#franco it's the third one

[marsuro]

You know what. Franquin style

#lupin iii #lupin the third #lupin iii art #franquin #bande dessinee #franco belgian comic style #mostly based on the gaston/spirou et fantasio look #only the first zenigata was ref’d from a panel #(of de mesmaeker lol) #jigen daisuke #fujiko #zenigata #going back to my roots bc franquins comics mean the world to me #and his style is one of my biggest inspirations since very long #my childhood #no worries im still drawing tiger zoro’s :) #he’ll be returning soon!

[trulymadlysydney]

Wait For Me in the Sky: Twelve

Mars lingers, looking at Harry before, at the exact same time, they come back to earth and realize they’re being watched.  Mars clears her throat.  “Is there anything else I can get you, Mr. Styles?”

Harry’s cheeks quirk at the formality, and he hopes Mars doesn’t notice the deep gulp.  He can’t help it, hearing her call him “Mr. Styles” does something to him. 

“Actually,” he says, lowering his voice, “there is one thing.”

Mars blinks, not quite catching on. “Mm?”

“Although,” Harry says quietly,  “Now that I think of it, I’m not certain this airline offers the type of services I’m looking for.”

Mars lets out a loud breath when she realizes what he’s getting at, and Harry beams at her reaction. She glances around her to make sure no one else has caught on, before turning back to Harry. “Well,” she says slowly.   “I’m sure something can be arranged.  All you have to do is ask."

Harry grins, eyes darting down Mars’ body very briefly.  He reaches up to absentmindedly play at his bottom lip.  “I’m not even sure I have to ask, given the way you’re looking at me.”

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MARS

It’s 3:55am, and Mars barely slept a wink.

Not that she was expecting to get much sleep anyway.  After hanging up with Harry, her mind had run wild with a thousand different things she’d wished she’d said, or at least said differently, and she’d had to physically stop herself from picking up the phone to send him a text of useless clarification that she knew he didn’t need but god, it would just make her feel better if she could only--

“How was dinner with Franco last night?”  The voice of her fellow crew member- Abby- pulls her from her thoughts. “You never told us.”

Mars gets a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach when she thinks about that very dinner with Franco.  And up until now, she’d done a good job not thinking about it- although her anxiety hadn’t let her forget that something bad had happened.  When she’d woken up for good this morning (after tossing and turning the entire night), she’d given it one thought and told herself to knock it off.  She’d forced herself to shove it deep into her heart to unpack for another day, along with the strange and unwarranted guilt that had overcome her when she thought about calling Harry.  She shouldn’t have called him.  She should never have even thought of him.  Why is she still thinking of him now?  Why can’t she forget him?

“It was fine,” is all she can say. “Food was mediocre.”

The three flight attendants walk slowly through the near-empty airport-- their heels clacking against the slick floor as they make their way to their gate.  For the most part, people in the airport seem to be either asleep or half-awake, and no one so much as looks up as the girls pass.

“You know she’s not asking about the food,” Jenna, the third flight attendant on the crew, speaks up.  She giggles.  “I half expected you to be late to the crew van today, girl. Did you stay with him?”  She wiggles her eyebrows, insinuating something that makes Mars nauseous.

The girls don’t know any better, so Mars puts on her best smile.  “I didn’t,” she says back, with as lighthearted a laugh as she can manage.  “Too early of a start today.  Plus he’s not really my type.  We were just catching up as old friends.”

“Not your type?” Abby snorts.  “Are you blind?”

“You cannot tell me that you don’t have any type of attraction to that man,” Jenna chimes in.  “Have you seen him?”

This time, Mars’ giggle is genuine.  “I have,” she says.  “And there was, I guess you could say ‘a thing’ back in the day.  But his personality ruins it for me.”

Abby frowns.  “Don’t tell me he’s a shit human.  Don’t ruin this illusion for me.”

“I mean,” Jenna says,  “Can you blame her though?  Girl’s had Harry Styles in her bed.  I’m sure it’s hard not to compare.”

Mars swallows the lump that arises in her throat at the mere mention of Harry.  She knows this is all well-intended, harmless cheek-- but it does make her sad.  “That was a long time ago,” is all she can come up with. 

The girls approach their gate and walk up to the counter.  “Don’t tell me he’s a shit person too,” Abby says, and Jenna responds with something snarky that Mars can’t hear.  Mars, instead, busies herself with speaking to the gate agent.  

“Good morning!” she says, flashing her badge.  “Mars Tyler. Are the pilots here yet?”

The gate agent, who’s name tag reads “Walter” offers her an almost apologetic smile.  “No pilots yet,” he says.  “And no plane either.  Got delayed in Milwaukee this morning for some weather.”

“Love that,” Mars says sarcastically, causing Walter to chuckle.

“The good news is, they’re on their way.  They’ve been able to make up for a bit of time in the air and they’re expected to land in about thirty minutes.  So in the meantime, if you ladies want to hang out around here.  Grab a coffee maybe.  Just relax.”

The girls speak with Walter for the next couple of minutes, solidifying paperwork and guesstimating a potential boarding time, before Walter excuses himself to deal with something at another gate.  Stashing their bags behind the ticket counter, the girls linger in the area, chatting quietly about their layover plans.

The layover in Dallas is long tonight, and Mars has had it before, so she knows exactly how she’s going to be spending her day.  She figures she can nap for a few hours, then head out to her favorite little cafe near the hotel for lunch.  Briefly, she debates inviting the girls-- because although she wants to be alone with her thoughts right now, she knows the company would be a welcome distraction.

“I’ve never been to Dallas!” Jenna says.  “I didn’t know it was fun.  My roommate had a layover there the other day and she told me about this one bar.  Apparently it’s right down the street from the hotel.  It has like, four dollar margaritas and stuff. So, if you guys are down…”

“Oh always,” Abby says.  “Literally never not down for a margarita.  I also--”

“Excuse me,” comes a voice behind them.

The girls turn around to see a little old woman, holding a crumpled boarding pass in her shaky hand.  She looks right at Mars. “What time is boarding?”

“Oh, sorry, we’re not the gate agents,” Mars replies.  “We’re the flight attendants.  The gate agent will be back soon to answer any questions!”

“Oh,” the woman says, somewhat annoyed.  “You can’t tell me what time boarding is going to be?”

Mars tries her best to keep her annoyance at bay.  “We’re still waiting on our plane to get here, so once that arrives and the other passengers deplane and the plane gets cleaned, then the gate agent will have a bit more of an update for you.”

“What time will that be?” the woman asks.

Mars swallows down a snarky response and gives her best flight attendant smile.  “I don’t know.  The gate agent will be able to give you more information when he comes back.”

The old woman squints.  “You’re not the gate agent?”

Mars takes a breath, then just blinks for a moment, trying to compose herself.  “No, ma’am I’m one of the flight attendants.”

The woman points her shaky hand at Jenna and Abby.  “Are they the gate agents?”

“No, ma’am.”  Mars clears her throat and raises her voice ever so slightly so the woman can hear her better.  “Again, we’re the flight attendants.  The gate agent will be back soon to answer any questions you have, okay?”

“Will the gate agent be able to tell me when boarding will be?”

Mars hesitates, trying to stifle a laugh of disbelief.  “I--” she begins, then lets out all of her remaining air.  “Yes.  The gate agent will be able to answer your questions once he gets back.”

“Oh okay.”  The old woman nods.  “Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” Mars says, with as sweet of a smile as she can manage.   As soon as the woman is out of earshot she sighs and turns back to Jenna and Abby.  “God.”

“I could never be a gate agent,” Jenna says.  “I’d lose my job so quickly.”

“I would just go home crying every day,” Abby agrees.  “I wouldn’t be able to handle it.”

Mars snorts.  “We deal with some interesting people up in the air, too,” she says, “but yeah.  I think they have it way harder down here.”

The girls fall back easily into their conversation about tonight’s events in Dallas, and Jenna continues to discuss the bar with the four dollar margaritas that is slowly moving to the top of Mars’ to-do list.  She still has a sense of guilt and embarrassment regarding the way her night went, but she figures a cheap margarita and a few laughs with Jenna and Abby will be just the cure that she needs.

As she’s laughing at something Abby said and trying her best not to think about how tired she is, someone approaches from behind once more.

“Excuse me,” comes their voice.

This time, Mars can’t help but to hide her annoyance.  “We’re not the gate agents,” she says quickly, turning around.  “The gate agent will be back soon t--”

And when she sees who’s behind her, she falls completely silent. 

There, looking sleepy and nervous and still just as delicious as ever, stands Harry Styles.  A duffle bag slung haphazardly on his side, a cap hanging loosely on his head, and a lopsided grin on his face.

“I just wanted to know if I could upgrade my seat to Mars’ Tyler’s section,” he says. 

Mars stands frozen, unsure if she should fall into his arms or take a step back.  He scans her face anxiously, waiting for some type of reaction, and for a brief moment she forgets that anyone else is around her. 

“Harry,” she says quietly, ‘What are you--”

“I love you.”  It comes out of his mouth so calmly, so effortlessly, that Mars isn’t even sure she’s heard him correctly. 

She blinks a few times, completely taken aback by his words.  There’s an intense sincerity in his eyes, and as she scans his face, he never once looks away from her.  “What--”

His voice is quiet, but charged, “I miss you.  And I love you.  And I know that this--” he gestures vaguely, “this setting isn’t really ideal for… for either of us but… Mars, I miss you and I need you more than anything or anyone in the world.”

Mars continues to scan his face, tears pricking her confused eyes as she struggles to hold back from leaping into his arms. “I don’t understand.” She shakes her head, fighting the smile tugging at her cheeks.  “Why are you--”

She glances nervously around them then, suddenly aware of the eyes that have begun wandering and lingering on her and Harry. A few cell phones are pointed in their direction.For once, Jenna and Abby are speechless.  She takes a cautious half-step back then laughs nervously. “Harry--”

“Can we go somewhere?” he asks.  “Please?”

She glances slowly behind her at Jenna and Abby, who have both heard his question and immediately nod while shooing her away.   “Uh--” she starts.

“I know you probably don’t have much time,” Harry cuts in, and Mars can tell that his panic is rising the longer it takes for her to get out a full sentence.  “And we don’t have to do this now.  I just--”

Somewhere in the crowd, a flash goes off, indicating someone’s attempt to take a stealthy photo, and Mars cringes. Her entire face grows hot.  “Yes,” she says.  “Please.  Let’s go”

Harry steps to the side, gesturing for Mars to lead the way, and she begins walking.  Her ears are ringing, and even though there aren’t many people here, it feels as though almost every single pair of eyes in the entire state is on her.  She doesn’t look back at Harry, but she can hear his steps behind her-- not too close, but not so far back that it feels like he’s not with her.

She needs to say something.  She wants to say something.  But she can’t risk people hearing.

They continue walking, Mars scanning the airport for an empty gate that's far enough away, and Harry’s voice comes from behind her.  

“I wanted to come with you,” Harry explains, quickly.  “I’ve booked the flight.” He swallows thickly, shaking his head.  “I can’t live without you any longer, Mars.  I can’t do it.”

Mars walks quicker, not because she wants to get away from Harry, but because she needs to jump into his arms immediately and kiss his sweet face, and if she does it now she’s worried it will end up on the cover of every magazine in the globe.

“I know you hate this,” Harry says, keeping .  “I’m sorry.  I know public declarations and displays of affection aren’t really your thing.  They aren’t exactly second nature to me, either.  And I know this is a less than ideal way for me to tell you this but I-- I couldn’t wait.  I’m sorry.”

“Harry--”  Mars reaches up to wipe at a rogue tear that rolls down her cheek, and Harry officially closes the gap between them, jogging until he’s right beside her.  He doesn’t touch her, but it’s obvious he wants to, and his nerves flicker across his face.  

“I didn’t mean to—“ he starts.

“It’s okay,” Mars says, without turning to him.  “You didn’t.”

“If you don’t want to—“

“Harry, it’s okay.”  She turns into the empty gate beside them, almost throwing Harry off.

“But Mars, I—“

Mars, finally unable to stop herself, cuts him off, whirling around to grab his face in her hands.  She pulls him in, fastening their lips together in what feels like the most passionate kiss she’s ever experienced in her life.

Harry’s hands immediately hold her, one hand pulling her in by the small of her back and the other gripping the bottom of her head under her neatly secured bun.  By his breathing, Mars can tell he’s relieved, and a tear of his own drips down his cheek and onto hers.

She licks into his mouth, holding his face as if she could lose him if she let go.  Harry matches her energy, holding on to her as tightly as possible and kissing her so passionately that half of the time it’s just the corner of her mouth or her chin.

Mars pulls away after a few moments and breathlessly smiles up at her teary-eyed man. “I love you, too, Harry.”

The relief that washes over Harry’s face is so beautiful it makes Mars want to cry harder.  “You do?” He asks, voice shaky.

Mars nods.  “I do.”

“You do?”

Mars laughs again.  “I do, Harry.  So, so much.”

Harry hesitates for only a beat before tugging Mars into his arms.  She sniffles and laughs, and Harry lets out the breath that’s been cramped in his chest for hours now.  “Oh, I love you, Mars.  I love you, I love you.” 

Mars giggles, enjoying how it feels to be held like this again before speaking.  “But, I--”  She trails off, breath hitching.

“What?” Harry asks, pulling away.  “You what?”

“I just… Harry, it’s…”  Mars sighs, voice lowering.  “Is it always going to be like this?”

“Like what?”

“You don’t deserve to be with someone who doesn’t get it.  Who isn’t used to this.  You need to be with someone who--”

“Just be with me,” Harry says, almost pleading.  He takes her shoulders in his hands and looks deeply into her eyes.  “Just Mars and Harry.  Like we were in Cancun  That night in your hotel room.  At my house in London.  Don’t pay anyone else any mind.  Just be with me.”

Mars swallows around an enormous lump in her throat, her bottom lip quivering.  “Are you sure?”  Her voice is barely above a whisper, as if she’s daring to even be hopeful.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life, Mars.”  He gives her a moment to absorb his words, and he doesn’t break eye contact with her.   He wants her to understand, to really feel what he’s saying.  She laughs in jubilant disbelief, reaching up to wipe a stray tear from her eye, and Harry truly has never been more sure of anything than what he’s about to say.  He clears his throat. 

“Listen to me. Life is far too short to let things pass you by.  Moments, people, opportunities.  But I’m someone who has a bad habit of letting his own pride get in the way.”  He chuckles.  “In fact, someone once told me I’m an arrogant son of a bitch who can’t admit when he’s sorry and… well, that holds true, I think.”

“No!” Mars tries.  “No, you’re--”

“But I’m tired of being that way,” Harry continues.   “And I’m tired of letting moments pass me by Mars.  Because I am sorry.  For everything.  For all of it.  And I should have told you every single day since the moment I knew it…” He takes a deep breath, and squeezes her hands for emphasis.  “I love you.”

Mars lets out another teary laugh of disbelief and reaches up to wipe at her eyes as Harry continues.  “I love you, Mars Tyler. With all that I am and all that I have, I love you.”

Mars shakes her head, laughing again and speaking just above a whisper.  “I love you, too, Harry.”

Harry beams at her.  “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”  She giggles, swinging their hands a bit, before slamming her lips back into his. It’s clumsy and they’re both crying and laughing into one another’s mouths, but it’s perfect.  With a chuckle, he puts his hand on her lower back and guides her closer into him once again.  “I love you,” he repeats against her mouth.  “I love you.”

They stay like this for a few moments longer before Mars pulls away.  With a giggle, she glances nervously around them.  When she’s relieved at the sight of how empty the gate has remained, she clears her throat.  “God, Harry,” she says,  “You sure know how to make an entrance, don’t you?”

“I suppose I do,” Harry says, laughing.  “I just… I had more than enough chances with you.  And I blew them all.  I’m so fucking stupid but I…”  He shakes his head.  “I figured a grand gesture would be the best way to go about this.”

“You could have come to me in the parking lot of a gas station,” Mars laughs.  “You could have done literally anything and I would have folded.”

He smiles lightly, feeling like the weight of the entire world has been lifted from his shoulders. They stare giddily at one another, neither of them wanting to move from this movement.  After another beat, Harry brushes the hair off of Mars’ face and speaks.  “I don’t want to keep you from your job or anything,” he says,  “So I’ll let you go board the plane… just know I’m not letting you go ever again.  And when we get to… where are we going again?”

Mars snorts.  “Dallas.”

“Dallas.  When we get to Dallas I am going to spend every single second loving you the way you’ve deserved from the beginning.”

“And when we’re on this flight?  In the air?”

“I’m going to spend every single second asleep,” Harry teases, pleased with himself when he gets a cackle from Mars that echoes softly through the quiet airport.  “No, I’m going to spend it talking to you.  If I can, that is.”

Mars smiles.  “I’d really enjoy that.”

“It's a date,” Harry nods.

He envelopes her in his arms once again, her head resting perfectly against his neck.  He presses a quick kiss on the top of her head, wishing to stay in this exact moment forever.  

She finally speaks, breaking him from his thoughts.  It’s a bit muffled against his coat, but he hears her just fine. “You know there’s no first class on this plane.”

Harry snorts, pulling out of the hug and shaking his head.  “That doesn’t matter, Mars.”

“I’m just saying!” She raises her hands defensively, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.  “I hope you know that with me, you’re signing up for a lifetime of flying standby and probably ending up with shitty middle seats.”

She’s joking, of course.  She knows he could buy an entire private aircraft for them if he wanted. But still, he laughs.  “They could tie me to the wing of every plane you ever work on.  Just as long as I get to be with you.”

She rolls her eyes and says nothing, but there’s a glowing, undeniable grin on her face as she shakes her head.

They say a rushed, half-hearted goodbye during which Mars giggles through several tears (and complains about Harry ruining the makeup she’d lazily put on in order to look decent at this hour) and Harry watches her walk away with every step.  Although her back is turned to him, he knows she’s smiling just as hard as he is, and it’s a good feeling.

Even though he can feel eyes on him from the few people in this airport who are actually awake right now, he genuinely doesn’t care as much as he knows he probably should.  

Mars is back.  His sweet Mars. 

---

During the entire boarding process, he scans the plane for Mars.  He gets a brief glance of her in the back of the aircraft, helping an older woman with her bag, and he smiles to himself before taking his seat. 

The gate agent had been kind enough to give Harry an entire row to himself-- despite Harry’s protests and insistence that it wasn’t necessary.  After shoving his duffel under one of the seats in front of him, he pulls out his phone and shoots Mars a quick text.  “I’m in 16D.  An entire row to myself.”

He settles himself in the seat, tucking the things he might need (like his airpods, a good book, and his phone charger) into the seat back pocket in front of him, and tries every now and then to get a good look at Mars in her element.  Unfortunately, the passengers boarding make it a bit hard for him.

Finally, however, he’s able to get a nice long look at her once the main boarding door is closed and Mars finds herself standing right in front of him, performing the safety demonstration.

She tries not to giggle the entire time, pretending not to notice the way he’s smirking at her and snapping photos of her in her demo life-vest.  As she makes her way back to her galley after the demo, she leans into his row and says, quietly, “Sir, don’t bother the flight attendants.” 

It’s another 40 minutes or so before Harry gets to see her again; this time they’re in the air and she’s pushing a beverage cart down the aisle.  He watches her as she interacts with her passengers, effortlessly pouring drinks and making small talk. 

She’s just so good at her job.  The way she speaks makes it sound as though whoever is on the receiving end is the only passenger on the entire plane, but there is a casual and friendly tone to her voice that could put even the most anxious of flyers at ease.  She almost always sounds just on the verge of a giggle, but not in a patronizing way-- more so in a comforting, friendly way.

And he fucking loves it. 

Finally, it’s his turn.  She remains her sweet, professional self, but for Harry it seems she turns it up several notches.  She flashes him a flirty smile, batting her lashes at him as she leans into his row.  “Can I get you something to drink, Mr. Styles?”

He smirks. “I’ll take a vodka soda, darling.  If you don’t mind.”

Mars hums, setting to work immediately.  “Interesting,” she says.  “I thought you didn’t drink on flights.”

“I do when I’m celebrating.”

Mars’ shoots him a look as she scoops ice into the little plastic cup.  “And what are you celebrating, if I may ask?”

“Love.”  Harry doesn’t miss a beat in his response, and the two share a knowing grin before she turns back to the cup.

“I see.”

She hands Harry the cup of ice, placing the napkin on his tray table with expert precision before reaching into a drawer of her cart for a soda water.  “I’m not supposed to do this,” she says, reaching back into the cart,  “but I suppose if you’re celebrating you deserve two.”  She hands him two vodka minis, and he smirks.

“Well,” he says.  “Thank you.  What a sweet girl you are.”

The way her eyes briefly light up does not go unnoticed.  

Harry opens the can of soda and begins pouring, and she drops her professional act.  “I hope the seat isn’t too uncomfy.”

He laughs.  “Not at all.”  He watches his soda bubble up and waits for it to settle.  “It’s actually quite nice.  I didn’t know your airline had such comfortable seats back here.”

She laughs.  “Well.  It isn’t quite first class, but it gets the job done, doesn’t it ?  I’m just glad no one’s bothered you.”

Harry opens one of the minis and begins pouring it into the cup of soda.  “You’re a peach.”

She sighs dreamily, and it makes Harry giddy.  It feels good to make her feel good again.

There’s a moment of silence as Harry finishes pouring the first mini, but it isn’t awkward.  Harry wishes she would stay by him forever.

“By the way,” he says, cutting the silence and stirring the vodka soda delicately, “Vincent sends his regards.”

Mars snorts out a laugh of disbelief.  “What?”

Even Harry can’t help but to chuckle.  “M-hm. Turns out he was working the flight here. Small world, eh?”

“What did he say?” Mars leans in closer, and Harry swears he can feel her embarrassment.  “Oh my god, if he—“

“Nothing bad,” Harry answers nonchalantly, raising the cup to his lips.  “He only mildly threatened me.”

As Harry takes a sip, Mars shakes her head. “Oh my god.”

Harry wants to tease Mars for longer, but he can’t keep up with the act.  He laughs, setting the cup back down and making a brief mental note of the way Mars’ eyes fixate on his fingers for a good three seconds.  “Joking,” he says.  “Although we did talk about you.”

“And?” Mars raises her eyebrows slightly, as if daring to be hopeful that nothing bad was said. 

“Nothing really,” Harry says, and despite his relaxed tone when he speaks, he does mean it.  “Honestly, Mars.  He just asked me where I was headed.  He told me how he knew you, and then we discussed what a great person you are.”

Mars scowls. “I don’t believe you.”

Ignoring her words, Harry continues.  “He told me that losing you would be the greatest mistake of my life. And I said “‘I know.’”  He chuckles. “He also told me how stubborn you are. To which I also said ‘I know.’”

Mars looks away from Harry, seemingly too embarrassed to hold eye contact. “Oh my god,” she repeats.

“In any case,” Harry continues, picking the drink up once more, “he’s a great guy.  And it worked out didn’t it? I made it here.”

Mars finally looks at Harry again, a smile threatening her lips.  Harry smirks. “What?” He asks.

“I just can’t believe it,” Mars replies. “I mean, it’s insane.”

“Not really.” Harry shrugs.  “A man is supposed to do anything for the woman he loves.” 

Mars bites her bottom lip, as if doing so will suppress  the enormous smile on her face.  “You really love me, huh?”

Harry nods sincerely.  “More than I can say.”

Mars lingers, looking at Harry before, at the exact same time, they come back to earth and realize they’re being watched.  Mars clears her throat.  “Is there anything else I can get you, Mr. Styles?”

Harry’s cheeks quirk at the formality, and he hopes Mars doesn’t notice the deep gulp.  He can’t help it, hearing her call him “Mr. Styles” does something to him. 

“Actually,” he says, lowering his voice, “there is one thing.”

Mars blinks, not quite catching on. “Mm?”

“Although,” Harry says quietly,  “Now that I think of it, I’m not certain this airline offers the type of services I’m looking for.”

Mars lets out a loud breath when she realizes what he’s getting at, and Harry beams at her reaction. She glances around her to make sure no one else has caught on, before turning back to Harry. “Well,” she says slowly.   “I’m sure something can be arranged.  All you have to do is ask.”

Harry grins, eyes darting down Mars’ body very briefly.  He reaches up to absentmindedly play at his bottom lip.  “I’m not even sure I have to ask, given the way you’re looking at me.”

 “I’m a very intuitive flight attendant, Mr. Styles.”

“So it would seem.” 

After a beat of charged silence, Harry darts his eyes pointedly to the forward lavatory then back at Mars, wordlessly asking her the question he so desperately hopes she’ll say yes to.

She nods her head so softly, Harry would have missed it if he’d blinked. “I’ll be in the back galley, Mr. Styles.  Come find me once I’ve finished service and we’ll see if I have what you’re looking for.”

The way she says it is very clear and pointed, and she ends with a nod of finality before unlatching the break on her cart and continuing down the aisle.

Holy shit.

Harry squirms in his seat, doing a terrible job of hiding the smirk on his face.  He turns in his seat, eyes lingering briefly on Mars’ backside as she serves the row behind him, before scanning out just how far away that back lavatory is.  He’s going to have to be discreet making his way back there, even though it’s really not even half a plane’s length.  He prays that most people are asleep or otherwise engrossed in the films on their seatback TVs, because he really isn’t quite in the mood (or mental state, to be frank) to take photos and hold small conversations.

Not when Mars looks like that. 

He turns back in his seat and absentmindedly tugs at his now tightening trousers.  Taking another breath to steady himself he pretends to surf through the channels of his TV.  He can’t just up and wait for her in the back, and besides, she still has the whole back half of the plane to get through. 

He squirms uncomfortably as his pants grow tighter and tighter around his groin, and he has to force himself to wait a full 15 minutes before, finally, the soft rumble of a beverage cart being pushed back into its place  up front alerts him that service has been completed. 

He glances around him, and for the most part no one pays him any mind.  He looks up at the non-illuminated seatbelt sign and decides now is as good a time as ever. 

Unbuckling his seatbelt, he rises to his feet.  

He stumbles just a bit when the plane jolts ever so slightly, and he reaches up to hold on to the overhead bins the same way he’d watched Mars do.  Of course, she’d made it seem so much more effortless. But still.  

It feels like the longest walk of his life, especially when he and Mars lock eyes. She can’t hide the grin on her face as she watches Harry make his way to her.  He smiles when he approaches, closing the gap between them as quickly as possible without looking obvious.

“Well,” he says, “hello again.”

Mars giggles.  “Hello.”

Harry subtly reaches forward to touch her arm, brushing his fingertips lightly against her wrist.  “Feels familiar, doesn’t it?”

“I think we’ve done this before,” Mars says, nodding her head with a glimmer in her eye.  “Although I’m not sure I have an apple to offer you this time, Mr. Styles.”

Harry snorts, stepping closer to her and further out of the eyes of passengers.  “How will I manage?”

“Right.  That nervous tummy of yours doesn’t like turbulence, so you don’t like to drink on flights.  Except for today.  When you’re celebrating love.”

Mars’ back presses against the galley counter and Harry smirks, closing in on her. “You remember everything, don’t you?”

Mars shrugs, giggling as Harry places his palms against the galley on either side of her.  “I’m good at my job.”

“Mm.”  Harry leans in, nuzzling against her neck.  He takes in a deep breath, reveling in her scent.  He loves that fucking scent.  She shivers, subtly squirming when his stubble tickles her neck. He kisses just below her ear, and he can feel her gulp.

“We have to be careful,” she says-- so quietly Harry almost misses it. 

“I know,” he mumbles, fingers grazing her hips.  “You’ll tell me if anyone’s coming?”

“Harry,” she says quietly as his fingers dip lower,  “wait.”

He glances over his shoulder immediately, expecting to see someone taking a photo of him or something.  He sees nothing, but he soon feels Mars reach around him.  She takes the curtain of the galley and slides it closed, a little too eagerly.

“Now we’re alone,” she says with a grin. 

Harry hums, resuming where he left off with his fingers teasing at her hips and lowering themselves to the hem of her dress. “But you can still see, yeah?”

Mars cranes her neck a bit, then nods.  “Yeah, I can see.  I’ve got you.”

“Good.” His fingertips trail gently up her thigh, reveling in the way her skin feels warm beneath the fabric of her nylons. “God, I want you.”

Mars hums lightly, head falling back and hitting the bins of the galley lightly.  “I can’t tell you how hard it’s been--” she sucks in a breath when his fingertips graze her center-- “without you.”

Harry doesn’t answer her verbally.  He sucks into her neck, applying pressure with his fingers and beginning to rub little circles against her core.  Whether she realizes it or not, she begins to rock her hips against him, and Harry tightens his grip on the galley behind her.

It’s difficult, doing what he’s doing through the layers of fabric she’s wearing, but neither of them seem to mind.  Mars gasps quietly, then swallows wetly, humming quietly to herself and enjoying the way he’s touching her.

“You know,” she muses quietly, her voice a bit breathless.  “I’ve always kind of had a fantasy about this.”

“Yeah?” Harry breathes, picking up the pace with his fingers.

“M-hm.  Always-- fuck, Harry--  wanted to do this.  In the galley—“ she trails off in a half-moan half-sigh before continuing, “the… the threat of being caught…”

“You like that do you?” Harry whispers quietly in her ear.  He curls his fingers against her clit and she jolts, humming impatiently and continuing to rub herself against him.

“God,” she whines quietly.  “Feels so good.”

“You make the prettiest noises when I touch you,” Harry comments.  “Have I ever told you that?”

Mars swallows, eyes fluttering lazily open. “No one has ever touched me like you do,” she replies.

Harry smiles, leaning in and fastening their lips together once more.  “I’m very sorry to hear that,” he says between kisses, “although I’m pleased to be the only one.”

“It may just be because you love me.”

Harry speaks against her lips.  “I do love you.’

Through a giggle, Mars kisses him once more.  “And I love you.”

Harry pulls away just enough to tilt his head in order to press a wet kiss to her pulse point.  “One more time?” he teases, pulling a loud giggle from her lips.  “Didn’t hear you.”

“Harry--”

“Plane’s too loud,” he mumbles against her neck, before pressing another kiss just below her ear.  “Think you’re going to have to speak up for me.”

“Harry you’re so--”  Mars trails off into a sigh that sounds strangely annoyed in contrast to the sweet giggles pouring from her lips seconds before.  “Hold on.”  She gently pushes Harry off of her, and  he furrows his brows.

“What’s--”

“Passenger.”  She’s peeking through the slit on the edge of the galley curtain, and it’s the only explanation she gives him, but he immediately understands.  He steps away from her, turning his back to whoever is about to enter the galley in hopes he’ll go as undetected as possible. 

Seconds later, someone slowly opens the curtain and enters the galley, and even though Harry’s back is turned he can feel what’s going on.  The person stands there, unmoving, until Mars speaks up.  “Can I get you anything?”

Her professional Flight Attendant voice makes him laugh quietly to himself; such a stark contrast to how she’d sounded seconds before.  

“Uhh…” the person says, and it’s obvious that they’ve just woken up from a deep sleep.  “Bathroom?”

“Bathroom’s gonna be right here!”  He can’t see Mars, but he knows she’s gesturing with an open palm at the fold-out door leading to the bathroom.  He almost wishes he was watching, because this specific type of interaction is one that he’s heard Mars complain about hundreds of times.   “I just don’t understand,” she’d say,  “What is so hard about pulling a door that literally says “PULL” in two different languages?”

Sure enough, seconds later her voice comes again.  “Just pull… nope just… no, see the little slot there? Yeah just pull… no that door… yeah pull that…. No, see where it says pull?... there you go.”

Harry can’t even contain the snort that comes out of his mouth, and when he hears the bathroom door close after finally being opened, he turns around to face Mars.

She seems annoyed, but she’s still got her customer service face on.  “See?” she giggles. “Every time.”

“Don’t know how you do it,” he says, his hand finding its way right back onto her hip.  He pulls her closer into him.  “Would’ve lost my job by now.”

Mars giggles louder, willingly leaning into Harry and allowing him to kiss her cheek.  “You’d be a fantastic flight attendant, Harry.”

“You think so?  Should I apply?”

She snorts.  “Yeah, actually. I think we’re hiring.”

“Mm.”  Harry pinches Mars’ side lightly.  “Only if I can work all of my trips with you.”

“Then no work will ever get done.”

“Sure it would.”  Harry lowers his head to kiss her neck.

Mars rolls her eyes, but she’s unable to hide the smirk on her face.  “Harry…”

They stay like this for a few extra minutes until the loud sound of the lavatory toilet flushing startles them both.  Harry steps away from Mars, giving her bum a playful and light pinch before turning away from her, and the passenger emerges from the bathroom seconds later.

“I figured out why you look so familiar,” comes the passengers' voice.  Both Harry and Mars’ hearts sink immediately.

“Do I?” Mars asks, trying to keep her tone professional and light hearted as possible.

Even Harry turns around slowly to listen.  The passenger nods his head in Harry’s direction, gesturing at him.  “Yeah,” he says, “You’re the girl that’s dating him.”

Harry and Mars share a look of panic, although both do an excellent job to try and hide it.  Mars laughs.  “Well--”

“My sister hates your guts,” the passenger says with a laugh.  “But you’re pretty cool.”

Mars laughs again, awkwardly.  “Well…. I mean… I… sorry to your sister.”

Harry steps closer, a bit protectively, and he opens his mouth to say something, but the passenger speaks again.  

“I’ll have to tell her that I ran into you guys! Can I get a picture?”

“If you don’t mind,” Harry cuts in, “I’d prefer you didn’t.”

The man frowns.  “Oh.  Seriously?”

“Yeah,” Harry replies.  “Trying to keep a low profile and all that.”

“Oh.”  The passenger takes a moment, and Harry feels horribly awkward.  Mars is visibly tense, and Harry hates it.   This is exactly the thing he wants to avoid, for Mars’ sake, and now here it is-- happening at her job.  For fucks sake, maybe he shouldn’t have come here…

“Well that’s okay!” The man seems surprisingly chipper, and Harry glances at Mars, who seems to soften.  “Totally understand.  I didn’t mean to bother you guys or anything.  I just wanted to say like, seeing you guys together is actually really sweet.  You guys have an undeniable chemistry.  I’ve never really been a fan--” he turns to Harry quickly, “--no offense dude.  But like… you two together… I dunno.  My sister’s devastated but, even in all the pictures she showed me, you can see that you guys are happy.  You know what I mean? You seem like cool people.”

Harry smiles as politely as he can manage, wishing he could read Mars’ mind right now.  “Thanks man.”

“Anyway,” the man turns back to Mars.  “Can I get some pretzels?”

Mars can’t help but laugh at his sudden request-- so different from the conversation they’d just been having seconds before.  “Yeah,” she says.  “And just for how cool you’re being, I’ll give you two bags.”

The conversation between the three somewhat fizzles as Mars retrieves the passenger’s snacks for him, and Harry is in complete awe of her.  He has to say, he’s relieved that she’s taken the passenger’s words so well, and he’s even more relieved that the guy seems cool about it all.  Harry apologizes again for not taking a picture, but the man seems cool about that as well, which lifts a massive weight off of not only Harry’s shoulders but Mars’ too, no doubt.

Mars’ anxieties only seem to show themselves the second that the man is en route back to his seat and out of ear shot.  She straightens the galley curtain behind him and lets out a long sigh, her customer service smile dropping so quickly it makes Harry chuckle to himself.  He steps towards her, nudging her hand with his own.  “Are you okay?  Know that was kind of weird…”

“Um…”  Mars takes in a slow, deep breath through her nose, then smiles at Harry.  “Yeah.  No, yeah I’m… that was fine.”

Harry links his pinky subtly with Mars’.  “Yeah?”

“Yeah.  Like… it’s inevitable.  I know that.  And it sucks but it's…” She takes his hand in hers and gives it a reassuring squeeze.  “It doesn’t matter.  None of it matters, as long as I have you.” 

“Gonna do my very best to protect you,” Harry says earnestly.  “I mean it.  Gonna do everything I can to--”

“We’re a team, Harry” she says. “It’s you and me. That’s it.  That’s all I care about at the end of the day.”

Harry smirks down at her, hesitating for a moment.  He glances over his shoulder out at the plane of mostly sleeping passengers before taking Mars hips in his hands and yanking her harshly towards him.  She squeals, stumbling into his arms, and he kisses all over her face.  “I love you,” he says against her cheek.  “I fucking--” against her ear -- “Love you.  So--” her chin “-- fucking--” her nose “--much.”

She giggles against his kisses, fingertips lazily trailing along his sides and his back.  She manages to keep a constant watchful eye on her passengers at all times, even when the kisses become more and more heated.  Harry’s hands hold their tight grip on her hips and he angles them slightly, until her back is pressed against the galley countertop.  She opens her mouth to allow him to lick his way inside, and she grins when his fingertips tickle lightly at the hem of her dress.  

“Gotta be careful,” she warns again, softly.  One arm reaches behind her to steady herself against the counter, while the other wraps around Harry’s neck.   Angling his body so that he’s fully out of sight of the passengers, he ducks his head down to kiss along her neck.

“S’why you’re gonna keep an eye out, isn’t it?”  He gives her thigh a soft pinch.  “God, I wish we had more room on this counter.”

Mars snorts.  “Well, these galleys weren’t exactly made for fucking.”

Harry pulls away smugly, raising his eyebrow slightly.  “Oh, you want me to fuck you?”

“I mean it seems only fair, does it not?”  She grins, leaning back and running a hand through his hair.  “Have you ever joined the mile high club?”

Harry smirks.  It’s a fair question, of course, but he can’t even begin to count how many times he’s “joined the mile high club.”  She senses his thoughts, because she averts her gaze and immediately backpedals.  “That’s probably a dumb question,” she mutters.  “Sorry. I just--”

“Of course it’s not,” he says.  “Don’t apologize.” He clears his throat.  “Yeah, I have. But I don’t know if it counts.”

Confused, she blinks up at him.  “Why would it not--”

“Because it wasn’t with you.  My very own little flight attendant.”

Mars shakes her head, clearly growing flustered under his gaze.  She giggles.  “But surely you’ve been with another--”

Harry kisses her mid-sentence, stopping her in her tracks before her mind can run wild.   She is the only person on his mind, the only one he ever wants for the rest of his life. 

The kiss grows naturally heated, as expected, and Mars’ back bumps against the galley counter again.  Harry reaches up to hold the back of her neck, careful not to mess up her perfectly styled hair, and he smiles against her mouth.  She lets out the tiniest hint of a sigh that, if Harry wasn’t listening, he would have completely missed.  

Mars reaches her hands around his hips, pulling him impossibly closer into her and angling herself subtly so that his knee is gently propped between her legs.

“Darling,” he says, grinding gently against her and lowering his hand.  “Shall we go somewhere more private?”  Mars subtly arches into him, kissing his neck, and his voice shakes when he speaks again.  “I don’t want to--”

“Let’s go.”  She pulls away, her eyes glazed and hungry.  “Please.  I know the lav isn’t that big but--”

Harry smirks.  “Lead the way.”

Mars peaks behind the curtain one last time to ensure no one is coming, then double checks both lavatories.  When she’s certain no one is coming, she opens one and slips cautiously inside.  Harry follows close behind her, struggling to squeeze into the tiny room the moment he takes a step.    He reaches behind him to help Mars close the door, and she fumbles around him to try and reach the latch.  She finally catches hold of it, slides it all the way to the right, the lavatory light brightens just a smidge--

And they are truly, truly alone.

Mars shifts awkwardly.  “I know its tight quarters,” she says, “But if we--”

Harry doesn’t give her a chance to finish her sentence before he’s right back on her.   He presses his mouth to hers, pushing her gently against the sink.  There’s an awkward shuffle-- god, it really is tight quarters-- but he’s hardly thinking of that as Mars angles her body to his. 

The sound of elbows and knees hitting walls can be heard over the wet, kissing noises, but neither seem to care.  Mars half sits-- as best she can-- on the counter and spreads her legs for Harry to stand between them.  His hands slip beneath her skirt, and he can already feel her heat before his fingertips even touch her core.  The nylons she’s wearing add to the sensation-- clearly-- because her head arches back the minute he touches her.  He takes the opportunity to press an open mouthed kiss to her neck.  Even through the added layers of both her nylons and her panties, he can feel her dampness.  He smirks.

Mars jolts, kicking her still high-heel clad foot against the wall and startling them both.  She gives him a sheepish look and giggles.  “Oops.”

Harry pulls her closer so he can get a better grip on her  before hooking his fingers into the waistband of her nylons.  

“Let’s get these off,” he says quietly, lips pressed against her throat. 

Mars shuffles a bit, reaching down to help him pry them off.  She kicks her heels haphazardly off and giggles when she accidentally elbows the mirror behind her.  “This is insane,” she mutters, more to herself than to him.

The minute her nylons are off, Harry shoves them in his back pocket.  He goes right back to kissing her, but is distracted when he notices she’s stepping right back into her discarded heels.  Puzzled, Harry pulls away  briefly, and it takes Mars a few seconds to notice-- obviously too busy with her heels.  When she finally does look at him, she furrows her brows.  

“What?” she asks.  “You don’t think I’m gonna stand barefoot in a lav do you?”  Harry snorts, but she continues.  “You don’t even know half the shit I’ve seen in these things, Harry.  And I mean literal shit.  Among other things.  Lavs are gross.  I can’t even believe--”

Harry’s lips are on hers once again, before she can finish the rest of her sentence. “I love you,” he says, “stop talking about shit.”

They continue kissing, Harry pressing himself as closely to her as he can possibly manage.  His fingers graze the dampness between her legs, rubbing circles that have her shuddering and sighing into his mouth and her nails digging into his shoulders.  She’s grasping desperately at the small surface area of the sink, trying to give herself some leverage, as Harry pushes further against her.

“We don’t—“ she gasps as Harry’s fingers dip into the waistband of her panties. “We don’t have much time.”

“I know,” Harry mutters against her lips, gulping when his fingertips come in direct contact with her wetness.  His other hand wraps loosely around the side of her throat before he curls his fingers around her neck scarf.  “Fuck, you’re wet.”

“Fuck me.”  Her voice is just above a whisper, and she licks her already damp lips, which ghost against Harry’s. “Please.  Please fuck me.”

Her fingers fumble with his trousers, and he lets go of her neck— reaching down to help her remove his pants.  He accidentally elbows the wall for what seems like the hundredth time, but neither of them have time to acknowledge it. Mars jolts, gasping loudly when Harry bites at her neck.  “Careful,” she says, “I’m—“

Harry tugs at her scarf, bringing her lips to his own and pressing a hot, sloppy, open mouthed kiss.  He licks into her mouth, his nose pushing against hers. 

Mars reaches down to grasp at Harry’s dick and his breath hitches in his throat, lips curling into a half-snarl as he tries to keep his balance.  He steps closer to her.  “I haven’t—“ he breathes, gulping mid sentence when she presses his tip to her entrance.  “I haven’t got a condom.”

“We’ll be careful,” she says, but then pulls away with dreamy, half-lidded eyes and an amused smirk.  “You didn’t bring any condoms?”

Harry laughs. “I did,” he says. “They’re in my bag.  Under the seat. I wasn’t exactly planning for—“ he gestures with his hands and Mars giggles. 

“I see,” she says.  She pulls him closer by his jacket, kissing tenderly at his chin and up to the corner of his mouth.  She runs her hand up through his hair, lightly removing the cap from his head and scratching at his wild curls with her free hand. “It’s okay.  We’ll just--” she gasps when he unintentionally brushes her clit,  “We’ll be careful.”

They stay like this, kissing and fumbling in the incredibly tight space.   She takes his dick between her pretty, polished fingers and he shudders when she gives it a squeeze and a few light yanks.  He gulps, letting his mouth hang fully ajar and hanging his head lazily against hers.  

“Fuck,” he mutters.  “Fucking hell.”

“Want to suck your dick,” Mars mumbles.  “Want it in my mouth so bad.”

“No room,” Harry stammers out, eyes rolling back as his head lolls backwards towards the wall.  “Fucking hell, Mars.”

“I know,” she says, picking up the pace with which she tugs and swiping at the precum collecting on his tip.  “Just wishing I could.”

“I wish you could, too,” he says with a chuckle.  “God, baby, when we get to that hotel--”

Mars presses her lips to his again, effectively shutting him up and smirking ever so slightly when he groans into her mouth.  She gives him a squeeze and gently teases the tip of him against her entrance. 

“Gotta be quick,” she reminds him, although they both seem to hate that little fact.

Harry puts one hand on the mirror behind Mars’ head, then wraps his other arm around her lower back for support.  He leans closer to her and pushes himself slowly inside of her.  They both gasp, adjusting to the sudden difference, and although Harry selfishly wants to get right into it, he knows he needs to give Mars a moment. 

“Are you okay?” He breathes. 

Mars, who’s face isn’t visible to Harry, nods. “M-hm.”  Then, she sighs melting against him.  “Fucking missed this.” 

Harry lets out the breath he’s only just now realized he’s been holding, and gulps.  He makes eye contact with himself in the mirror, and he’s overcome with a weird feeling of shame and arousal.  He notes pathetic desperation  in his own eyes that he hadn’t noticed before,  and he has to look away from himself before he starts thinking too hard about how he looks during sex.  “Missed it, too,” he mumbles.

Mars sinks her nails into his back, pulling him closer.  She bites into his shoulder and he grunts, subconsciously jolting at the sharp sensation.  “Fuck, Mars.”

She jolts when his thumb brushes against her clit again, and she rests her forehead on his shoulder.  She half-heartedly rolls her hips, and Harry can’t help it… he makes eye contact with himself once again in the mirror.  He notices the way her hair has begun to fall out of the bun she has it in, and it’s the sexiest thing he’s ever seen.. The arm he has around her tightens its grip, and she jolts again when he unintentionally squeezes at her side. 

“I love you,” Mars says, voice whiny— as if she’s on the verge of tears. Harry gulps, because fuck— if she’s crying he’s definitely done for.  He sloppily brings his hand up her back, before hooking his fingers into her scarf again and giving her a gentle tug. 

She lifts her head and he turns his immediately, open mouth kissing over her cheeks and halfway on her lips before pulling away to once again marvel at the reflection in the mirror.  The way her body moves with his every thrust.  The way she’s leaning into him and loving on him as best she can in their small space. 

“I’m so—“ she starts, mouth opening more as he kisses her. She lets out a loud breath that teeters on a moan, and she has to suck in a gasping breath.  “I’m close.”

Harry can’t even muster up the energy to say anything back, he just gulps and picks up the pace. He revels in the way her breath is hot against his neck, and he only halfway notices the gentle banging of her feet against the cabinet below the sink. 

His orgasm comes quicker than he’d been anticipating, but it starts low and slow at the base of his belly.  He lets out a groan much louder than intended, and he has to inhale sharply through his teeth. “Fuck,” he says, as quietly as he can muster. “Fuck. Fuck.”

His thrusting slows ever so slightly as he cums, and Mars lets out a little hum as she digs her nails further into his back.  “Come on baby,” she whines, so desperately it sounds like she’s about to cry. “That’s it, fuck!”

It’s unclear who is saying what as they both curse against one another’s mouths and necks and shoulders.  And although Harry’s pace has slowed to an almost full stop, his fingers waste no time finding their way to Mars’ clit.  He runs in a few circles, quick and in the exact way he knows she likes, and she gasps. 

“Yes,” she says, louder than intended, and she has to bite into his shoulder again to keep quiet.  He picks up the pace with his fingers despite the small ounce of energy he has left, and he’s almost startled when her orgasm comes.  

It comes with a jolt, and her head is thrown back against the mirror.  She groans, taking her bottom lip between her teeth and squeezing her eyes shut.  It’s taking everything in her to be quiet, and Harry is loving it.

“That’s it,” he mumbles softly.  “That’s my fucking girl.”

Her fingers involuntarily clench and unclench around his hair, and when he once again catches sight of himself in the mirror he’s almost shocked at how disheveled and filthy he looks right now.  His knees nearly buckle when he sees, from the corner of his eye, Mars’ eyes rolling practically to the back of her head. He’s about to ask if she’s okay, but she’s still mid orgasm. And when her eyes open again, he can see she is more than fine.  

She sloppily searches for his mouth with her own, and lets out a sigh of relief when she finds it.  Her legs shake and her walls flutter around him-- slowly coming to a stop.  Her body gradually goes limp against him, and they’re so close to one another that he can feel her heart pounding in her chest as she tries to catch her breath.

Harry’s hand makes its way up her back to cup the back of her head, scratching gently at her scalp as they both try to come down.  Her walls flutter residually around her and he swallows before finally mustering up the strength to ask her, with a raspy voice,  “Are you okay?”

Mars doesn’t answer at first, she just sighs again.  Then, he feels her move slowly, pulling her head back as far as she can to look at him without banging it against the mirror.  She’s smiling, eyes red and cheeks flushed.  Her hair is a mess, and she’s never looked more beautiful.  “I’m okay,” she says, voice hardly above a whisper.  She drapes his cap lazily back on top of his head.  “Are you okay?”

Harry chuckles, reaching up to brush some of her hair off of her face.  “Yeah, I’m okay.”  There’s a brief but comfortable silence, then he speaks again.  “You should see yourself right now.”

She giggles, coming back to her normal self.  “I’m glad I can’t,” she says softly.  She pulls back further, scratching affectionately at the back of Harry’s head.  For a while, they just sit there, smiling at one another.  No words are spoken, but no words are necessary.  They just admire one another’s faces, speaking without words. 

The plane hits a slight bump, causing Mars to fall forward a bit onto Harry.  He stumbles slightly, catching himself, and they both laugh as the seatbelt sign comes on with a ding.

They watch as the symbol of the stickman walking to his seat illuminates on the wall, then Mars clears her throat.  “You should probably return to your seat, Mr. Styles.  The seatbelt sign is on.”

Harry laughs, slowly pulling himself out of her and trying not to pay much attention to how good it feels.  “That it is,” he says.  He clears his throat, awkwardly shuffling to tuck himself back into his boxers and pull his pants back up.  “Well I do hope you’ll return to my seat again soon, miss.  I believe I need a refill.”

Mars laughs, a playfulness behind her eyes.  Once Harry is zipped back into his trousers, he bends as best he can to help Mars back into her nylons.  Sliding them slowly up her leg, he never breaks eye contact.  His lips quirk up into a smirk. “You know how easily I could rip these again?”

Her eyes widen. “No! Don’t! They’re—“

Harry puts up a hand to stop her, a twinkle in his eyes.  “I wouldn’t!” He says.  “Just remembering.”

Mars hesitates, then softens when she decides to fully trust him.  She jumps off the counter and pulls her nylons completely up, adjusting her skirt awkwardly with what little room she has.  Harry tries his best to move around her; a task made difficult with the slight rocking of the plane.  

“Okay,” Mars says, smoothing her hair in the mirror and readjusting a few bobby pins.  “I’ll go out first and see if there’s anyone out there. There shouldn’t be but.. you know.  If there is, I’ll say someone in here was sick and needed my help.  Do I look okay? How’s my hair?”

Harry’s lip quirk up and he opens his mouth to speak, but Mars cuts him off.  “Don’t answer that. I can’t handle another cheeky remark from you.” 

Harry snorts.  “Alright.”  He gestures at the door.  “After you.”

Mars lingers for a moment, just watching him, then shakes her head.  “God, I love you,” she says, more to herself than to him.  She gives herself one last quick look in the mirror, then takes a deep breath.  “Okay.”

With careful hands, she unlocks the lavatory door, causing the lights to dim ever so slightly.  She steps in front of Harry, as if her whole frame can block him from view, and slowly begins to open the door.  Subconsciously, she leans into Harry as she moves, and he has to fully stop himself from taking her hips in his hands and yanking her back into him.

They both peek out at the same time, and are relieved to see that there is no one waiting outside of the bathroom for them.  They both let out a quiet breath, and Mars sneaks out the door before Harry can even react.  

In the silence that follows after Mars closes the bathroom door behind her, Harry lets out a sigh that turns into a chuckle.  He looks at himself in the mirror, and he cannot believe what he’s just done.  

Of course it wasn’t the first time he’d had sex on a plane.  But damn if it wasn’t the best.

He reaches up to run a hand through his tousled hair, trying his best to fix it, and straightens out his cap. Though the lavatory still feels tiny, it’s remarkable how much of a difference he feels now being the only one in the room.  He takes a deep breath, enjoying the way his entire body feels a bit cramped and sweaty.  

After a few more moments that feel like hours, he presses his ear up to the bi-fold door of the lavatory.  When it doesn’t sound like anyone is speaking on the other side, he decides the coast is clear and exits.

The air in the galley is much cooler than in the cramped bathroom, and subconsciously Harry takes a deep breath.  There’s Mars, standing at the galley and restocking soda’s into a galley cart.  She looks unphased, and beautiful as ever.  It’s almost laughable to think what she and Harry just did.  

Mars glances at him, a smile playing on her lips. “Can I get you anything, Mr. Styles?”

“I’m all set,” Harry says.  “Thank you.”

They linger once again for just a split second, and Harry has to physically pull himself away with a laugh and a mutter of “shit” under his breath.  As he walks away, he hears Mars giggle behind him.

He cannot wait to get her alone tonight. 

——

Mars feels giddy when she hears a knock at her hotel room door.  For security reasons, Harry hadn’t been allowed to share the crew van with her and her fellow flight attendants, and he’d sworn it was fine.  He said he had errands to run anyway, and although Mars knew that was nonsense, she let it happen.  They’d said a hurried goodbye, and Mars sent Harry off with a promise to send him her hotel information and room number as soon as she had it.

The wait had felt like ages, but now that he’s here, the anticipation is forgotten. 

 With one last glance in the mirror she giggles to herself and scurries over to the door.  She peeks through the peephole, smiling when she sees Harry on the other side.. 

“Who iiiiiis it?” She sings.

“Special delivery,” Harry responds.

Mars giggles, flinging the door open and practically falling into Harry.  He wraps his arms around her, kissing the top of her head and scratching affectionately at her back.

“Hi,” Mars says, muffled against Harry’s arm.

Harry takes a gentle step into the hotel room, careful to take Mars with him and not trip her.  “Hello,” he says, pressing another kiss to the top of her head.  The door closes behind them with a little help from Harry’s foot.  “Long time no see.”

“Mm.” Mars looks up at him, her chin resting on his chest, before pursing her lips.  

Harry chuckles, leaning down to comply with her silent request for a kiss and continuing to push them further into the room. “You look so good.”

Mars had tried her best with what she’d had in her suitcase.  While she’d opted to leave her fanciest lingerie in her drawer at the crashpad, she had packed a nice lacy thong and bra for this trip in case any opportunities arose.  She wears them now under a long tshirt that grazes her thighs.

Mars laughs, separating her lips from his.  The back of her legs hit the bed.  “Sorry I didn’t pack anything better.”

“What are you talking about?” Harry picks at Mars’ tshirt sleeve.  “This is fantastic.”

“Mm.” Mars says nothing, kissing him again then squealing when he pushes her down on the bed. 

He drops down to his hands and knees, crawling up a very giggly Mars’ body. He stops every now and then, dropping to press kisses against her skin.  When he reaches her neck, he lingers, and she sighs, tilting her head to grant him easier access.  

Her fingers find their way into his hair, and she scratches affectionately at his scalp. “I love you,” she says, hardly audible.

Harry lifts his head and smiles. “What?”

“I said I love you. I wasn’t sure if I would ever get the chance to see you again.”

“That’s silly.” Harry leans down and presses a kiss to her nose. 

“But I was so… I mean when we…” She trails off in a sigh. “I was so mean to you.” 

“Well I wasn’t exactly an angel to you either,” Harry chuckles, lazily drawing a circle on the spot where her tummy meets her hip and smirking when she quivers a little.   “And I will spend every single day of my life making it up to you.” He leans down and kisses her cheek.  “I promise.” 

“You don’t have to,” Mars says. “Harry, I am so sor—“

“Mars.” There’s a bit of a more serious edge to his tone, although he stays smiling. “It happened. It’s over. I love you. That’s it.”

“But—“

“I love you,” Harry repeats.  “That’s it.”

Mars hesitates, then closes her mouth with a giggle. Before she can even think about speaking again, Harry’s kissing her, soft and gentle. There is intention behind his kiss, but it isn’t charged. It’s sweet, and it’s a way to communicate with no words.  Mars smiles, opens her mouth to grant him access, and communicates, as best she can, the feelings swimming around in her heart. 

And as they kiss, what she wants to say is “you’re my soulmate. I don’t think I’ve ever known anyone as special as you. I don’t think I ever will. You’ve transformed my life in ways I didn’t know were possible.  I didn’t know I was capable of being so happy in this lifetime, and I will try every second of every day to show you the same love you have shown me.”

But what she says is, “I love you.”

And when Harry smiles, his hand raising to lovingly cup her cheek, she knows he understands exactly what she means.

#Harry Styles #Harry #Harry Styles fanfiction #Harry fanfiction #fanfiction #Harry Styles fic #Harry fic #fic #Harry Styles fluff #Harry fluff #fluff #Harry Styles smut #Harry smut #smut

[taurgo]

For those interested in the Sandman series (or getting others to try and read/watch it)

[Image 1 ID: A black and white power point presentation with the text “so you wanna read some “the sandman” (but you have no idea where to start and comic orders can be confusing)”. “A handy flowchart/ power point disaster for the curious, peer pressured and suffering waiting for the August 5th TV release date, from someone who cares a fuck-ton about this series and needs to yogurt starter about it. This is just a fan PowerPoint I spent way too much time on”. There are two green circular characters with smiling faces and limbs. One has a bowtie and a pointer for instruction./.End ID]

[Image 2 ID: A flowchart that asks the reader if they are familiar with the story. There is the James Franco “first time?” image meme where there is a noose around his neck. A green path answering “yes” suggests “take a moment to reread anyways! (seriously it’s so good)”. A blue path answering “I am Jared, 19 (Don’t read) suggests “check out the Audiobooks (1&2). They cover volumes 1-6.” A circular green character with an open mouth says “James McAvoy voices the lead, what better reason is there?”. An Orange path answering “no” suggests “start with the original 10 volumes” and proceeds to the next page/.End ID]

[Image 3 ID: A power point slide of the original ten sandman volumes with pictures of each cover and the reading order. The top of the page lists volumes 1-5; (1) Preludes and Nocturnes, (2) The Dolls House, (3) Dream Country, (4) Season of Mists, (5) A Game of You. The bottom of the page lists volumes 6-10; (6) Fables and Reflections, (7) Brief Lives, (8) Worlds End, (9) The Kindly Ones, (10) The Wake. To the left there are bullet points with the following information: “They cover the original run of 75 issues since the 80’s. Read in order there is an A plot and a B to Z plot they’re all relevant. If it’s a genre of story it is in this series”. An orange circular cartoon with a smiling face, a bowtie and a pointer says “Now that we’re familiar with the dreaming, let’s look at the bonus content where order doesn’t matter (too much)”. An orange arrow continues to the next slide. /.End ID]

[Image 4 ID: A power point slide titled “additional stories and content”. A Flowchart prompt asks the reader ���what’s your poison?”. A white arrow answers the prompt “give me more(pheus)”. The original poster suggests reading Sandman: Dream hunters, Sandman: Book of Dreams, Sandman: Midnight Theatre and Sandman: Overture. The original poster includes photos of the volume covers and two notes for Sandman: Overture. The cover of Sandman Overture is Morpheus standing in a flower field with his helm of power on. The first note says “WARNING: OVERTURE IS A PREQUEL FOR THE ORIGINAL SERIES” The second note says “THE ART IS ALSO INCREDIBLE LIKE IT’S NUTS Y’ALL they sell a gallery version I’d kill for”. A second white arrow answers “I want meta info on the development”. The original poster recommends the Sandman Companion and includes a picture of the cover which is yellow with a golden mask on the front. The original poster clarifies it was published in 2000, and says “this is a book and it is amazing (art, interviews, breakdowns)”. A third arrow answers the prompt, stating “I want more cosmic sibling drama and/or goth girls only please”. The original poster recommends Sandman: Endless Nights, Death: The High Cost of Living and Death: The Time of Your Life. The original poster provides images of each cover. Sandman Endless nights has two masks on the front cover one grey, one multicolored patchwork. Both Death comics have the image of a pale skinned, dark-haired woman on the front with a grainy picture overlay. An orange circular cartoon character with a smiling face says “wait that’s it right, I read everything now?” an orange arrow continues to the next page.  /.End ID]

[Image 5 ID: This slide is titled “Oops Even More Content, Welcome to the New Age of The Sandman Universe”. The elmo on fire meme is visible on the right side of the slide. There is an orange smiling character with a bowtie and a pointer saying “Start with the Dreaming #1, It’s like a teaser chapter for a choose your own adventure in picking a story you want to read. This all happens after the original ten volumes (ish) YOU ARE WARNED”. The orange figure is pointing to the first edition cover where Dream and six individuals stand on the cover. An orange arrow points to the next flowchart prompt asking the reader “What did you enjoy most in the original series?” An authors note in the corner states “There is also a little crossover between characters in stories within the Sandman universe”. A Pink arrow continues to the next slide /.End ID]

[Image 6 ID: This slide has predetermined answers to the question of “What did you enjoy most in the original series?”. The first directional arrow answers with “LUCIFER!” The original poster recommends Lucifer (2000) that is 75 issues in one volume and Lucifer (2019) in four volumes. Both images of the covers are included with lucifer on the front bent over and then holding a sign. A purple circular character with their mouth open says “Yes this series inspired the Netflix tv show”. A blue arrow answers with “That one John Constantine Cameo”. The cover is included with John Constantine smoking on the front. The original poster recommends John Constantine: Hellblazer (2019) in two volumes. A Red arrow answers “Actually you know what? Give me a better Harry Potter that’s not written by a TERF”. A red circular cartoon character with a bowtie and a pointer recommends Books of Magic (2019). The lead protagonist, Timothy Hunter is on the cover holding a large open tome. The red character says “Based on the 1990 miniseries written by Gaiman of the same name.” A Green arrow and a purple arrow with the options “Gods and Mythos” and “The Dreaming Inhabitants” are included and continue on the next slide /.End ID]

[Image 7 ID: This is a PowerPoint slide that continues to answer the flowchart question of “What did you enjoy most in the original series?”. A Green arrow answers “Gods and Mythos”. The original poster recommends House of Whispers (2019) in three volumes. The cover of the first issue is included where a beautiful black woman stands in and holds up a mirror with a man inside it an a house in the background. The original poster provides a note saying “This one has divine feminine ™, family drama and some great queer representation. If you liked the Gaiman book Anansi boys, you’ll like this story”. A Purple arrow answers the question with “The dreaming inhabitants” which branches into three white arrows. The first arrow leads to the original poster recommending the Dreaming (2019) in three volumes. An image of the cover is visible with Dream and many inhabitants of the dreaming on the front cover spread around him. The author leaves a note saying this series includes “dream hopping. Giant moth baby. Absolute chaos”. A second white arrow leads to the recommendation of The Dreaming: Waking Hours (2021) with one volume. The cover is included and has Dream in the background with Lucien and Merv, and William Shakespeare in the foreground performing on a stage. The original poster leave a note saying that the story includes “Shakespeare, Shakespeare and Shakespeare walk into a bard… grad student pain. mages, nightmare and macbeth.” A third white arrow leads to the recommendation of Nightmare Country (2022) an ongoing series with four issues as of July 2022. The cover is included and shows the Corinthian in an American flag colored mask with his glasses partially removed. The author includes a note saying “The Corinthian gets a spin-off. So do other nightmares. Ongoing.” There is a purple circular character with a smiling face pointing at the Waking Hours cover, and a green circular character standing next to the House of Whispers cover. /.End ID]

[Image 8 ID: The slide is entitled “Congrats! You now have a good idea about where to start and what to read”. Next to this title is a teal circular cartoon that is smiling. The original poster includes a note that says “I could go into so much depth about why you should read it and why its great but its either do that or work on my master’s thesis and only one pays bills and its already 3 a.m. (frowny face).” A white arrow leads to a note that says “TLDR: THE ART IS GOOD, THE CHARCATERS ARE COMPLEX AND VOLUME TEN MADE ME OPENLY WEEP BECAUSE OF HOW GOOD IT WAS. IMACULATE ANTHOLOGY-esque STORY TELLING” a sub footnote says “I like this series so much I paid a guy for an advertisement of a sandman themed chess set that I have framed on my wall cause theres like no merch”. A green circular character that is smiling with a bowtie and pointer is standing next to the “preludes and nocturnes”, and “the dolls house” covers saying “season 1 of the tv show will be covering volumes 1-2 ish”. A picture of Morpheus in a panel with his hand outstretched from the comics is on the slide next to the “graphic design is my passion meme”. A large yellow crying emoji is on the slide with its hands in the air /.End ID]

#sandman #the sandman #sandman netflix #i spent an embarassing amount of time on this third grader presentation but my god i have feelings and i gotta share them #i dont care if this gets zero pickup i just remember when i was reading there was a lot of confusion about the order #morpheus #dream #sandman 2022

[angstylittleguy]

meet my mind-reading OC, Aurora "Rory" Estrada!

She's a third year college student at the Franco Dale Learning Institute majoring in Psychology.

Rory woke up one morning with the ability to hear the thoughts of the people around her, and she hated it. The voices were constant, and there was no off switch. Music was the closest thing she found that battled it, and she never went anywhere without her headphones.

Aside from reading minds, Rory also picks up on the emotions of people around her. She inherits their sadness, their anger, happiness, all of it.

There was one good thing about her abilities, however. When she was around people who also had powers they didn't ask for, she felt a static sensation on the nape of her neck. With this, she is able to find others like her, and it makes living a little less hard.

Link to the navigation page for more info about Rory and her friends Here

#wip: in which everything goes wonderfully wrong #aurora estrada #superpower whump #angst #g/t #writeblr #abilities #mind reading #giant/tiny #size shifting #size shifter #mind reader #mind control #hypnosis #oc art #oc artwork #meet the characters #whump writing #whump #whumpblr #whump community #whump tropes

[casebasket]

so this thought isn't very well formed yet but I wanted to know how the people who's been on here since circa 2012 thinks about how the nature of fandom discourse has changed or stay the same. How does the new good omens/ofmd/what we do in the shadows (??? is that the third one???) triumvirate stack up with 2012 OG superwholock whose name I can finally say out loud without wanting to lock myself in a fridge? Is it as insane? does it even qualify? To me I think it doesn't because like. tumblr really is the best site out there for fandom culture and I know there's a whole lot of very hot takes in the ofmd fandom being made on tiktok or insta now instead, and i've dipped my feet there a bit, and it doesn't feel the same. idk. superwholock entrenched every corner of this shithole to the point it leaked out to other sites. but sometimes i see posts there like 'i've never watched a show before that has altered my brain chemistry this much' and the james franco "first time?" meme pops in my head and how time is a circle that is, in this case, a decade long lol. what are we thinking about the recent generation of discourse.

#fandom #fandom culture #tumblr culture #fandom discourse #good omens #ofmd #what we do in the shadows #wwdits #our flag means death #discourse #go #superwholock #UNHOLY #supernatural #sherlock #doctor who #in terms of show creator's attitude towards its fanbase tho truly rip the superlock fandom lol GO and ofmd has it waaaay better #does that affect the discourse?

[pit-2-podium]

F2 Sprint highlights

god i love f2 - immediately Joshua Durksen just goes directly into the wall taking two cars out with him

no one knows what just happened - the commentators are trying desperately to try and figure out what just happened

- everyone is okay

I believe it was Enzo Fittpaldi who just swore very loudly?

correction FIVE cars out in one go

five lap safety car with paul aron in the lead - their all chilling

And away they go - paul aron is off into the sunset

overtake from franco colapinto

pepe marti with a 10 second penalty from start of the race issues - a stop start penalty (shameless self-promotion: i've got a post on penalties if your curious)

their playing follow the leader (follow-follow me, in a line, in a line)

there's not a lot to talk about tbh their all playing very nice as of lap 12

shoutout to Ollie Bearman doing better f1 standings than he is in f2

Zane Maloney is coming for third - and does not get it

Franco Colapinto and Paul Aron battling for first - Franco is basically antagonizing Paul

I'm not going to lie, I got distracted looking for this really niche elementary school song/game that i referenced above and only found a really lame version of it where they just pose - that shit was like sudden death when i was a kid.

Anywho in FP3 in f1 the presenters made a really good point that both Zane Maloney and Paul Aron are doing better than Antonelli and Bearman yet were not talking about them for possible seats next year - and that we should talk about them more, so good job dudes

Midfield battle with Kimi Antonelli in the lead

Zane Maloney finally over takes Amaury cordeel in a smart breaking move around the outside

Colapinto chasing down Aron

AND HE DOES IT ON THE LAST LAP - they were so close to contact after Aron has the slighest mistake

Gabriel Bortoleto gives a last ditch attempt at taking p5 from Ollie Bearman and gets blocked

Franco Colapinto will be the first Argentian driver on the f2 podium!!

Paul Aron is not having a good time

The commentators are giving Franco some very sweet notes

a minute of dead silence in the driver cool down room

Lowkey vibing with Argentina national anthem - he looks so proud, as he should be

Damn did Paul Aron really just walk away during the Champaign spraying??

#and another history making race is done #also some please tell me they recognize the song i was refernceing #also just watched all of those boys fix their hair at least 4 times so that one commentator from miami can suck it #do we like f2 highlights - cause this is the first time i've done them and we'll see #f1 #imola gp 2024 #paul aron #zane maloney #franco colapinto #formula 1 #formula 2 #f2 #ollie bearman #kimi antonelli #amaury cordeel #joshua durksen #enzo fittipaldi #pepe marti

[criptochecca]

I am so sorry for all of those anon, if it can make it better, could you talk about some of your favourite movies

Complicated, let's talk about my favourite italian movies

Indagine su un cittadino al di sopra di ogni sospetto (1970) by Elio Petri

My man Gian Maria Volonté and his fake sicilian accent are a cop who becomes the chief of the uhm... well, sort of the "anti terrorist" unit. He's enamored with power, he loves control, he thinks, and knows, he's above the law, or that he can do anything because, as a man of the law, he's always working within it. This is why he kills his lover and fills her apartment with evidence. With time, the knowledge of being untouchable will drive him mad to the point that he will sign his own confession and then, in a drealike scenario, imagines his colleagues forcing him to sign a "non guilt" letter.

Fucked up and unsettling Ennio Morricone score.

La classe operaia va in paradiso (1971) by Elio Petri

I don't like this one as much as Indagine su un cittadino, but this is absolutely my favourite Gian Maria Volonté interpretation. His monologue was also used by the trap group P38 for the song Stelle Rosse.

Basically the marxist concept of alienation put into movie format.

Nuovo Cinema Paradiso (1988) by Giuseppe Tornatore

I have a particular relationship with this movie. In middle school I attended a musical school (I played piano) and for the third year concert we were playing some of Ennio Morricone's music, one of which was the theme of Nuovo Cinema Paradiso. I was pretty good at the piano at the time and ended up playing a large chunk of the theme as a soloist. So, even if I didn't watch the movie at the time, I was always sort of fond of it. I ended up seeing it in full just a few years back. A love letter to cinema. The middle part with the love story was a little too dragged out, but the ending man... the ending.

Mine Vaganti (2010) by Ferzan Ozpetek

My comfort go to movie. Riccardo Scamarcio (hiii) plays a gay man who comes from Lecce (Puglia) but lives in Rome. He wants to be a writer but his father wants him to become the heir to his pasta factory. He decides to come out to the family because he knows they would disown him and, therefore, relieve him of his responsibilities to the factory, but at the dinner where he wanted to make the big announcement, his older brother comes out as gay before him, getting disown in his place and causing his father to get a heart attack.

Chiedimi se sono felice (2000) by Aldo, Giovanni & Giacomo

The comic trio absolute best movie and I don't care if you think Tre Uomini e Una Gamba is funnier. This is not supposed to be funnier. The scene where they fight because Giacomo kissed Giovanni's gf is a pearl of cinema and breaks my heart every time ("Il bacio è solo un'apostrofo rosa tra le parole Franco e Forte" "Che fai, prendi in giro?")

Mimì metallurgico ferito nell'onore (1972) by Lina Wertmuller

Fascists, communists, men are trash.

Carmelo Mimì Mardocheo is a sicilian worker who, because of his vote to the communist party, has to leave for Turin after loosing his job. He's married but he meets a woman there and the two start a relationship and end up having a child. Despite being a syndacalist and a communist, Mimì is a spineless coward, and when it comes to incriminate the owners who have ties with the mafia he always chickens out. Out of a serie of events (this movie is a comedy) he has to go back to Sicily with his mistress and hide her from his wife, who at the same time becomes pregnant because of a relationship she had with a cop.

Sulla mia pelle (2018) by Alessio Cremonini

Stefano Cucchi died on the 22 of October of 2009 after being brutally beaten by the carabinieri while in custody for drug related crime. The two men who beat him got convicted with manslaughter only in 2022.

The movie talks about the last week of Stefano Cucchi's life. It's heavy as hell and the only movie who made me feel this shit is Diaz - Don't Clean Up This Blood (2012).

Caro diario (1993) by Nanni Moretti

I think it's about some guy with a scooter? Idk.

Stranizza D'Amuri (2023) by Giuseppe Fiorello

I mean I don't know if I'd call it one of my faves but it was such a pleasant surprise in a ever so sterile cinematographic italian landscape that I still want to talk about it.

Honestly I have to be biased because this hit all my spots - italian homosexuals, italian province life, hot italian summer of the world/european championships in the 70s and 80s.

It's based on a real event in Sicily in the 80s, in which a gay couple got shot by the niece of one of them.

Can't describe it in any other way than delicate. The direction and photography are definitely my favourite part which is surprising since it's the first movie as a director for Fiorello.

--

ok i got tired other mentions

La decima vittima - Elio Petri

Suspiria - Dario Argento

Tre Uomini e Una Gamba & Odio l'estate - AGG

Uomini contro - Francesco Rosi

Deserto Rosso - Michelangelo Antonioni

La dea fortuna - Ferzan Ozpetek

Baaria - Giuseppe Tornatore

[scotianostra]

Happy birthday Robert Carlyle, born in Maryhill, Glasgow April 14th 1961.

Bobby was brought up in Glasgow, the son of Elizabeth, a bus company employee, and Joseph Carlyle, a painter and decorator. His mother left when Carlyle was four years old and his dad looked after him from then. He left school at the age of 16 without any qualifications and worked for his father as a painter and decorator; however, he continued his education by attending night classes at Cardonald College in Glasgow.

Carlyle became involved in drama at the Glasgow Arts Centre at the age of 21 (having been inspired by reading Arthur Miller's The Crucible), and subsequently graduated from the Royal Scottish Academy of Music and Drama. In 1991, he and four friends founded a theatre company, Raindog (named after Tom Waits' album "Rain Dog," one of Carlyle's favorites) (a company dedicated to innovative work then, which is now primarily involved in television and film work), and guest starred in The Bill. The same year he starred in his first movie, Riff-Raff, directed by Ken Loach.

I first noticed Carlyle in the excellent ITV series Cracker, as murderer Albert "Albie" Kinsella, it wasn't long after this he had a series of his own with Hamish McBeth, the dope smoking village bobby in a quiet Scottish town on the west coast, the series ran for three seasons from 1995 to 1997.

Since then Robert Carlyle has been able to pick and choose his roles, his films include, The World is Not Enough, Plunkett & Macleane, Ravenous, 28 Weeks later and of course as Francis "Franco" Begbie in the two Trainspotting films.

On the small screen we have seen him in as the title role in Adolf : The Rise of Evil, Human Trafficking and The Last Enemy on this side of the Atlantic, in the US he has starred in the TV movie 24, SGU Stargate Universe and the continuing Once Upon a Time..

The third season of British political thriller-drama COBRA is due on our screens in the coming months

Recently we saw the TV series of the popular film, The Full Monty, which surprised me of how good it was. In February Carlyle commented on X/Titter about a Simpsons episode Ae Bonny Romance, which aired last December. In one scene, audiences are shown an airline called “Planespotting”, with the plane including a picture of Carlyle’s character Begbie on its tail! Robbert tweeted "My life is complete.." As well as the nod, the episode featured the voices of actors Karen Gillan, David Tennant and Paul Higgins.

Robbiewas lastsen in the movvie, The Performance about an American Jew and gifted tap dancer while on tour in Europe, Harold and the rest of his troupe are scouted by a German attaché who leads the troupe to an exclusive performance for Hitler himself. Next up is a mini-series Toxic Town about the tragic toxic waste case in the East Midlands and three mothers fighting for the justice for the rates of upper limb defects in babies born in Corby were subsequently found to be three times higher than those of children born.

#scotland #scottish #history #actor #happy birthday

[easternmind]

A compendium of references to Portugal in Japanese video games

The beginning of the historical relations between Portugal and Japan dates to the year 1541, when a Portuguese ship washed ashore at Jingujiura. Nearly sixty Japanese words are of Portuguese origin. A variety of Japanese traditions and culinary delights were introduced by Portuguese traders, sailors and missionaries. But in what way has this cultural exchange extended to the more recent phenomenon of Japanese digital games? As a portuguese devotee of Japanese culture, the topic seemed relevant enough to merit some additional exploration.

To my knowledge, the first significant reference to Portugal in Japanese video game is found in Koei's The Age of Discovery from 1990, a game published in the west under the title Uncharted Waters. The main character is a disgraced Portuguese nobleman named Leon Ferrero who resorts to maritime exploration, trade and naval warfare to restore his family's good name and prestige.

Its 1993 sequel, known in the west as New Horizons, diversifies the base game structure of the original by including multiple characters to select from, each with their own story and mission. Among them is the tale of João Franco, the son of the original episode's protagonist Leon, who sets out to discover the mysterious location of the fabled Atlantis, no less.

Another meaningful reference can be found a year later in ArtDink's 1991 strategy game The Atlas, in which the player takes on the role of a 15th century explorer with a five year contract with the King of Portugal to discover and chart lands around the Iberian Peninsula.

In 1998, ArtDink recreated the game for contemporary systems and published as Neo Atlas. The protagonist is a Portuguese trading company owner seeking business expansion opportunities in remote territories, as well as discover and chart hitherto unknown parts of the globe. A similar premise is found in a later sequel, Neo Atlas III.

Apart from nautical strategy games, a few other titles exist where mentions to the Portuguese territory, language and culture can be traced.

Atlus' futuristic vision of Earth in Maken X includes a most unexpected tour of Europe, with a mandatory stop in Lisbon. Inexplicably, the developers got its geographic location wrong and moved to all the way to the northern Spanish region of Léon. The level, itself, boasts a reasonably accurate depiction of one of the city's oldest quarters, Alfama, and the architectural styles found therein.

Although I could not discern any actual references in the game itself, the Grandia II soundtrack by the veteran composer Noriyuki Iwadare contains two themes whose lyrics are written in Portuguese: A Deus, a double-entendre that can be translated to both farewell and to God; and Canção do Povo, meaning People's Song. Also, the name of the official soundtrack is named Melodia, which translates to Melody as you'd expect. Both themes were performed by guest singer Kaori Kawasumi, who took on the composer's challenge to sing them despite her not knowing the language.

She was coached and assisted by José Álvarez and Motoi Sato from the Portuguese Arts and Culture Center in Japan, whom she thanks in the acknowledgement section. The Grandia II Special Package edition booklet contains a page with two photos of Portugal, one for the Jéronimos Monastery in Lisbon and the other, seemingly, for the Moorish Castle in the nearby town of Sintra.

The last Pomping World (a.ka. Buster Bros/Pang) that Mitchell Corporation ever produced before shutting down was the 2010 DS European exclusive Magical Michael. It includes two levels set in Portugal, one in Lisbon by the Belém tower, a nautical landmark, and the other in the Sintra National Palace. Their representation is at once pleasingly stylized and true to life.

This final reference is found in Spike Chunsoft's third installment of their successful visual novel series, Nyūdanganronpa V3 Minna No Koroshiai Shin Gakki. Among the dozens of MonoMono machine items that can be acquired, one is a weathercock styled after a traditional Portuguese folktale hero, the Galo de Barcelos, meaning the rooster of Barcelos, a town in Northern Portugal.

As per the description, this animal became famous through an age-old tale involving a man wrongly sentenced to death who seconds before his execution remarked he was as certain to be innocent as it was certain that a nearby rooster would sing. Because the bird did crow, much to everyone's amazement, he was exonerated. Thus, the black rooster became a symbol for truth.

I would like to thank @diogojira and @DanielOlimac for their assistance in making this article possible.

#Japanese history #Portugal #culture #tradition #japanese videogames #portuguese references in japanese video games #Uncharted waters #the atlas #neo atlas #maken X #pang #magical michael #grandia II #koei #atlus #game arts #mitchell corporation #spike chunsoft #artdink #lisbon #alfama #sinta #Noriyuki Iwadare #kaori kawasume

[familysickness]

hii would you have any book recs similar to the carnivorous lamb? just finished it recently and i literally cannot stop thinking about it......

wish i could rec u something that will hit as hard as carnivorous lamb does. but i cant. nothing can compare (in my opinion) but i can rec u some books depending on what u liked best/what u enjoyed in carnivorous lamb:

incest:

gemini by michel tournier - hard to get into but very worth it

house of incest by anais nin - short but so good u'll tear your hair out afterwards

ada or ardor: a family chronicle by vladimir nabokov - cant believe nabokov invented real love w this one

catholicism:

the sparrow by mary doria russell - book of all time & although i obv wouldn't call it a catholic book, i still think someone that liked carnivorous lamb would love this.

concerning the eccentricities of cardinal pirelli by ronald firbank - currently reading this & dont yet fully know what to make of it but its definitely interesting enough to check out.

fascism:

(bit of a disclaimer: none of these are specifically about spanish fascism. sorry. if you're really interested in the franco regime u could read george orwell's "homage to catalonia" but other than that i got nothing for u there)

fear and misery in the third reich by bertholt brecht & the resistable rise of arturo ui (also by brecht) - this is me pushing my brecht agenda (even tho these r plays and not technically books). love brecht's depictions of fascism though, esp in fear and misery

on the frontier: a melodrama in three acts by isherwood & auden - another play

death in venice by thomas mann - alright so this one's a bit tricky. its not technically about fascism (it was written in 1912) but i've seen a number of academic essays that make a case for reading it that way -> the degeneration of europe into fascism. in any case, great book, great prose and although its not actually incestuous, it v obviously plays with the theme of incest

fathers:

incest: from a "journal of love": the unexpurgated diary of anais nin - a classic.

winter of artifice by anais nin - no one got it quite like she did

mathilda by mary shelley - anon, listen to this: "I copied his last letter and read it again and again. Sometimes it made me weep; and at other [times] I repeated with transport those words,—"One day I may claim her at your hands." I was to be his consoler, his companion in after years."

dreams of clytemnestra by dacia maraini - a play again. but trust me on this one, it'll drive u insane.

mothers:

milk fed by melissa broder - actually havent read this one but my (redacted) loves it and it does sound rlly interesting (also i dont know any other books specifically about mothers... sad.)

#(redacted) -> bc im not saying the word situationship in a serious tumblr post lmao #also anon look into the comments. some v good recs there #anon we're suffering from the same carnivorous lamb induced disease. theres a reason y i've read it three times. #i'll come back to this if i find more books #also anon. listen to chapel. married in mount airy. and heart shaped bed by nicole dollanganger. trust me #ask

[diabolus1exmachina]

Aston Martin DB2/4 Bertone Spider (1 of 3). 

In 1953, Stanley Arnolt purchased five sequential Aston Martin DB2/4 chassis and sent them to Carrozzeria Bertone to be fitted with custom coachwork. While the even-numbered chassis were fitted with opulent, luxurious bodies, 503, 505, and 507 were fitted with a distinctive sporting design penned by one of the most talented and prolific designers of the 1950s and 1960s, Franco Scaglione.Scaglione’s credits include the incomparable Alfa Romeo B.A.T. cars, the Siata 208 CS coupe, the Abarth Porsche, the Alfa Romeo Tipo 33 Stradale, and a wide variety of one-offs and important production cars.Of the three chassis fitted with this body, two were designed for outright competition use and were minimally equipped for the purpose; the third, this car, LML505, was a more luxurious example equipped with a full windscreen, intricate grille, bumpers, a lavishly appointed interior with unique features, and full soft top.Arnolt showed the suitably opulent LML505 at the 1954 New York Auto Show, where it was fitted with an Aston Martin badge in an attempt to seduce company owner David Brown into making the Bertone-bodied roadster an Aston Martin production model. The gesture obviously left its mark, with Aston Martin taking almost five years to catch on. Arnolt lived just long enough to see the Italian firms Touring and Zagato being used to turn out some of the most competitive Aston race cars of the early 1960s.

#Aston Martin DB2/4 Bertone Spider #Carrozzeria Bertone #Franco Scaglione #Alfa Romeo B.A.T #Siata 208 CS #Abarth Porsche #Alfa Romeo Tipo 33 Stradale

[burtonandtaylor]

The Taming of Liz Taylor

Excerpt from article published on December 3, 1966

By Russell Braddon

Elizabeth Taylor, wearing no makeup and looking small and relaxed in pink slacks, sat sipping champagne in her dressing room at the movie studios outside Rome. Her husband, Richard Burton, a large, red-bearded, piratical-looking man in a 16th-century costume, was sipping a large vodka and tonic. “Seen the posters for the film?” she asked, pointing to a series of them on the dressing-room wall. The first announced:

Now on location in Rome ELIZABETH TAYLOR in THE TAMING OF THE SHREW and introducing Richard Burton.

“She had that specially printed,” Burton declaimed with a curl of the lip. “So I got one specially printed too.” His poster announced that Richard Burton starred in The Taming of the Shrew, which was scripted by Richard Burton, edited by Richard Burton, produced by Richard Burton and everything else-ed by Richard Burton. His wife was not even mentioned in the very small print.

Mrs. Burton had thereupon ordered a third poster:

ELIZABETH TAYLOR, ACADEMY AWARD–WINNING ACTRESS AND SHAKESPEAREAN COACH TO RICHARD BURTON IN THE TAMING OF THE SHREW

“Cheek,” was her husband’s comment.

“Take no notice of him. He’s only jealous.”

The conversation turned to the new full-blooded Taylor voice, which she had developed, without benefit of voice coach, for the role of Martha in Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? “She can now, at the drop of a hat,” Burton declared, “sound like anything from a ripe old harridan to a boozy old whore.” He saluted her with his large glass of vodka. Glowing with pleasure, she saluted him back with champagne.

“Have a quail’s egg,” she suggested, offering a dish full of them.

Burton was asked how he and his wife came to be starring in a Shakespearean farce under an Italian director, Franco Zeffirelli. He flung himself back in his armchair and began:

“Well, it was like this — and can you believe it for idiocy … ?”

“What do you mean, idiocy?” demanded his wife, who knew what was to follow.

“… when Franco Zeffirelli decided that he wanted to do The Taming of the Shrew as his first film, he sent a colleague of his to see us. And this chap tells Elizabeth what Franco is planning, and that he wants her — who’s never done Shakespeare in her life — to do the Shrew. So naturally I waited for him to ask me — who had starred at the Old Vic — to do Petruchio. But not a word! Not a hint of a word! Apparently Franco didn’t think I was witty enough.” Mrs. Burton laughed callously. “It was only later, when he was taken to see my Hamlet, which was rather a witty Hamlet — not my fault, but it was — that eventually I got the job. … Everyone assumes, of course, and quite properly, that I was asked first. But incredibly I wasn’t. So we might as well get that clear for a start.”

“Absolutely not true,” Zeffirelli said, coming into the room. “Richard is very gallant to Elizabeth — well, sometimes he is very gallant to Elizabeth — but it is absolutely not true. I asked them both at the same time. Always I thought of them together. And, in the end, we even decided to produce it together. It will be the most artistic Shakepeare picture ever made,” he concluded modestly.

“But not stuffy,” Burton reminded.

“Absolutely not stuffy,” Zeffirelli agreed.

“And also, of course, there’s the fact that whilst Elizabeth and I both wanted to do this film, no outside producer, for Shakespeare, would put up the kind of money we can demand.”

Mrs. Burton looked immensely contented at the thought of the kind of money she can demand, even though, as the co-producers, she and Burton had to put up $3 million to pay for their own services.

The Burtons had arrived in Italy with a large entourage, their children, some 200 pieces of baggage, and a mad assortment of pets — “allegedly the children’s, but they’re Elizabeth’s really,” Burton claimed — that were said to include three dogs, two cats, five goldfish, three tortoises, a young rabbit, and a bird. It is a nervous habit of Zeffirelli’s that, when he first meets a person, or even meets again someone he has not seen for some time (like one day), he will admire some part of the person’s apparel. He greeted Mrs. Burton, the day she arrived at the studios, by admiring her earrings — which were of diamonds and indeed wholly admirable.

“They were a present from a director,” Mrs. Burton advised. Then she added sweetly, “It was his first film too.”

“But I think it would be very difficult,” Zeffirelli demurred, “to find something that will top those earrings.”

“No,” she murmured. “There’s a little shop on the Via Condotti called Bulgari …”

“I don’t understand your English accent,” Zeffirelli interrupted hurriedly, Bulgari being in Rome what Tiffany is in New York. “Come and look at the costumes.” But he returned the next day with a bracelet, in enamel and precious stones, that once had belonged to Napoleon’s sister, Elisa Bacciochi. Delighted, Mrs. Burton thanked him and explained that actresses give directors gifts only when their film is completed.

Work began, at the studios, at 9 a.m. — which meant getting up at 6 — and this was one aspect of her work about which Mrs. Burton cared less than passionately.

“Isn’t that wife of mine here yet?” demanded Burton one day. “I swear to you, she’d be late for the last bloody judgment. A quarter of an hour late, in fact, and Liz thinks she’s early.”

Eventually Mrs. Burton arrived, looking composed, uncontrite, and professional. Immediately, Zeffirelli, who directs by playing all the parts and miming extravagantly, launched into his version of how she should act during the morning’s scene — tearing his hair, fighting, spitting and shouting.

“Franco,” she remonstrated, deadpan, ���don’t do it all for me, please.”

Mrs. Burton first acted the scene for the cameras, and then — since the microphone couldn’t follow her — did it a second time for sound alone.

“Bravo,” the Italian technicians cheered as she finished. Mrs. Burton giggled, then confessed. “You feel a damned idiot doing that.”

“And to think,” her husband retorted, “that some fool in London once wrote that Elizabeth was overpaid, overweight, and undertalented.”

“Not true,” Zeffirelli assured her, his arm round her shoulder, his eye roving clinically. “You are not overpaid, and you are not ­undertalented.”

“Dear Franco,” she murmured, and kissed him.

Burton slapped her on her stomach. “Look at that,” he invited, and the entire studio looked. “Isn’t that belly disgraceful?”

At last she was stung. “In Egypt,” she observed coldly, “they adore it. The only trouble is, my films are banned in Egypt, so they never get to see it.”

She, Burton, and Zeffirelli discussed once again, finally, what must be done in the next scene, and then indulged in the usual banter about Zeffirelli’s demonstrativeness, Burton’s alleged pleasure in close-ups of Richard Burton, Mrs. Burton’s lateness and ­operations, and Mrs. Burton’s costume, the bodice of which was laced up.

“Untie the lace a little,” Zeffirelli urged.

“Franco, I can’t. There’s enough of me showing already. Any lower and my bosom’ll fall out.”

“Exactly what Columbia wants,” growled her director, and reluctantly left the bosom adequately contained.

After a long day on the set, they consoled themselves with generous libations of vodka and tonic — and the morning after, early on the set, felt quite unwell. Mrs. Burton looked glowing, but she made it very clear that she felt awful.

After one take she stood in front of her small mirror and dabbed sweat from her brow.

“Pure vodka,” she declared. Right hand supported on left wrist, she painstakingly mascaraed each eyelash; to her evident astonishment, she avoided poking an eye out. A piece of costume jewelry clattered to the ground in the middle of his last line and ruined the first take. On the second, a bird high in the studio rafters cheeped shrilly. During the third take, Burton forgot his lines. On the fourth, a carpenter dropped a hammer and destroyed Burton’s ­concentration entirely, though not his good humor.

On the next three takes in a row, Burton fluffed his last line; and on the fourth he fluffed everything, but carried on, cheerfully inventing.

“That went very smoothly, I thought,” he declared as he passed the camera. “Shall we use it? Or would you like it in Welsh now?”

“Let’s go to lunch,” his wife suggested. “It’s not going to get any better.”

After lunch it went perfectly.

On the last day at the studios, Mrs. Burton asked Zeffirelli to come to her husband’s dressing room. “Tomorrow I fly to New York,” he told them, “to produce Anthony and Cleopatra at the Met. But I will miss you.”

“We’ll miss you too,” Mrs. Burton told him. “So here’s something to remember us by.” And she gave him a superb cigarette case of heavy gold decorated with a large sapphire and inscribed:

CARO FRANCO — FROM THE SHREW AND HER TAMER.

#elizabeth taylor #richard burton #franco zeffirelli #the taming of the shrew #shakespeare #william shakespeare #burton and taylor #taylor #ols hollywood #old film #1960s #black and white #vintage #1960's #old hollywood

[sollannaart]

The Galician campaign of 1809

Today let me tell you a little bit about the Galician campaign of the Austro-Polish war of 1809, which proved to be a great success for the Duchy of Warsaw.

After the battle of Raszyn there happened the series of small battles, which prevented Austrians from crossing the Vistula, thus leaving the initiative on the right bank of the river firmly with the Poles. So, the Polish forces under Poniatowski’s command moved along Vistula to the South-East, to the lands Austria seized during the latest partition of Poland.

On the 14th of May the Polish Army entered Lublin:

Konstanty Gorski, "Prince Józef Poniatowski enters conquered Lublin in 1809, showered with flowers by ladies"

As Kajetan Koźmian recalls in his memoirs, Poniatowski and his men were greeted with "joy and elation", and in the evening "... the city and the citizens gave a great ball <...> in the house in Korce. Prince Józef honored them with his presence starting the ball."

The next city on the way of the Polish Army was Sandomierz, and after a short siege it was taken on the 18th of May.

Siege of Sandomierz in 1809.

Michał Stachowicz, a scene from the battles in Galicia ("The Capture of Zamość")

Then there was Zamość, where the Polish trooped entered on the 20th of May.

Siege of 1809, M. Adamczewski Entry of Prince Poniatowski to Zamość (postcard)

On the 27th of May the Polish advanced forces even reached the city of Lwów, but prince Józef wasn’t among them.

Meanwhile the Austrians under command Archduke Ferdinand realized the precariousness of their position in the center of Poland, and on the 1st of June left Warsaw for the south.

Poniatowski, for his part, decided not to engage with the Austrian, focusing instead on "liberating” as much Galician land as possible.

Prince Józef Poniatowski seeks information from local peasants in Galicia in 1809, a photo of Stanisław Bagieński's painting

On the 3rd June there appeared the third participant of the events - Russian forces crossed the Austrian border to Galicia as well. And though formally they were acting as Napoleon’s ally, as was prescribed in the Tilsit Treaty, their real goal was to prevent the Poles from taking too much of the Austrian-held territories.

So, to outwit the Russians prince Józef was taking Galician cities not in the name of the Duchy of Warsaw, but in the one of emperor of the Frenchmen. Like the proclamations were being made in the name of Napoleon, the eagles on the coats-of-arms replacing the Austrian ones were not Polish and French etc.

Lancers lead Austrian prisoners of war near Kraków in 1809, in front of Prince Józef Poniatowski, a photo of Stanisław Bagieński's painting

Then, in the outer theater of war on the 6th of July the French defeated the Austrians at the Battle of Wagram. And according Franco-Austrian truce signed five days later the land division was to take place along the line where the troops were at the time of receiving news of the truce, not at the time its signing.

The Austrian army leaves Wawel, a postcard based on the painting of Wojciech Kossak

And so began the race between Russians and Poles, to advance to as farther as possible.

In the middle of July both armies reached Kraków.

PRINCE JOSEPH'S ENTRY TO KRAKOW. A drawing by Jan Feliks Piwarski.

And there the clash of the interest took place.

Poniatowski approached the city from the side of St. Florian's Gate, but it turned out that the Austrians, wanting more comfortable terms of capitulation, had already let Russian troops into Kraków.

The Russians, namely the Cossacks of General Sievers, wanted to deny Poniatowski passage. But Prince Józef, as Dezydery Chłapowski recalls in his memoirs, "draw his broadsword and with together his staff galloped into the gate through the Cossacks". The Polish infantry followed its commander "in a double step <...> so that the Cossacks were pressed against the walls of the gate." Seeing this, Mariampol's hussar regiment, which was stationed at that time in the market square, make a decision to put up resistance and due to this, the whole Polish army was able to enter the city.

Michał Stachowicz, The entry of Prince Józef Poniatowski into Krakow on July 15, 1809

Then, as Ambroży Grabowski recalled, when prince Józef’s troops reached the market square, “in front of the church of St. Wojciech, the magistrate went out to meet the prince, to give him the keys of the city”.

Józef Poniatowski in the Cathedral after Kraków was taken from the Austrians, an image by Stanisław Tondos and Wojciech Kossak

Most probably prince Józef visited the Wawel cathedral during his sojourn in Kraków that time. (In a small voice: little did he know that in 8 years he’ll be buried there...)

And after exactly a month since the Polish troops entered Kraków, there was a ball arranged in the Cloth-hall, the image depicting it I have already posted here.

#Poniatowski #Jozef Poniatowski #józef poniatowski #1809 #Galicia #Lublin #Sandomierz #Zamość #Kraków #Austro-Polish War #Konstanty Gorski #Michał Stachowicz #Stanisław Bagieński #Wojciech Kossak #Feliks Piwarski #Kajetan Koźmian #Dezydery Chłapowski #ambroży grabowski

[angstylittleguy]

meet my size-shifter OC, Dalton Richards!

He's a third year college student at the Franco Dale Learning Institute majoring in art.

Dalton discovered his size-shifting abilities almost a year ago, and has yet to gain control over them. When he experiences too much of one emotion, it will trigger his abilities and cause him to grow or shrink in size.

His shifting ability is the reason Dalton isolates himself. He's terrified to be around others when he's small or huge. Without ever knowing when his height will change or how drastically it will happen, Dalton is often hesitant to be around people he doesn't know or trust.

Link to the navigation page for more info about Dalton and his friends Here

#wip: in which everything goes wonderfully wrong #dalton richards #size shifter #size shifting #g/t #giant tiny #giant/tiny #gt community #gt art #gt artist #gianttiny #sfw gt #gentle giant #gt fluff #superpower whump #gt related #g/t writing #g/t angst #g/t art #g/t artist #g/t au #g/t author #g/t community #g/t concept #g/t drawing #g/t fearplay #g/t fluff #g/t idea #g/t ocs #gt writing

[weirdthoughtsandideas]

My dcla relatives ocs and headcanons about who's related to who

Cause I don't just have next gen ocs, I also have some ocs for relatives they have. Many of them do not have names yet, but I may have some ideas of who they are. Also, this will also not only have ocs, but also other characters that I think might be related to them.

Camila has four younger sisters: Eva and Ada (they are not ocs but you know, they are def her sisters, born 1998), Lola (Born 2001) and Lili (born 2009)

Since Ámbar is adopted, her biological family very unknown, and I'd like to believe she has a younger sister somewhere from her biological dad's side... I have not decided if this sister is gonna be Isadora from Netflix's Elite, or a brand new oc lol. I also have this idea that her biological dad has slept with a lot of women and thus have these fatherless children all around the world. Let's be glad Ámbar has mommy issues and not daddy issues and never craved to know who her dad was, or else she'd open a whole can there. It would be very interesting for this girl to do a dna test someday.

Angie is second cousins with Caterina from Entrelazados. Caterina's grandmother has two siblings, one of the siblings are the grandparent of Maria and Angie, and the other is the grandparent of Sharon and Lili. Which, yes, means Violetta and Luna are distantly related. Although, Angie is only aware of Caterina as their families were slightly closer. Thank you Entrelazados for having like every dcla actor in one show so I can make all of this up!!

Continuing with the dcla and d+la connections... Luna is distantly related to Lupe (and thus also Pipe) from Siempre fui yo. Maybe second or third cousin, but they do share a great grandparent down the line.

Simón is first cousins with Morgan from Papás por encargo, and Leon is first cousins with Miguel from the same show :)

Gregorio and Rey are twins. Their uncle is Franco from Entrelazados.

Federico and Matteo are half siblings. They have the same dad, who left Fede's mom. He has never told Matteo about his previous relationship. One day the half brothers are gonna reunite.

Juliana is sisters with Alice from Bia.

Simón also has one older sister (born 1995), one younger brother (born 2001) and two younger sisters (born 2006) and I don't have any names for them yet. But they are there.

Ramiro has two older half siblings, a brother (born 1996) and a sister (born 1997). He also has a younger half brother on his dad's side (born 2002) and a half sister on his mother's side (born 2005). Also, he has a stepsister (born 2001) and a stepbrother (born 2007). So yeah, he has a giant family.

Jim has an older sister named Julia (born 1998), and Aillén from Bia is her younger cousin.

Jazmin has a younger sister (born 2008) that she wants to mentor in fashion and makeup to, but her sister isn't too interested.

Yam has two younger brothers: Manny (born 2004) and David (born 2007). She also has a cousin (born 1999) that she looks up to a lot, though I have not gotten a name for her just yet.

Delfi has a younger brother (born 2004) and she finds him really annoying, but she loves him too.

Maxi has a younger brother (born 1997), which he mentioned having in the pilot.

#violetta #soy luna #disney bia

[beautiful-basque-country]

Plan Zona Especial Norte

On December 3, 1982, PSOE formed its first government in Spain. José Barrionuevo was appointed Minister of the Interior, who just two months after he took office presented the so-called Plan ZEN - Zona Especial Norte (Special Northern Area) -, a counterinsurgency program aimed at fighting on all fronts against the Basque independence movement.

The project launched had been designed by Civil Guard General Andrés Cassinello, specialized in "psychological action and anti-subversive information" and graduated in counterinsurgency in 1966 from the Fort Bragg Special Warfare Center (United States). He had belonged to Franco's information services, from where he went to Spanish intelligence. Investigative journalist Alfredo Grimaldos - author of the book "The CIA in Spain" - was asked if the CIA had controlled the GAL. His answer was clear: «Not directly, but the brain of the GAL was a CIA man in Spain, General Andrés Cassinello. But he took off and in the middle when they implicated Rodríguez Galindo for fear of getting off badly ».

The Plan included laws that authorized, for example, isolated detention of up to 10 days and allowed opaque spaces of absolute impunity. Some of the measures of that first "Anti-Terrorist Plan" were even declared unconstitutional years later, but the evil was already sown. Some elements mutated and were incorporated into ordinary legislation, with which the comprehensive plan of the Spanish State was perpetuated on that same unethical ground.

As objectives to achieve, it established "to achieve the permanence in the Special Area of the personnel of the State Security Corps" or "carry out actions aimed at making the Basque population aware that the disarticulation of the terrorist apparatus entails greater public security and better defense of the Basque traditions».

Funny enough, at different times it refers to the particular idiosyncrasy of the Basque people, to culture and traditions, contrasting the "bad terrorist" with the "good Basque". On the one hand, the document places the perversion of those who live in the rebel independence alienation and, on the other, the docile, good-natured and hard-working Basques who live without contradictions with Spain.

In the text of the Plan ZEN, a fundamental idea was constantly repeated: «The Police suffer acts of violence for being an impediment to those who seek to impose by force a system contrary to the Basque cultural tradition and respect for the freedom and rights of others."

With regard to Basque society, it set objectives such as “convincing the citizen that the State Security Forces and Bodies are there to protect and provide security and that the common enemy is criminals and terrorists. Achieve the respect, support and collaboration of citizens towards the State Security Corps and Forces. Have citizen support to marginalize the Terrorist Organization isolating it from the rest of society. "Be especially wary of young people, especially if they wear a dark anoraks, jeans, sneakers and a sports bag," the text warned.

It also alluded to the relatives and friends of the Basque political prisoners, aspiring to "get the population (especially the relatives of the detained prisoners) to be convinced that the detainees receive dignified treatment." And this in a period (1980-85) that marked a peak of torture cases after Franco's death.

Of course, the ZEN Plan - whose original and complete version still remains as a secret document - placed special emphasis on "psychological warfare" and a prominent role was given to the use of journalists and the media, recommending the practice of lying, the manipulation of information, the spread of rumors, or even the purchase of journalists.

In one of its points it proposed "attributing part of the credit in the police successes obtained to citizen collaboration (...), giving periodic information, through third parties, that disseminates confrontations and discrepancies between terrorists, their foreign ideologies, their businesses dirty, their criticizable customs, etc. It is enough that the information is credible to exploit it.

The Plan, in a nutshell, advocated for lies in the media, denunciations, infiltrators, the creation of a network of informers, the promotion of the figure of the repentant, the extension of the concept "we/them", the criminalization of stereotypes according to aesthetics, clothing, the insistence that the treatment of detainees was correct... In other words, the entire catalog of what the Spanish State has been applying throughout these forty years since then.

All the names that appear throughout this text linked to the Plan ZEN have been related at some point to the dirty state war; some directly, having been tried and sentenced even though their time in prison was fleeting; others, such as the so-called "X of the GALs", go unpunished and are proud of the task accomplished.

Source

#euskal herria #basque country #pays basque #pais vasco #euskadi #History #Politics #Psoe #Gal #Plan zen #Oppression