THIS IS MADNESSTHIS. IS. RADCLIFFE.

~Chronicles of the Barrage of Daniel Radcliffe pictures posted by Kelly~

12/7/11-1/3/12

Posted to Andrew’s Wall, 12/8

Voldemort: Minions! Assemble! This is most delightful news! I've discovered the source of Harry Potter's true power!Malfoy: The power of love? The elder wand?Voldemort: No, no, no! Those are TOO OBVIOUS. The real source of his power is his..LEATHER VEST.

ra ra ah ah ahhh,ro ma, ooh la la,ga ga, mama mia,we want his leather vest

Posted to Carly’s Wall, 12/7

"What floor?" he asks, fingers curling against the cool stainless steel handrail. With his blazer and white oxford slightly askew, you recognize him as the alluring young temp who changes all the ink cartridges and microwaves your lean pockets. You look over at the columns of numbered buttons, and see that the slightly faded 18 is already lit. You smile. No assistance necessary. He smiles, wondering if there's any way your microwave could be involved in some unfortunate accident. A lady like you deserves a little more than lean pockets on a Friday night, anyway...

Posted to Danielle’s Wall, 12/7 "Aimeriez-vous danser?" His eyes are

almost unsure of himself, and there's the tiny arc of a quiver in his voice. It's almost like he's intimidated by you. But not quite; Fires burn, cauldrons bubble, if you get my drift... His shirt is 50% silk and 50% cotton and 100% tuxedo-ribbed delicacy. And this sure isn't the first time you've been twirled around on your 3-inch high red stilettos in a romantic French dance club, but it sure is the first time you've felt your hands go just a little clammy on his upper arm. But not quite.

Posted to Heather’s Wall, 12/7 grimly, Daniel Radcliffe stares into your

eyes, unblinking and ubiquitous. "I've never seen her before," he reflects. "I'd remember it." he adjusts his leather jacket, eyes still fixed on you, as if to say, "I just rolled off a motorbike going at the approximately 80km/h while it exploded, while I recorded an "It gets better" video, if you're into that sort of thing." Oh, darling, you are, aren't you? But time isn't actually standing still, or that beautiful stubble wouldn't be evolving before your very eyes. No need to stand around chatting on this shabby street corner, is there?

Posted to Emma’s Wall, 12/7

having been waiting for you in the lobby of this posh European massage parlor all this time, Daniel Radcliffe eventually resigned himself to sitting and waiting for you in vain, all alone on a mysterious white wooden cube (placed by the marketing staff to cleverly entice you to the earthy goodness of a massage). Yet, alas! You arrive, only slightly late due to the foolish baristas neglecting to properly salt your salted caramel latte. But no matter. You're here now, and able to place a hand on his knee as you kiss his cheeks in customary European greeting and admire the way his jeans fall on his legs like a mystical, form-accentuating-yet-not-too-revealing waterfall. You've caught him off-guard, but he extends his hand, ready to sweep you away to the world of earthy, European massage parlors with all-white furniture.

Posted to Laura’s Wall, 12/7 Daniel shifted up in his seat, vivid blue

eyes smiling in a strange way...there is no joke, no hilariously misguided passerby strolling by in a makeshift star trek costume...nothing for him to be laughing it. No, his eyes smile at your soul, in a deep, blue connection that sparkles and contrasts against the red wall (you know, dear, they say red is the color of passion)...And in that moment, your knees feel like jelly, your cheeks and fingers all warm and yet shivering...and a chorus of bubble letters proclaim the name of your beloved in a bold tribute to the singing, dancing, horse-loving warrior of girls' hearts.

Posted to Kathryn’s Wall, 12/7

"Belgian chocolate," said Daniel Racliffe, leaning up against the carefully polished ebony doorframe, "it is..how you say, mon préféré..." his inquisitive gaze shifts to the inside of the restaurant, that one that glows green. But no, my dear, no one is being avada kedavra-ed in there. In fact, green glows in this world of floral-clad hot men is a sign of the utmost passion...will you, or will you not share in the glory of Belgian chocolate with this man? As his hand reaches toward yours with the tenderness of one going to hold a newborn kitten, you give a Mona Lisa smile that holds all the answers.

Posted to RJ’s Wall, 12/7

it is a moment so unguarded, so hopeful, and yet so quiet. Daniel Radcliffe gazes down at his knuckles, so beside himself with the power of your charms against his fragile soul and crushed velvet blazer. He has never trusted anyone so deeply before. And yet, with one brush of the hand, it could be true love, or abandonment. [[So far I've only been doing absurdly sensual captions. If you are currently horrified, please replace the above caption with one that says "I bought you a cauldron cake, but I eated it... :'("]]

Posted to Renee’s Wall, 12/7

Is that Mr. Darcy, leaning leisurely against some imagined stone archway, lovingly whispering "Mrs. Darcy, Mrs. Darcy, Mrs. Darcy...", a twinkle in his eye, his hair peaked in anticipation? Or is it something more, perhaps? Hemholtz, having slept with dozens of women and yet wistfully longing for the one that will open the door to his soul? Or a delightful representation of Jared Leto in that one 30 Seconds to Mars video?

Posted to Kaitlyn’s Wall, 12/7

He was going to go to work, but instead, he decided to dedicate the master architecture of his chest to you. The topography speaks hidden volumes of voluptuousness, each ridge and rib, an ode to the many hours he will spend here at home, slaving away to you, rather the corporate box office fiends.

Posted to Leigh’s Wall, 12/7

waiting there, all alone, listening to harry potter and the order of the phoenix (unabridged, randomhouse version read by the delightful Jim Dale, of course), all because he can't get you out of his mind! it's enough to drive anyone to the point of reading about emo harry and his series of door dreams and Cho Chang crush-related imagery.

Posted to Erin’s Wall, 12/7, #1

I'm just like Oliver Wood, baby...I'm a keeper.

Posted to Erin’s Wall, 12/7, #2

Somewhere, in a shabby-chic minimalist hotel lounge, around the corner from the elevator and the breakfast lounge, Daniel Racliffe is waiting, just for you, half out of his seat in anticipation. That chair is probably not as comfortable as your embrace, he says. And he wouldn't want his shoes getting it dirty. Housekeeping worked hard on that.

Posted to Brendan’s Wall, 12/7

Maybe it's just a cloud of dementors, or some problem with the ventilation system, but I think maybe he's just been blown away by you. Daniel Racliffe's curls, its two layers looking like a silver spangled serpent, but by gods, he's a Gryffindor, and Gryffindors don't stand there, stock-still, while opportunity awaits. Even as his mouth opens, you know you'll give him the time of day... [[Note: If the above caption is far too sensual and has left you utterly horrified, please replace it with one regarding how fans just never give him peace *Lame Pun Coon*]]

New, for Melissa (1/3)

“I’ll have you know,” he said, with a look of the utmost intensity, “that I take Little Bigplanet very, very seriously.” Daniel Radcliffe’s cool blue eyes sweep over your body, pausing on your hands, which grip the PS3 controller nervously. You hope your nails aren’t too chipped. It’s been a good four hours since you got out of the nail salon. Who knows what might have happened? But he smiles and takes a seat next to you, his bronze dinner jacket contrasting with the white walls (you didn’t have time to paint before the housewarming party; another thing to worry about). And after you’ve beaten him humiliatingly for the 8th time in a row, you can tell by the way he winks that he hasn’t noticed the nail polish.

In Conclusion… Daniel Radcliffe is extremely attractive Somehow, I passed Chemistry.

<3, Kelly