#rove la

[michaelchallpics]

Michael at The Rove LA Show - HAPPY HALLOWEEN!! (soon)

“There's always an awkward smile on your face when you're sitting next to the guy who plays Dexter”. (Rove LA 2012)

#michael c. hall #halloween #pumpkin #rove la #tv #talkshow

[postcard-from-the-past]

Little valley behind the La Vesse viaduct in Le Rove, Provence region of France

French vintage postcard

#la vesse #historic #photo #briefkaart #vintage #le #region #le rove #little #provence #viaduct #sepia #photography #carte postale #postcard #rove #postkarte #france #postal #tarjeta #ansichtskarte #french #old #valley #vesse #ephemera #postkaart #la

[courtingchaos]

Was having thoughts earlier about surprising Eddie naked in his room with just his guitar covering you (a la Jenny in Forest Gump)

No but this could be so cute or super dirty but I’m in a big ol soft mood. (Also another ask I missed apparently! God damn!)

Fast and dirty (aka I didn’t read this back!)

Eddie Munson x Fem Reader

Arranging yourself just so, trying to figure out how to drape yourself around it without flashing him a nipple since it’s such an angular body. He’s going to go crazy for it regardless but you have a vision in your mind for it and you want it just right.

You even tidied up his room for him, and that’s not something you’ve ever done, you just needed flat surfaces for the little glass votive candles you bought at the dollar store. Romance, but sexy romance. He’s been working so hard, you’re Eddie, ever since Wayne got him a job at the plant. He’s working seconds while his Uncle works thirds but it’s just as long and he deserves a little surprise.

You get to the trailer just as Wayne is leaving and he deftly avoids looking at your handful of plastic bags or the overnight one slung on your shoulder. It’s none of his business what happens when he’s out of the house between you two, just gives you smile while he holds the door open for you. Tells you to stay out of trouble. Tells you to not light the curtains on fire.

An hour, tops, before Eddie stomps into the trailer so you work fast and almost forget to strip when you sit on the bed with the guitar. A little bit of a foolish feeling like you’ve never been naked in this room before. Hell, Eddie even has a picture shoved in his wallet of you lying under his sweetheart. His ideal centerfold is what he’d said when you’d turned bashful.

You notice the time and turn off the lamp so you can perch on his bed in the candlelight. Again with that foolish feeling when he’s a few minutes behind and you sit in silence for just a little too long, almost long enough to turn around and look out the window except you can hear the storm door creak and the key turn in the lock. Anticipation as he goes through his routine of coming home; dropping his keys and his coat, kicking off his boots and throwing his overshirt directly into the washer.

“Hello?” He sing songs down the hallway while the fridge opens and closes, the tinkling of a bottle cap hitting the countertop making you curl your toes.

“Down here.”

He must notice the lack of light under his door so he opens it slowly. A tentative turn of the handle before he pushes it in with a light tap. His curls precede him when he tilts his head in and you can already see the smile curled into his cheeks. “Well this is romantic.”

“Yeah I can do that sometimes.”

Finally he takes a full step in while taking a sip of his beer but he stops all his movement when his eyes adjust in the disappearing sunlight and soft glow from your candles. The bottle pops away from his mouth and you giggle at his wide eyes roving over you. He keeps glancing down at your legs, crossed at the knee and bouncing slightly with your nerves. You try not to grip the guitar too tight but it’s a lifeline right now while he digests the scene in front of him.

“What’s this for?” He asks quietly, hands hanging at his sides, beer forgotten.

“Well, I thought you could teach me a few chords?”

“Teach you-!” His voice cracks in his surprise and he laughs quietly behind his hand he holds to his lips. “You want me to teach you a few chords while your…doing all this.”

“Unless you don’t want to.” There’s hesitation now because he seems to only be laughing and you’re not sure if thinks this is absurd after a long days work or if he’s finding the effort funny.

“No!” He starts finally. Jolts to put his beer down on the dresser and holds a hand up. “No this is perfect.” He pads over to the bed before toeing off his socks and kneeling next to you, a palm finding your cheek to cradle it. “This is gonna keep me totally focused.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah see,” he swings his other knee onto the bed and shuffles till he’s behind you, that palm sliding down off your cheek to brush back your hair over your shoulder, “I can hold your hands over the strings. Like this.” He hooks his chin on your shoulder and stares at the dark space between you and the body of his guitar. His hands cover yours and he lines them up finger for finger so he can pull your hand up and down the neck, slowly, suggestively. His juvenile humor makes you laugh but it also sets your belly afire with want.

“So what are you gonna teach me first, Mr. Munson?”

“Call me Eddie, please.”

“Okay Eddie. What chord?” You cheese at him, playing into his bit.

“I think you should start with a D chord.” For all his suppressed giggles and blushing cheeks he does press three fingers into yours for the right chord. “It’s a good one.”

“Feels like a stretch.” You turn your head to look at him still staring at your cleavage pressed into the red and black body.

“Yeah, but you’ll learn to like it.” He drags his gaze up to settle on your lips. “Here, stay like that.” He moves his hand off your on the frets so he can pull your hair back from your neck. “Then strum with this hand-ah, not so fast. Slower.”

“Jesus, Eddie.” You chuckle at him and his innuendos.

“What? You gotta go slow, baby.” The tip of his nose runs along your neck before his lips do, just a ghost of a touch while you gently bounce your hand on the strings. “See?” A firmer press of his lips now. He smells like coffee and metal, heat from under his layers that mixes with his waning cologne. He drops his other hand from yours to sneak it around your side so his fingertips graze the bottom swell of your breast. “You make her sound better than I ever did.” Mumbled into your skin and the space you’ve created while your head lolls to the side. A single note played softly over and over while he envelopes you slowly. One hand inching up further to palm at your chest, the other grasping and crawling over your thigh and seeking out the heat between them.

You stall for a moment when his fingers brush your mound but he clicks his tongue at you.

“If I’m distracting you, I can stop.”

“No!” A sharp hit of the strings while you get back into the monotony of it and Eddie’s fingers continue their journeys. He coaxes your knees apart before settling behind you and pulling you back into his chest. The guitar shifts and your chest is hit with cooler air but his palm covers one tit, rolling your hardening nipple under his calloused hand.

“Keep it up.” He pulls your knee up before letting his hand glide down your inner thigh and only coming to stop when he can dip a finger into your wet heat. Both of you gasp but you loose the thread of concentration and suddenly his touch is missing. “I’m serious.” His smile is evident in his voice, his mirth brimming at you being at his mercy. “Keep going and I’ll make it worth your while.” He helps you rearrange your fingers before he’s drawn back to your warmth, fingers gliding aimlessly through your folds while you try to keep your mind on the right path. The tip of his fingers flick up over your clit in small burst that stay just out of reach of any real pleasure. Nothing that will last or make your eyes roll but they make your leg jump with every brush against that bundle.

“I’ll have you playing Slayer by the end of the night if I keep this up.” He’s so casual behind you and all you can do is nod. Laugh through your nose and nuzzle the back of your head into his collarbone; slump down further into his fingers that are finding their purpose now. Gentle prodding at your entrance that you breathily encourage and Eddie joyously teases before dipping in and finally making your eyes roll back. The steady strum of the guitar sounds softer now but you couldn’t really care especially when his teeth find your earlobe. Heavy breathing in your ear while he works his fingers in and out, curled up to find that spot that makes you go taut with pleasure.

Your grip on the guitar is loosening, barely a sound coming from it now that he’s got you pinned under both hands. “Eddie I-“

“Don’t drop her.” A swift pinch of your nipple makes you yelp and hold it back up against your torso, if only for a moment before you turn to butter in his lap. “I’m cutting you some slack here, gorgeous.” He grinds the heel of his palm down against you and you try to roll your hips into his hand, a circle of delight that has you almost forgetting what this whole thing started as. There’s a catch when Eddie adjust to curl over your shoulder and every graze of his fingers along your insides makes your vision go white.

“Eddie, fuck!”

“Yeah?” It just drives him harder, those dimples a threat to your sanity when he starts abusing his newfound toy. “Right there?” He asks even though he knows just by the way you buckle against him. The hand at your chest holds you to him like a vice and he pushes you further towards the edge. One well placed wet kiss against your cheek and a heavy drag of his fingers and your tightrope snaps, plummets you off the face of the earth for a few silent moments while Eddie lets you ride off the aftershocks on his hand.

In your bliss you feel him pry your fingers off the neck of his guitar and he swings it away to lean it on the dresser. “You didn’t let her drop. Good job.” A kiss pressed to your sweaty forehead.

“I can listen.”

“Not very well. You stopped playing.” He pulls his undershirt over his head and starts working on his belt. “I don’t know if you got the full understanding of exactly how you should play a D chord.” His grin is salacious while you stretch out on his bed, waiting for him to finish his joke. “And while you might be my favorite student, you need to learn some better studying habits.” He points a mocking finger in your direction.

“And how should I go about that?” You watch him stand and shed the remainder of his clothes. “You’re a terrible distraction Eddie.”

He climbs back onto the bed to hover over you, mischief in his eyes while he plays with the ends of your hair, a smile and a laugh directly softly at you. “I think I have the perfect tool to help you.”

#asks! #My Fic #Eddie Munson Fic #Eddie Munson Fluff #Eddie Munson Smut #Eddie Munson x Reader #is this what you were looking for? I hope so #if not my bad I got carried away

[buckets-and-trees]

Devour: FAT

Fandom: MCU Title: Fat (Devour, part two) Characters/Pairings: mostly-dark!mob!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Word Count: 2k Summary: True achievement in the restaurant industry requires a relentless drive. No compromises. You’ve risen through the ranks, and now hold the mantle of executive chef at Devour - a restaurant now owned by the infamous James Buchanan Barnes. He's just as relentless as you, and he's used to always getting exactly what he wants.

Content Warnings: smut (vaginal fingering), some strong language, mildly dark possessive behaviors

Additional Notes: Sequel to Salt (part one of the Devour series). Filling my tenth square for Bucky Barnes Bingo @buckybarnesbingo - U5 "Kink: Lingerie" and circling back to hit week 6 of Hot Bucky Summer for the prompt "How do you want me?"

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

“What’s that look?” you narrowed your eyes as Stanley’s approached. As Devour’s Maître d’ Stanley was regularly in and out of the kitchen on any given night, but it was the air of intent that had you questioning him.

“Mr. Barnes is dining with us tonight. Just arrived.”

“Right, everyone, the big boss is dining tonight!” your sous chef Charlie called out to the rest of the kitchen.

There was an immediate flare of sound and activity over the announcement, and so you threw your pan down onto the counter.

“Everyone stop – right now. Stop.”

The whole staff turned their attention to you.

You didn’t raise you voice but made sure you spoke clearly. “I will say this one time: if you cook better tonight than you have every other night because Bucky Barnes is here, you better keep that fucking level every minute you stay in my kitchen from here on or else don’t come back tomorrow.” You let your eyes quickly rove over all of them.

You don’t doubt this staff, you’ve worked with them for years – inherited some of them from your predecessor and recruited some of them yourself – and helmed them without questioning their loyalty since taking over the past week. But you’ve made it clear with this statement, letting them know this is the final test of the transition in your eyes.

“Understood?”

“Yes, Chef,” is the assent from everyone.

“Back to it then.”

Stanley raised an eyebrow as everyone got back to work. “You good?”

You nodded. “It’s not his kitchen, it’s mine.”

To his credit, Stanley didn’t push you any further on the matter and took you at your word.

An hour later, the Maître d’ returned. “Mr. Barnes said, ‘my compliments to the chef,’ on his way out.”

You tilted your head to the side and frowned. “’My compliments to the chef?’ That’s it?”

Stanley waved his hand in a vague gesture that indicates that’s the extent of it.

“And he left?”

“In and out smoothly from our new owner is all I want to see,” Stanley said before returning to the front of the house.

Bastard.

You worked to ignore the disappointment that took over the anxious heat that had been simmering in your core knowing he’d finally come back. It had been exactly a week since your debut as the new Executive Chef, meaning it had also been a week since mob boss James Buchanan Barnes came in, dined, bought the place, tripled your salary, and took you apart in this empty kitchen.

You excused yourself, needing to take a walk out back to work off the pent-up energy. Once out in the cooler night air, your hand worked under the shoulder of your chef’s coat to fidget with the strap of your bra. Then you huffed at doing that because it’s now one more thing that reminded you of him.

It had also been a week with an early morning delivery every day of a simple white box wrapped in a silk ribbon, and a set of under garments resting in a bed of tissue paper and two cards – one indicating it’s La Perla lingerie (a quick Google search confirming it was some of the most expensive intimate wear in the world, an Italian line that used only the finest European silks and lace), the other with a hand-written –JBB on it to let you know exactly who it was from. It was more than a little bold to send you something like that, but when you touched the soft, luxurious material with your fingers, you sighed, thinking it would be a shame to waste something so fine. You had tried it on, just to see.

It was maddeningly also the perfect fit.

You rationalized that if he was going to send it, who were you to deny yourself something so nice just because it was a bit audacious? Let him waste his money sending you these gifts.

Today’s set was black silk and tulle. You hated how wonderful it was.

The ticket for his table that night had been dinner for two with a bottle of wine.

You hated that, too.

He returned two nights later. The order brought back by his waiter this time was to “surprise” him. Another table for two, another bottle of wine. You sent the evening’s special.

Fifteen minutes after the plates went out, so did you.

Hell if James Barnes thought he’d dine and disappear again. (It hadn’t been a dine and dash the last time – he dined for free now as the owner, but he the staff couldn’t help remarking on the more than generous tip he still left.)

Again, in one of the more private table alcoves, you knew you were approaching his table with a bit of steam pouring from your ears, but you were not going to be deterred and wanted to strike while your resolve was strong.

Steve was his dining companion tonight, and as he saw you coming, he shot you a very small smile, excused himself from the table, and gestured for you to take his spot across from the mob boss.

“Good evening,” James said, voice low, eyes hinting at a bit of mirth.

“You buy my restaurant, take me in the kitchen, drop off the grid for a week, return to dine with a woman and leave without even a word, then show up here again tonight, and think you can get off without seeing me this time?”

He smiled. “Do you want to know who she is?”

Your mouth snapped shut. You hadn’t wanted to divulge that you knew he’d been here dining only with that woman, whoever she was, or that you cared that he’d been dining with a woman. Except a little of you also did want him to know you didn’t want to be one of a string of conquests.  

He slid out of his side of the booth and came around and moved in next to you. “Interesting choice of words there, too: ‘get off.’”

You opened your mouth and closed it again. His eyes were dark with lust now, a smirk on his face, and the air felt suddenly thick around you.

“And she was my sister, by the way.”

“Oh.”

“But you should care. I like that.”

He moved even closer to you and placed his hand on your thigh, just above your knee. He brushed a finger along the side of your neck, and you couldn’t help but shiver.

“Now you said, it’s your restaurant.” His lips moved just to the shell of your ear. “Don’t forget it’s mine, Chef.” His tongue darted out to lick the curve there.

Half a whimper escaped your lips as your breath hitched.

He chuckled in your ear then pressed a kiss to your temple. He lifted his hand from your leg, and reached to the middle of the table where he dipped his finger into the dish of soft herbed French butter, then wiped it over your bottom lip. “This was delicious,” he started. You licked what he’d left on your lips, and you watched him lick the remainder of the butter off his own finger.

“But I bet you’ve got something even more delicious for me.”

You knew exactly what he was going to do, but maybe it was the intensity of his eyes locked with yours that made you remain still, practically holding your breath as his hand moved to the waistband of your pants and inside, going directly for the wetness he was creating between your legs. You shifted, body reacting to allow him more access even though your face burned with the heat of panic, not at all comfortable at the thought that anyone could see what was happening, but also desperate for him to give you the pleasure he was dangling in front of you.

“I remember the taste of your skin, and now I will get my taste of this.”

A full whimper fell from your lips this time, and you closed your eyes as his fingers circled your clit. His other hand came to rest at the nape of your neck as he planted his lips at your ear again.

“How do you want me? I bet you’ve been thinking about it.”

You gasped as he stroked up and down your labia and then slipped his fingers inside your cunt.

“Do you want me pushing these thighs open with my face buried between your legs, eating you out until you cry from it being too much for your over-sensitive clit? Splitting you open with my cock, you caged in beneath me while I fuck you into a mattress? Pressed up against a wall while I fuck you from behind? Have you thought about sitting in my lap and riding me?”

Your head fell forward, eyes closed, and you tried desperately to concentrate on your breathing and controlling the sounds you were trying to keep at by while he worked diligently to bring you towards ecstasy. Every word he said was making it all the more difficult, and you clutched at the edge of the table.

His other hand moved from caressing your neck to slip under the edge of your collar, pulling the shirt back enough for him to hook his fingers under the silky band of your bra. “Wearing what I got you.”

You reached up to grab his wrist and pull that hand away. He didn’t fight it, but he did grab your chin and tilt your face up to his for a fierce, hungry kiss. He bit at your lip, and his tongue coaxed and demanded entry to your mouth. He curled his fingers up against your pelvic wall, finding the sensitive spot there, and your lips immediately parted on a true keen over the sensation he stoked in your core. He swallowed up the noise in his mouth. His tongue stroked yours as expertly as his fingers stroked your heated channel, and within only a few more moments, your whole body seized up and then shuddered in the peak of the orgasm he demanded from you there at the table.

His kiss and his fingers both brought you down softly but quickly, and then he pulled you into his chest, tucking your head under his chin and rubbing small circles at the small of your back as your breathing returned to normal. When he removed his fingers from your cunt, he brought them to his lips, and made a low hum as he tasted your essence on his tongue.

“James,” you rasped.

“Delicious,” he whispered. “Mine.”

“Oh god.”

He snickered. “Nowhere close, you know that.”

You straightened your shirt and adjusted your trousers while he kept his broad torso sideways, and your glad he was so big he truly did afford you a modicum of privacy through the whole episode due to his size.

He pushed out of the booth, then took your hand and helped you out as well. He leaned in to kiss your cheek, but you put your fingers up to stop him. His brow furrowed.

“If I’m yours, I need more than this.”

He cocked his head just a fraction, his expression unreadable, but you saw a glimmer in his devastatingly blue eyes. “More it is, then.”

He pressed a kiss to the palm of your hand then sent you on your way. Steve passed you as he returned to the table and you to the kitchen, giving you a nod.

When you arrived home that night after your shift, something seemed different in your apartment, but you couldn’t put your finger on it immediately. You dropped your clothes into the laundry hamper, then jumped in the shower to wash the kitchen smell off you before bed. It was when you made your way to your closet, wrapped in a towel, that you noticed exactly what it was – you weren’t a slob, but everything was now extremely tidy.

Opening your drawer to get some panties, you audibly gasped.

A drawer cleared of all your old underwear, almost overflowing with new lingerie, and a card with the word ‘enjoy’ and his initials told you everything you needed to know.

He was an audacious bastard.

And when you looked at your phone as you crawled into bed, you had a goodnight text from an unknown number that undoubtedly had to be his. You frowned and did not respond.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

Link to part three: ACID

#aspen wrote something #devour au #mob boss!bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes au #female reader

[magicalmanhattanproject]

so the thing i think a lot of people don't quite appreciate about 2b2t is that like. so it's an anarchy server, right? and that means it's infamous for the constant griefing and murder and suchlike, but from a lore and backstory perspective, i'm a lot more interested in the exploits and hacking side

bc the thing is that 2b2t doesn't actually have no rules. like. it has no rules, but also the single admin does modify things fairly regularly to disable certain exploits. this is because if he didn't, the server would be entirely annihilated so incredibly quickly. check out this video for an absolutely ludicrous tale of how 2b2ters exploit even the anti-exploit measures by the way

but the point is, fit is from a world that is always right on the verge of being shattered. in fact, it is always actively being shattered. it's a world where reality itself is barely limping along, battered and bloodied by roving gangs of the craziest genius motherfuckers you've ever heard of.

the point is, whatever funkiness in reality erases the memories of residents on quesadilla island, they don't even come close to what fitmc deals with on a regular basis. and that's why he remembers what others don't. the federation didn't think it needed to specifically target anyone and they were just relying on the weight of all the mods and the resulting lag to cause memory issues on their own. but fit has survived and bounced back from chunk bans before. it's gonna take more than a crash he's supposed to survive to stop him

that's also why this island is still paradise to him. he hasn't forgotten that it could take everything from him nor how dangerous it is that he now has something to lose. but he does sometimes find himself wandering la france at its laggiest just to taste air that smells the way it should

#sorrelposting #qsmp #fitmc

[luveline]

Hi!! I love your steve zombie au stuff i’ve read every single one! Idk If you’re comfortable but I’d love something about their first time together, even if it’s just them talking afterwards. I feel like they’d be so sweet and loving with each other. Just both be really happy to have that moment. No worries if not! I just really love your writing!!

hi thank you for your request! i changed it a little, hope it’s still okay! steve zombie au —you and Steve spend a few minutes in the afterglow of one of your first times together, 1k, fem!reader. MDNI 18+ ONLY – mature themes

When Steve lets go of your thigh, it aches. You let it flop to one side into the sheets, your hands reaching out for his naked chest as your own rises and falls. He wipes his forehead with the back of his hand. It takes him a lot longer to catch his breath than you, and for good reason.

"C'mere," you say, knowing you sound silly but unable to help it. You need a hug right now. "Steve–" 

"I am," he promises, sitting on his haunches, a towel in hand. "Don't worry, look– lay back some more. There, honey." 

Steve lies down on top of you in bed. Chest to chest, stomach to stomach. You get your arms behind each other's shoulders and cling. 

"How was that?" he asks, still breathless as he turns his face on the pillow next to your head. His lips skips against your jaw with each word, he's so close to you.

You're getting better at knowing what you want, what he wants, and how to make it happen. The first time had been good, amazingly romantic and with a lot of happy crying, but a short mess. This time had been longer, slower, as loving as your first go but undeniably charged.

"Perfect," you say under your breath. 

"Flatterer." 

"Is it okay for you, going slow for so long?" you ask. 

Steve massages your shoulder absent-mindedly, fingers flat to the back of it and thumb rubbing the hill. "I kind of need to. Or it'll… I'd finish too quickly." 

"I don't mind if you want to do that," you say, enacting some massaging of your own. Your palm roves from between his shoulder blades to the soft hair at the back of his neck. 

"I want it to be good for you," he says. 

"'N' I want it to be good for you," you say. 

"It is good for me, honey. I almost called you 'loser', but I didn't, because you need to listen to me." His lips touch your cheek lightly as he lifts his head, a purposeful and loving touch. "It's better than good for me. I sort of hope you'd be able to tell–" 

You start laughing, embarrassed by his implication even while he's naked on top of you, and super, super in love with him. "You did sound like you were having fun," you croon. 

He groans and tucks his face into your neck. 

"You're not as loud," he says after a moment. "Is that… is that my fault?" 

"I was holding my breath for most of it," you confess. You don't mean to, but the pressure, the warmth, the feeling of his skin on yours, it can tip into overwhelming. A good overwhelming, but overwhelming all the same. 

"What?" He pushes himself up onto an elbow, his eyebrows pulled together in a heart-warming concern. "Did I hurt you?" 

"No, no," you say, again with an embarrassed, breathy laugh. "Stevie," —said softly, always— "it doesn't hurt, it's the opposite of hurting. I feel so– it feels…" 

His eyebrows relax. Steve nods, curls of sweat-damp hair around his face jolting with the movement. "I know. I swear it feels better if you don't hold back." 

"Not holding back." 

"A bit." 

"What if I make some really weird noise that turns you off?" 

"I think," he says, leaning down inch by inch, "that would be physically impossible." 

He kisses you sweetly, and then less so. Your lips part as he presses down on you, his hand cupping your cheek if only to hold you still. You have a bad habit of pulling up and knocking your teeth together. 

"I liked the rough part too," you say. 

He kisses your top lip lazily, but through his ardency he manages a hum. Go on?

"I liked how you got more, um, forceful… and it didn't hurt like last time, don't get stressed." 

Last time, you'd asked him to be rougher sooner, and it pinched. It wasn't a big deal —you told him what it felt like and he stopped to make it better. Today, there'd been no need to stop. You'd asked him once not to stop, and he'd made a sound you'd never heard from him, a throaty groan that has heat rising to your cheeks remembering it, and the feeling of his hand tightening its grip on your thigh. 

"Going slow is the answer to all our problems," Steve says. He takes your face into both hands and rubs your cheeks with his thumb, one then the other. It has you squinting with each pass. 

"That's not true," you murmur. 

"I know you like some stuff fast," Steve says, salacious and not. He gives you a quick, tight squeeze, kissing a stripe of nose-smushed, open-mouthed kisses down the side of your face before he pulls away. "Do me a favour? If the small sounds are any example, I really wanna hear the big ones. I need to, actually, or I'm not gonna make it." 

You put a hand over his heart. 

"Idiot," you say, and push him away from you. 

Steve pretends to be pushed before plummeting back down for another smacking kiss, pressed to your cheek. 

"Love you," he says, his eyes closed. "Love you. I love you." 

"I love you too," you say. 

"I love you," he says again, quieter than before. 

"I know, handsome. I love you too." 

His hand wanders down your side. You've started to feel his weight in your stomach, and his touch fosters a second kind of heaviness. 

"Do you want to go again?" he asks quietly. Long fingers trail back up your waist, goosebumps erupting in their wake. 

You drag your foot upward, knee rising, and close him in with your thigh. He takes it for the yes that it is and leans in for another kiss.

#steve zombie!au #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things 4

[whatstruthgottodowithit]

Does He Love You?

Fandom: Elvis, Elvis Presley, Elvis 2022, RPF

Pairing: Elvis Presley x Female Reader, Elvis Presley x Ann-Margaret

Characters: Elvis Presley, Female Reader, Ann-Margaret, Jerry Schilling, Joe Esposito, Red West, Sonny West, Colonel Tom Parker

Word Count: 3225

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Does he love you, like he loves me?

Tags/Warnings: Request, Requested Fic, Vaginal Sex, Kissing, Arguing, Cheating, Infidelity, Drunk Arguments, Betrayal, Angst, Hurt, Affairs, Established Relationship, Reba Song

Notes: This kinda reminded me of a Reba song at the end. It was giving me Jolene vibes but Ann Margaret knew they weren’t meant to be im sure.

Elvis Tags: @caitlin1996 @literally-just-elvis-fics @notstefaniepresley

Request by @elvispresleyxoxo - yes that’s completely fine! I was wondering if you could do one where reader knows elvis is cheating with ann margaret and confront him in front of all of the memphis mafia maybe even ann margaret if your comfortable with that! she tells elvis that she loves him ,shares like smutty details about there sex life ( if ann margaret is there could reader be like does he do that to you to, but again if your uncomfortable with that you don’t have to write that) , just overall a messy argument in front of everyone. but in the end elvis lashes out and takes her into another room and makes love to her and everyone can hear them she comes back like embarrassed but yk forgives him , you can choose the ending around the ann margaret situation if your comfortable writing that part x

One would think that being in a relationship with Elvis Presley would be fun. And for the most part, it is but not always. Sometimes the glitz and the glamour of Hollywood isn't parties and shows, it's dreadfully boring meetings with studio executives that come disguised as evening dinner parties. Whilst Elvis allowed the Colonel to negotiate most of the deals he was required to be present, something that no doubt allowed the Colonel to do what he wanted whilst having the excuse that Elvis never protested even though he was ten people down the table. As long as Elvis showed up the Colonel was happy but to keep Elvis happy he needed distractions. Which was why he brought friends. Members of the Mafia or me, someone he could talk to whilst they hashed out details of contracts that didn't interest him. The upside of these meetings was that they were largely comped by the networks meaning they were almost exclusively held in fancy hotels or restaurants rather than the dreary offices of Paramount. That was why tonight we would be dining at Perino's.

As we walked into the room my eyes roved over the table that was already jam-packed full of people, as ever we were the last to arrive. The majority of it was made up of men in stiff suits, business types, and members of Elvis' entourage who always tried so desperately to fit in at these things but somehow always seemed to look like boys play acting as Hollywood bigwigs. And then my eyes landed on the end of the table. On the only other woman in the room. Ann-Margaret.

Whilst Elvis' schmoozed his way through the crowd of people that had jumped up to greet him my eyes remained locked on her. Her red-golden hair was pushed back from her face, her natural makeup accentuating her large eyes and full lips in the dim ambient lighting. She looked beautiful. She was chatting to a man I didn't know seemingly unbothered by our entrance, a fact that made my heart sink. After all, why would she? She knew Elvis well. Too well. The novelty of his presence had no doubt rubbed off for her.

A million thoughts circled in my mind. What was she doing here? Had Elvis invited her? Had the network? I didn't know which of those options was worse. Either way, it signalled that she wasn't going anywhere much to my sadness. They had just debuted their first film together, Viva Las Vegas, and it was a hit. Elvis had even seemed to enjoy himself on this production which I was ecstatic for. He seemed more lenient with the scripts, happier to sing the same old songs he'd been given and altogether more enthusiastic whenever he'd called home. It was only when I flew out to Vegas for the last few days of filming I saw why.

I couldn't blame him I supposed. After all she was a beautiful, charming and magnetic woman. The press liked her. The Mafia liked her. Elvis liked her. But I couldn't bring myself to. He'd been like this before of course. No matter what I did he couldn't seem to stay true yet none of the others ever bothered me...but she did. Because I could feel the way he felt about her. The others never bothered me because I knew he didn't love them but with her? The potential was there. Another two or three films, who knew what could happen?

Tears stung at my eyes but I forced them back, going through the motions of greeting people until I could finally drop down into my seat beside Elvis. Ann-Margaret was sitting on his other side. I didn't listen to either of them as they started to talk. Instead, I grabbed the bottle of wine that had been left on the table and poured myself a large glassful, immediately sipping it down as much as I could. Neither of them even noticed.

✵✵✵

I didn't want to talk. I didn't want to even be here. As everyone laughed and joked around me I sat in silence nursing whatever number glass of wine I was up to and watching Elvis and Ann-Margaret talk. It was like slow torture. Every laugh, every coy smile, every touch of the hand was like another rock being placed on my chest until I couldn't breathe. I had to get out of there. I stood up from the table, gripping onto it for balance as the alcohol in my system hit me full on making me woozy.

'You alright honey?' Elvis said, finally noticing me. His hand gently touched the back of mine but I pulled mine out from under his.

'Fine, I just need the restroom,' I said. Elvis looked at me curiously but I didn't stay there long enough for him to ask any questions. I wanted to cry. Or scream. Or throw up. I fled to the bathroom and locked myself in the stall, trying to calm myself down. I knew there was no point getting upset. I couldn’t make a scene and I couldn’t go home not without Elvis wondering what was wrong so I put on my most composed expression and returned to the table trying to ignore the tears that threatened to spill over at any moment. I hurried my way back to my seat, noticing how the waiters had started arriving at the table placing our orders down in front of us. As a bowl full of pasta dropped into place in front of me a young waiter appeared at Elvis' side.

'Steak?' the waiter asked.

'Here,' Elvis said, allowing him to place the plate down in front of him. My eyes scanned his plate though where I expected to see a block of charcoal in place of steak I found a normal-looking piece of meat looking back at me.

'You should send that back,' I blurted out. Elvis looked at me for a second, suddenly realising I was back in the room, and shook his head.

'It's fine,' Elvis said as he picked up his napkin and dropped it on his lap.

'It's rare,' I said.

'Like I said it's fine,' Elvis said.

'You hate your food rare,' I said, utterly perplexed. It was true. Any who knew him knew that unless it was absolutely cremated Elvis wouldn't eat it. Before now he'd sent food back in restaurants up to three times until it was completely obliterated.

'It's not a big deal,' Elvis gritted out looking up the table. My voice had been louder than intended thanks to the alcohol meaning I was no longer the only one looking at him. He was now the spectacle of the show with almost everyone peering down the table at what was going on. He didn't flounder though and instead he cut a neat piece of meat off the end and though he couldn't stop himself from grimacing as blood oozed out onto his plate he hoyed it into his mouth and choked it down all the same.

'How is it?' I asked after it was gone.

'Fine,' he said, taking a sip of his iced water.

'See!' Ann said placing a dainty hand on his bicep, 'I told you it wouldn't be that bad.'

'What?' I said, confused. She looked at me with a smile though Elvis kept his head down sheepishly.

'Last time we had dinner he ordered this thing, it looked more like a tire than a piece of meat, and I told him all that burnt stuff was bad for his health,' she said, 'too many carcinogens. It's much healthier to have your meat medium or rare.'

'Yeah, I think I've heard that before,' Joe said from the side of me.

'The question is what isn't bad for you these days,' Sonny chimed in, 'though good on you for makin' EP change his mind about the bits of rubber he calls meat.'

'Yeah that's a feat in itself,' Joe said. Their conversation continued but I couldn't join in. My blood was boiling, the alcohol well and truly taking hold as I watched him. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. After years of moaning at him to eat someone that resembled an edible meal and him refusing he’d elected to make a change after one meal with her. It was like a punch to the gut. My jealousy took a hold consuming every fibre of my being. Elvis wasn't paying much attention and was instead scarfing down his pink steak punctuating it with sips of water to no doubt dilute the taste. My focus didn't land on him however, it landed across the table. I wanted to make her feel as bad as I did. To ruin her night like she had ruined mine. I could feel my words coming on fast and there was no way to stop them.

'Oh, I don't know. I wouldn’t say it’s that hard to change his mind,' I said taking a sip of wine as I rested back in my chair. I could feel several pairs of eyes land on me, including Elvis and Ann's.

'Remind me of that when I'm trying to pry him out of bed to go to the lot,' Joe chuckled.

'You just need to know how to handle him,' I said, 'ain’t that right sweetie?'

'You think you can handle me?' Elvis said quirking an eyebrow. He was playing along in front of the boys but I could see him hesitate, not knowing where I was going with it.

'Of course, though it seems like I'm not the only one. Right, Ann?' I asked with a fake smile. Ann glanced at Elvis and then back at me.

'Oh I wouldn't say I can handle him like you,' she said an embarrassed blush on her pretty face.

'But he listens to you,’ I said, ‘I mean you got him to eat something other than black steak. That’s some feat.’

‘Like I said it’s nothing,’ she said shifting awkwardly in her seat. I didn’t care though. I could feel more and more people staring curiously at me, wondering what the hell I was going on about, Elvis too but I didn’t pay them any attention.

‘How did you do it?’ I said.

‘What?’ she asked glancing at Elvis for help.

‘It’s a simple question,’ I said leaning forward and running my finger around the rim of my wine glass, ‘I mean I know how I’d do it. You know one time Elvis took me shopping and I found this beautiful Chanel number, you remember that right honey? The one with all the buttons? Anyway, he’s moaning about it telling me it looks like something a sailor would wear but me? I love it, so you know I did?’

‘What?’ Ann said quietly unable to ignore me as I watched her intently my gaze never wandering from her green eyes.

‘I got down on my knees and blew him right there in the dressing room,’ I said.

‘Y/N!’ Elvis snapped.

‘Soon got him to change his mind-’

‘That’s enough,’ Elvis said.

‘You know he can’t even see anything naval without sporting wood,’ I giggled.

‘Stop it,’ Elvis said standing up and yanking me out of my seat by my bicep. Though his grip was tight on my arm it was a good job he was holding me as I was unsteady enough that I would’ve toppled over if it hadn’t been for him.

‘What? We’re just swapping girly stories, right Annie? I bet she could tell me just how she gets you to do stuff don’t you think? I bet it’s not all that dissimilar, huh baby?’ I sneered.

‘You’re drunk,’ he said.

‘And you’re screwing your co-star,’ I said. Joe pushed my other side keeping me on balance as I yanked my arm out of Elvis’ grasp. Ann’s face paled before going deep crimson as she dropped her gaze to her lap. Elvis said nothing his face thunderous as everyone watched the pair of us just looking at each other.

‘Can’t even deny it can you?’ I said looking at him. I shook my head, grabbed the bottle of wine off the table and walked off out into the foyer. I didn’t know where I was going. The car wouldn’t be waiting and I didn’t feel like heading outside. I didn’t need to worry though as I felt a hand grasp my elbow, pushing me towards a door until I was roughly thrust through it into a storeroom of sorts. I fell inside, looking up to find Elvis standing by the door blocking my only exit.

‘What the hell do you think you’re playing at?!’ he snapped.

‘Me?! You’re fucking someone else and you’re angry at me!?’ I baulked.

‘It’s not like that,’ he said.

‘Yeah sure,’ I snorted.

‘Nothing’s going on,’ he said.

‘Nothing’s going on now? Or nothing’s ever happened,’ I said coming towards him. His jaw was tight as he looked down at me but my expression never changed. I was challenging him to tell me I was wrong.

‘It’s over,’ he said making me pull back shaking my head, ‘it has been for a while.’

‘Since I came to town and spoiled your fun?’ I said taking a swig from my bottle before setting it down on a shelf.

‘Since I remembered how much I love you,’ he said making me roll my eyes, ‘what you don’t believe me?’

‘Until I’m not around right,’ I said.

‘It’s not like that,’ he said coming towards me. I folded my arms across my chest to stop him from touching me, ‘you don’t think I know how pathetic I am? That I don’t know I’m weak? I know I’m not worth the ground you walk on and yet you still keep me around. I know I don’t deserve you Y/N…but I love you and I’m sorry.’

‘You always are,’ I said an errant tear trickling down my cheek. He moved to wrap his arms around me but I stayed still, letting his strong hold engulf me.

‘Do you love her?’ I said in almost a whisper. He was so close to me that I could feel the warmth of his breath on my face, the heat of his body matching that of my own.

‘Not as much as I love you,’ he said pressing his forehead to mine before he placed a kiss on my cheek. His lips kissed my tears away until finally, they landed on my lips. He kissed me, waiting for my permission to take it further. I tried to stop. I knew I should. But I loved him. I always would, so I moved my lips against his. He took this as a positive sign and deepened the kiss pushing me backwards until my back hit the wall. I didn’t do much of the work. His lips were everywhere all at once, touching every piece of skin they could find and leaving fire in their wake. His kisses were interspersed by murmurs of adoration as if his words could wipe away his actions for good.

‘I love you,’ he said as his hand slipped under my dress, teasing through my folds before he moved my panties to the side and slipped inside me, hoisting me up until my legs were wrapped around his waist. The wall was uncomfortable against my back but I couldn’t focus on that as Elvis’ fingers made their way to my sensitive bud, stroking it in time with his movements in and out of me. His name was all I could manage to whimper against his neck as the feeling of ecstasy started mounting in my core.

‘Baby,’ he grunted as his hips started faltering in rhythm.

‘Oh god,’ I said trembling around him with a whimper. He moved his hips in haphazard snaps against me until he groaned loudly, his breath hot and wet against my neck as he buried his face against my skin. After a moment he came round, pressing his forehead against mine. I could feel him softening inside me yet neither of us moved, my fingers tracing small circles on the nape of his neck as our breaths intermingled.

‘I love you,’ he said after a moment.

‘Enough to stop seeing her?’ I said.

‘Like I said. It’s over,’ he said pulling away from me so he could gently place me on my feet. His hand was tender against my cheek, his thumb stroking against my skin gently. I watched his face for a moment as if I would be able to tell the future from his expression alone. I knew it was pointless. I knew that whatever was going to happen in the future would happen regardless. But I loved him. With everything I had.  So, I pulled away and nodded ever so slightly. He kissed the top of my head and then led me out of the storage cupboard. There weren’t many people in the foyer but those that were there were sure to know what had just transpired. Joe, Sonny, Red and Jerry congregated by the door of the dining room probably unsure of what they were supposed to be doing in Elvis' absence. That or they were forming a human barrier in case I wanted to head back inside for round two.

‘Give me a minute,’ he said squeezing my hand before he dropped it and headed over to the boys where they began talking in hushed whispers. I could feel the eyes of the waitstaff watching me as I stood in the foyer and so I quickly ducked into the restroom to freshen up. I looked a little messy. My tears had given me black smudges under my eyes and my lipstick was smudged from Elvis kissing me. I grabbed a paper towel and started to retouch the damage but I slowed my actions down as I noticed the toilet door opening.

Ann stepped out.

‘Oh,’ she said, ‘um sorry I didn't know-’

‘It’s fine,’ I said straightening up and tossing the paper towel in the trash.

‘Y/N,’ she said coming towards me offering to put a tender hand on my shoulder but I moved out of her way.

‘Don’t,’ I said. We stood there watching each other for a moment. I didn’t know what I was feeling. Anger. Sadness. Who knew? Whatever it was it felt awful and it was made even worse by the fact she looked genuinely remorseful.

‘I really am sorry,’ she said.

‘Just,’ I said my words disappearing. I didn’t know what to say. After all, how could I blame her? The charm, looks and appeal she had been lured in by was the one that kept me hooked. I couldn’t resist it any more than she could. How could I blame her for giving in to temptation?

‘I can’t lose him,’ I said. My hand was on the door handle now, my gaze locked on it as I refused to look up at her.

‘You were never going to,’ she said capturing my attention, ‘I’m not what he wants.’

‘Yeah, who’d want a gorgeous movie star, right?’ I said.

‘It's what he wants for a night. You get his mornings. His afternoons. You’re the one he calls when he’s had a bad day,’ she said, her eyes were sad though she was wearing a sympathetic smile, ‘you’re the one who’ll get his last name.’

‘I hope you’re right,’ I said and with that, I slipped out of the bathroom. Elvis looked around as I came out. He was standing with Jerry, waiting for me by the main entrance, the others sent to handle whatever needed fixing on my behalf.

‘Everything okay honey?’ he murmured as he wrapped his arm around my shoulders and led me outside.

‘Fine,’ I said with a small sigh, ‘just fine.’

#my writing #elvis #elvis presley #ann margaret #elvis presley fic #elvis fic #elvis presley x reader #elvis x reader #elvis x reader fic #does he love you #request #requests #requested fic

[thedevilinmybrain]

prompt in case you do fuckfest friday: their sex tape leaks. louis thinks harry is gonna freak out but he ends up being really into it

"Okay, baby, it's bad. Like, bury our phones in the garden, escape the general public for a few years bad, I'll admit." Louis has both of his hands up, placating, not sure if it's in his best interest to touch Harry or not. It was his phone, his fucking stupid phone that he set down at the pub and walked away from. His phone that he had unlocked because he was better at not losing it these days. Or so he thought.

"Hm," Harry hums noncommittally. Before him on the kitchen table, there is a long row of gifs posted and reposted over and over on tumblr. The video has only been leaked for little over an hour, but people are fast.

"And I feel it only appropriate to remind you of our vows. I mean, you said it yourself, through good and bad. Through heaven and hell." Louis can feel that frantic energy starting to inch up his spine, panic setting into the very marrow of his joints. "I love you and we're standing on that very expensive rug you just had to have from Germany. So, if you're going to go for brutal murder, should we at least move to the kitchen? You wanted to remodel in there."

"I really do have great legs." Harry sighs, scrolls for a moment where there are a set of four gifs. It's Louis taking him from behind, arms flexing in the dim light of their LA bedroom, the sweat highlight the cut of muscle. Harry is on his knees, back arched, thighs twitching every time Louis slams in.

"Wh-What? I mean, yeah. Of course you do. I've been saying that for literally years but-" Louis sputters, moves to stand beside him, staring down at the laptop. "Baby, you're not-"

"I mean, Brad and I really have been working on toning, not just bulk, you know? And I think it's been paying off." Harry points to the cut of his hamstring as Louis fucks into him, the muscle spasming. "Like that is pretty damn impressive."

"Our sex tape just got leaked and all you can worry about it how good you look in it?" Louis asks slowly, eyes roving from the scene playing out in front of him - another gif, this one of Harry's blissed out face, eyes glassy, as he stares up at Louis, mouth already open.

"I mean, of course I'm worried. But what are we going to do? It's already out. And besides, a little gay sex can be written off. I mean, it's bohemian." Harry flips his hand up, dismissive. "Tom Hardy has had loads of gay sex, even admitted to it too, and next to Cillian he's practically Nolan's favorite."

"I mean, it's Tom Hardy." Louis agrees, nodding his head.

"And I'm Harry Styles. And you're Louis Tomlinson." Harry laughs a little, turning to throw his arms over Louis' shoulders, pulling him close. "We'll be fine. Or it won't. I'm okay with disappearing for a while. As long as it's with you, then everything will be alright."

#fuckfest friday #larry

[howlingday]

swashbuckler au pyrrha flashback episode where she is saved by the long blade and swears to marry him when she was a few years younger with jaune having no idea she was serious or who she was .... why does that make her more interested!?!

1 2 3

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Aquadian Romance

It was supposed to be a simple tour. The rising star, Pyrrha Nikos, would tour across Remnant with her friends and rivals in order to maintain favor in her coming years. "Nothing would go wrong," she'd told her worrying mother.

But it did go wrong. Her team was trapped inside their room as the hotel was locked down by a roving gang of thugs. When they were denied entry, they got violent. When the guards came to apprehend them, they were beaten back. Suddenly, she was held against one of them, a knife to her neck.

She tried to be strong, but she couldn't help but cry. She saw cameras within the crowd and everyone could see her tears. The tabloids would eat this up like the vultures they are. Once the guards backed away, she was tossed away and the hotel was shut and locked.

Nothing happened for the rest of the week. Food was getting scarce, and she noticed her captors staring at them longer each day. She'd tried to maintain her exercise routine, but the reps lessened each passing day. Until...

"Psst!" Came a hiss. A hushed whisper. "I'm gonna get you out!" A hopeful chance. She made her way to the door, rousing the others on her way.

"Wh-Who are you?"

"I'm..." The voice trailed off before returning with confidence. "I'm La Lama Lunga."

The Hero of Aquadia?! Pyrrha had heard the legends, but to hear his voice was shocking! There was so much she wanted to warn him of, but his footsteps had already moved swiftly away from the door.

Thirty seconds passed. Nothing. One minute. Still nothing. Time slowed and Pyrrha's heart thundered. Could this be it? Could she be saved at last?!

"Look!" One of the girls whispered. Outside the window, a segmented rope softly swayed in the night air. Arslan took hold and gave it a few, firm tugs. With a nod, she bravely climbed outside. Slowly, one after the other, the rest of the athletes climbed out of the roof.

Pyrrha was the last woman out. Halfway across the room, the door exploded into splinters. Fear made her look back, and fear made her slow. She was pinned down, a weight placed hard against herbody.

"HELP ME!" Sobbing out as she tried in vain to be hear. A strike to her head made her quiet, though she continued to sob. Moreso when she saw the rope retract to the heavens.

She'd been abandoned. A casualty of a horrible circumstance. She alone was left behind. She could hear cries of rejection, though they were din to the agony she had felt. She was betrayed by those she'd called friend, and by the Hero of Aquadia.

"Oh, don't feel so bad." The voice said with sick intentions laced over it. "We don't need them. Long as we got you, we can have all the fun we want." She wanted to scream, but a roving hand to her chest choked the air out of her lungs. Hoisted to her feet, she was dragged to the window. "C'mon, let's see the pretty sights and get to know each other."

Pyrrha shivered. Was this how her life would be? Trapped in a foreign hotel, her dreams of becoming an international athlete as well as her dreams of maintaining her chastity to one she truly loved both quashed in a single, horrible night of abhorrent circumstance? Now, she was alone, and it was thanks to the Hero of Aqua-

"YIPPIE-KI-YAY-MOTHER- OH SHIT, DUCK!"

Pyrrha leaned forward, freeing herself as the rope returned, carrying a masked hero on the end of it. Boots pointed like a spear, the hero thrust into the room, heels cracking in the face of her captor. She was freed! Her life itself saved by this hero of insurmountable bravery!

"Um, a little help?"

She looked up to see him dangling, his boot caught on the balcony frame. She hurried and carried him down. When he was brought down to the floor, she gazed into the eyes behind his mask. They were as blue as the waters of Aquadia, and twice as kind.

"Th-Thank you..." She whimpered.

"Don't thank me yet." He said, taking hold of the rope. "Here. Climb up to the roof. Your friends, and the real heroes are waiting for you up there."

Pyrrha began to climb when she heard shouting. She looked down to see her hero nearly fall out the window. She wanted to call out, but he shouted over her voice.

"PULL UP THE ROPE!"

Pyrrha ascended, much to her dismay. Before she knew it, she felt arms grab hers, and she was lifted into sobbing hugs. On the roof, she was met by her friends and rivals, the city guards, and... the Hero of Aquadia?

This one, however, was completely different. He was much taller, more muscular, and had a pointed beard. He looked like he was in his 30s or 40s, whereas the man who saved her was closer to her age. He walked over to the rope and released it with a swick of his blade.

Pyrrha thrashed against those around her, but it was too late, and the rope lay helpless on the ground.

"But what about-?!"

"He's fine." The timbred voice waved off. "This was his idea, so he should know how to get out of it."

At this, Pyrrha finally freed herself. She marched up to him, jabbing a finger at him. "AND WHERE WERE YOU?!" She screamed, feeling the others hold her back. Tears filled in and flowed from her eyes. "WHY WAS IT ONLY HIM WHO SAVED US?!" In response, the supposed hero made a face of mild discomfort, like a cat that ate bad fish.

Before this could go further, there was cheering from the ground. Everyone leaned over and saw the real Hero of Aquadia walk out of the hotel. From the roof, he didn't look bad, but in the papers the next day, you could see the battered hero as he was.

The next few years that followed, Pyrrha went on to win regional and even Kingdom championships, lucrative sponsorships, and even a scholarship into Beacon. She was going to become a huntress, and hopefully, meet her hero again one day. The tabloids noticed her increased perserverance and tenacity, calling it, as they put it, "like she was steel to be tempered." Though this angered her that they would make light of and even glorify her trauma, she chose to ignore it and swallow her pride.

A buzz from her scroll caught her attention. It was from her friend, Ruby. And it would be the call she had been waiting for her entire life.

#rwby #la lama lunga #rwby au #jaune arc #ruby rose #pyrrha nikos #arkos #papa arc #arslan altan #la lama lunga au

[gracexthoughts]

of violent delights chap 11

a spark

14 april 1996

Mattheo’s POV 

“You’re la-” 

“Yeah, yeah I know,” I cut Mia off as I rush down the hall to meet her. She is standing against the wall outside the prefects’ office and I can’t help as my eyes rove up and down her body. Her long auburn hair is braided away from her face, the braid pulled to hang over her shoulder, and she’s foregone a uniform sweater in the warming weather. Her white blouse is tight against her figure, her long legs clad in knee high socks instead of her usual tights; the same outfit that had me distracted all through our shared lessons today. Lately, no matter how she wears her uniform I find her distracting.

“You ready?” She asks me, drawing my eyes back up to her eyes rather than her long legs. Her tilted head and cocky smirk on her lips tell me she caught me checking her out and I look down the hall, nodding. 

“Yeah, let’s go,” I say, not waiting for Mia before I start walking. She jogs a few steps to catch up with me and falls into step. 

“What took you so long?” She asks casually. 

“Quidditch,” I say simply. It’s not totally the truth but it's not a lie either. I did have practice. Over the last month both Gryffindor and Slytherin teams have been practicing nonstop, often having to fight for pitch time, in anticipation of the final match coming this weekend. Tensions are running high between the rival houses and plenty of fights have broken out this week alone (only one of which I was involved in, by the way). Slytherin is ahead by 200 points and Marcus is fairly confident in our position but I’m not so sure. To be honest, I think Gryffindor wants the Cup more than we do. 

But while animosity between our houses has been growing, a different kind of tension is growing between Mia and myself, one I’m not so sure is a good thing. We’ve found each other on the Astronomy Tower for a smoke multiple times in the last few months, taking turns bumming cigarettes and staying there far longer than we would if either of us was there alone. I find myself constantly distracted by her, even when she is nowhere to be found. And when she is around I can’t help but be drawn into her magnetic field, my eyes roaming and words flirtatious. 

When I got back from practice, Elladora had laid into me about how I am spending too much time with Mia and that I should skip rounds to hang out with them instead. Me saying no was not taken well. I think my friends are starting to suspect there’s more to my relationship with Mia than I’ve told them even though there is nothing… Okay, maybe there is a little something but I’ll be cursed before I tell my friends that. Besides, nothing can happen between Mia and I and nothing will. Euphemia Potter is far too good for me. A better, stronger man would keep his distance but I’ve never claimed to be a good man and when it comes to Mia I’m finding I’m weaker than I’d care to admit. 

“So, how was practice?” She asks, pulling me out of my thoughts and I shoot her a dubious look out of the corner of my eye. “What? I’m making conversation not trying to spy,” she says sarcastically, dragging out the last word. 

“Was fine. Normal,” I respond vaguely. 

“Broom fly, swing bat, hit bludger, scowl, so on?” Mia jokes, making me smile slightly and shake my head. 

“You’ve got me down, princess,” I chuckle. “What about you? Feeling ready?” 

“I’m always ready, Riddle,” Mia quips back, a mischievous look on her face, winking at me playfully as we keep walking. I laugh and turn away, looking down the hall. We walk in silence for a little while until we pass by the stairs to the Astronomy Tower and I stop. 

“You know what? Screw prefect shit, let’s go smoke or something. I’m knackered from practice, I could use a break,” I propose suddenly, pointing up the stairs.

“What? We can’t do that,” Mia protests, searching my face as if she’s not sure if I’m joking or not. 

“Why not? If anyone catches us we’ll just say we thought we heard something in the Astronomy Tower and we were just checking it out. Perfect cover,” I shrug, shoving my hands in my pockets as I look down at Mia. She watches me for a long moment before a smile splits her face and she chuckles. 

“Alright, fuck it. Let’s go,” she says, climbing the first few stairs. When I don’t immediately follow her, she turns around, the stairs making her tall enough to look down at me. “Well?” She asks, tilting her head. I smile and follow after her, my longer legs catching up to her easily and we climb up the tower side by side. 

✦

“No, no, just really focus on where you want the magic to come from. Like instead of the tip of your wand it’s your fingertip,” she explains, snapping her fingers again and producing a small and steady flame, lighting up her face in the moonlight. We’re sitting on the floor of the Astronomy Tower, cigarettes long gone, and facing each other as Mia tries to teach me her wandless magic trick. I grit my teeth and, focusing on my fingertips, snap my fingers over and over until a small spark emerges. “Yes! You almost had it!” Mia cheers, her face excited. 

“This is ridiculous, how did you figure this out by yourself?” I ask, growing frustrated. 

“Don’t get frustrated, you have no idea how long it took me. You’re getting it faster than I did,” she says, adjusting slightly and causing our knees to brush. 

“I couldn’t believe you less,” I deadpan, leaning forward towards Mia with my eyes narrowed. She reels back, feigning offense. 

“You don’t trust me? Don’t I look trustworthy?” She asks, looking up at me with wide innocent eyes, our height difference large enough that even sitting she has to look up to meet my eyes. I don’t answer, caught up for a moment in her expression. “C’mon, try again,” she presses, reaching forward to graze my hand, sending shivers up my arm which doesn’t help at all with focusing. I take a deep breath and snap, producing a small burst of a flame that goes out as quickly as it lit but still Mia cheers, clapping her hands at my dismal display. 

“Your enthusiasm is wasted on that. You’re a good teacher, though,” I say, leaning back on my hands and stretching my legs out, resting them next to Mia’s. 

“Thanks,” she responds, a faint blush coloring her cheeks as she fiddles with her ring. 

“You could come back and teach here. Wandless magic 101 or something.” She laughs at that. 

“Yeah, that’s the dream. Graduate school just to come back and do it for the rest of my life,” she says sarcastically. 

“Alright then, if not teaching then what do you want to do after Hogwarts?” I ask, trying to picture her in some stuffy suit or uniform, taking notes in a boardroom of some kind. 

“I don’t know. Honestly passing O.W.L.s and finding an apartment is about as far into the future as I can think right now,” she says, adjusting so her back is against one of the stone pillars and her legs extend out next to mind; the bare skin of her legs pale in the early moonlight. 

“An apartment? Getting out of the muggles’ place then?”

“Yeah, I’m 18 now and the Ministry granted me custody of Harry a few months back so I’ve got to find somewhere for us to live,” she says, a smile on her face at the idea of being on her own. I can’t help but be surprised and a little impressed, I can barely take care of myself most of the time yet here is this girl the same age as me who is willingly taking on the burden of caring for her brother and is happy about it. 

“That’s great, Mia. I’m happy for you,” I say genuinely and Mia looks at me with a bewildered expression. “What?” 

“Nothing,” she chuckles, “Just never expected Mattheo bloody Riddle would ever be happy for me is all.” 

“Yeah well, to be fair, I never expected to be happy for Euphemia fucking Potter either,” I respond with a deep chuckle. 

“It has been a weird year, hasn’t it?” Mia says with a laugh, watching me for a moment. “So, what about you? What are your plans after school?” 

“My mum wants me to work at the Ministry,” I respond with a shrug. 

“Okay, but what do you want?” I watch her for a moment before answering, surprised that she cares enough to ask and listen. 

“To not just be known by my last name. To be free of my father’s legacy and be my own person for once,” I admit after a moment. Something I’ve never told anyone else before, something I’ve barely even admitted to myself. “Beyond that, I’m not sure.”

“I get that,” Mia says after a moment, nodding. “Sometimes I think about just dropping everything and running off somewhere far away. Work in some Muggle pub or shop or something and just… be free of it all.” Her face turns wistful as she speaks, dreaming of a life she won’t allow herself to have, caring too much for the people in her life to commit to it. 

“Got any room for one more?” I ask, half kidding, half not.

“We’d kill each other two days in,” Mia laughs. 

“I don’t know, you’re kind of growing on me, princess,” I chuckle, sitting up and leaning towards her. I watch as her face splits into a smile, her mouth opening to respond but she’s interrupted by a voice from below the stairs. 

“Filch,” she whispers, and we both look down at our watches. It's nearly midnight, an hour past when our rounds are supposed to end meaning we no longer have an excuse for being out. “Shit, I didn’t even realize how late it is.” I look around the tower quickly and see a broom cupboard on the other side of the room. I stand and motion for Mia to follow me; it's not ideal but it will have to work. 

“Quick, in here!” I whisper, pulling the broom closet door open. Mia’s eyes widen and she shakes her head. 

“Matt-” 

“Mia, I know but we have to hide.” She weighs her options for a moment before reluctantly, stepping inside the closet, her fists clenched tightly as I step in with her and close the door, the closet so small it's near impossible for us to not be pressed against each other. I reach out to take one of her hands in mine, her eyes flying open to look at me. “Just breathe, you’re okay,” I whisper to her, her breath unsteady, her eyes never leaving mine. I squeeze her hand gently, my thumb caressing the back of her hand, the raised skin of her lightning bolt scar under the pad of my thumb. 

I can hear Filch and Mrs. Norris, his creepy cat, just outside the door. Suddenly, the door rattles behind my back and Mia squeezes her eyes shut, her breath increasing. “Hey, hey stay with me,” I whisper, my free hand to hook a finger under her chin, her eyes open again, fear more present in them than before, and I tilt her face up to look at me. “You’re safe, I’m not gonna let anything hurt you,” I whisper, and the scariest thing is I mean it and I can tell she believes me. I look down at her and all the world slips away; all I’m aware of is her and the beat of my heart, so loud in my ears I’m certain she can hear it as well. Time slows and I don’t know how long we stand there, staring at each other, frozen in fear of being caught or breaking the moment. 

But then Filch grumbles something to Mrs. Norris and their footsteps recede down the stairs and my hands drop to my sides. Heat creeps into my face as I turn and open the door, stepping aside for Mia. She steps out quickly, taking a deep breath with her eyes focused on the dark expanse beyond the tower, moving to the edge and gripping the railing so hard her knuckles turn white.“You okay?” I ask softly. 

“Yeah,” she says after a moment, turning back to me with flushed cheeks. “I hope we don’t make a habit of being in broom cupboards together,” she jokes, a little breathless. 

“Most girls don’t mind,” I brag out of habit and immediately regret it. I have a reputation for sleeping around and normally I don’t mind, but Mia is different. She’s so different to me that I’m never entirely sure how to act. But she laughs and rolls her eyes. 

“Oh I’m sure,” she laughs, the air between us turning awkward. “We should probably head back.” 

“Yeah, yeah probably.” We slowly climb down the stairs, careful to be quiet so as not to draw Filch back. When we finally reach the bottom of the stairs, my dorm one direction and Mia’s in another, I turn to look at her, wishing I could rewind time by about 5 minutes. 

“Goodnight, see you on the pitch on Saturday. I’ll be the one scoring all the goals,” Mia says with a soft smile, her voice playful as she turns in the direction of Gryffindor Tower. 

“Goodnight,” I whisper and watch as she smiles and turns around, walking down the hall and out of my sight, knowing I won’t stop thinking about her pressed against me in that closet all night. 

taglist (comment or dm me to be added); @purplegardenwhispers @somethingswiftandstyles @weasleyreidstyles @mayamonroem

#harry potter #harry potter fandom #harry potter fanfiction #matteo riddle #hogwarts #hogwarts oc #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #hp fanfic #wizarding world #hogwarts houses #mattheo riddle fanfic #mattheo riddle fluff #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle #matty riddle #mattheo fluff #of violent delights

[theunderestimator-2]

Rover, obscure early LA punk teen scenester, Masque denizen and nowadays a Las Vegas mom of 10 children, as captured ca. '77-'78 at the Atomic Cafe, in the Little Tokyo district of Los Angeles (the photo was also used as the back cover of The Klan "Pushin' Too Hard" b/w "Cover Girls" 1980 single by Posh Boy).

Rose, aka Rover [a nickname her high school bestie gave her because she couldn't stay in one place but was happiest roving around] is one of those girls who, according to Alice Bag, "added life and color to the early punk scene and made it so very interesting. She also received one of the first wounds (six stitches in the scalp) in the "us against them" skirmishes that seem to occur whenever people are afraid or intolerant of those who look different from them. It's hard to imagine a time and place when having short, crazy-colored hair could provoke a violent reaction from a stranger, but that was what it was like in the 1970's."

As Rover recalls:

"I believe I took the first hit in the social war we had waged against the norm. I was 16 at the time. I was outside of the Canterbury with my friend Brian (from Fullerton) sitting on a parked car. Two guys drove past on a motorcycle and the passenger threw a wine bottle into our little crowd and it hit me in the head. I didn't know what had happened. I grabbed my head & knocked a hunk of glass out and it fell to the ground. Then, a rush of pain and a river of blood and I stumbled forward and leaned against the Canterbury for support. I was dazed and in a state of confusion. They grabbed me and helped me walk. Gerber & Natalie took me to Lorna Doom & Belinda Carlisle's apartment. Darby was there. The paramedics arrived and bandaged my head. They joked about my hair color, saying they couldn't tell what was hair color and what was blood. If I wasn't the first hit, then I guess I was a shot of energy to all those around me."

Being badly teased in school in So Cal just for being pale white, in '77 she was a 16-year-old who ended up actually living in the Masque, the Hollywood multi-roomed labyrinth, the club and a meeting spot that soon became the center of the universe to many punks, misfits, outsiders, degenerates and the nascent punk scene that began bubbling up around 1976, with groups like the Screamers, Germs, the Weirdos and the Zeros, the Bags and the Go-Go’s, who she also roadied for.

"I walked into my very first show [a Dickies show at the Whiskey, Dec. '77] and knew I had finally found my home planet!!!! Remember the Twilight Zone episode with Elly May Clampett? She was laying in a hospital bed with bandages covering her face, consumed with self hatred & confusion because she was born so ugly that she couldn't fit in with society. The bandages came off and all had failed. Then it's revealed that she is really beautiful in a world of ugly and has to go live in a community with others like herself. That's exactly how I felt when I walked into the Whisky that night. Everyone was pale and it was ok."

(***photo provided by artist & activist @regi-mentle-black-blog , another active participant in the early LA/SF punk scene and friend of Rover, who was also crashing at the Masque back in the day)

#rover #the masque #la punk #early punk scene #punk #punk rock #alice bag #regi mentle #people

[philoursmars]

Marseille.

Pour aller voir mon frère à Martigues, je prends le pittoresque Train de la Côte Bleue.

Ici on sort de Marseille. On est au Rove, dans le hameau du Resquiadou et pour la dernière, pile au dessus de la Crique des Aragnols.

Désolé pour la piètre qualité des photos !

1 - vitres du train peu propres

2 - le soleil est pile en face, plein de reflets

3 - ici beaucoup de captures de vidéo (à suivre)

#marseille #train #train de la côte bleue #le rove #le resquiadou #calanque #crique des aragnols #aragnols #côte bleue

[cogentranting]

Think back to the last group of more than 3 people (other than immediate family*) that you were around for at least a short length of time (could be a class, your job, hanging out with friends, standing in line at the bank. Anything).

While you were with that group of people some sort of unexpected disaster struck. You must navigate that disaster and societal collapse/post-apocalyptic environment left behind afterward. This group is now your survival group.

Would you and your group survive? (More clarifications beneath the poll)

*your group can include immediate family members, but it must be a situation with at least 3 non-family people.

-What kind of disaster? Doesn't matter, take your pick. The Walking Dead. Love and Monsters. The Road. The Day After Tomorrow. It could even be a stranded on a mysterious island scenario a la Lost. If it influences your decision tell me about in the reblogs.

-There are other survivors of this disaster around who may or may not be friendly, but their goals do not align with yours. You can head off on your own, but you cannot join a new group.

-Assume that any family or friends of yours who are not in your given group are out of reach-- you are insurmountably separated from them (by either death or circumstances) for the foreseeable future.

#random #polls

[found-family-tournament]

Found Family Tournament Round 1 Part 3 Group 12

Propaganda and further pictures under the cut

The Mechanisms: Jonny d'Ville, Nastya Rasputina, the Starship Aurora, Ashes O'Reilly, Ivy Alexandria, Drumbot Brian, the Toy Soldier, Marius von Raum, Raphaella la Cognizi, (& Scuzz Nishimura)

Scooby Gang: Shaggy, Daphne, Fred, Delma, Scooby

Submissions are still open!

The Mechanisms:

Out-of-universe, the Mechanisms are a folk band of musicians playing fictional onstage personas, formerly the backing band of Dr. Carmilla before splitting off to become their own thing. In-universe, the Mechanisms are a band of immortal space pirates and their sapient ship Aurora roving through the multiverse, having adventures as well as causing general carnage and mayhem, in addition to occasionally writing music about their experiences and performing before a live (though not always for long), at times captive audience.

They are,,,, so chaotic. They are composed of, in order: a cannibalistic war criminal from Space Texas, the lost princess Anastasia Romanova from Cyborg Space Russia, her sapient starship girlfriend who used to be a moon for an alternate version of Earth before being kidnapped by Cyborg Space Russia, an arsonist gangster who burned down their entire planet, an archivist who is nice enough up until you damage her books (in which case RUN), a doctor who was repeatedly and separately convicted for heresy and witchcraft and currently pilots the ship, a wooden soldier that is Not Real, But Very Good At Pretending To Be, a war criminal from another version of Earth who blew up the moon, an amnesiac mecha pilot who is the ship's doctor and self-appointed psychiatrist despite NOT being qualified for either, and a severely unethical scientist who is perfectly willing to cause catastrophic international disasters if it gets her interesting results for her "experiments". Oh, and also a space ninja who visits sometimes. Not sure what her deal is.

What's more, they're chaotic evil. Because when you're immortal for long enough, you morals end up skewing so far outside of the box they're hardly even in the same galaxy anymore, because things get stale pretty quickly if you keep doing the same thing over and over again for tens of thousands of years and besides, tens of thousands of years is a long time to go through without experiencing some of the more exciting avenues life has to offer. Doesn't really help that a bunch of them weren't the best of people before becoming immortal either. As a result, what most people would call a string of horrific atrocities/mass destruction, the Mechanisms call a particularly interesting Tuesday. Among their canonical crimes include: destroying a sun, orchestrating the collapse of several civilizations, very armed robbery, brainwave piracy, terrorism, neuro-arson, unlicensed foul language, criminal enterprising, grand theft mecha, starting various cults, whatever 'aethercide' and 'grand theft aether' mean, as well as literally every single crime imaginable except for the sexual ones (specific to Jonny, who is implied to be aspec. he really might as well have been doing a completionist speedrun of that specific planet's constitution at the time). Also, none of them are cishet.

The thing is though, the thing is-- all of them are so unfathomably old. It's been thousands of years and they can't die, not even when they put a bullet between each others' eyes every so often to get some peace and bloody quiet. And ultimately they cannot die, not until the narrative has deemed their roles finished, because above all the Mechanisms act as witnesses to the universe and all the stories therein; sometimes watching passively, sometimes taking a decidedly active role, sometimes something in between. And ultimately, there is no one else in the multiverse who can understand them as much as each other -- how it feels to die and come back immortal, how it feels to be trapped by the whims of a primal force of nature, how it feels to grieve every time they're forced to send the mortals they've just gotten attached to off to die because it is their destiny, how the sameness and endlessness of it all wears them down and can drive them mad if they're not careful. In a world that is ever-changing and reinventing itself in impermanence, as countless stories across countless worlds spring from humble beginnings only to crash and burn in a thousand ways towards the end, they are each others' landmark, the place they return to whenever it's time to stop playing at gods or sovereigns or conquerors or prophets. They're unbelievable shitheads towards each other but they also care deeply, which is pretty remarkable considering Aurora can't go lightspeed so they have to travel through space the old-fashioned way. I mean, you try living on a ship with the same eight/nine people for centuries at a time as you travel between star systems? Insane, frankly.

Which is also why it absolutely crushes me that for all the time they've spent together, all of them inevitably end up dying alone.

Scooby Gang:

They’re a bunch of besties who solve silly mysteries with their dog. Iconic

#tumblr polls #poll #polls #tournament poll #found family #found family tournament 2023 #tumblr tournament #tournament #The Mechanisms #mechanims #the mechs #Jonny d'Ville #Nastya Rasputina #the Starship Aurora #Ashes O'Reilly #Ivy Alexandria #Drumbot Brian #the Toy Soldier #Marius von Raum #Raphaella la Cognizi #Scuzz Nishimura #starship aurora #Scooby Gang #Shaggy #Daphne #Fred #Delma #Scooby #scooby doo

[socialjusticeinamerica]

Arguably “Dubya” Bush was worse. He started the two forever wars leading to millions of deaths that continue to this day. Hey turned the entire Middle East and Muslim world against us. He, and his papa, shared secret intel with the Saudis and let them off the hook for their role in 9/11. He allowed the New Orleans area be wiped off the map and hired mercenaries to forcibly relocate the survivors across the country at gunpoint. Many families were split by this and some still haven’t been reunited.

He and his sidekick Darth Cheney plundered the economy and made billions for themselves by awarding contracts to Halliburton and other companies they were heavily invested in. He allowed the oil companies to price gouge to record levels and personally profited from it. He made us the laughingstock of the world and damaged relations with close allies. He illegally invaded Iraq which had no connection to 9/11. He allowed the creation of Al Qaeda in Iraq which had previously been prevented by Saddam Hussein. He caused the Iraqi civil war and caused the founding of ISIS and set the stage for the Syrian civil war. He labeled Iran and North Korea as part of the Axis of Evil which pushed them into pursuing nuclear weapons to protect themselves while funding our geo-political enemies.

His mismanagement caused our debt to soar to massive levels. He created an environment which rewarded businesses to outsource jobs to foreign nations. He allowed Karl Rove to bring GOP computer servers into the White House and started the massive misinformation war that Trump and the Republikkkans are using against us today. He allowed guns to flourish on the streets and black people to be treated like second class citizens. He ramped up deportations of individuals from countries he didn’t like. He created military crises (a la Putin) to bring the public to support him at election time and his party at midterms. He gave us the Patriot Act and Homeland Security. He created No Child Left Behind which was a war on public education whose goal was to give educational funding to shitty for profit charter schools and evangelical schools. He began the widespread practice of giving public dollars to non-governmental organizations, evangelical groups, to solve social problems with no oversight.

In fact he was directly responsible for bringing evangelicals into the Republikkkan camp by paying their pastors to preach pro-Republikkkan messages and anti-progressive messages. He started the widespread practice of privatized prisons which turned out horribly. His mismanagement caused the energy crisis, Enron anybody. His mismanagement Aldo allowed 9/11 to happen. They knew and Republikkkan insiders and officials took to flying private charters in the weeks before the attacks.

I could go on but I’m sure not too many are still reading this far down. Let’s conclude by saying without an idiot like W Bush the stage wouldn’t have been set for a bigger idiot like Trump. Trump could have been much worse but he was so inept and insane he gorged himself and squabbled with the press instead of giving the GOP oligarchs what they really wanted. Trump will be known for his massive tax cut for the wealthy and jamming neo-Nazi judges down our throats. Bush stole two elections, Trump mercifully wasn’t bright enough to steal a second.

[this-daydream-is-dangerous-13]

I think the the Satellite Music Video is a partial response to Question…? Here’s the timeline:

October 21st, 2022 - Taylor drops Midnights, and Question…? (with its OOTW sample) is track 7.

October 23rd - Harry starts his residency at the Kia Forum in LA, 15 nights between this date and Nov. 15th (including Harrywe’en) before concluding the NA leg of HSLOT and heading to LATAM.

November 2 - Harry begins to look unwell onstage.

November 4 - Harry has to reschedule a concert due to illness. Moves it to the 6th.

November 5,6,7 - concerts all rescheduled due to Harry’s illness.

Before November 15 - concerts are rescheduled for January 26, 27, and 29, 2023. Harry heads to LATAM.

January 26, 27, 29, 2023 - Harry plays rescheduled shows in LA

January 31 and February 1 - Harry plays 2 newly scheduled concerts in Palm Springs (the second on his 29th birthday).

February 5 - Grammy Awards in LA

February 11 - Brits in London

February 20 - Harry starts Australia/New Zealand/Asia leg in Perth, WA, Australia.

The video, which dropped May 3, 2023, starts with footage from a concert at the Forum.

It took place on January 27th, 2023. But here’s the thing: the earliest anyone knew about this concert (for MV planning purposes) was November 8, 2022. It would not have been possible without Harry’s illness and subsequent rescheduling. That is the very earliest possible date, and it’s 2.5 weeks AFTER Question…?

The video is sweet, sad, and full of Easter eggs. For example, it starts with a Brian Cox voice over talking about how Curiosity rover had spent “10 lonely years” roving the red planet (so January 2013 to January 2023).

Stomper the robot journeys to Kennedy Space station to try to reconnect, and here are a few of the vignettes along the way:

The fictional corner of Gold Rush and Eagle Drive, made just for the video.

This is giving me evermore feels…

An accident in the snow?

And finally encountering Harry—who’s wearing a Saturn shirt—as they both gaze up at…

Sagittarius.

And poor old stomper looks at this view until he meets his…

Forevermore.

What else did you notice?