisrandom; @puppiesarehappiness; @ixlovexpeterxparker; @onlyalittleteenwolfobsessed; @tenseoyong; @jadav5; @mischiefandi; @myrandomzshit; @disbestiles; @mxtchsbxtch; @dafine18; @avadakedabitch; @girlwiththerubyslippers; @xpinkyprincess; @ssweet-empowerment

Want to be tagged? Send as ask! - Bold accounts are ones I cannot tag.  

[lazuliblade]

Victor’s High-quality Lifestyle

Simply put - yes, he could support himself with figure skating, although not purely by competing. The majority of his earnings would come from sponsorships, endorsements, ice shows, contracts, and royalties.

Victor is definitely the highest paid skater of his time. Besides the big sponsorships that can cover a portion of costs, he’ll have magazine shoots and interviews, be invited to ice shows, and have endorsements in various fields (such as sportswear, jewelry, and food).

Training Cost  

This post does a great job of explaining the cost to compete, and mentions how skaters need some way to support themselves - whether that be ice shows, a job, or a bit of funding from skating federations in certain countries. It’s not just coaching fees and equipment (boots and blades), but ice time, travel costs, choreography fees (although Victor does his own choreo), music composition fees, costumes, physical therapy, consulting a nutritionist, dance instruction, day-to-day expenses....

It’s only the very top athletes or the very promising ones that companies are interested in sponsoring. For those top athletes in countries that care for figure skating, they'll likely get good contracts at some point.

Lucrative sponsorships help to cover a chunk of training and travel costs. ANA covers Yuzu’s travel costs, is his biggest sponsor, and is listed as his skating club. Mizuno and Lotte are also large sponsors -- you’ll see him wearing Mizuno’s athletic clothing and sporting Lotte’s logo on his official Japan jacket. Amino Vital is the sports drink you see Yuzu with at the boards.

I'm not exactly sure how the Russian federation works when it comes to letting their skaters sign deals (another thing I've been attempting to hunt down with little luck) but there shouldn't be a cap to the number of sponsorships a skater can accept as long as the skater works things out between the companies and it doesn’t affect their skating. I don’t follow any Russian skaters super closely and wasn’t around in the days when Plushenko and Yagudin were the stars, so if someone follows/ed their daily life, feel free to reblog and add info, or send an ask/message. I believe the JSF allows only 5 TV commercial contracts per year, but they don't have a cap on the number of magazine shoots, interviews, or endorsements.

Making Money Through Skating

Victor would be contracted for ice show tours during the off-season. He’s popular enough where he’ll receive multiple tour offers and decide: 1.which offers he’ll take, 2.if he’ll show up for just one city in the tour, or 3.simply not accept any offers for performances. He can afford to decline in order to recover from the strain of the past season and focus on training for the next one. Most skaters love doing ice shows because of the fun and fulfilling atmosphere, and for the chance to interact with fans who support them, so there’s a good chance that popular/successful skaters will perform in at least a few shows over the off-season.

To reference a few real-life skaters, when Daisuke Takahashi or Mao Asada were listed on programs for a show, stadiums would fill up and tickets would sell out FAST if there wasn’t a lottery already in place. Yuzuru will get multiple offers every summer and decide what works best with his training schedule. He loves ice shows, but knows to let his body heal and not strain it too much prior to the start of another season. Plushenko would do all sorts of ice shows during the off-season -- even to the point of ignoring his federation. There are one-time shows that appear in a city for a couple of performances, and long-standing tours that go around the country for a few weeks, so popular skaters have some flexibility here. Japan in particular is a favorite country for many skaters because of the enthusiastic, informed audience and good contracts. I have no doubt that popular tours such as Stars on Ice (Canada, U.S., Japan), Fantasy on Ice (Japan), as well as others throughout Japan, North America, and Europe would sell out with Victor’s name on the program.

With his talent, Victor might even offer his services by choreographing some younger skaters’ programs or doing some coaching for camps and classes. Misha Ge did a little of both while competing.

Of course, every time a skater wants to participate in an exhibition or other such event, it has to be approved by their country’s skating federation. However, regulations in the ISU general handbook ensure that skaters are not unduly constricted from participation and no more than 10% of their earnings are to be taken by their federation.  

   Examples of Earning Off-ice

To bring real examples of what a skater as popular as Victor might do for TV programs and commercial deals: 

skating on an iceberg (Shizuka Arakawa),

laying down on a custom mattress, (Yuzuru Hanyu with Tokyo Nishikawa’s &Free) 

skating in collaboration with a major film (Daisuke Takahashi with Studio Ghibli’s “Omoidase no Marnie”/”When Marnie was There”)

All you have to do is look at Plushenko licking lolly pops, Patrick Chan and his ice wine, and dental fairy Yuzuru to see the varied forms that endorsements can take on. 

I’d imagine Victor gets asked to feature in occasional photoshoots for Russia’s equivalent of An-an or Men’s Non-no (fashion magazines targeted to the 20-30s demographic). With his striking looks, high-end brands may ask him to model their seasonal lines for a couple of magazines. 

“This year’s [Tommy Hilfiger/Banana Republic/Prada] winter fashion!” model: Victor Nikiforov “Our new line of jewelry for that special someone this holiday season” model: Victor Nikiforov

In addition to advertisements, he’ll also have had interviews and articles in various magazines, and been the subject of multiple short documentaries for local TV stations. I would venture that Victor has a few photobooks, an autobiography/biography, and at least one documentary DVD of his own-- all of which bring in royalties. 

“A Young Hope Blooms Forth,” “Road to the Olympics,” “Spirit of the Legend” “Platinum and Gold” ...I can come up with a dozen likely titles for programs that TV stations could have aired over the years of his career. Furthermore, it seems he’s been to the Olympics two or three times, and Olympic fever always means more interviews, offers, and special collaborations.

A Few Extra Real-life Notes

I want to point out a skater who’s known for his high-end fashion: Johnny Weir. His family was humble, he doesn’t have Victor’s legendary record of golds, and he wasn’t the highest paid skater when he was competing (that would be Plushenko, Yuna, and Mao). However, he was such an icon and the media latched on for better or worse. Where Victor has a penchant for choreography, Johnny has one for costuming and fashion. He’s a middle-of-nowhere-small-town boy who loves pretty things and grew up to be fabulous on and off the ice. It’s not like the stuff he wears is cheap, but he’s a conscientious spender. Now that he’s turned pro and does commentary for nbc, it seems he’s relatively well-off.

It was mentioned in an interview* that fans would send Johnny expensive gifts in the mail -- like Chanel handbags -- because they knew he couldn’t afford them at the time. This isn’t limited to him. Denis Ten once received dog toys for his pet, and Yuzuru has received clothing. If a skater is well-loved, the fan base might send stuff that a skater wants but can't afford to splurge on or justify buying.

(*Caution that the interview, especially the second part, has traces of homophobia.)  

Many skaters are from affluent families - the sport is one of the most expensive in the world - but there are plenty of skaters who start from poorer conditions and make it to the top through a combination of support, sacrifice, hard work, and grasping at opportunities. For a more drastic example, all it takes is a look at Plushenko’s life story to see that starting out with near nothing money-wise doesn’t mean a skater can’t rise to the top.

Tying It All Together

Victor doesn’t have much of a life outside of skating and Makkachin, so after the usual costs that come with competing and daily life, he’s likely saved quite a sum over the years. Perhaps Victor only splurges when it’s worthwhile. A condo and designer furniture are purchases that last for a long time-- and the times he’ll need a good suit are infrequent enough where he would be able to keep their condition for at least a year. He might buy several coats and a collection of suits which last him years. Good clothes, good personal products, and a few good books every now-and-then for his expansive library… 

One must remember that he’s been competing internationally since he was at least 13 years old, and likely starting to earn enough himself to cover most costs from the time he was winning Euros at 18. Ten more years of success, with five of those being literal golden years, and he’s at the point where he can ship half of his stuff across the world without worrying too much about his bank account. He seems in touch with economics enough to know how to spend and save money (“if only the euro was down~”), and while we see him furnishing a room at the start of his stay in Yutopia, we have little comparison for spending practices during the rest of his time in Hasetsu, have no comparison for prior years, and this year is the first he feels like he’s living. Of course he’ll go all-out to start this new and exciting chapter.

For all that YOI tells us that he’s a Living Legend and shows us the kind of media attention he receives, Victor’s lofty image is deconstructed throughout the season so we see him as a lovable person rather than an icon. Watching his personal life while focused around Yuuri’s journey means we don’t see exactly how much of the face of figure skating he is, and as a result it’s easy to forget all that it entails.

[imaginaryculturepress-blog]

TFTP: Homebrand’s “Shelf” Launch Show

In which Homebrand launch "Shelf", HQ's security give up, and we quote a lot of people.

Hi, hello, and welcome!

My name is Skyler and I've nearly broken my neck head-banging on numerous occasions. I don't know if I should be extremely proud or concerned about that...

I also take photos of awesome bands playing awesome music for awesome crowds at awesome venues with not-so-awesome lighting.

Speaking of awesome bands playing awesome music for awesome crowds at awesome venues with not-so-awesome lighting, a few Fridays ago, I found myself photographing Homebrand's "Shelf" launch show at HQ. (I really need new venues... but y'know, everything else is 18+ and-*rants about the lack of U18 shows in Perth and what that's doing to the economy and mental stability of numerous teens*.)

This October, I had two goals: photograph a show, and have that show be on my birthday. After a disappointing September that only featured a cancelled Placebo shoot, I was desperate for anything. Luckily, I got to cover this outstanding launch to make up for the dead month. It wasn't on my birthday, but it was the day before and that's close enough.

But let's take it back a step.

T'was the day before the show and I still had no confirmation of whether or not I'd be shooting. For the record, this wasn't an extreme bother, though replies were (and still are) greatly appreciated. Along with forty-eight hour notice whenever possible. Regardless, I was at Myer with my uncle and they were playing Safia's "My Love is Gone" through the speakers. So to rephrase, I was at Myer with my uncle, attempting - and failing - to not dance around like a headless emu.

As we were searching for a birthday present, I had four words on loop: "minimalism", "lenses", and "not applicable". That is:"Hey, we should get this!""Minimalism.""Well what do you want, then?""Lenses.""Where's the minimalism there?""Not applicable."

We soon figured that the only way to settle the dilemma was to visit my very extremely amazingly fabulously good friend and potential sponsor, JB HI-FI, and splurge a decent amount of cash on vinyl. Second best to camera gear, right? Two Panic! at the Disco and one Five Finger Death Punch record later, we left to visit my arch nemesis: Camera House.

Oh, the horror...

*Violent flashbacks of Supposed Manager, his arrogance, sighs, and complaints.*

Now, it's probably worth noting that my uncle had no clue of the troublesome past I had with the store, and I hoped for it to remain that way. You may be in the same boat, completely unsure of what the hell I'm on about. Perhaps you ought to check out the

With Confidence story

: i

t's 90% the Return of the Lens and 10% With Confidence. And if you don't know what the Return of the Lens refers to, you should probably read the

Why Even Try story

. All these posts are quintessentially related and if you find them somewhat interesting, I highly suggest reading them in order to avoid complete confusion. Or you could just not read them at all, which I'm sure most of you are resorting to.

Nevertheless, I dragged myself in, head down and regret kicking in. Already missing JB HI-FI, I searched through the limited racks, hoping to locate that goddamn Nikon backpack. Background info required? Yeah. Here's the general gist of it: my grandmother told me to choose a new gear backpack that'd make shooting easier, and that my uncle would take me to purchase it on behalf of her. However, my lazy ass couldn't be bothered researching this thoroughly enough, and, as a result, the only store that I knew had this specific one was Camera House. Thus our current situation.

Unsurprisingly, it was nowhere to be found. Thankfully, Supposed Manager was also nowhere to be found. We asked an employee and they confirmed that it wasn't in stock, and that we had to go check in Leederville. And so we did, only to be told that they didn't have it either. So I settled for something different (though freaken amazing), a Lowepro with some fancy lettery-numbery title that I cannot be bothered typing. Oh, by the way, Lowepro: if you're looking for someone to sponsor, you should probably consider this random photographer in Perth, Western Australia... I hear they're pretty awesome... and desperate as all hell.

Lowepro: *Sponsor Chris Kerr.*

Now let's all take a moment to cry at how accurate that is (besides the fact that he isn't desperate). Let's take another moment to admire Chris' work.

But there's your daily life lesson: not all photographers hate each other! I mean, he has no clue as to who the hell I am, though that's not the point.

Anywho, this is the part where I compare Camera House's service to JB HI-FI's and say that JB always has everything in stock - or can order it in within a week. This is also the part where I just get along with the bloody story, for I can imagine how bored you are.

All that was just there to increase my sponsorship opportunities - or lack thereof - and include a CH complaint.

So on with the tale:

That evening, I went from maybe shooting Homebrand to not shooting to booked (thanks, Shedhead!). However, when I gained the pass, I completely forgot to ask something rather important: "Could ya please add me to the door list?"

It's not that the tickets were expensive or that I'm an extremely cheap person (even though I am). Soon after photographing my first ever show, I was googling the industry and came across a video by Adam Elmakias, my all-time favourite photographer. To paraphrase, he said: "You shouldn't buy a ticket if you're there to work." And he's right; if this is your job - or a hobby that you're hoping will become your job (your mission, to reference The Minimalists) - you pay for your transport, Grill'd stopover, and gear (though that's taxable), but you don't pay to be at the workplace, regardless of whether that's an office or concert venue. I made that mistake with the first pass I earned.

It's pretty obvious but just to be clear, this was not the band's fault. Whatsoever. They've got way more important things to be focusing on, and it's not their job to remember things that I haven't even mentioned.

You can probably imagine when I realised I hadn't told them; at the venue, when the employee guy was checking the door list.

Guy: *Flicking through* Yeah, uhm... you're not on here...

Me: What?

Me to myself: Oh, shit...

That other voice in my head: Fucking hell, Sky, you're a fucking idiot! How the fuck did you fucking forget to fucking mention the fucking listy-thingy, for fuck's sake?! You fucking fuckwit!

Guy: Do you wanna check with the band?

I looked around, attempting to locate Shedhead, though my lack of luck that ensured that nobody was around. (Again, not their fault; I'm a fucking fuckwit, remember?) Guy was growing slightly suspicious.

Guy: ...You do know who they are, right?

Me to myself, sarcastically: Nah, mate, only heard of them this morning. Me: Yeah?

Guy: I'll go see if they're out front.

Ten minutes later, we were in. Another ten minutes later, the first band was up. Coincidentally, t'was Shedhead.

If there's one thing all these bands have in common, it's that they're blatantly and exuberantly experimental and honest in their presence and music. I could attempt to make them sound elegant and sophisticated, but as the Dune Rats say, The Kids Will Know It's Bullshit. There's a lot of quoting going on today...

With that said, you're there to headbang, throw your friends at other friends' faces and to have a good time. It's thrashy, punk, satirical rock - or whatever genre they classify as - and it's unapologetic.

Shedhead was a prime example of this. With more talent than Fuelled by Ramen have signed in recent times (I'm looking at you, post-Don't Panic All Time Low) and a fanbase as dedicated as BTS', these dudes truly know how to rock out. ("Rock out"? Sara, what are you, sixty?)

Their songs are wonderful, they're great people, and they've got jams.

Now all they require is a deal with a neat lil' record label, preferably not FBR, and they're all set. And while we're on the topic of deals with neat lil' places, JB HI-FI should send that sponsorship contract my way soon...

Intermission.

Dance, dancing their way to the stage was Mango Tango, a hyper yet calm and collected band with a set list of hits. From the moment they played the first note, everyone was dying to be the John Travolta to their Uma Thurman. Their EP was only a few weeks old, yet the entire crowd knew each and every lyric off by heart, screaming incredibly out of tune and deafening my mother. But they were having a wonderful time and that’s all that counts.Their energy, enthusiasm, and always-high appearance are what stick with people well after the show. The band is extremely dedicated to their music, and it’s noticeable in their performances. With memorable sets and one hell of a catchy name, they’re sure to gain international success.

Unfortunately Kosta was slightly late to the party, arriving around the last song. This has nothing to do with him but anyway.

Intermission.

I remember those good ole’ days, long, long, ago, back at Mount Lawley Senior High’s 2016 Arts Expo, when a young band took to the stage. They were surrounded by friend-fans and teachers, lead by a shorter-haired Griffin and were missing a Harrison Larke (or was he there? I’ve no clue; it’s been a while). They were Sky's first glimpse into the local music scene. Their lead single was – and I’m pretty sure it still is – “Control”, and they earned disturbed expressions from Mr Butcher and Mr Camilleri. The crowd loved them; with each riff, octave, and any other musical word, everyone was falling more and more for the boys from JAG.

Over a year later, little has changed.  The dudes rocked out to another crowd of friend-fans, though not all were from Mount Lawley. Griffin’s hair was longer than mine, Larke was in business, and I could sense Mr Butcher and Mr Camilleri’s disturbed expressions from a mile away. “Control” blasted through the speakers and each riff, octave, and any other music word saw the audience fall more and more for the boys from JAG.

But they’d improved. They’d improved their material, their presence, and most importantly, their happiness. They seemed more content; they could say what they wanted to whom they wanted, without seething dudes in suits threatening to give them detention. This is what makes them one of the best local bands; they’re passionate about their music, stick to their humble roots, and do whatever the fuck they want.

Speaking of doing whatever the fuck they want, up next were our headliners, Homebrand.

From the first note, everyone went wild. And I mean Fight Club on acid wild; everyone was headbanging against each other, Jared Leto was crowdsurfing, Bob was crying and hugging someone whilst trampling somebody else, Marla was smoking a cig’ up the back, and Tyler Durden was fighting himself in the parking lot.

Their music was great – but that’s not what we’re here for. Well, I suppose we ought to include a fancy review of “Shelf”:

“It’s fucking wonderful.”

Sky, we said fancy.

Oh, right… How’s this:

“Homebrand have revived themselves and the scene with this song, achieving preposterously eargasmic riffs and other complex musical shizzle. The post-Mixed Signals era is set to become huge, and will hopefully see everyone stop screaming “PLAY INSOMNIA, YOU FUCKS!” and replace it with the lyrics of “Shelf”, which will inevitably lead to Daryl needing to display less inappropriate gestures onstage.”

Close enough to fancy.

But like I said, their music wasn't what we were there for: what truly stood out about their performance wasn't actually the band - don't get me wrong, they killed it up there - but HQ's reaction and plan to having Homebrand play was absolutely priceless; especially when they failed to execute their ideas.

You see, this band - and its fans - are known for the insanity they cause. It's their brand. Their Homebrand. (I'll stop...) They are there to demolish everything. They are going to break something or someone. Nobody just "shows up" without knowing what they're getting into; and if they do, they don't walk out with all their limbs in tact. There is headbanging, and I don't mean normal headbanging; I mean worse than me in my room on a Saturday evening whilst listening to Cannibal Corpse headbanging. If you're not crowdsurfing, your friends will lift you the fuck up and force you to crowdsurf. There are no "sidelines". There's no calming down. You either grab the person next to you by the neck and swing them around mercilessly or leave. And the best part? Everyone is still friends with everyone else and there are no hard feelings. Or so I'm lead to believe.

As a photographer, I couldn't ask for anything more. Okay, perhaps HQ could upgrade their lighting system and get rid of those godawful reds. But this is exactly what we're there for, and I freaken love it.

And that, my dudes, is why Homebrand is Perth's best live band. (No offence to all the other bands, all of whom I love dearly, but you can't compete with these guys.)

HQ, however, doesn't share my views. They knew this was going to happen, that personal spaces would be no more and that their speakers would be destroyed, so they employed crowd control.

Be right back, I'm just going to go laugh hysterically for a few hours.

Crowd control? What the hell was the point? All they did was piss off the dudes in the front row. Nobody could "control" these guys. They were there to be a destructive wreck and have an incredible time, and that's what they did. Had HQ seriously considered that a couple of guys in fancy uniforms - one of whom doubled up as a photographer - could change that? Nope.

"Stop that!"

"Ma'am, get off the speaker."

"PUT THEM DOWN THIS INSTANT, GODDAMNIT!"

"I said... sTOP IT!"

"How much are we getting paid for this again...?"

Get a reality check, mate. The only good that could come out of their little visit was if they managed to avoid getting kicked in the face - then the venue could avoid legal fees.

Not too long after, the set was over and those sorry security guards could go catch their breath.

And that was that. Up next: Alice Cooper at Perth Arena. (Spoiler alert: I lose my photo pass and have to shoot with my phone. It's quite the evening.)

MUSICAL SUMMARY:

Shedhead: The kids will know their music isn't bs/5 Mango Tango: Energetic fruit loops/5 JAG: I’ve got your yearbook photos/5 Homebrand: What is crowd control/5

PHOTOGRAPHICAL SUMMARY:

Lenses: better than the 85mm/5

Camera: again - not allowed to complain/5

Lighting: the reason I've lost all hope in humanity/5

Editing: best way to spend my birthday/5

My sanity: no English/5

Check out all the awesome bands:

Shedhead

Mango Tango

JAG

Homebrand

Live long and headbang, xx-Skyler Slate

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What Harry Styles and Zayn can tell us about life after boy bands

One Direction is accidentally the best named boy band in the history of coordinated turtlenecks. Legend has it that Harry Styles picked it on a whim because it sounded cool after Simon Cowell gave the five boys a second chance to compete on X Factor if they were willing to go at it as a team.

For about five years, it worked remarkably well, and then the tears fell.

There’s a line in Zadie Smith’s The Autograph Man, a book about the the trappings of idolization published when Harry Styles was eight years old, that seems oddly prescient for the current situaton. Just after a line that happens to be about a character’s ruffled shift, Smith writes, “All fandom is a form of tunnel vision: warm and dark and infinite in one direction.”

And yes, there are plenty of horribly original “different directions” jokes to be made about the lads’ respective solo careers. But the truth of the matter, is that separating was the only way they could all head upwards.

Before 1D, the *NSYNC model was the best case scenario for life after a boy band’s prime years. Justin Timberlake was the one who got to keep the music career, and lives happily ever after in the A-List while the rest are relegated to TV hosting gigs. Joey Fatone’s Live Well Network show, My Family Recipe Rocks, is delightful, but it can’t be what he envisioned for himself. Or you have the Backstreet Boys, tethered together for eternity in Las Vegas playing the old hits. Harry Styles’ solo debut, out today, makes it clear that it doesn’t have to be that way anymore.

SEE ALSO: Harry Styles hasn’t quite mastered the stage dive yet, but his solo music sparkles live

Zayn Malik was, of course, the first to go. He exited the group in flames with some comments about wanting to be a normal 22-year-old but quickly came back with bold promises of #realmusic, as opposed to whatever he considered One Direction.

ZaYn

Image: MIKE WINDLE/GETTY

Malik wasn’t content to fall into traditional boy band roles and be “the shy one” when he was actually experiencing severe anxiety. Plus, he favored R&B over the classic rock influences that were beginning to dominate One Direction and he has the voice for it, so he left the band to make music that was more his speed, working with M.I.A., PartyNextDoor, and even Styles’ ex, Taylor Swift.

It’s no surprise that fans, despite some very harsh words on Twitter when he split, responded positively to the new music. One Direction was the first major boy band to treat young women with respect as music fans instead of just assuming they want washboard abs and a Max Martin hook, as great and necessary as those things can be to young fans coming of age.

When Styles was recently on the cover of Rolling Stone, Styles explained as much to Cameron Crowe, who just happened to be profiling him.

“Who’s to say that young girls who like pop music short for popular, right? have worse musical taste than a 30-year-old hipster guy? That’s not up to you to say. Music is something that’s always changing. There’s no goal posts,” he said. “Young girls like the Beatles. You gonna tell me they’re not serious? How can you say young girls don’t get it? They’re our future. Our future doctors, lawyers, mothers, presidents, they kind of keep the world going. Teenage-girl fans they don’t lie. If they like you, they’re there. They don’t act ‘too cool.’ They like you, and they tell you. Which is sick.”

Malik echoed the sentiment in his book. (Oh yeah, he has a book, some fashion collaborations and a TV show on the way, NBD.) “I think we need more women in positions of power across the world,” he wrote. “I think a lot of the world’s problems could be solved if we allowed more contribution from women.”

Instead of making the music they thought girls wanted to hear, they put a little faith in their fans and tried to make the best music they could. It paid off.

Instead of making the music they thought girls wanted to hear, they put a little faith in their fans and tried to make the best music they could. It paid off.

For Louis Tomlinson, that meant the sunny “Just Hold On” with DJ Steve Aoki, and if there is anything that’s a fairly sure bet, it’s a handsome boy with a devout social media following dipping his toes into EDM. Sometimes, I imagine I’m in a The Graduate situation, at pool party. Instead giving the tip “plastics” to a lost boy unsure what to do with his potential, I whisper, “EDM” into his ear. While Aoki is a veteran of the scene at this point, “Just Hold On” is actually his highest charting single in both the UK and the USA, where the song hit #2 and #52, respectively.

Liam Payne, meanwhile, signed a record deal with Republic in 2016. Like Tomlinson, his ambition has some EDM leanings, but he’s got his eye on hip hop, as well. He previously released a single with Juicy J and Wiz Khalifa and has a new single with Migos’ Quavo out on May 19.

Niall Horan and Styles were always the most likely to hit the ground running with One Direction’s ’70s rock influence. Horan, the guitar-wielding Irish man, was the most involved in the group’s songwriting process and Styles baked a damn carrot cake for Stevie Nicks on her birthday. Horan beat Styles to the punch releasing his first solo single, the sweet acoustic number “This Town,” but Styles’ solo album came first.

A good suit.

Image: mike coppola/Getty Images

He considered calling it Pink, because The Clash’s Paul Simonon once said that, “Pink is the only true rock & roll color.” Nearly every review of Harry Styles has focused on Harry Styles, the rock star, in an age when the form is limp. “Sign of the Times,” the lead single, is a bold statement of intention to fill that void. Styles announced the Bowie-channeling tune exactly 20 years after the Prince album the song borrows its name from was released.

But he ended up simply going with Harry Styles instead, and it’s a fitting choice. In interviews, he’s wants to make it clear how honest the lyrics are as he avoids getting into details about just about everything. “I didn’t want to write ‘stories,'” he told Rolling Stone. “I wanted to write my stories, things that happened to me. The number-one thing was I wanted to be honest. I hadn’t done that before.” Styles knows he’s not reinventing the wheel, but what he can offer that no one else can is a direct line into his psyche.

“Mature” details of the album will inevitably be sensationalized, sex, drugs, and rock n’ roll were never really absent from One Direction (sample lyric: “waking up beside you, I’m a loaded gun.”) The main difference is that now it doesn’t have to be sung with a wink.

Communication, or lack thereof, is the album’s focus. Styles desperately wants people to say what they mean. “Tell me something I don’t already know,” he begs and begs on “Ever Since New York.” Hell, he doesn’t even use emoji, as he confessed to the crowd at his very first solo show.

At his most confessional, the soft, Eliott Smith-indebted, “From the Dining Table,” Styles begs for resolution. “Woke up alone in this hotel room. Played with myself, where were you? Fell back to sleep, I got drunk by noon,” he confesses. “I’ve never felt less cool.”

The mumbling masturbator is, of course, not a traditional boy band archetype, and definitely not what would be expected of “the cute one.” But thanks in large part to the infinite feedback loop of fandom online, it’s what we know fans needed to hear. The boy they worship (and the subject of their own erotic fan fiction) gets lonely, too.

It’s too early to tell what the longevity of the One Direction boys solo careers will be, but they’re already tipping towards a higher success rate than any previous boy band. Their increasingly web-savvy fans seem poised to ensure a decent run.

Pop groups are no longer a survival of the fittest. They’re better prepared to service the passions and desires of their young, predominately female fanbase better than ever and even grow up with them after they grow up and start running the world.

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New Post has been published on Bestnewsmag

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Fans celebrate Brody Stephens' life and his message

High School Musical” Gives an Outstanding Message About Acceptance by Teenagers

  Excessive Faculty Musical – three Stars (Proper)

The Disney Channel had to be beside itself with the most useful broadcast in January 2006 of “High College Musical” which became its maximum a hit made-for-television movie as much as that time with 7.7 million viewers.

Further to its business success, Excessive Faculty Musical is a good larger artistic success with an extraordinary message about acceptance via teenagers in the trendy world.

This film represents the whole lot that is right about state-of-the-art teens. We see great athletes, first-rate instructional college students, first-class relationships and private increase which ends up in proper questioning, right motives and right actions at the best time.

All of this takes place in a movie this is rated G, not PG, PG-13, R or NC-17. Are you able to recognize how rare it’s far to see a G-rated movie that is not an animated film?

Hundreds of thousands of dad and mom and adults are so unwell and tired of seeing teenagers concerned with filthy language, sexual gymnastics, drug use, homicide, rape, mayhem, and evil doing.

Hollywood says they only make these movies due to the fact it’s far what moviegoers need to see; it truly offers you a perception of just how permissive, warped and out of touch they are with mainstream The use.

Having said that permit me to gush about High College Musical and the pleasant path by way of Kenny Ortega and satisfactory writing by using Peter Barsocchini, who sends a terrific message approximately popularity that every youngster struggles with growing up.

A brand new Year’s Eve party brings Troy Bolton (Zac Efron) and Gabriella Montez (Vanessa Anne Hudgens) together. Even as they’re making a song karaoke collectively they discover their love fortune and hobby in every other.

Gabriella, a totally brilliant student, comes to A new School and rediscovers Troy, a jock, and superstar of the basketball crew. When Troy and Gabriella grow to be fast pals they win a callback during the Faculty musical auditions. youngster drama queen Sharpay Evans (Ashley Tisdale) and her brother Ryan (Lucas Grabeel) are upset as they have been the lead within the past 17 Faculty performs.

When Troy’s basketball teammates recognize he has auditioned for the musical and is neglecting his responsibilities as the group captain, and Gabriella’s teammates on the educational group comprehend she has become pals with Troy, individuals of each team conspire to break up their friendship.

While each Troy and Gabriella’s performances slip dramatically and are glaringly distraught because they’re simplest attempting to break out in their expected roles, their teammates confess to the conspiracy to interrupt up their friendship.

The conspiracy is led with the aid of Chad Danforth (Corbin Bleu), Troy’s best buddy and basketball teammate, and Taylor McKessie (Monique Coleman), Gabriella’s pal and leader of the School’s Science Club that competes inside the scholastic decathlon. Monique Coleman went directly to compete in the popular series Dancing With the stars.

Sharpay and brother Ryan recognize that Troy and Gabriella are actual competition for his or her normal position on stage and set approximately to disrupt the callback by means of getting their drama instructor Alyson Reed, an even larger drama queen, to alternate the time of the callback to intervene with Troy’s championship basketball recreation and Gabriella’s scholastic decathlon.

Troy enables his group to win the championship, and Gabriella facilitates her crew wins the scholastic decathlon. each of them makes the callback and get the lead role in the play despite the fact that all 3 occasions occur at the identical time. You’ll see the movie to apprehend how their basketball and scholastic teammates devise a plan to make it take place.

by being themselves and having the courage to try something new, both Troy and Gabriella motivate their classmates to strive new pastimes.

Excessive College Musical is ready a numerous College populace that takes variety to a better vicinity. Instead of focusing solely on the problem of variety writer Peter Barsocchini ignores the trite, obvious troubles of coloration of the skin, the length of our bodies and Excellent seems and builds round an excellent more essential point: popularity While being distinctive.

Perhaps we can now circulate directly to no longer being so worried that African American coaches had been opponents inside the maximum latest Exceptional Bowl, and simply deal with the game and gamers. Maybe we can pass on past the whole thing being considered from a racial angle.

Perhaps we are able to sincerely look at the difficulty of acceptance and different critical troubles in the lives of our teenage children instead of focusing on the fact that where reputation does now not exist that it must be race related.

High Faculty Musical indicates teens being devious, screwing up, fessing up to messing up, feeling regret, doing something positive to make it proper, and everybody one being a better man or woman, in the long run, even our drama queen Sharpay and brother Ryan.

more than 600 auditioned for the film and Vanessa Anne Hudgens had to compete with 12 others for the role of Gabriella; she and the alternative girls danced and sang all day to win the position.

Excessive Faculty Musical become the operating identify for the movie and become used When post-production got here due to the fact a better name had no longer surfaced. Andrew Seeley’s voice became dubbed in for Zac Efron.

Seeley composed and sang “Get’cha Head in the sport” which became nominated for an Emmy. Composer Jamie Houston’s “Breaking Loose” was nominated for an Emmy. Ortega becomes additionally nominated for an Emmy as turned into Jason L. A. Padua for amazing Casting.

Excessive College Musical did win one Emmy for terrific Kid’s Software and another for amazing Choreography. In all, the film had nine wins and 10 nominations for diverse awards.

I highly propose this movie for mother and father, teenagers and children of all ages who might have the staying power to sit down thru this movie. Excessive School Musical sends an exceptional message about kids nowadays and desires endured strong support to unfold its effective message

Outdoor Ceiling Fans

  If you are making plans on putting in a ceiling fan in an out of doors vicinity, it is essential to buy a fan that is designed especially for that cause. In case your installation an indoor fan in an outdoor area it is in all likelihood to quick out (which can be hazardous) or surely spoil down in advance. Outside ceiling fanatics are designed otherwise than indoor ceiling fanatics due to the fact they need on the way to the forces of mom nature.

Right here are a number of the methods that Outdoor ceiling enthusiasts vary from those made for the interior:

The ornamental motor casing is either sealed or designed to prevent water or moisture from coming in contact with the actual motor inner. The wiring is a higher grade with extra protective. Screws and other additives are normally fabricated from stainless steel. The finish on the motor casing and hardware is usually a weather resistant powder coat, stainless steel, or has some extra protecting coating which could deal with exposure to the elements. The blades are in all likelihood made of ABS plastic rather than plywood. ABS is a completely sturdy durable fabric that resists warping and discoloration from moisture or UV publicity. Light fixtures are sealed on pinnacle and designed for outdoors The mounting hardware is both water tight or designed to prevent water from getting into from above. There are 2 forms of Outside ceiling lovers, the ones rated for DAMP locations and people rated for Wet locations. There’s a great distinction between the two and it’s miles vital which you select the right type of your utility. In both case, ensure the fan you purchase is UL Indexed for the application you want so you recognize it can be properly installed without creating a potential electric danger. Right here are the differences among the 2 sorts of Outdoor fanatics:

Damp rated Outdoor fans are designed to deal with moisture but now not direct touch with rain or walking water. Consequently, a moist rated Outdoor ceiling fan may be mounted in a covered vicinity which includes a patio or screened in porch or other areas which might be blanketed from rain or dripping water.

Wet rated Outside fans are designed to deal with direct publicity to rain. They may be established indefinitely any indoor or Outside vicinity, covered or exposed. So you can deploy a Moist rated Outdoor ceiling fan in an open gazebo, lattice covered lanai or other comparable color structure in addition to underneath a included porch or patio. due to the fact Moist rated Outside fanatics are pretty lots water tight, you may, in reality, clean them through hosting them off…that’s an incredible cause to buy a Wet rated fan even if all you want is a humid rated version.

Usually asked questions about Outside enthusiasts:

Can an outdoor ceiling fan be mounted indoors?

Sure, you could installation an out of doors fan to your residing room or every other room in your property where you want a fan. Many humans will try this sincerely due to the fact they like the look of a specific Out of doors fan. Additionally, Out of doors fanatics are distinctly encouraged for laundry rooms and bathrooms or another room interior your private home that has a tendency to have excessive moisture. In more humid climates, Outdoor enthusiasts are an amazing preference for each room inside the domestic.

I stay in a completely windy vicinity and have had troubles with blades breaking off…Are there any Out of doors enthusiasts that are made to deal with high winds?

high winds can, in fact, sheer the blades of a ceiling fan, in particular, cheaper fashions that use lightweight substances. Normally it’s far the metal blade holders that attach the blades to the fan that damage as opposed to the blades themselves. So If you are in a place liable to high winds, Outdoor fans that do not have blade holders are your great choice. If the fan is to be hooked up in an area that is nine feet high or much less, a hugger style Out of doors fan is even higher. A really perfect instance of this kind of fan is the Minka Aire Concept II Wet, that’s one of the very few Out of doors fanatics that meet this standard.

Are there any Outside fanatics which are designed to be taken down effortlessly or which have blades which are clean to take off while a typhoon is coming?

This is a completely common question. Unluckily the answer isn’t any. There are not any ceiling fans designed with a “Short Disconnect” mechanism or with blades that snap on and stale. However, I think that if any fan manufacturer got here up with such a fan it might be a big seller.

walking wires and putting in a junction box may be difficult in many Out of doors programs. Are there any Out of doors ceiling lovers which might be battery operated?

Despite the fact that DC powered ceiling lovers are actually, in reality, to be had, they’re not but effective sufficient to deal with the needs of outdoor packages, nor are they being designed to paintings from batteries. Currently, maximum DC powered ceiling lovers use an AC/DC converter, so they still require electric wiring. However, I might look for this to exchange in the close to destiny…maximum probably in the next 12 months or two.

Can a far-flung control be introduced to an outdoor ceiling fan?

maximum add-on remotes or wall controls are not rated to be used outdoors, so unless the manipulate is specially designed for the fan you’re thinking about and is rated for the perfect software (Damp or Wet), then you definitely have to now not use it. If a far off manage or wall control is vital to you, search for Out of doors fans which have one of these manipulate covered with the fan.

Prioritizing Making a Difference in Someone’s Life

  Deciding on well nowadays is critical, isn’t it? That’s what that word “prioritizing” that humans shy from are all about! I have found which you alternate your life by changing your thinking.

thinking in approaches that get me doing – taking movement! – is what Selecting properly these days way for me.

I can handiest perform a little bit. However, I can do some bit!

I am healing. I’m facing big challenges. Yet I am doing matters.

The manner I do message is by Fans way of figuring Life out that giving up isn’t an alternative.

When I am thinking, k, I’m going to do something? I’m Deciding on from possibilities which can be before me proper now. From what’s in front of me, as Mother Teresa used to say!

It’s no longer that we will do what others are doing. It’s that we are able to do what is before us right now. what’s in the front of us.

That is what Deciding on properly nowadays is set. That is what prioritizing gives you. It offers you the capacity to see what is in front of you right now.

By using noticing what is in front of me right now, I will exchange my wondering and change my lifestyles.

I’ve been a hit. I’ve even been a hit after main disabilities I’ve discovered to control; now I have got greater. But It is the same component: It is a matter of looking out at what’s earlier than me and of spotting what’s within me.

I’ve succeeded towards dramatic odds within the past. I’ve helped humans and made a distinction in this world. I like doing that.

I’m finding approaches to doing that now. Using who I am and my stories, as well as with the aid of The use of the capability to pick out nicely these days.

One of the matters I do is analyzing. It allows inform me and gives me suggestions of other methods of questioning and statistics that is useful.

Any other thing I do is I write. I blog! Slowly. I am sluggish, here and now. But what? I’m doing it!

I’m doing and I am being and I’m creating a distinction in this world. And if I can, you can too!

This week I looked at Every other PayPal sale! It is interesting to sell. But it’s also thrilling to suppose that I will make a difference in a person’s existence.

Choosing nicely nowadays has to do with constructing a foundation for me. constructing a basis by using taking as.

[ultralifehackerguru-blog]

New Post has been published on http://www.lifehacker.guru/im-brad-smith-ceo-of-intuit-and-this-is-how-i-work/

I'm Brad Smith, CEO of Intuit, and This Is How I Work

Brad Smith knows karate. Not “business karate” or any overwrought metaphor about teamwork; he literally teaches karate. Or at least he used to before he became chairman and CEO of Intuit.

Intuit is the financial software company that owns and operates TurboTax, probably the most idiot-proof way to file your taxes. (I speak from personal experience, as I’m definitely bad with money and taxes. Using TurboTax feels like playing a soothing video game.) They also own the popular personal finance app Mint, and were the original developers of Quicken. It is more than worth mentioning, though, that nothing is without controversy; Intuit has been criticized for lobbying against making filing your taxes easier. But let’s get back to the karate.

Brad Smith has been with the company since 2003, has served as CEO since 2008, and credits much of his success to the lessons he discipline he gained at the dojo as a young man as well as the career advice given to him by his father. We caught up with Brad to learn a little about his background, how he manages his time, and some of his favorite inspirational movies. Here’s how he works.

Location: Mountain View, CA Current Gig: Chairman and CEO, Intuit One word that best describes how you work: Passionately Current mobile device: iPhone 7 Current computer: MacBook Air

First of all, tell me a little about your background and how you got to where you are today.

I was born and raised in Kenova, West Virginia, population 3,500 if you round up! From an early age, the community played a key role in my life. I began studying martial arts at a local dojo as a sophomore in high school, and the discipline it taught me continues to impact my life to this day. After graduating from Ceredo-Kenova High School, I attended the US Military Academy at West Point for one semester, but my West Virginia roots pulled me back home. I went on to graduate from Marshall University in 1986 with a bachelor’s degree in business administration with an emphasis in marketing.

After graduating college my dad advised me to always pursue what makes your heart beat the fastest. He [also] said I should always make my job choices based on the franchise and not the role. In other words, look for purpose-driven companies that would challenge me and provide me with stretch assignments so I would continue to grow. He told me not to focus on title or the money, because that would change over time if I worked hard. Finally, [he said to] understand that there will be good days and bad days, but if the good outweigh the bad, you are on the right course.

I learned at an early age through my martial arts training—where, as a black belt and teacher, you are measured on the progress of your students—that I loved getting things done through a team as opposed to being an individual contributor. This led me into people management and my first job at Pepsi. I went on to work at ADVO and ADP before joining Intuit in 2003. I held various roles within the company before becoming CEO in 2008, and chairman in 2016.

What apps, software, or tools can’t you live without?

Time is our most precious and limited resource, therefore managing my time is my most important priority. A productivity tool that helps me is color-coding my calendar so I can see how I’m spending my time against my “100-point plan.”

I allocate my time in a 40-30-20-10 split: I spend forty percent of my time running the company through operating mechanisms and product reviews; thirty percent building our organization’s capability and leadership bench through 1:1’s, skip levels, and leadership development forums; twenty percent on outside-in learning by engaging with fellow leaders in roundtable discussions, forums and board rooms; and the last ten percent on personal growth and development, meeting with mentors and learning from others I admire. Color-coding my calendar holds me accountable and allows me to measure whether I am on track or off, so I can adjust if needed.

What’s your workspace setup like? Coffee shop with laptop and headphones? Home office with a standing desk?

I have a seated desk for when I’m focused on getting work done, a table for in-person meetings, and a video conference screen so I can meet face-to-face with people around the world.

When I’m in my office I’m surrounded by photos of my family and special memorabilia that represent the influences in my life, like my framed We Are Marshall poster, a Marshall University football, and a model of King Arthur and the Knights of the Roundtable—with a Latin inscription that reads “leadership through serving others.” My home office is similar, with family pictures and signed photographs from my favorite movies including Forrest Gump, The Godfather, and Gladiator. Family and fighting for causes greater than oneself have always inspired me!

What’s your best time-saving shortcut or life hack?

The tip is simply-stated, but requires real commitment: never touch something more than once. For example, my email inbox is cleared every day, despite receiving several hundred emails that require action. It is not managed or sorted by an assistant. Instead, I practice the principle of read, act, file, or delete. To stay on top of it, I schedule forty-five minute meetings (versus an hour), which allows me fifteen minutes in between meetings to quickly read and act on any incoming messages.

What’s your favorite to-do list manager?

Call me old school, but I’m a pen and paper kind of guy! If I write something down I won’t forget it.

Besides your phone and computer, what gadget can’t you live without and why?

Google Home, because it has the power of Google search at voice command. Conversational user interface (CUI) is enabling us to do things faster than ever from shopping to getting our news, and these types of gadgets have won me over. I’ve just been looking for the one that can understand my West Virginian accent, and luckily they keep getting smarter!

What everyday thing are you better at than everyone else? What’s your secret?

I’m not sure I am better than everyone else at anything, but I do write poetry. My wife and my two daughters each have poems that I’ve written for them framed on their walls. My wife has one that was written before our wedding, and another that I wrote when she chose to leave her profession to be a stay-at-home mother. Each of my daughters’ poems were written the night of their birth. While they aren’t world-class poems, they are sincere expressions of my love and gratitude for having them in my life, and for helping me strive to be a better man each and every day.

What do you listen to while you work? Got a favorite playlist? Maybe talk radio? Or do you prefer silence?

While I am a musician myself (guitar and sax) and I am constantly inspired by music, it has its place in my life. I tend to work in silence, which allows me to focus 100 percent of my concentration and energy on the task at hand. However, during a break or at home, my playlist is quite eclectic—80’s rock, contemporary country, and some classical music tossed in for good measure. Lyrics matter most to me, so good songwriters are a plus!

What are you currently reading? Or what’s something you’d recommend?

I’d highly recommend a book I recently read called Grit: The Power of Passion and Perseverance by Angela Duckworth. It’s full of amazing, inspirational stories that show that anyone, regardless of I.Q., talent, or background, can succeed if they have grit—a blend of passion and persistence. I’m a big fan of this school of thought—one of my strongest personal beliefs is that it doesn’t matter where you went to school. This book makes all of us underdogs feel like we’re just as capable as anybody else.

How do you recharge? What do you do when you want to forget about work?

Spending time with my wife and daughters is my favorite way to recharge. I also love to go to the movie theater. Ever since I was a kid, I’ve been touched by the power of movies, and I find some of my greatest inspiration comes from them.

What’s your sleep routine like? Are you a night owl or early-riser?

I’ve always been a morning person, so on a typical day I get up early, around 5:30 or 5:45 a.m. I work out every morning, I do P90X and I watch [CNBC’s] Opening Bell. Then I read a couple of papers: The Wall Street Journal and the Huntington Herald Dispatch before getting into the office around 8 a.m. I usually get out of the office a little after 7 p.m., get home, have dinner, and spend time with my wife. I’m in bed about 9 p.m. That’s the program!

What’s the best advice you’ve ever received?

My Dad is no longer with me, but the best advice I ever received was from him on making tough career choices. He offered three simple guideposts:

Surround yourself with people smarter than you: According to Dad, this was important for choosing where you work, because it ensures that you will constantly be learning and growing. With this in mind, I have always been drawn to work in organizations where the bar is high.

Volunteer for assignments no one else wants: Once you find the right environment, volunteer to work on the hardest and most unwanted problems facing the organization, because that’s where you’ll stretch yourself and be forced to grow in ways you wouldn’t have planned. In addition, every boss has something that no one wants to do, and if you volunteer to take it on, it will distinguish you from others and establish you as the “go-to person” for tough problems.

Finally, make sure you can pay your bills: The last thing Dad told me was to never prioritize big dollars and big business cards over the principles above. He cautioned that if I did, I would most likely find myself in a position where the number of bad days outweighed the good ones. As for paying my bills, Dad was always someone who fulfilled the promises he made. For him, bills were a promise of payment. So he closed by saying “but always try to make enough to pay your bills!”

This interview has been lightly edited for clarity. The How I Work series asks heroes, experts, and flat-out productive people to share their shortcuts, workspaces, routines, and more. Have someone you want to see featured, or questions you think we should ask? Email Andy.

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[londontheatre]

Charlotte Peters in Caste rehearsal – Photo by Greg Goodale

In a new production commissioned by the Finborough Theatre to mark the 150th anniversary of T. W. Robertson’s 1867 comedy – and the first UK production in over 20 years – Directed by Charlotte Peters, Caste plays at the Finborough Theatre for nine Sunday and Monday evenings and Tuesday matinees from Sunday, 2nd April 2017. 

Director Charlotte Peters recently took time out to chat about the production.

Q: An anniversary is a fair reason for a new production – but why this one and why now? Charlotte: Very few Victorian dramas and comedies survived the test of time. Despite Robertson being one of the founders of naturalism in theatre and one of the first ‘directors’ in terms of how we perceive the role today, his plays seemed to get lost over the years. Being such a fan of the play, it’s rather surprising to me that this is the first London production of Caste for decades. The 150th anniversary seemed a great reason for reviving this forgotten classic, but more than that, this seems the perfect time to bring to life a piece that at its essence is about reminding its audience that we’re all the same. The play may use class as its subject, but it feels rather apt that such a message should be celebrated just at the moment. Besides, with everything that’s been happening in the world of late, we could probably all do with a giggle and Robertson certainly knows his comedy!

Q: As the Director, what challenges do you face to make this production feel fresh? Charlotte: The brilliant thing about comedy is that it’s timeless so we’re fortunate that most of Robertson’s wonderful observations about people still exist today. That said, if one was reading the play they may find the language dated so we’ve been keen to introduce the style early on and slightly contemporise its meaning in places, and also to use the language to add to the comedy of the production. Whilst we have stayed very true to Robertson’s stage directions (he was certainly specific!), we’ve given the production a fresh edge by setting it within a Victorian photographer’s studio. In the mid to late 19th century, photography was starting to grow in popularity, and in an age where how you are perceived was vital, it felt interesting and rather fun to explore what would happen if every vulnerable moment was caught on camera.

Q: How do you ensure that the piece is seen to be authentic? Charlotte: Caste was first performed in 1867, but it is set in 1856, a year before the Indian Rebellion as two of our characters go off to defend the Empire. Despite many of the themes within Caste being timeless, it is set within an age that focused on morality, where the class system was starting to change to make room for the middle classes rising up from the Industrial Revolution, and where romanticism was spreading throughout Europe. We’ve wanted to keep hold of that setting as it’s crucial for the stakes of the play and so all costumes and props sit very much within the period. The language too, assists in the authenticity of the piece, paying homage to Old England, whilst remaining clear for a contemporary audience.

Q: What can you tell us about rehearsals and working with the cast? Charlotte: I feel like the last few weeks have mainly been spent laughing although I’m sure we got some work done too! It has been an absolute joy to share ideas and direct such a wonderful bunch of actors whilst re-discovering a brilliant comedy. I feel incredibly lucky to be working with such a brilliant cast who between them have worked for some of the most prolific theatre companies in the UK and brilliant television and film. It means Caste’s creation has truly been a collaboration of minds, greatly helped too by a fantastic creative, stage management and production team.

Q: Do you have a favourite character? (and/or a favourite line) Charlotte: My favourite character seems to change every rehearsal as they’re all so full of heart! I have started using “Confound it!” in daily life wherever possible as it’s such a brilliant exclamation – I hope to bring it back to 21st-Century vocabulary so spread the word!

Q: What is at the heart of the production? Charlotte: There’s a brilliant line in Caste: “Nobody’s a mistake. He don’t exist. Nobody’s nobody. Everybody’s somebody.” and I think that just about sums up the play. Hidden within this comedy of class prejudices is the idea that actually, we’re all the same. Caste celebrates that we may think there are fundamental differences between us and those who grew up in a completely different way to us, but fundamentally, we all want to love and to be loved. It may be a Victorian comedy, but it seems to me that never has such a simple idea seemed more important to remind ourselves of, than right now.

Paul Bradley and Susan Penhaligon in Caste – Photo by Greg Goodale

Q: What emotions do you go through on Opening Nights? Charlotte: I think I probably go through every emotion! Opening Night is about relinquishing control of something you’ve held very dear and looked after for weeks or months and so whilst it’s a very freeing experience, it can be nerve wracking too! Mostly it’s a chance to see the cast bring to life the ideas thrown about in a rehearsal room and that can be exhilarating and rather magical.

Q: Why should everyone get along to see Caste? Charlotte: If you feel that you’ve not had much to celebrate of late in terms the ever more depressing daily news that we wake up to, Caste promises to provide 90 minutes of comedic light relief whilst being full of truth. It’s an opportunity to see a wonderful collection of actors revive a brilliant piece that certainly deserves to be enjoyed by audiences for many generations to come.

*****

Director Charlotte Peters is currently Resident Director on An Inspector Calls in the West End, and will shortly be Resident Director on the National Tour of War Horse (National Theatre). Direction includes By My Strength, Jog On (Frederick’s Place Theatre), Constellations (Bread and Roses Theatre), Dram (Old Red Lion Theatre), Bark (53two), How To Make Money From Art (Phoenix Artist Club), Fame (Tallink Silja, Scandinavia), Interval (Camden People’s Theatre), And The Little One Said… (Cock Tavern) and Art and What The Butler Saw (Edinburgh Festival). Charlotte has worked as Assistant Director with Steve Marmion on Only The Brave (Soho Theatre Press Information and Wales Millennium Centre) and I’m Not Here Right Now (Soho Theatre and Edinburgh Festival), and for Steven Blakeley on Aladdin and Jack and the Beanstalk (Theatre Royal Windsor). As Associate Director, she has worked with Alastair Whatley on Birdsong and The Private Ear / The Public Eye (National Tour) and Iqbal Khan on The Importance of Being Earnest – The Musical (Theatre Royal Windsor).

“My dear fellow, nobody’s a mistake. He don’t exist. Nobody’s nobody. Everybody’s somebody.”

1867. George D’Alroy is a soldier and the son of French nobility. Esther Eccles is a beautiful ballet dancer from a poor family. When the two fall in love, two very different families are brought together.

After George leaves to serve in India, Esther must deal with a drunken father, a sister with a fierce temper and a terrifying mother in law. Not knowing whether she will ever see her love again, Esther must confront the class prejudices of Victorian England, whilst coping with the chaos created by her increasingly exasperating family members…

Widely considered both as T. W. Robertson’s masterpiece and a ground-breaking milestone in British theatre, Caste was described by George Bernard Shaw as “epoch-making”, whilst W. S. Gilbert said it “pointed the way for a whole new movement”, and when William Archer and Harley Granville Barker planned the programme for their proposed National Theatre, they were agreed that the mid-Victorian period should be “inevitably represented by its one masterpiece, Caste.”

Playwright T.W. Robertson (1829-1871) was a theatrical revolutionary. His works include Society (1865), Ours (1866) which was revived at the Finborough Theatre in 2007 for the first time in over a century, Play (1868), Progress (1869), School (1869), Birth (1870), M.P. (1870) and War (1871). Robertson was the first playwright to treat contemporary British subjects in realistic settings, and also directed his own work. Many of his most successful works were produced for the management team of Squire Bancroft and his wife Marie – buried just minutes from the Finborough Theatre in Brompton Cemetery – who were instrumental in creating the West End theatre that we know today with their innovations in the fields of stage design, theatre decoration, ensemble acting and long runs of single plays, with matinee performances.

Robertson was a huge influence on later theatre makers including Arthur Pinero, who based the character of Tom Wrench in Trelawny of the ‘Wells’ on Robertson; and W.S. Gilbert, who said that “I look upon stage management [i.e. theatre direction], as now understood, as having been absolutely invented by him.”

Celebrating the 150th anniversary of the Victorian classic CASTE by T. W. Robertson Directed by Charlotte Peters. Designed by Georgia de Grey. Lighting by Robbie Butler. Original music and sound design by Theo Holloway. Presented by Project One Theatre Company in association with Neil McPherson for the Finborough Theatre. Cast: Paul Bradley. Neil Chinneck. Rebecca Collingwood. Isabella Marshall. Duncan Moore. Susan Penhaligon. Ben Starr.

Finborough Theatre, 118 Finborough Road, London SW10 9ED http://ift.tt/NsSQwL

http://ift.tt/2owZTAF LondonTheatre1.com