#Flare Media Kit

[wosospacegirl]

should’ve called me

Summary: Y/n's on her period and having a hard time during training and Millie drives her home

Warnings: millie is the sweetest girlfriend ever

Word count: 2.3k

Masterlist

..

Y/n shifted restlessly in bed, rolling over the tangled mess of pillows and blankets. Her stomach throbbed, the dull ache twisting deep in her lower abdomen, making sleep impossible.

It was 4:30 a.m., and she still had time before she needed to get up for training. Just a little more sleep–that’s all she wanted. Enough to avoid dragging a headache around all day.

But her body had other plans. It was the second day of her period…the worst day! Cramps, back pain, mood swings, and of course, blood.

She hated training during her period. The ache in her stomach made everything uncomfortable; her back always felt stiff, and even the simplest drills felt ten times harder.

People always talked about "empowering your body" during your cycle, but Y/n couldn’t bring herself to care about all that when she was the one bleeding out.

If someone asked her in an interview about playing football during her period, she'd say all the right things: "It's normal, it’s natural, we push through". But actually being the one running around the pitch while her uterus staged a full-on rebellion? No thanks.

Y/n turned onto her right side, clutching her stomach tightly. The pain dulled a little, but her back started to ache. She sighed and flopped to her left instead, tucking a pillow between her legs and closing her eyes. It didn’t fix everything, but it was better, warm and comforting, almost like when Millie hugged her.

She missed that. It had been a while since she and Millie spent proper time together. Chelsea’s schedule had been relentless lately–training, physio, media duties–and now, with the season winding down, no one had time to even breathe.

Y/n and Millie had been dating for a few months now. When Y/n first joined Chelsea, Millie had been the one to show her around.

She made sure Y/n was comfortable, helped her settle in, and made things easier. Somewhere along the way, their friendship blurred into something more–coffee orders memorized, late-night phone calls, kisses stolen in quiet corners of the training ground.

But right now, they weren’t speaking.

They’d had a fight–a stupid one–on Friday night, and Y/n had spent the whole weekend avoiding Millie. Well... Millie had tried to talk. Y/n was the one being stubborn. 

Looking back now, the whole thing felt ridiculous. Y/n had snapped when she saw Millie hugging one of the girls from the team, they’d looked too close, too comfortable. Jealousy had flared, and with her emotions already heightened, she lashed out.

Millie had just been comforting a teammate who’d had a rough training session. Y/n knew that now, but at the time... well, blaming it on PMS sounded a lot better than admitting she'd been unreasonable.

Maybe it was time to apologize. But she wasn’t going to text, she would wait until training.

..

The locker room was empty when Y/n walked in. She changed quietly, tugging on her training kit and pulling her hair into a ponytail. The sharp tug on her scalp made her wince, pain shooting down her temples.

She was pressing her hand to her stomach when the door creaked open. Erin walked in, her training jersey already damp with sweat and grass.

"Hey, Y/n!" Erin grinned. "How’s it going? How was your weekend?"

"Horrible," Y/n mumbled, sitting down to pull on her boots. "I was... kind of a bitch to Millie, and then we had a fight. And now I’ve got cramps, so... yeah."

"Oh," Erin nodded knowingly. "That’s why Millie’s been walking around like a lost puppy."

Y/n’s stomach twisted with guilt.

"Lucy asked me what happened, but I didn’t know," Erin added. "But don’t worry, baby–talk to her. I’m sure it'll be fine." She patted Y/n's back.

"Yeah," Y/n sighed. "I will."

Erin started toward the door but paused. "You coming?"

Y/n pressed her palm firmly to her stomach. "Cramps... just waiting for the medicine to kick in."

"Oh, I’m sorry," Erin said, her smile softening. "Maybe you could hit the gym instead of training today?"

"No, I need to be on the pitch," Y/n muttered. "Don’t you remember the last game? That shot I took? It went flying over the goal... It was embarrassing."

Erin grinned. "Happens to the best of us."

"Yeah," Y/n snorted, "but you’re annoyingly good at everything."

"That’s because I am the best."

Erin ducked out the door just before Y/n’s shin guard came flying her way.

Unfortunately, the smile didn’t last long. Another wave of pain knotted her stomach sharply. She glanced at her watch–30 minutes late already. Erin had probably told Sonia she was in the changing room, but Y/n knew she couldn’t put it off any longer.

She sucked it up and headed to the pitch.

Her teammates were already running drills; Y/n eyes quickly found Millie running, but she wasn’t in her natural spot upfront, instead she was behind the other girls. Her eyes were focused on the floor as she ran, clear sadness on her face.

Yep, Y/n needed to apologize. Fast.

But not right now, Y/n had responsibilities to fulfil first, and that meant talking to the manager.

She saw Sonia standing in the middle of the pitch, scribbling notes on her clipboard alongside her assistant coaches. Y/n considered slipping straight into training, but she knew she owed an explanation to Sonia first of why she was late.

"Hey, Y/n!" Sonia was greeted warmly when she approached. "Everything okay? Erin said you weren’t feeling well."

Y/n shifted on her feet. "Yeah... cramps."

Sonia’s expression softened. "I’m sorry–feel free to sit this one out if you need. I know how tough it gets for you."

The good thing about being in a club that cares about your health? The best doctors, physios, and support staff were always available. The downside? Everyone knew way too much about your body.

Even the manager.

“No, it’s alright– I’m sure I’ll feel better soon,” Y/n said, even though she wasn’t actually sure about it. She just didn’t want to feel like the odd one out. 

What was the point of coming to training if she wasn't going to train?

“Just want to give you a heads up that my performance will be poor though,” Y/n said with an awkward laugh, while fidgeting with the hem of her jersey.

“Don’t worry about it, do your best.” Sonia gave her an empathetic smile. “And take some water breaks, alright? Don’t overwork yourself.”

As Y/n jogged beside Millie, she kept sneaking glances at her. Y/n’s chest tightened. What if Millie wasn’t so quick to forgive her this time? What if she was tired of Y/n’s moods?

“Hey,” Y/n said softly, voice tight with nerves.

Millie turned her head, and to Y/n’s surprise, she smiled– small, but genuine. “Hey,” Millie said back.

Y/n exhaled, guilty in her voice. “I-I’m sorry for ignoring you the whole weekend and…well, for being kind of a bitch really.”

“What got you so angry, huh?” Millie’s teasing smile softened. “Spent the whole weekend thinking, what have I done to get on your nerves?”

Y/n felt even more guilty, even though Millie seemed to have forgiven her already. She always did. Millie was patient and understanding; two things Y/n was still learning.

“I got my period so…hormones,” Y/n said. “I’m sorry about that, I know it’s not an excuse.”

“Oh, are you feeling okay?” Millie asked while cleaning sweat off her forehead. “How are your cramps this time?”

“Bad, very bad,” Y/n said. “I was waiting to see if the pain would alleviate a bit with the medicine, but it didn’t work.”

The assistant coach blew the whistle twice, which meant everybody had to start running faster, so Millie and Y/n did so. Although Y/n’s cramps were getting worse and worse.

“You should’ve called me,” Millie said. “I would’ve come to your house, we would cuddle– you know medicine doesn't always work for you.”

Millie was right. Y/n had such bad cramps that not even the strongest medicine could get rid of them, but she still tried to take them and hoped for the best every time. 

“I know, I just didn’t want to make a big deal out of it,” Y/n mumbled, slightly out of breath.

“It’s a big deal if you’re in pain,” Millie said gently.

Y/n smiled sweetly at Millie as they ran laps quietly, the drill becoming too intense for them to have a conversation.

As the team ran, Millie’s eyes kept flicking toward Y/n. Every time Y/n pressed a hand to her stomach or slowed down for just a second, Millie noticed.

She shifted closer, gradually shortening the gap between them until her elbow brushed Y/n’s arm.

“You sure you’re okay?” Millie asked quietly, like she didn’t want the other to overhear, since Y/n didn't like when others knew she was in any type of pain, even her teammates.

“I’m fine,” Y/n muttered, trying to pick up her pace– but Millie stayed beside her, watching the girl carefully.

As if it were the bells of the angels themselves, the assistant coach blew the whistle, indicating the running drill was over, after an hour and a half of running, in between breaks, obviously, the girls were free to carry on with their day.

Now each player had their own schedule– the goalkeepers had their own training session, some girls had physiotherapy, others pilates, while Millie and Y/n, alongside some other players, had a gym session.

Y/n trudged in the direction of the gym, her head pounding and stomach still aching. She was halfway through peeling off her boot to change it into her sneaker when Millie pulled her shirt, catching Y/n’s attention. 

“I’m driving you home,” Millie announced, her tone leaving no room for argument.

“I’m fine,” Y/n protested.

Millie scoffed. “Yeah, sure,” Millie snorted. “Because you’re totally the type to clutch your stomach like that for fun.” 

“I’ve got gym,” Y/n mumbled.

“Not anymore.” Millie grabbed Y/n’s bag, slinging it over her shoulder like it weighed nothing. 

“C’mon,” Millie added, her voice softer now. “I’ve already talked to Sonia– we’ve got the rest of the day off.”

“I can–”

“You can barely stand up straight,” Millie interrupted, her hand finding Y/n’s elbows gently. “I saw you dragging your feet out there. And don’t even think about arguing. You’re pale and sweaty. You look like you haven’t slept well in days.

“I always look sweaty after training,” Y/n tried.

Millie arched an eyebrow. “Not like this.” Her grip on Y/n’s arm tightened slightly, trying to get the girl to stand up from the bench. “I’m serious, babe. Just let me take you home.”

Y/n wanted to argue, but honestly, she didn’t have the energy. Her stomach twisted again, and she grimaced, a frown on her face.

“See?” Millie’s face softened immediately. “I knew it– you’re miserable! With all the respect.” 

She shifted Y/n’s bag higher on her shoulder. “You’re getting on my sofa with a blanket, a hot water bottle, and we can watch whatever movie you want. Non-negotiable.”

Y/n groaned at Millie but followed her until they were in the parking lot. Millie opened the door for her, and Y/n got in as Millie began driving.

Y/n was feeling more and more pain. The sharp tugged in her lower back was getting stronger, too. They didn’t talk on their way to Millie’s house. Instead, they were in a comfortable silence.

Millie gently placed her hand on Y/n’s thigh as the girl lay her head against the windows, closing her eyes.

..

By the time they reached Millie’s house, Y/n was practically dragging herself out of the car, but Millie was at her side in an instant, wrapping an arm around her waist.

“Alright, no arguments,” Millie muttered, her voice softer now. “You’re going straight to the sofa.”

“I can walk,” Y/n grumbled, even as she leaned heavily against Millie.

“Yeah, yeah,” Millie said teasingly. “You’re walking, I’m just steering.”

Once inside, Millie guided Y/n to the sofa and immediately began fussing–like Millie usually did–tossing blankets over Y/n and adjusting pillows and practically tucking her in like a kid.

“You comfy?” Millie asked, getting down on her knees in front of Y/n.

“Uhm,” Y/n mumbled, eyes half-closed.

“You’re a bad liar, baby,” Millie muttered, kissing her forehead before disappearing into the kitchen.

Y/n let her eyes fall shut, barely registering the sounds of cupboards opening and closing. Soon enough, Millie was back, pressing a heating pad to Y/n’s stomach and placing a glass of water on the table.

“Here,” Millie murmured, coaxing Y/n into sitting up just enough to hand her some more painkillers. “Take these.”

Y/n swallowed them obediently, letting her head fall back against the pillows with a groan.

“You want tea?” Millie asked. “Or soup? I can make soup–or maybe you want something sweet? Huh?”

“Millie–” Y/n’s voice was barely above a whisper. “I just wanna sleep.”

Millie chuckled softly. “Alright, alright.” She tucked the blanket higher over Y/n’s shoulders, then grabbed the remote. “But when you wake up, I’m making you eat something.”

Y/n hummed in agreement, her breathing already slowing as the heating pad eased her pain away. Millie’s presence was also comforting, making her relax.

Millie stayed close, sitting on the floor with her back against the couch. Every few minutes, she’d reach up and gently squeeze Y/n’s calf–just enough to remind her she was there.

“You’re such a good girlfriend,” Y/n mumbled sleepily.

“Yeah?” Millie grinned, giving her leg one more squeeze. “Good. Now go to sleep, grumpy.”

..

Notes: Hope u liked liked it! Please like and reblog <3

Masterlist

[p0orbaby]

Green With Envy

summary: a touchy journalist and a jealous Leah

warnings: jealousy, a little unwanted touchy feely, but not anything gross

a/n: you know what I need, a possessive Williamson

word count: 665

-

It’s media day at The Arsenal.

The training ground is buzzing with journalists and microphones as players and staff gather around to answer questions. Play games. Pose in the new kit.

Typically you like days like this. A welcome change to the hard graft you and the team put in day in day out. Not to mention Leah thrives in these sorts of environments. It was her confidence and charm that had you hook line and sinker in the first place. However, her usual calm and collectedness was swiftly replaced by unprofessionalism.

And if you were being honest, you were completely here for it.

There was a journalist getting a little too friendly with you. Nothing too concerning, but they had a tendency to lean towards physical touch as a way of gratitude.

It does make you feel bad. Even though you and Leah haven’t put a label on your relationship just yet, it was peeled and ready to be stuck above your heart as soon as she said the word. And you do have it under control, even if she thinks you don’t. You can see her stewing in your peripheral. Pointing and doing a very terrible job at keeping her voice down as she complains to Stina.

Once their questions are fully asked and answered, and the reporter left you with yet another brush of their hand against your wrist, you're quick to find a protective, albeit possessive palm at the small of your back.

“Were they bothering you?” She asks, voice finally hushed enough to be discreet.

You don’t want to say yes, because they weren’t. Not really. Some people are just like that and it’s something you can understand. But if you could choose to not have someone place their hand on your arm, your shoulder, every few seconds, you’d vote for that option.

“They were fine” you settle on. Because they were. And you smile up at Leah who seems to still be sporting a deep frown despite your reassurance.

You let out a small chuckle, and raise your hand to run your thumb along the creases in her brow. “I mean it. They were just being friendly, you know? It happens” Your words are encouraging, but you can sense Leah’s protectiveness.

Leah's expression softens a little, but her tone remains skeptical. "I know, but that doesn't mean I have to like it”

You appreciate her support and reach for her hand, intertwining your fingers. Her rings cold against your warm skin. "I appreciate you looking out for me, Leah. They were just trying to be nice, I think”

She squeezes your hand gently, her eyes searching yours. "I don't like seeing anyone get too friendly with you”

You smile, basking in the warmth of the connection that has grown between the two of you. Leah was, at one point, just a friend, admittedly an incredibly attractive one. She had been your trusted companion, your confidant, someone with whom you’d weather the highs and lows both on and off the pitch. Initially, you might have been somewhat naive in thinking your relationship would remain within the boundaries of friendship.

But somehow, unspoken feelings between you had started to slowly weave their way into your daily interactions, like a melody playing softly in the background. The way her laughter would brighten your day, how her gaze would linger just a moment longer than necessary, and the unexpected sparks of jealousy that flared up when you saw her talking to someone else.

So here you were, looking up at Leah while her thumb traced circles on your skin and your heart beating a mile a minute as you shudder under her watchful eye. Already falling and fully prepared to be caught by only her.

"Well, it's a good thing I only have eyes for you then”

Leah's lips finally curve into a genuine smile, and she leans in to plant a soft kiss on your cheek. "That's what I like to hear”

[queenshelby]

Yes! Mr Murphy (Rewritten)

PART 11: JELOUSY

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Angst, Age Gap, Teacher x Student, Fluff

Note: This part and the next part will be short before we get to some more smut and fluff....

PLEASE COMMENT AND ENGAGE!

KIT’S POV

Kit was one of a kind. She had Cillian’s trust after having worked for him for over eight years, first as a consultant of the agency he engaged for publicity matters and then as his personal assistant.

She knew what he was like when it came to his personal life and she certainly knew that he hated any kind of attention from the media which, until now, Kit managed to keep at bay with his impending divorce.

Of course, for such delicate matter, Kit engaged a well-known publicist who worked with her and Cillian, briefing him on what to say and what not to say after Danielle made their separation public and spoke about it to the press.

This, of course, upsetted Cillian greatly but gave Kit the change to bond with him and learn more about his personal life. She quickly learned about his flaws and any hidden secrets that he may have had before separating from Danielle. She knew that this was something he had to share with her and his publicist now under non-disclosure agreement and she also knew that this gave her and the publicist a valuable inside into his personal affairs which, in turn, then helped them to protect him in case Danielle tried to pin something on him.

Finally, Kit knew about Danielle and her vindictive nature. She also knew about Cillian’s secrets and an affair Danielle he claimed to have had a few years ago. But she certainly did not know about you and the fact that you even existed in his life bothered her somewhat.

In her mind, you were attractive in an off-beat kind of way. Your clothes and accessories had their own flare, but they were nothing special at all. You appeared to have snatched them up in a second-hand department store somewhere without making any real effort about your appearance.

“Oh god, how terrible are those clothes” she chuckled quietly to herself. “If I was to date him, I would make an effort to look good, but this woman clearly doesn’t care” is what Kit then told herself when thinking about you.

You were shy and somewhat quiet, nothing special really and, yet, Cillian appeared to have been smitten simply by your presence.

You left his apartment while she was still there, chatting to Cillian about his upcoming press engagements and, when you did, he pulled you in for kiss goodbye right in front of her which was something that made her cringe.

It was only peck on the lips but he was not going to let you leave without it and this was more than he ever did at home with his wife Danielle, especially when Kit was around.

At least with Danielle, Kit knew that, from an emotional perspective, their marriage was coming to an end but, with you, this was all new and exciting and it bothered her to know that, just maybe, you might become the new woman in Cillian’s life.

She was jealous, feeling as though she missed her opportunity to finally make her move on him, and this jealousy was what quickly turned into a dislike for you.

“Who the fuck is this woman and where did she come from all of a sudden?” she asked herself but she knew that this information would not avail itself to her any time soon unless she started to do some digging.

Cillian usually kept his private life to himself and, except for his three closest friends, including Dermont, no one probably knew about you and who you were so you decided to send him a message, telling him that, ideally, he should brief her and his publicist about his relationship with you.

Cillian’s response to her message was not what she expected though as, somewhat directly, he told her not to share anything she saw that morning with his publicist. According to Cillian, you and him had a clear understanding that, whatever this was, was temporary and most certainly off the radar.

“She is good. I trust her. Don’t stress, alright?” was what Cillian said next and Kit simply had to roll her eyes in response to his comment.

All she knew now was your first name and that you had no fashion sense whatsoever. She knew that you were a friend of Cillian’s, one he evidently slept with and she knew that you were possibly somewhat younger than you claimed to be.

“God damn” Kit thus thought while popping your first name into her social media search engines anyway but, of course, without your surname, several hundreds of results returned to her and she learned nothing new about you whatsoever until she remembered that she had access to Cillian’s mobile phone contacts which were conveniently backed up in a drive that he shared with her and his agent on the Cloud.

Luckily for her, searching your first name on the shared drive proved to be more successful than simply looking it up on Instagram and Facebook as her search returned as little as three contact phone numbers.

Each of the contacts had a first and last name and she used all three of them to search through social media until, finally, she found what she was looking for.

There was an account under your name which was listed as “private” on Facebook, although that did not mean that it did not contain at least some valuable information about your identity.

YOUR POV

Your morning had been hectic to say the least. Firstly, your sexual encounter with Cillian was interrupted by his assistant Kit. Secondly, half of your clothes were still wet as Cillian had forgotten to turn on the dryer the night before, causing you to borrow a rather large jumper from him. And thirdly, you missed the god damn bus, resulting in you having to pay for an Uber instead.

Other than that, you were rather tired which was to be expected after spending most of your night having passionate sex, of which you were reminded every time you crossed your legs.

You were somewhat sore but, that too, was to be expected and did not really bother you much. In fact, it even felt good somehow knowing that your rather attractive lecturer was the one who caused your discomfort.

What did not feel so good, however, was the fact that your jeans were still a little damp and so were your panties, both for varying reasons. And yet, you blamed Cillian for both which, too, sent a smile across your face until, suddenly, you ran into Lorraine.

“Look who it is” she said teasingly while hanging out with the women who, not so long ago, you had called your friends.

“Good Morning Guys” you said in response to greet them all while adjusting your jumper. For some reason, you were worried that either one of them would recognise it but then again you knew that this was nonsense. It was plain black without any logo or pattern.

“I am surprised that you show your face around here these days after this not so flattering photograph of you has made the rounds” Lorraine then said before making a rather inappropriate joke about it.

“You should have taken an action shot instead. It would have gained some more popularity at least. But you are probably too boring for that” she went on to say and you could not help but roll your eyes.

“Unlike you Lorraine, I do not need to be the centre of attention which means that I can do without the popularity” you told her sternly just as you watched Cillian’s car pull up in the parking lot.

Of course, arriving at different times and through different means was intentional and yet you wished that, at least for once, you could rub it into this woman’s face. He clearly had no interest in her whatsoever but she still tried and tried to get his attention.

“How do I look?” she thus asked her friends while she adjusted her skirt and top, both of which were not suitable for this kind of weather.

“You look great Lorraine” one of them answered pretty much right away while, again, you rolled your eyes and an inadvertent chuckle escaped your lips.

“What’s so funny?” Lorraine asked as you could not hold it back.

“You are pretty Lorraine, but you are embarrassing yourself, acting like this” you told her while watching Cillian walk towards you all and he gave you the faintest of smiles.

“What is embarrassing is the way you present yourself Y/N. I mean, look at yourself. Can’t you make an effort for once? I know why James kept complaining about your attitude towards…” she began to say in a defensive kind of way but you already stopped listening to her and walked away which also when Cillian changed directions in order to avoid Lorraine and her crew from approaching him.

“Nice jumper” he then said in passing before giving you a wink and this was exactly what you needed right then. His simple gesture cheered you up and you did not feel so awful anymore about Lorraine’s comments towards you.

To be continued…

Please comment and engage. I love getting comments and predictions pretty please!

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[magicwhiskers29]

Restoration HQ has fallen, and Lanolin realizes belatedly that Surge and Kit are nowhere to be found. No one else seems to be too bothered by this.

She has a distaste for that.

Post-issue 75 mini-Lanolin study, with some Surgolin flare :)

[mariacallous]

Exclusive: Hezbollah handed out pagers hours before blasts - even after checks

BEIRUT, Sept 19 (Reuters) - Lebanon's Hezbollah was still handing its members new Gold Apollo branded pagers hours before thousands of the devices blew up this week, two security sources said, indicating the group was confident they were safe despite an ongoing sweep of electronic kit to identify threats.

One member of the Iranian-backed militia received a new pager on Monday that exploded the next day while it was still in its box, said one of the sources.

A pager given to a senior member just days earlier injured a subordinate when it detonated, the second source said.

In an apparently coordinated attack, the Gold Apollo branded devices detonated on Tuesday across Hezbollah's strongholds of south Lebanon, Beirut's suburbs and the eastern Bekaa valley.

On Wednesday, hundreds of Hezbollah walkie-talkies exploded. The consecutive attacks killed 37 people, including at least two children, and injured more than 3,000 people.

Lebanon and Hezbollah say Israel was behind the attacks. Israel's secretive military intelligence Unit 8200 was involved in the planning, a Western security source told Reuters this week. Israel, which has since stepped up airstrikes on Lebanon, has neither denied or confirmed involvement.

The batteries of the walkie-talkies were laced with a highly explosive compound known as PETN, another Lebanese source familiar with the device's components told Reuters on Friday. Up to three grams of explosives hidden in the pagers had gone undetected for months by Hezbollah, Reuters reported earlier this week.

One of the security sources said it was very hard to detect the explosives "with any device or scanner." The source did not specify what type of scanners Hezbollah had run the pagers through.

Hezbollah examined the pagers after they were delivered to Lebanon, starting in 2022, including by travelling through airports with them to ensure they would not trigger alarms, two additional sources told Reuters. In total, Reuters spoke to six sources familiar with the details of the exploding devices for this story.

The sources did not specify the name of the airports where they conducted the tests.

Rather than a specific suspicion of the pagers, the checks had been part of a routine "sweep" of its equipment, including communications devices, to find any indications that they were laced with explosives or surveillance mechanisms, one of the security sources said.

The attacks, and the distribution of the devices despite the routine sweep and checks for breaches, have struck at Hezbollah's reputation as the most formidable of Iran's allied 'Axis of Resistance' umbrella of anti-Israel irregular forces across the Middle East.

In a televised speech on Thursday, Hezbollah Secretary-General Hassan Nasrallah said the attacks were "unprecedented in the history" of the group.

Hezbollah's media office and Israel's armed forces did not immediately respond to requests for comment for this story.

Taiwan-based Gold Apollo has said it did not manufacture the devices used in the attack, saying they were made by a company in Europe licensed to use the firm's brand. Reuters has not been able to establish where they were made or at what point they were tampered with.

A batch of 5,000 of the pagers were brought into Lebanon earlier this year. Reuters previously reported that Hezbollah turned to pagers in an attempt to evade Israeli surveillance of its mobile phones, following the killing of senior commanders in targeted airstrikes over the past year.

Hezbollah's conflict with Israel dates back decades but has flared up in the past year in parallel with the Gaza war, heightening worries of a full-blown regional war.

TOO LITTLE, TOO LATE

After the pagers detonated on Tuesday, Hezbollah suspected more of its devices may have been compromised, two of the security sources, as well as an intelligence source, told Reuters.

In response, it intensified the sweep of its communications systems, carrying out careful examinations of all devices. It also began investigating the supply chains through which the pagers were brought in, the two security sources said.

But the review had not been concluded by Wednesday afternoon, when the hand-held radios exploded.

Hezbollah believes that Israel opted to detonate the group's hand-held radios because it feared Hezbollah would soon find that the walkie-talkies were also rigged with explosives, one of the sources told Reuters.

The walkie-talkie explosions left 25 people dead and at least 650 injured, according to Lebanon's health ministry - a much higher fatality rate than the previous day's pager blasts, which killed 12 and wounded nearly 3,000.

That is because they carried a higher payload of explosives than the beepers, one of the security sources and the intelligence source said.

The group's probe into precisely where, when and how the devices were laced with explosives is ongoing, three of the sources said. Nasrallah later said the same in the speech on Thursday.

One of the security sources said Hezbollah had foiled previous Israeli operations targeting devices imported from abroad by the group - from its private landline telephones to ventilation units in the group's offices.

That includes suspected breaches in the past year.

"There are several electronic issues that we were able to discover - but not the pagers," the source said. "They tricked us, hats off to the enemy."

[warriorwhiskers]

working on getting my side blogs updated and organized since my brain has decided that tumblr is a Good social media again 💀 ill make an official pinned post for this blog soon but for now i wanted to share my icon with y'all <3

dis guy is my warriors-sona: sleepyspark!!

made with this picrew: https://picrew.me/ja/image_maker/254030

(info beneath the cut)

his name is sleepyspark, and he's a cis tomcat (he/him but they/them is also fine)!!

he's only a few moons older than the typical apprentice (young adult of an unspecified age).

he is aroace and has lots of friends and a few platonic partnerships of sorts here and there.

he's shorter than the average tomcat and lithe because he doesn't eat much (his clanmates usually have to remind him or sit down with him to ensure he gets food. he drinks plenty of water tho! and he totally chews on grass lol)

his ears can be flopped or pointy, usually one of each.

he has a naturally short tail, not quite a nub but still much shorter than regular, more like a bob.

he has a scar on his nose/muzzle from a dog attack when he was a kitten that healed nicely but left a prominent scar. he was very self-conscious about it as a kitten, but he likes how it looks now!

he has a small scar on the left corner of his bottom lip which he accidentally gave himself while itching a scratch bc he is silly.

his back is crooked, making his shoulders lopsided (left shoulder is higher than his right) which causes him to walk sort of funny. his left shoulder has chronic pain that flares up particularly badly in the cold.

he is partially deaf in his left ear due to nerve damage as a kitten. standing near his left side or calling to him from the left is not recommended since he either won't hear you or will misunderstand what he manages to hear.

he was born and raised in riverclan and loves it there, but he often goes and hangs around twoleg places for attention. most of the clan knows about it, but he's a pretty well-liked cat and the scoldings don't seen to do much so they leave him be. he sometimes brings home toys and twoleg things (and food if he can) which helps keep the clan more neutral about it so long as he still pulls his weight around the camp which he does. they do nag him to make sure the other clans don't see him there out of reputation preservation, but he's pretty much the clans' silly guy so no one cares that much. (the two legs probably named him "silly" too lmao)

he's friendly with any cats he meets whether they be clan cats, kittypets, loners, or even rogues. in fact, he's not even limited to cats; he is also friendly with twolegs, dogs, cows, horses, and would definitely try to befriend even a fox or badger. there are obviously communication barriers, so it's not like... the same as the friendships he has with other cats. he's just Like That.

he goes along on patrols to help where he can and keep spirits and moods high, and he is known to notice details that other cats might not always catch which makes up for his lack of hunting and fighting abilities while out and about. aside from mediating and serving as a sort of clan therapist, he also plays with and watches the kits, allows apprentices to practice battle moves or healing on him, and generally performs apprentice duties like helping clean up around the camp (nests, walls, dens, herbs, etc) and working with the elders. the elders are particularly fond of him since he is very mellow, patient, attentive, and chatty.

he's always been a laid-back, chatty kittycat who sucks at hunting, fighting, memorizing herbs, swimming (he's technically a "dry-paw" bc although he doesnt mind getting wet and likes water, he can't swim and is scared to learn properly, so he never goes out past the shallows), fulfilling tasks/orders (has TERRIBLE adhd and is also a hypersomniac), and just most things in general so it was only natural he became a mediator (and THAT he is pretty dang good at!!) he was initially training to be a medicine cat, but it just wasn't his calling. he and his clan are very pleased with his position now. he has also been referred to as a "camp cat", "nursery king/tom", "camp keeper", and "permapprentice". (think of him almost as an "omega" type role.)

ill add more info if i think of it, and ill link his toyhou.se profile once i get around to making it. but yeah! here i am! :3

[drive360]

Mahindra Thar ROXX 2025 – 5-Door SUV Price, Specifications & Colour Options

The Thar ROXX is more than just a modified SUV—it's a symbol of personality, adventure, and raw power. Designed to conquer both rugged trails and urban streets, this customized version of the Mahindra Thar has become a dream machine for off-road enthusiasts across India.

Whether you’re an adrenaline junkie, a weekend traveler, or someone who simply wants a head-turning ride, Thar ROXX delivers in every way possible. This detailed post explores the features, design, performance, cost, pros and cons, and frequently asked questions about the Thar ROXX edition.

What is Thar ROXX?

The Thar ROXX isn’t a factory variant from Mahindra—it refers to a highly customized version of the Mahindra Thar, usually built by certified modification shops or off-road tuning experts. Think of it as a rugged, heavily stylized makeover of the Thar designed for tough terrains and visual dominance.

The ROXX version is built on the same platform as the second-generation Mahindra Thar but features aftermarket upgrades such as custom bumpers, lift kits, off-road tires, LED lights, advanced interiors, and in some cases, performance tuning.

Why Thar ROXX is Trending in India

In recent years, India has seen a rise in lifestyle SUV culture, fueled by social media, road trips, and an increased love for off-roading. This is where Thar ROXX fits perfectly.

Its aggressive styling, commanding road presence, and endless personalization options make it a status symbol and an extension of one’s personality. From young urban explorers to middle-aged road trippers, Thar ROXX appeals to a wide demographic.

Exterior Design and Styling

The first thing that sets Thar ROXX apart is its attention-grabbing exterior. This vehicle doesn’t blend in—it dominates the landscape.

Most Thar ROXX builds come with an aftermarket off-road bumper, matte or satin paint jobs, larger fender flares, LED fog lamps, and a wide stance. Some also feature LED light bars, snorkels, custom roof racks, and side steps that enhance both form and function.

The standard Thar is already muscular in appearance, but the ROXX version takes it to an entirely new level, making it look like a beast ready to charge through any terrain.

Performance and Engine Specs

Mechanically, most Thar ROXX versions retain the same engine options as the stock Thar, which include:

A 2.0L mStallion turbo petrol engine delivering 150 bhp and 320 Nm torque.

A 2.2L mHawk diesel engine producing 130 bhp and 300 Nm torque.

These engines are already quite capable. However, some ROXX builds go a step further with ECU remaps, performance exhausts, or air intake modifications to slightly boost power and response.

Suspension is often lifted by 2 to 4 inches using custom kits, giving better articulation and ground clearance. This also allows the vehicle to run larger off-road tires—typically 33 or 35 inches—for superior grip and shock absorption.

Interior Customization

Inside, the Thar ROXX is all about comfort and style with a rugged edge. Custom interiors often include:

Leather seats with contrast stitching and embroidered ROXX branding.

Upgraded infotainment systems with premium sound output.

Ambient lighting or dashboard LED strips for a more modern look.

Modified dashboards, roof liners, and door trims.

Off-road gear mounts, GPS modules, and action camera setups for vlogging.

The cabin may also receive improved sound insulation, which is important when using aggressive off-road tires that produce more road noise.

Off-Road Capability

This is where Thar ROXX shines. It retains all the legendary off-road DNA of the stock Thar and enhances it further with modifications such as:

Lifted suspension for better ground clearance.

Heavy-duty bumpers that can handle impacts and allow better approach angles.

Snorkels that raise the air intake level, allowing safe river crossings.

Winches for vehicle recovery during deep mud or rock crawling.

Underbody armor and rock sliders for protection during trail runs.

With all these add-ons, Thar ROXX becomes an ideal companion for deserts, mountains, rivers, forests, and even snow-covered roads.

Street Presence

Let’s face it—part of the ROXX’s appeal lies in how it turns heads on the road. Whether it’s parked outside a cafe or cruising through a city street, it commands attention. The aggressive wheel arches, massive tires, bold colors, and roaring exhaust notes make it impossible to ignore.

If you’re the kind of person who loves driving a vehicle that draws admiration, envy, and social media likes—this SUV is built for you.

Ownership Cost and Maintenance

Converting a standard Thar into a Thar ROXX typically costs anywhere from ₹2 lakhs to ₹5 lakhs, depending on the extent of customization, quality of parts, and location.

While the maintenance of core mechanical components remains similar to the stock Thar, additional aftermarket parts require special care:

Off-road tires may wear faster on highways.

Modified bumpers and lighting systems may need occasional tightening or checks.

The lift kit may impact the ride comfort on paved roads.

Servicing must be done at garages familiar with off-road builds.

Insurance can also be more expensive, as not all insurers cover aftermarket modifications without special add-ons. Always disclose upgrades to your insurance provider.

Customization Options

What makes Thar ROXX so exciting is that no two builds are the same. You can mix and match based on your style and budget.

Popular customization categories include:

Exterior Mods: Grilles, fenders, bumpers, winches, lights, mirrors, hoods, wraps.

Interior Mods: Upholstery, steering wheels, infotainment systems, off-road gear.

Mechanical Mods: Suspension kits, wheels, differential locks, performance filters.

Utility Add-ons: Roof tents, tow hitches, roof racks, ladders, tool kits.

With the right upgrades, your ROXX can be a camper, crawler, or a desert warrior—all in one.

Where to Buy or Build a Thar ROXX

You can either:

Buy a new Mahindra Thar and get it modified at a reputable off-road garage.

Purchase a pre-modified ROXX version from enthusiasts or auto modifiers.

Work with Mahindra’s custom division (if available in your area).

Always ensure that the modifier uses road-legal, RTO-compliant parts, and gives proper documentation for changes. It will save you a lot of hassle during registration and insurance claims.

Community and Events

Being a Thar ROXX owner automatically connects you to a growing community of like-minded individuals. From off-road clubs and social media pages to live meet-ups and trail challenges, you become part of a larger family.

Events like:

Weekend hill climbs

Desert rallies

Night trail runs

Adventure camping tours

…are organized regularly across India. These events are a great way to test your vehicle, learn driving techniques, and bond with fellow ROXX fans.

Pros and Cons of Thar ROXX

Pros:

Jaw-dropping looks and unique design

Serious off-road ability

Highly customizable

Strong engine options

Growing lifestyle and adventure community

Cons:

Higher price due to modifications

May compromise city comfort and mileage

Insurance and RTO approvals can be complex

Requires frequent checks for off-road parts

Despite these cons, for the right person, Thar ROXX offers unmatched thrill and street presence.

Who Should Consider Thar ROXX?

This SUV is ideal for:

Off-road lovers who want more than the basic Thar.

Influencers and content creators seeking a visually unique ride.

Adventure travelers who explore India’s toughest terrains.

SUV lovers wanting something rare and aggressive.

It’s not meant for the average daily commuter. It’s built for those who drive with purpose and passion.

FAQs About Thar ROXX

Q1: What is the Thar ROXX edition? Thar ROXX refers to a customized version of the Mahindra Thar, featuring off-road and aesthetic modifications. It's not an official factory model but built by aftermarket experts.

Q2: Can I buy a Thar ROXX from Mahindra directly? No. You have to buy a standard Thar and then get it modified into a ROXX version at a trusted customization center.

Q3: Is the Thar ROXX legal for Indian roads? Yes, as long as the modifications follow RTO norms such as lighting, bumper length, and emissions. Avoid extreme engine tuning or body mods without approval.

Q4: How much does it cost to convert a Thar into ROXX? On average, expect to spend between ₹2 lakhs to ₹5 lakhs, depending on how extensive the modification is.

Q5: Will my vehicle warranty remain valid after converting it into ROXX? Cosmetic modifications typically don’t void the warranty, but mechanical or electrical changes might. Always check with Mahindra or your dealer.

Q6: Does ROXX affect mileage? Yes, slightly. Larger tires and extra weight can reduce mileage by 2–4 km/l compared to the stock version.

Q7: Can I insure my Thar ROXX? Yes, but you must declare all modifications to your insurer. Some modifications may require a custom insurance plan.

Q8: Is Thar ROXX good for daily driving? It’s possible but not ideal. ROXX is built more for off-road fun and lifestyle use than for daily city commutes.

Q9: Are diesel and petrol both supported for ROXX? Yes, both engine options can be customized into a ROXX version.

Q10: Are there ROXX communities or clubs in India? Absolutely. Many off-road clubs, events, and Facebook groups exist for Thar owners, especially those with modified SUVs like ROXX.

Final Words

The Thar ROXX is more than a vehicle—it’s a lifestyle. For those who live for the thrill of the road less traveled, it offers style, strength, and soul in one rugged package. Whether you’re exploring the Himalayas or cruising down a city boulevard, the ROXX promises to be your boldest companion.

[iconadda]

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[pointvee]

ive seen a few akari has internet on the arc phone posts but hear me out:

ingo, his divine xtransceiver, and moderated social media

moderated so he doesnt break the time line ofc

it starts after the inital fuss of ingos fall into hisui, after being rescued and be selected as Lady Sneaslers warden. when the dust settles, ingo finally has time to look at the belongings that came with him. the odd watch like device he had that doesnt tell time he sets aside at first, its original position taken by the warden bracelet that is a sign of his position. but somehow its face flares with light, and it is transformed, slightly. golden lines and white planes replace black and red faces, and what he had assumed to be blank instead shows... him? 

anyways he figures out it take photos! and the first post (why he’s posting and how he knows how to post is handwaved pls, idk myself lol) is a verrrrry close up photo of his eye. the handle is wardeningoPC which i bet would confuse some people on what the PC means. pokemon center? pokemon coordinator? (its pearl clan) 

the account starts small back in the future, mostly pictures of the mount coronet landscape at different times, with captions in a weird mix of galarian and old sinnohan. the posts garner a small following, some rather concerned when ingo posts a picture from lady sneaslers cave of the raging blizzard outside. ingo can see the comments, mostly, but doesnt tend to reply. anyways he takes alot of these pics, and they look really nice. divine cameras have really nice resolution yknow

and then lady sneasler has kits. and what else would he want to take pictures of after that?? the people in the future are going absolutely bananas because this random guy is posting pictures of a completely extinct variant of pokemon, and babies at that. this is where the moderation comes into effect, as research inquiries, bribes, and even threats flood the account wanting to know about/obtain these rare mons. ingo sees none of this, most explicit mentions of the future are removed anyways. not sure if that moderation can be seen in the future though? ingo replies so rarely people would be unable to tell what he sees and doesnt see anyways

the sneasel pics skyrocket the account to internet fame in a week. people are speculating on who the account belongs to, what kind of pokemon are shown in the photos, where the owner is, etc. 

(mmm i have more thoughts but thats for later i think)

[000marie198]

Groundhog Day

......

Characters: Miles Tails Prower, Sonic the Hedgehog, Knuckles the Echidna, Amy Rose

Genre: Humor - Friendship

Summary

On the 2nd of February, people gather around a groundhog's home and wait for the little critter to come out and predict how far or close the season of spring is.

But that is done by people of Earth only and with a regular groundhog. It cannot possibly be applied to mobians. Right?

Well... The human inhabitants of Station Square would beg to differ.

......

The door of a bedroom halfway swung open, a young blue hedgehog stepping out into the dark and empty hallway, silent save for the sounds of a running tap coming from the bathroom where Tails had just went in to brush his teeth.

He passed the bathroom and moved down the hall and towards the stairs, suppressing a shiver from the icy chill of early morning air as he climbed down the steps to the ground floor.

He covered a silent yawn as he arrived near the front door, intending to go out for a quick run to freshen up, too sleepy and lost in his head to register much of anything new. He had just woken up a handful of minutes earlier after all.

After doing brief stretches as a quick warm up routine, he twisted the knob and stepped outside–

Only to be assaulted by a bright flash and a sudden roar of voices. Sonic flinched back, blinking from the bright spots that blurred his vision, his quills flared up and sharp, demeanor growing territorial.

What was that? Were they getting ambushed? Did Eggman find their home?!

He hissed, instinctively moving into a battle ready stance, seconds away from pulling an offensive attack.

"Sonic, wait!"

Tails must've sensed that something was amiss or heard the commotion since the fired up hedgehog saw his blurry, yellow figure rushing down the stairs. Sonic paused, his mouth set in a confused and inquisitive frown as he blinked to refocus his vision.

He finally took note of the crowd of humans gathered at his front door, talking over each other to ask questions he couldn't make sense of. His ears pinned to his head in defensive irritation as Tails finally arrived at the door, being the duo's spokesperson since Sonic was in no mindset of having a polite conversation, the hedgehog taking a step back inside as Tails apologized to the people outside.

"You'll have to excuse him. He doesn't do well with large crowds this time of the year."

Sonic crossed his arms, tapping his foot in impatience while his brother dealt with the crowd, the humans demanding something about groundhog or spring? Whatever. He couldn't make sense of it.

"However," Tails interrupted them, unable to make out their queries either, "I'd be happy to translate on Sonic's behalf. Let us know what you wish to talk about. One at a time please," he quickly added.

A microphone was shoved in front of him. "Can Mister Sonic tell us about his decree on the change of seasons on this year's Groundhog Day?"

"Uh..." Tails turned to glance towards his brother, voice laden with confusion, only to see the hedgehog signing, 'I have no idea what on Mobius these guys are blabbering about.'

"Um, can you repeat that please?"

"We wish to know if-"

"Sonic!" The previous reporter was rudely interrupted as another person with a microphone in hand forcibly shoved his way to the front. "Will the spring arrive soon?!"

After sending the guy a glare which the other was entirely oblivious to, Sonic stepped ahead and began to sign, his younger brother speaking up to translate for the agitated hedgehog.

"He says that he is not happy about that behavior and..."

Sonic continued to sign aggressively and Tails winced as he mentally translated most of it, the young kit hoping with all his heart that nobody present here or in the audience that'll watch this on TV could read the sign language.

Or at least that no one would be able to understand it at the speed his hero was signing at. For all Tails knew, he was the only one who could understand Sonic whenever the hedgehog signed that fast.

The crowd's focus shifted towards the hedgehog and Tails nabbed that opportunity to quickly pull out his treasured invention and type up something on the search engine of his Miles Electric, the people not paying complete attention to him. Good. He used that brief timeframe he had been granted to skim over the results and then pulled up a meteorological site.

As soon as he was done, which barely took twenty seconds, he subtly hid his device and barged in front of Sonic again, pushing the hedgehog back inside the house while addressing the reporters, talking a mile a minute.

"He has said that the spring shall arrive soon this year and there shall be no long wait for winter to pass. Thanksforyourcooperationandpatience-Bye!"

Tails stepped inside and the door was quickly closed shut and locked, the two brothers no longer seen outside so they couldn't be asked anymore questions and leaving the horde gathered at the door with no choice but to disperse.

At that moment, the two brothers decided that they would definitely do more research on this Groundhog Day subject, for their own sakes.

......

Four Years Later

A doorknock rang out through the house, followed by another knock a few seconds later, muffled voices of a crowd sounding from beyond the front door.

Tails whined agitatedly in his sleep, raising his head which revealed his messed up fur and stuck up bangs, annoyed eyes half open and a splat of drool stuck to the corner of his mouth.

More muffled voices came from outside and with another groan, he reached forth towards the mobian who laid next to him and shook his brother's shoulder.

"Sonic. Hey. Wake up!"

"Wha- Huh?" Sonic snorted awake, rubbing one crusted eye with a yawn as he sat up. "Wassit?"

"It's February 2nd." The fox had turned away and snuggled up in his blanket, curling up with a shiver as the warmth where his brother had previously been laying gradually reduced

"Aw already?" Sonic let out a mock whine, getting up with a disappointed sigh as he stretched his arms to drive away the stiffness in them. "And I was having such a good dream."

Tails let out a noncommittal hum, already half asleep, only to jolt awake with a yip as knuckles rapped against his skull with a casual knock as if it was a door. He glared up at the hedgehog who was sending him an amused smirk.

"You've seen my box?"

"Go die in an ocean."

"Would thou truly deign to speak such words to your dearest big brother?" Sonic exclaimed. "I am hurt."

"Truly a befitting penalty for one such as thyself."

"Seriously though, have you seen the box?"

"You're already up and out of the blankets, find that thing yourself."

"But I need my royal cape, Tails! Need!"

"You're not a king, Sonic."

He let out a loud, overexagerated gasp. "You dare defy his Royal Highness on this decisively major day?"

"Just tell them it's still gonna be winter and get back in the nest. I'm cold."

The hedgehog chuckled, finally having located his 'royal cape' and put it on as he quickly adjusted his fur and made himself presentable while heading towards the door, having already worn his sneakers when he first got up.

The front door was pulled open and Sonic stepped out in a regal manner, eyes intentionally half lidded and aloof.

"Yes, my people. It is I, the most trusty groundhog this side of Mystic Ruins."

"You're a hedgehog," a sassy voice called from inside the workshop which Sonic gestured at the humans to ignore.

"Kindly excuse my grumpy companion. He doesn't do well with large crowds this time of the year."

"Hey!" Tails shouted indignantly, "You're the one who never used to-!"

Sonic closed the front door, cutting off the rest of his younger brother's rant with a mischievous glint in his eyes. Tails would take revenge for this later but it was so worth it now.

"Now," he turned towards the reporters standing in front, running his gaze once over every person he could see from his angle before returning to the one at the head of the crowd, acting in every manner of the way like he was a king presiding over an event and not just a regular mobian, "Do the people wish to learn of the change of seasons?"

"Will it be winter-!"

"-please tell us the spring is-!"

"-you see your shadow-!"

A chorus of questions and noises filled the area, every single person speaking over the other, none of the questions making sense in all the chaos. Sonic remained silent, not responding to the plethora of queries and trying his best not to flinch at the flashes from those cameras, staying poised as he was before.

After a whole minute passed, he held up a hand, putting a halt to the indistinct chatter, the last of the noise trailing off into silence as the gathered crowd looked towards him to speak.

"The Groundhog has made his decree," he announced with a firm, echoing voice. "There shall be winter for another six weeks."

There was silence for a couple of seconds atmost before another barrage of noises hit him, a mixture of excited and disappointed exclamations and reporters talking to their crew about recording and packing while many people were already leaving with some others trying to talk over each other to ask more questions.

"That will be all," Sonic dismissed the assemblage, turning away to head inside and lock the door, knowing the more curious or stubborn people would leave when the reporters do.

"Phew," he sighed in relief with his back pressed against the door, pretending to wipe away nonexistent sweat as if he'd just ran a thousand laps without a break. Keeping one ear towards the door to make sure the crowd was leaving, he smiled in satisfaction when much of the noise lessened and removed his thick woolen cape just to roll it in a ball and toss it in the box he found it in, walking towards Tails while he was at it.

"Thank goodness that part's done."

"Will you ever tell them you don't count as a groundhog and you've got zero clue about spring's arrival?" Tails chimed from within the blankets as his brother removed his shoes to get inside their makeshift nest.

"Oh hush you." Sonic entered the blanket, adjusting himself to be more comfortable as Tails turned around to cuddle up with him, the hedgehog instinctively enveloping him in a hug. "Besides, everything I told them so far has turned out to be true, hasn't it?"

"That's because I let you know beforehand every single time through the most updated and accurate meteorological predictions."

"Yes, and you are amazing for it! Thanks, Little Bro. You're awesome."

Tails sighed, taking the compliment for what it was and leaving the silly argument to doze off as he gradually got warmer, relishing the safety and comfort his brother's presence provided as his eyelids got heavier and heavier.

A few minutes passed in peaceful silence, the younger nearly asleep when Sonic spoke again.

"Hey, Tails."

"Yea?"

"Are the gifts all packed?"

"Mmhm."

"And the cake's ready?"

"Amy baked it last-" Tails cut himself off with a lengthy yawn before continuing with a drowsy voice, "-night. She'll bring it. Now go to sleep."

He cuddled closer in his brother's embrace, wanting to get warm and cozy after the day's earlier rude awakening.

"Sooooo..." Sonic drawled, holding back a grin as he waited for the fox to respond.

A sleepy hum answered him.

"Ready to go visit Knuckles now?"

A fluffy tail smacked him in the face. "It's 6 AM!"

Sonic let out a wholehearted laugh. "Okay okay!" He pushed down the white-tipped appendage, pulling the sleepy fox closer and rubbing the back of his head. "I getchya, bro. Just messing with ya."

"Lemme sleeb, y' mmmbllm..." Tails trailed off in a slur, the gentle stroking on his head coaxing him into slumber.

Sonic let out a fond chuckle, pulling the warm comforter over their blanket and tucking it around himself and his now asleep brother. They still had a few hours before they needed to get up and head to Angel Island to jumpscare- er- surprise Knuckles with a birthday party but for now, he'd just stay in the nest of pillows and blankets and follow Tails' example; Sleep.

..............

When a few hours had passed and the sun was high up in the sky, warming the chilly winter air, sudden loud pops followed by a startled yell rang throughout the grassy field and the forest surrounding a certain alter on a certain floating island.

"SONIC!"

The voice of Angel Island's guardian bellowed out, startling away the birds that flew out of the trees with alarmed screeches, flocks upon flocks flying away from the source of the wrathful yell.

Back near the Tornado where they were unpacking the gifts and other supplies for the party, Amy and Tails shared an exasperated look, the latter letting out a resigned sigh as he flew down with his arms laden and eyes glancing towards the direction of the altar.

"This is the last time we're leaving him in charge of the party poppers," Tails decided, Amy nodding in agreement.

"Cheer up, Knux! It's your birthday!"

"GET BACK HERE!"

.......

[finelinevogue]

he’s so vogue

Description - you are the journalist for the new Harry Styles December Vogue Issue

A/N - how is everyone doing? hope you enjoy! if you have any requests please feel free to ask. love you all and have a lovely rest of the week!

warnings: swearing

[masterlist]

Being a journalist for Vogue was probably the biggest flex you could ever make.

After 3 years of studying English Literature at Surrey University, you never thought, only a year after, you'd be working as an apprentice at Vogue UK. If it weren't for your Aunty, who worked in the fashion design section at Vogue HQ, then you'd no doubt still be a broke-ass, single, lonely student. Ok, lonely you still were but your job was so full-on that you didn't have time for a relationship.

Two years into your apprenticeship you were promoted to an official member of the team, and then another two years later you got promoted to team leader in your department of journalism, and editing; The Media - or as you like to call it - "The Celeb Goss". You were beyond happy with your job and found such passion in every article your wrote. Whether it be about a new celebrity romance or the collapse of one, you found a way to story-tell in such a meditated way that everyone loved your pieces.

That's why the Harry Styles had requested you to be the one to interview him.

Of course you'd written about A-list celebrities in the past, producing articles on pregnancy rumours, or engagements, or breakups, but you'd never met them before authoring an article. You'd met plenty of D-list celebrities who thought they were mega famous, but if you mentioned their names people would turn around and ask "who?".

This is why interviewing Harry Styles was a massive thing for you.

Not very often did you get to do work out in the field, especially in these covid infested days, but nevertheless it was your favourite part of the job. Getting to meet the people you were writing about was completely refreshing, allowing you to obtain a clearer outlook on which direction to take on your journal piece.

You were asked to go to Stonehenge, where the photoshoot was being filmed, as your office of interview. Even though you'd lived in the UK all your life, you'd never actually been to Stonehenge. It wasn't really on your bucket-list, but it was a pleasure to get to see it all the same.

Being the prepared interviewer you were, you'd prepared an array of questions that you were set on asking Harry. You'd never met him before, but after much googling and youtubing of him prior to meeting him today you would already be confident in saying he's the most brilliant man to ever exist. You were really nervous that you were going to screw this interview up and make a terrible mess in front of Harry Styles.

"Lisa! What if I accidentally say something I shouldn't?" You ran your stressed hands through your hair.

This whole morning had been frantic. It had started off by you waking up late, no thanks to Lisa, your best-friend and co-worker, pressing snooze on the alarm. You wanted to look professional today so you'd put on your best shirt - only to spill coffee down it ten minutes later. So now, you smelt of coffee and were wearing what was left in your wardrobe - and it wasn't much. The only things left clean were a pair of pink corduroy flares and some, pastel coloured, graphic t-shirt to go with it.    

"You won't. Stop being so negative." Lisa rolled her eyes, probably fed up with the amount of winging she'd heard from you this morning - and you'd only been awake an hour.

"My outfit is hardly professional either." You huffed, pouring the rest of your, second, coffee down the drain.

"Well I think you look gorgeous." Lisa stated, whilst putting her breakfast bar wrapper in the bin.

You and Lisa were back and forth about you stressing, and such, for about half an hour before you had to leave. You had a great panic about losing your glasses too. You could see without them up close, but for long distance viewing and reading you were practically blind. You were taking Lisa's car, since she didn't think you were emotionally stable enough to drive. Lisa was the creative director on the set, and thank goodness she was so you could at least ramble to someone.

After a two hour drive up from London, you arrived at Stonehenge and it was freezing. Although the sun was out, it did nothing to keep your body heated. The journey up had been nice because you sat in your nicely heated car, chatting away with Lisa and blasting some Harry Styles out of the speaker. You'd made it through the first album, and the second one up to Canyon Moon before reaching your destination.

Upon arriving you could just about, without glasses, make out about 15 other cars, arranged at the bottom of a hill. There was an array of Audis and BMWs, a few Range Rovers, which you placed your bets on one was Harrys, and a green, vintage, Jaguar which was most likely belonging to the fashion editor or something. There was also a modern barn, perched at the foot of the hill, which was where Harry would be getting changed in to his various different outfits.

It took you a moment to register that Lisa had parked and was already clambering out of the car, making you look a little idiotic still blankly staring at the beautiful scenes in front, and around, of you.

But it was still bloody freezing.

You jogged a little to the boot and whipped out your white cardigan. Originally you'd thought that this would've been enough to keep you warm, but now you were starting to think otherwise.

The atmosphere here was amazing. People were rushing around left, right and centre loading, and unloading, various pieces of equipment and clothes. You caught sight of brightly coloured fabrics being carried to and from various places. There were the camera crew, and presumably director, all chatting amongst themselves. The smell of the very fresh air was so lush that you'd forgotten what it smelt like - especially after years in London.

You grabbed your bag from the boot, which had your notes, recording kit and laptop stuffed inside, before locking the car and following Lisa in to the barn.

It was lovely and warm inside - a completely different climate to than the outside. It was as if it was Bali inside and Antarctica outside. Better Bali than Antarctica though.

"Ok. Let's put our stuff down over here and then go find people we need to meet and such." Lisa instructed, you still too in awe of the place to fully comprehend what was going on.

You followed Lisa and you two ended up dropping off your stuff next to some other bags. You took a liking to the purse next to your stuff. Next to your bag, it made yours seem ancient - like it was worth nothing more than a penny. It was luscious and a beautiful baby blue colour. You softly ran your hands over it, finding satisfaction in how smooth and subtle it was.

"Hope you're not planning on stealing that, love." A manly voice appeared from behind you. You whipped around to see who's bag you'd been messing with, and it was just your luck that it was to be Harry Styles'. Of all the people's it could've been it had to be his. 

Perfect.

He looked dashing. He was in black flares and his iconic 'But daddy i love him', t-shirt, along with a huge green anorak. His hair was prettily clipped back with a pink clip, presumably placed there to gave his curls greater volume. In his hand he had a pink toothbrush and you guessed he'd come back over to put it away in his bag - only to find you caressing it instead.

"Oh - no, no. Not at all. I - uh - I just thought it was beautiful." You stammered over your words, choosing them carefully to try and make you look less like an active criminal.

"Mhm." Harry nodded whilst looking you up and down, most likely judging why a peasant like you, in comparison to him, was touching his expensive property. "Well, I love your flares darlin'." Harry looked down at your trousers, his compliment making you blush a little.

"Thank you. That wasn't professional, and neither is my outfit, I know, and I apologise." You added, because you knew that if your boss knew you turned up today the way you did she would give you a right bollocking - and potentially even fire you.

"Never apologise for flares. You look amazing." Gemma perked up, making you feel more self conscious surrounded by all these other beautiful women. Gemma was in a slouchy, knitted, jumper and basic jeans - no doubt all from shops beyond your budget - and yet she looked like a model fit for the runway for Vogue.

"Okay, sorry." You apologised again, to which you, creepily, got the exact same, stern, look from the Styles siblings at the same time.

"My stylist, Harry, introduced me to big pants. He offered whether I wanted to try a pair of flares, and I was like, 'Flares? That's fucking crazy'!" Harry laughed as he told his story, earning a laugh out of you too. "Now they're my favourite item of clothing. Have a whole wardrobe dedicated to them."

"I wish he was joking." Gemma laughed at her brother and his flare obsession.

"Well you do look handsome in them, so I understand why." Your words rolls off your tongue before you could even comprehend what you were saying. Only after you finished your sentence did you completely intake what you'd just said.

"Good start." Lisa giggled to you, before turning to walk over to the coffee station. It was a help-yourself coffee bar and you knew that you were going to bed at least five cups to get over the last five minutes alone. You'd probably drain the station before letting anyone else have any.

"Oh god." You awkwardly mumbled, not daring to see how weirdly Harry would be looking at you, before walking off outside.

You had spent less than 10 minutes here and yet you'd never felt like a bigger clown. Joining the circus had never been so easy.

The outside wind hit you like a powerful leaf blower, and your hair blew around like crazy - most likely compiling into a birds nest on the top of your head.

Today was supposed to be the start of something great. Your hopes were set on a promotion from your written masterpiece, whilst enjoying the company of one of the most handsome, most lovely, most talented men of this century. Those hopes seemed a little too distant now. They seemed to mock you, as if to laugh at how you ever thought you were going to be any more successful. You'd completely, in more ways than one, made a fool of yourself in front of your interviewee, you were so underdressed, you were caught fondling his Gucci purse and you were still bloody cold.

It all felt too unprofessional for a job where professional was practically the driving force of the company.

You leaned against the barn, taking a deep breath to try and calm yourself. You were a master in over-thinking, but unfortunately that wasn't something you could add to your resumé. You let your eyes close and the other senses come alive for a few moments. The sounds of distant sheep and the smell of the cold wind were just two of the senses that allowed you to take a step back for a minute, and breathe.

"Thank you." A voice interrupted you from your attempt of quick meditation. You looked to your left and noticed Harry standing there, still in the same outfit as before.

"I'm sorry?" You asked confused, taking a step away from the barn to considerately pay more attention to him.

"Thank you - for saying I look handsome in flares." He repeated, smirking when he added the second part.

"Oh." Was all you could respond, feeling too embarrassed to take the conversation any further. "I should—" You pointed back to the barn, using it as an excuse to leave before yet screwed up anymore.

"Lisa told me you're the interviewer." Harry added, and it only occurred to you that you'd never actually introduced yourself. "So it's lovely to finally meet you Y/N." He stuck out his hand for your to shake, which you did willingly. His hands were a lot softer than you'd expected.

"Ho... You know my name?" You asked surprised.

"Of course. I also know you're the best writer in Vogue right now." He flattered you, which made you blush. You had a feeling he'd make you do that a lot today.

"Sure." You rolled your eyes as you spoke sarcastically.

"Well I chose you for a reason, didn't I?" He rhetorically asked.

"I mean.. I, well.. I don't know?" You stumbled over your words, making yourself look like a larger fool than you did already. Today was just turning out to be exactly what you didn't want it to be. "Sorry."

"Stop apologising. You do it too often." He told you, nearly making you apologise again but he gave you a jokingly stern look, as if he knew what you were going to say, and so you decided otherwise.

"Harry!" You both turned to see there was a man waving towards you both, but specifically to Harry. "Come get changed!" The same man shouted. Harry lifted his thumbs up, as if to signal he'd be there shortly.

Harry turned back to you and noticed you shiver a little.

"I'll start the interview after I come back from the dressing rooms, yeah?" Harry asked, taking off his, khaki green, trench-coat in the process. He handed it to you before you could oblige against it.

"Wait what?" You confusedly looked down at the coat and back up to Harry.

"Gives me a piece of mind knowing my interviewer isn't going to die of hypothermia before actually interviewing me." He smiled, obviously attempting to crack a joke and you have to admit you did laugh.

"Thank you." You say, before he runs off to where he's being called to.

                                                            ••••

You'd been sat inside for a little while, waiting for Harry to come back. It gave you time to perfect your questions though.

Thinking up questions to ask Harry had been a challenging task, but one that you'd been fully invested in. You loved creating questions to ask him that were going to get to understand him on a deeper level. He was a very private man, and you completely respected that. If you crossed any boundaries, with the questions you'd ask, you would write them out of the interview. You liked to think you hadn't thought up a question that would make him feel uncomfortable though.

Pissing off Harry would be on another level of shame.

"Coat kept you warm?" Harrys voice disengaged you from your notebook.

"Hm?" You asked then replayed what he'd just asked in your mind. "Oh, yes. Thank you very much." You stood up, from where you'd been perched on the floor, picking up your nearly finished green tea as you did so.

Only when you stood up did it come to your realisation that Harry was now in costume. He was dressed in luxury. Each item looked like it cost more than your rent, and that was saddening. He looked rich and luxurious. To be quite honest, you were finding it rather difficult to take your eyes off him.

"You think the outfit is Vogue enough?" Harry asked, striking a few poses, which made you laugh. It was refreshing to see him act so relaxed and carefree, rather than a stuck-up-prick you knew some celebrities to be.

"Completely. I love it!" You exclaimed, appreciating the twirl he did for you.

He was wearing a kilt-like skirt and he looked beyond beautiful in it. Fuck toxic masculinity. Fuck being a manly man - like what does that even mean? Harry was embracing gender fluidity and experimenting the ways in which there was no definitive line between men and women's clothes anymore, and you thought it was marvellous. Revolutionary, for times as politically and socially troubled as these.

You started removing the coat in attempt to give it back to him, but he refrained you from doing so by holding on to your forearm.

"Keep it. I thought we could go outside to start the interview, so you'll be needing that." Harry told you, and you agreed - however reluctantly that was. You couldn't really complain though, because the coat did kept you warm and, what's better, it smelt divine - just like you'd imagine Harry to smell.

"Okay. Thank you. Do you want to go now?" You asked hesitantly, not knowing whether he was busy for someone else right now.

"Whenever you're ready, love." He answered, making you feel more relaxed. He was going at your pace and was making you feel settled - he was even more of a gentleman than people described him to be.

The two of you had walked around the backside of the barn in silence, enjoying the comfort of each other's presence. Well, at least you were. It was a blessing no one was back here. It was just you, Harry and the scenery that surrounded Stonehenge.

You approached a bench and you plopped yourself down on one end, whilst Harry sat on the other. He respected the fact that there was a pandemic going on, and didn't want to make you uncomfortable in any way. You still had your mask on, so Harry had taken that as you were very conscious about the virus - which he admired.

You pulled out your glasses, from the depths of one of the coat pockets, and placed them on your face, probably making yourself look even geekier than you already felt. Today was just one of those days you wished you had good eyes...

You opened your spent notebook, musty pages practically falling apart, and turned to the section of questions you needed for that interview. You were so nervous already and you hadn't even asked anything yet, all because of the previous interactions with Harry today. Your shaky hands shuffled through the pages and you cursed under your breath when you struggled to find what you needed.

"Shoot. Come on." You mumbled quietly under your breath, hoping it would make this terrible situation end faster. You mustn't have been as quiet as you thought though.

"Y/N." Harry's name broke through your clouded mind of self-disappointment.

You looked up at him to see him softly smiling at you, blowing all worries away from you away with the wind. "Yes?" You timidly asked, pushing your wind-swept hair out of glasses - where it'd gotten caught.

"You’re alright, love. You don't have to be professional around me, alright? We're just two strangers having a conversation, to get to know each other, okay?" If his words didn't calm you enough, the soothing sound of his husky voice certainly did.

"But that would mean you asking me stuff too?" You replied, confused at his implications of the phrasing 'getting to know each other'.

"Mhm." Harry nodded his head.

"Oh I don't know Mr Styles, i'm not a very interesting person." You answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, pushing your glasses back up the bridge of your nose from where they'd fallen.

"I refuse to believe that." Harry chuckled, making a quick smile appear on your face. "And please call me Harry. Just Harry." He begged, obviously finding it weird you calling him by his professional title. All you wanted, ever, was for your interviewee's to feel comfortable and safe, so if Harry wanted you to call him Harry then so be it.

"Ok, Harry," you sarcastically said, earning a shake of the head on his behalf, "you can ask me a few questions throughout the day." You told him, but you knew he'd struggle to find even two questions when he realises how bland you are.

"Does that mean you only get to ask me a few as well?" Harry smirked, already knowing the answer to that question. Unlike Harry, you had to write an article about today when you got home and so he knew that you'd have to dig as much dirt as possible from him.

"No, sorry. I don't particularly want to lose my job." You paused to look down at your notes, squinting a little as you did to see better. "Okay. Tell me your experience with corona virus."

"Sorry I didn't quite catch that, love." Harry apologised, leaning in slightly to see if he could hear you a second time around.

"Sorry." You looked down to fiddle with your fingers - a habit you'd undertaken when you're embarrassed. "Um..," you cleared your throat, "would you mind if I took off my mask?"

Your timid voice sent tingle down Harrys spine. He didn't think anyone could ever be this sweet. "Not at all, ‘course you can." He replied, again, wanting to make you feel as comfortable as possible.

You hesitantly took off your face mask, feeling like you were in some dramatic movie where they face revealed someone. You kind of liked having the mask on, because, for one, it kept you warm, and for two, you were a little self conscious with how you looked compared to all the other women here today. You shoved the mask in your pocket, with trembling fingers, before looking back down to your notes.

"Woah." You heard Harrys voice being mumbled under the wind. You eyes shot up to his and you noticed him staring right back at you.

"W-what? Is my acne playing up? I knew I should've—" You self-consciously run your hands over the areas you know you got acne. The masks really didn't help when it came to skin care.

"Hey, stop. No. You just... You look beautiful." Harry complimented you, and a roaring blush arose on to your cheeks. You'd never been called beautiful before, and so you were taking the compliment like such a 13-year old.

"Oh, uh, thank you." You awkwardly answered, not really having any other words come to mind in that moment. Harry chuckled under his breath, still keeping eyes on you for some reason.

"Would you mind repeating your last question, I didn't quite catch it?" Harry asked politely.

"Sure. Um, tell me how you've experienced corona virus." You repeated for him, gripping ahold of your pen to start copying what he says and pressing start on your recording device in case you needed it later.

"Well, it's been tedious that's for sure. However, I just want people to be safe and for life to return back to normal, so therefore i've been very MIA for a lot of the time. Keeping to myself mostly. I only went out for hikes or bike rides. All my meetings were online, so it's been very lonely." Harry kept eye contact with your figure the entire time, and if it weren't for you concentrating on writing what he was saying then you'd probably melt away under his gaze.

For such soft eyes he sure was intimidating.

"I presume the loneliness sent you crazy at times." You laughed, because you sure felt that way through lockdown. Curse being single.

"You have no idea." Harry laughed along with you, making you, slowly, feel more at ease.

"Actually, you'd be surprised." You looked at him unsure, before returning down to your notebook.

"Okay then, first question from me," Harrys words made your head shoot up, "How can someone as amazing as yourself be lonely?" He asked and you made a mental tally of how many questions he'd asked.

"Could ask you the very same question, Harry." You slyly replied, avoiding the question by answering with another question. It was a tactic you'd learnt, throughout your years of journalism, when you wanted to dismiss something .

"That's cheating." Harry pointed at you and raised his eyebrows, but you couldn't take your eyes off the big, cheeky, smile perched on his face. You shrugged you're shoulders in defence and returned to your questions. "But you did just call me amazing, so I think i'll let it slide this one time." You blushed, again, when you understood what he meant.

He was amazing though - that was the truth.

"You were in L.A. for the majority of quarantine, am I right to say?" You already knew the answer but your manager had just wanted confirmation.

"Yeah, but L.A. feels like holiday, whereas London feels like home." He answered, which you appreciated. He hasn't got lost in the way that Hollywood could let people. He'd stayed grounded.

"So what did you entertain yourself with during quarantine?" You asked curiously, slightly side-tracking from your pre-written questions - just because you were intrigued (nosey).

"Not much, not to be boring. I ate a lot of bread. I worked out pretty much every day. I wrote quite a bit actually." He used his fingers to pinch his bottom lip, something you'd noticed he did in interviews.

"Does that mean a new album on the way?" Your inner fangirl was screaming at the thought of HS3.

"Can neither confirm nor deny." Harry smirked to himself, like the cheeky bugger he is.

"That's a yes then." You joked, pretending to write it down in your notes.

"You're impossible, you." Harry laughed and shook his head. It made you feel all funny the way you could make him smile like that. You were the source of his happiness for just that moment, and that was enough to make you feel happy for a lifetime - not that he felt the same.

"Next question," you stated, moving swiftly on because you knew you had limited time, "How's your experience with Vogue been so far?"

"Wonderful. Everyone has been so welcoming and that makes it so much easier for me to have fun. It's daunting going at things alone, but i'm getting slowly used to it now." Harry sniffled a little, probably due to the freezing cold weather here.

"Must be strange, not having four best friends around you, all the time, anymore." You stated rather than asked him, sure that he was missing his bandmates. I mean, you were - so he definitely would be.

"Brothers." Harry replied, making you look up at him confused.

"I'm sorry?" You asked, giving him your full attention.

"You said four best friends. Well, actually they're my brothers." His words actually caused a rift in your heart. You could feel it being pulled apart and torn in to two. If you wrote this in to the magazine the fans would have a worldwide passing-away-party.

"Harry." You said softly, slightly tearing up at his words. "God, I swear i'm not normally this emotional." You chest your throat and try to establish your dignity - however there wasn't that much left anymore.

"Oh shut up." Harry looked away obviously trying to hide the fact that he was tearing up too. You laughed at him but didn't draw any more attention to it than you guessed he would've wanted.

"They mean a lot to you then?" You asked, hopefully not treading on any unwanted territories.

"Much more than a lot, yeah." Harry nodded his head, turning it back to face you. He could tell this conversation was now off-the-record because of your closed notebook, your undivided attention towards him and the fact you’d turned off the recording device. He liked being able to look at you, rather than the top of your head. He swore you were the prettiest girl he'd ever seen.

"You still see them often?" 

"Not as often as i'd like. Niall did come around the other week to drop off some old guitars he didn't want anymore, and then we ended up playing around with some music for a bit." He admitted, which stitched your heart back together.

"So does that mean a Narry collab?" You teased, biting your bottom lip in anticipation.

"Narry? You so are a directioner." He laughed along with you.

"And you just avoided my question, therefore there is a song out there written only by you and Niall." You concluded, which shut him up.

This conversation was going a lot better than expected. Certainly a lot better than earlier. You will be permanently scarred by the way you spoke to him and handled his belongings. It was going to haunt you forever - and yet he'd forget about it by tomorrow. Or maybe he wouldn't, which is why you felt the need to apologise.

"Harry?" You asked, clearly indicating this was still a conversation away from the interview.

"Yes Y/N?" He watched you intently, listening to your every word.

"I, um, just wanted to apologise for my behaviour earlier. I was just really nervous to meet you, and to be honest still am. I didn't mean to touch your stuff without your consent and I certainly didn't mean to make you uncomfortable with any of my comments. So, i'm sorry. I can only imagine the awful, yet true, things you must think of me." You rambled really quickly, that you were uncertain whether Harry even caught one word of what you'd says.

"Do you know why I asked for you to interview me Y/N?" Harry asked, which wasn't the first thing you expected him to say after your apology.

"No. I...well Lisa told me it was because I can write well or something." You suggested, not wanting to sound egotistical.

"I mean you do write perfectly, but no." You were intrigued now. "I asked for you because I, and this is not for your magazine, have a secret - but not-so-secret - crush on you." This time it was Harrys turn to blush.

"Harry... you don't have to say that to—"

"I'm not saying it for anything. I sincerely think you are the most delightful, most prettiest, most fucking sweetest person i've ever met." Harry exclaimed, which you were taken aback by. Never, ever, did you think that Harry Styles would proclaim his likeness towards you. Ever.

"Harry don't mess with me, please." You shyly spoke, tilting your head down in disbelief that the Harry Styles was smitten about you.

He shuffled along the bench, stopping a little way from you but close enough to reach out for you. Your heartbeat increased when you noticed his hand move closer towards you. It didn't stop till he reached your face. He took his time, courteously, pushing your hair behind your ear before removing you of your glasses. He held the right-eye frame and slowly pulled the glasses off your face.

Once he'd successfully taken them off he folded them up and placed them alongside your closed notebook.

"Can see those pretty eyes now." He whispered quietly, but loud enough for you to hear.

"Don't lie. They're so dull." You mumbled, lifting your head up slightly. His face was still away from you.

"Not to me they're not." He retaliated, looking deep into your eyes as you did his. "I hate this corona virus."

"Why?" His words were so out of the blue sometimes, it gave you whiplash.

"Because I can't be as near to you as I want to be." Harry told you. And yeah, you hated corona too. It was getting a little laborious now.

"Smooth, Styles." You chuckled. You wondered how many new and weird pick-up lines could be made from covid. 

"I know." He winked, which honestly would have made you throw up if it were any other man on the planet. Somehow, though, Harry just made it seem attractive - along with every other thing that man ever did. "After this, would you like to come back to my house for a cuppa tea?" He asked sweetly, like a five year old asking whether you wanted to play together.

"Okay. Lisa was my ride though." You said more to yourself than anything else, debating on how you'd even get to Harrys. Uber? Taxi? Lisa? Walk?

"I'll drive us, it's fine. I have to drop Gem off, but i'd be more than happy to chauffeur you." Harry kindly offered, to which you were internally screaming about. You were literally, and metaphorically, having a field-day with all this Harry content and interview.

"Are you sure? I don't want to be a burden." You question politely, not wanting to overstep any boundaries - especially in these covid infested times.

"Of course. I wouldn't have offered otherwise." He protested, waving his hand at if to say it was no bother. You were already trying to work out, in your head, how much petrol money you were going to owe him.

"Then i'd be honoured to have a brew with you Harry." You giggled at how cringe you were being, even if this was just your normal self speaking.

"Great." Harry genuinely smiled, teeth and all. "My shoot should take a couple of hours, but feel free to continue to write and journal. I'm looking forward to reading this particular article." He winked at you before standing up.

"Wonder why?" You sarcastically asked, knowing full-well it was due to his exposure of his own feelings towards you. Even though you'd never says anything back you were quite in agreement on how you felt about him, like he did you. He would be a narcissist to say he knew you liked him the same, out loud, but he knew. And you knew that he knew.

"Wonder why indeed." He gave you one last smile before he'd disappeared for the rest of the afternoon, leaving you to digest and relive the past half an hour or so.

Being Harry Styles' crush was probably the biggest flex you could ever make.

                                                          ••••

After Harry had finished up his shoot he was quick to come find you again.

You'd watched parts of his shoot and he looked magnificent. There wasn't a good enough word to describe how amazing he looked. Harry, his stylist, was probably the best stylist out there. His fashion choices were unmatched and you wanted him to be yours. You were not rich enough nor fashionable enough, ironic for working in a a fashion company, to hire a stylist, but you would if you could.

You were so proud to see what he was achieving now as the person that he was. Harry was just being Harry, without the devilish control of shitty managements or ridiculous amounts of PR stunts. Harry was more free than ever, and it definitely showed just how much he was enjoying it.

You were certain that this Vogue magazine would break the internet - his fans were good at doing that. This could be a turning point for many people, with their outdated and ignorant views. There was no room for people with racist or homophobic or transphobic or xenophobic - and the list does go on - views anymore.

You were waiting by the front door of the barn, to catch Harry as he walked past. You caught sight of him in a white robe, presumably to get changed back into his everyday clothes. He looked really pretty in the robe - very domestic actually.

Today had been a good day.

Harry asked you to send over the more specific Vogue questions to him via email, so he could devote more time in to answering them in a lot more depth. You thought he meant you'd be sending them to some PA in his team, but you were shocked to understand he'd given you his personal email.

People were walking back to their cars and packing away the filming kit. You saw Lisa and the director talking to one another, no doubt discussing some in-work gossip.

"You ready?" Harrys voice reminded you that you'd been waiting for him. You looked to see he was back in the same clothes as this morning, only this time without his coat.

"Here?" You offered, having him over the coat once again but he declined.

"Looks better on you anyways." He winked at you, before walking through the car park and to his car. You were very surprised when you found out Harry was the one to own the green Jaguar. You assumed all celebrities drove the Range Rover, but no. The vintage car added to Harrys immaculate vibe and just made him that little bit more hot.

Harry properly introduced you to Gemma, who was equally as lovely as Harry. They were both amazing people and they were crazily alike. From the way they looked, down to the way they phrased their words, they were mistakingly twins. Gemma explained how Anne, their mum, didn't know they were doing this photoshoot and that it was going to be a surprise, which you thought was so cute.

Gemma spilt a lot of gossip on Harry, to which he got very embarrassed over. You learnt that Harrys first word was Cat. You learnt that Harry is godfather to multiple children, which you found heartwarming. You learnt Harry used to be a baker - which was something he elaborated on for a good half an hour. Harry was just a fountain of memories and Gemma was the one sharing them all with you.

The drive back to London was relaxed. You sat in the back, listening to Harry and Gemma pointlessly argue whilst an Arctic Monkeys album played in the background. You forgot that people like Harry drove, and listened to music, just like other regular people. You often misplaced celebrities in society, thinking they had everything done for them but in reality that (often) wasn't the case - at least not for Harry.

Gemma was dropped off quickly before Harry drove to his. It was no surprise that the Styles siblings didn't live too far away from each other. Harrys house was beautiful. Bigger than anything you could ever dream of buying. It was a palace compared to your cupboard-sized house. You were unbelievably jealous. He gave you the tour of the house, showing you where the toilets were, and even his panic room if necessary.

You migrated to the kitchen for a bit, talking about anything and everything. Getting to know the minuscule pieces of information that no-one else was trusted with, made you feel special. Harry made you feel special - even if he weren't meaning to.

Every moment held a spark. Every touch set off a firework. Every laugh was an electric burst. He made you feel so alive.

"We can go to the living room after this has boiled." Harry said, pointing towards the streaming kettle. He wanted to show off his fancy tea collection he had, and let you have a try if you wanted to. Harry was boring and chose the basic green tea, but, after much deliberation, you chose the cranberry green tea. It intrigued you and it sounded delicious.

"Why the extensive tea collection?" Not even you, a certified caffeine addict, had this much tea in your house. Coffee was a different story and one in which you didn't want to talk about.

"They help me with my meditation." He took the teabags and placed them in his glass mugs. They had a delicate Gucci stamp on them, and you just imagined that they probably worth the same amount as your daily salary.

"You meditate?" You were slightly surprised that he did.

"I try to yeah." Harry nodded, focusing on pouring in the boiling water into the mugs. "I've got very tight hamstrings and so it helps if I meditate twice a day."

Harry finished making the tea, in the light-filled kitchen, before showing you around to the open-lounge area. Everything was modern and chic. It was exactly how you imagined it, but better. The open, red-brick, wall was a beautiful feature and one that you were a whore for! It reminded you of New York and the memories you'd made there one summer.

The sofa was a beautiful velvet, green, sofa. It was soft and gentle, a lot like Harry when you thought about it. The whole house was an architectural masterpiece and you'd be lying if you said you weren't jealous. You sat on one end and Harry went to go and sit on the other end.

"I don't bite you know?" You joked, self-consciously wondering whether he didn't want to be sat near you.

"I know, I just don't want to step on any of your covid boundaries - which is perfectly fine by the way." He added, apprehensively taking the spot next to you.

"No, not at all." You ushered him to sit next to you, as you took a sip from your steaming hot cup of fruity tea. "If I smell though, do tell me!"

"Yeah, you smell bloody awful!" Harry sarcastically remarked, but laughing afterwards to assure you he was joking. The atmosphere went quiet for a minute, only the sounds of passing cars and deep breaths being heard.

"Y/N can I ask you something?" Harry turned the tone of the conversation. It sounded like he wanted to be more serious than you two were being beforehand.

"Anything." You encouraged him to continue. You placed the cup of tea down on the table, deciding it was too hot to drink right now, and gave him your full attention.

"Do you believe in love at first sight?" Harry questioned. You didn't think you'd be having a conversation this intense - especially if you had different opinions - on your first day of knowing each other, but here you were.

"I believe you can love someone at first sight. I don't believe you can be in love with someone at first sight. Why?" You were curious as to how his brain had journeyed to this particular topic. You'd never really had this conversation with anyone before, mainly because you were unaware of the true power, and meaning, of love.

"It uh... It doesn't matter." Harry shook his head and you could tell by his body language that he was shutting you out. Maybe you'd made him uncomfortable.

"Sorry I didn't mean to—"

"No, no. Please don't apologise. It's just - I like you a lot more than you may think." Harry shyly told you, which made you all soft inside. He was being vulnerable and that was something you admired in a partner. You didn't just need love, affection and trust in a relationship. No. You needed vulnerability and heartbreak too, and Harry was revealing that part of him to you.

"I like you a lot more than you think too." You repeated, not because you felt bad for him but because you truly did like him a whole lot. Love was a weird yet wonderful thing, and if you were to hazard a guess you'd say you loved Harry. 

You couldn't wait to be in love with him.

"Does that mean I get to crown you my girlfriend?" Harry excitedly asked. Harry happy was something that should be made a constant, and you were more than happy to be in control of that.

"At least take me out first." You bargained, wishing for nothing more than to go on a date with Harry. Where you'd go, you had no idea. Everything was closed right now and there was still the chance of becoming sick with corona, but no doubt Harry would think of something not only clever, but special.

Of course you'd love to be Harrys girlfriend. However, you wanted one more, official, opportunity to really get to know him - unprofessionally. You wanted to make sure that you knew, and he knew, that you wanted to be with him because he was the charming Harry you've come to love, not because he was Harry Styles.

"So you're allowing me to take you on a date?" Harry smirked like a little child, your heart fluttering at how excited he was to be able to treat you to dinner.

"Yes, Harry. Yes I am." You answered sweetly, offering him the cutest smile you could.

You can't believe what a turn of events today has been. You've gone from nearly writing yourself on Harrys enemy list to writing yourself on to his 'people he's dated' list. Who knows what the future would offer you. At the start of the day you had wished this whole day to end and for the ground to just swallow you up, now you never wanted it to end. It was too perfect to be true and yet it was.

Harry was the most wonderful human to exist and you were beyond surprised to be the one to catch his attention. You didn't understand why you were so special, but it was nice to feel like this for a change. It was nice to feel wanted.

                                                             ••••

A few months later and you were officially Harrys girlfriend.

It had been such a crazy few months. Harry religiously took you out on dates every week. Whether it be to grab a hotdog at a local diner, a coffee from a quaint cafe, a walk in Hyde Park or a late-night drive around London - which normally ended up with you falling asleep before you could make it back to yours. On sleepless jet-lagged nights he'll still drive through London's quiet streets, seeing neighborhoods in a new way, just as an excuse to spend time with you.

Harry often stayed over at yours. Even though you looked like you lived in a shoebox compared to Harry, he liked it. He liked the subtly and normality of it all. He wanted your life to remain as normal as possible and, apart from the occasional paparazzi incident, it did. You never had anything to complain about. Of course the online bullying created emotional wounds, at the start of your relationship, but it was nothing that Harry couldn't repair with a bit of love.

Lisa has nominated herself to be maid-of-honour when the day comes - if the day comes. Harry has already pinky sworn that you are it for him. The one, as some may say. You were utterly flattered, but you certainly unsure of what the future help for you both.

You loved Harry, you do love Harry and you will forever always love Harry.

It was ridiculous to think that all this stemmed from you working at Vogue. From you studying English Literature in a city away from London. From you dedicating you extra hours gaining work experience and money to be able get in and afford university. So many moments in life have you stopped and said 'i wish i hadn't have done that', but now you were convinced that they were the best things to have happened to you - because they lead you, all, to Harry.

And, being Harry Styles girlfriend was probably the biggest flex you could ever make.

[ao3feed-obikin]

Spanking Skywalker

read it on the AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/44940592 by MaiasPen The Padawan steps closer to Kit, grinning like a Charhound that likes to play with its prey before breaking its neck. Oh, fuck this brat. The words rush from Kit’s lips as though Force pulled: “If you were my Padawan, I would put you over my knee and spank you.” Nostrils flaring, chest heaving, Anakin juts out his chin; raises his hands and beckons Kit forward. “I’d like to see you try.”   Or, a story about Kit Fisto taking it upon himself to discipline Obi-Wan’s petulant Padawan. The eighteen-year-old brat is long overdue for a spanking. Words: 7485, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars Legends: The Cestus Deception - Steven Barnes Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: M/M Characters: Kit Fisto, Anakin Skywalker, Tan Yester Relationships: Kit Fisto/Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker, Kit Fisto/Obi-Wan Kenobi Additional Tags: The sexy Agen Kolar and Obi-Wan are mentioned but not active players, this is unhinged and I'm not sorry, Spanking, like that's the story, it's a story about kit spanking Anakin cuz he's a little shit, Anakin Skywalker is a Little Shit, Anakin Skywalker is a Disaster, Anakin is an eighteen-year-old padawan he's legal and old enough to be spanked by a fine Nautolan, Anakin is a size queen, Light BDSM, Heavy Angst, heavy spanking, large cock appreciation, eye fucking that is x-rated, force fuckary galore, anakin is strong with the Force and the pheromones, Nautolan Biology (Star Wars), as in you'll get a Nautolan biology lesson, Anakin would be really creepy if he wasn't so effen good-looking, then again..., finally:author wants to fuck kit fisto, if I'm missing a tag ill add it later cuz it's 4am Im cooked read it on the AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/44940592

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Are you sorry yet?

Warnings: noncon sexual acts and rape, fingering, authority, violence, blood, choking, smothering.

This is dark!Steve Rogers and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Based on this drabble request: Steve Rogers + “You better apologize and you better make me fucking believe it.” + orgasm denial + Reader correcting Steve in front of the team. He gets very upset and teaches the Reader a lesson. Lame I know. 😬 as requested by @angrythingstarlight​

“You can’t go that way,” you said as you strapped on your wrist guard.

Steve looked over his shoulder as he steered the jet over the sierra. He rolled his eyes and kept his course. You unbuckled your seat and stood. You neared the back of his seat as Nat glanced back at you, the rest of the team silent and watching.

“Rogers, I told you, you can’t go that way,” you repeated.

“I have the field maps,” he insisted as he followed course, “sit down.”

“And when did you last look at them, you can’t go this--”

You were nearly tossed off your feet as he veered up, the bottom of the jet scraping along an unexpected peak. You clung to his seat as Nat reached out to keep you on your feet. As Steve righted the plane, you smacked your chin off the back of his chair and bit into your tongue painfully.

“Christ, what did I fucking tell you?” you lisped around your bloody tongue.

You retreated and sat in your seat as you cradled your jaw and swallowed the metallic taste.

“If I need your advice, I’ll ask for it,” Steve snarled, “see what happens when you distract me?”

“No, that’s what happens when you don’t pay attention,” you muttered under your breath.

Sam held out a dark cloth from his med kit and you took it to daub at your tongue. There wasn’t much you could do about it, besides you’d dealt with worse. You looked over as Sam watched you with concern and Wanda shrugged. Typical.

⭐

Back at the compound, you stomped in after the rest of the team. Your tongue was swollen and sore. You headed back to your room, wanting to hide away from the rest of them, especially Steve. He always had to be the one in charge, always had to be right, next time you’d let him fuck up.

You stopped a few feet short of your door. Steve leaned against it with arms crossed as he watched you turn the corner. You wanted to roll your eyes but instead, you continued on and put a hand on your hip.

“Cap,” you said flatly.

“You think you’re real smart, don’t you?” he sneered.

“What is your problem? I was just doing my job, you chose me as your intelligence officer,” you rebuffed.

“Maybe not the best choice considering your level of intelligence,” he stood straight and pushed his shoulders back.

“What do you want? I’m tired.”

“Well, I figured I would spare you an audience but you owe me an apology,” his brow twitched dangerously.

“Are you serious? You nearly tore the jet in half, if anything you owe me. Now move, you’re in my way.”

“I said apologize,” he grabbed your arm as his face darkened and he thrust you closer, “now.”

“Let me go, captain, or I’ll report you for--”

“You better apologize and you better make me fucking believe it,” he swung you around so that you hit your door, “go on, you want to do this in private, let’s do it in private.”

“Fuck off, Steve,” you turned and flung your elbow out at him. He caught your arm and reached for the doorknob. He twisted and shoved you through so hard you landed on your knees. “What the fuck are you doing?”

You pushed yourself to your feet as he slammed the door. He caught the back of your neck and squeezed. He dragged you to the bed and hooked his leg around yours so you fell forward onto your stomach. He pinned you over the bed, your knees on the floor.

“Say sorry,” he loomed over you.

“Get the fuck off--”

He turned your head and pushed it into the mattress. He held your face down until you thought you would suffocate. You beat at the bed as you tried to force yourself up and he yanked your head up by your hair.

“Steve--”

“Captain,” he lifted you to your feet, “Let me hear it, ‘sorry, Captain’.”

“Get off--”

“Wrong,” he threw you so that you bounced atop the bed. 

You rolled over and he caught your ankles as you tried to kick out at him. He climbed over you and straddled you beneath him. He leaned back so you were trapped beneath his weight. You smacked his chest and he bent your fingers back until you cried out.

“I will break them one at a time,” he snarled.

“I was fucking right,” you spat.

“I don’t fucking care, you don’t talk to me like that,” he pushed your hand down, “I’m still waiting.”

He cupped his ear mockingly and you clamped your lips shut. He glared down at you and struck you hard across the cheek.

“You know how much I wanted to do that on the jet? You’re fucking lucky.”

“I’d do it again,” you hissed, “you ego--”

He hit you again and shook out his hand. He watched his fingers bend and straightened and peeled off his leather glove. He removed the other and tossed them away. He smirked down at you and lifted himself on his knees. You planted your heels and tried to push out from under him. 

He caught the top of your pants and backed off the bed, tearing them down your legs as you cried out.

“Hey,” you sat up and reached for them and he shoved you back down so hard you were dizzy. He grasped your panties and you latched onto his hands. He easily wrenched away and ripped the cotton past your ankles.

“You will be sorry,” he pulled your legs apart as you twisted and writhed to get away from him, “you’re really gonna make this hard.”

“St--”

He pulled you down so that your ass was just below his crotch. His hand spread over your throat and he gave a squeeze.

“Captain,” he corrected again. 

Your nostrils flared and your throat burned. He removed his hand and shoved it between your legs. You flinched and tried to bat him away. He sent you a look so terrifying it made you gasp.

“Do you know how many ways I could break you?” he growled, “do you really want to find out?”

“Why--”

“Shh,” he pressed against your entrance with two fingers and poked inside. You yelped as you tried to close your legs around him but only hugged his sides with your knees, “what do you want?” he sank to his knuckles, “do you want this or do you want me to finish breaking the pretty little face?”

“St--Captain, why--” you moaned as he curled his fingers and pushed the heel of his hand to your clit.

“All you have to do is apologize,” he rocked his hand and the heat built against his palm.

You snapped your mouth shut and shook your head. He moved his hand faster and the tension wound in a coil. You bit the heel of your hand, ready to explode when suddenly he stopped.

“Say sorry and I’ll let you cum,” he said.

You gulped in air and flung your hand down to the bed. You shook your head, “no.”

He pulled his fingers out and tickled along the crease of your thigh. You twitched and he kept up until you could barely handle it. He slid back into you and began the same torturous motion, your core thrumming wildly and shamefully. Again, he stopped right before the peak.

“Sorry yet?” he asked as he took his fingers out and held them up, “I know you want to cum, I can feel it.”

“Fuck off,” you snarled.

He caught you with his left hand before you could wriggle away. He made a show of licking his wet fingers and burying them once more in your cunt. He snickered as again he coaxed the pleasure from your body. And like before, he stopped just as your breath hitched and you cunt began to quiver.

“I can do this all day,” he growled, “can you?”

[charlie-rulerofhell]

For they know exactly what they do

Today there was a pretty long article published in the German newspaper FAZ, written by Julia Schaaf. Since there were quite a few interesting topics raised in it and Måneskin talked about some new aspects (or in more detail), I translated the whole thing (it might also have helped me to procrastinate).

Full interview in English under the cut.

For they know exactly what they do

June 22, 2021

Four young rock musicians from Rome are today's hottest band. Måneskin are enchanting Europe. Why? We met them for an interview.

Every romance needs its founding myth, an anecdote from the beginning, something you can tell later in more difficult times for self-assurance.

In the case of the band Måneskin, who first had Italy and now half of Europe wrapped around their fingers, and who are now trying to conquer the rest of the world with their rock music, there is the story of the shoe box. Rome, around five years ago: Four teenagers who are meeting every day after school in their rehearsal room to make music together, and sometimes they play their songs on the Via del Corso in the city centre in front of a changing audience. One day they want to record their own stuff. They find a studio that they can actually afford and as they go there they bring a shoe box, with the name of the band written on it, 'moonshine' in Danish, the bassist's mother is Danish. In the box: around seven kilogram of coins. The things you get from playing music on the streets. Everyone searching through Instagram for photos from that time can find four hippies with children's faces, three boys in batik, the girl is wearing a straw hat.

As they have to pay [for the recording], frontman Damiano David, 22, says that there was this guy, Angelo, and his bandmate Victoria De Angelis, 21, is interrupting: “No, Andrea, not Angelo”, and all of them have to laugh because a rigid studio manager with the Italian name 'angel' would be even funnier for a founding myth. David continues his story: “The guy was completely dumbfounded. 'We can't do that.' We went: 'Sure we can, that's worth the same even if it's just 20 cent coins, it's still 300 euros.” Thomas Raggi, 20, the guitarist of the band, is gasping for air as he laughs, while drummer Ethan Torchio, 20, is smiling dreamily. David finishes: “And then we snuck off before he was able to count it.” [the German text says 'verdrücken' here which is just a colloquial way of saying 'we left', but it entails some sort of a dramatic exit, so yeah, let your thoughts get creative how they left exactly :D].

Four young musicians on the verge of global fame are sitting on a white interview sofa in Berlin, completely styled, babbling across each other like overeager teenagers.

Ever since the Roman band first won the music festival Sanremo and then also the Eurovision Song Contest, carried by the enthusiasm of European viewers, you could say Måneskin has become a phenomenon. “Rock 'n' Roll never dies!”, Damiano David yelled fueled by the adrenaline of winning, and the insinuation that circulated on social media of the singer snorting during the counting of votes in front of a live camera – including their strict denial followed by a negative drug test result – might have given an additional boost to their public interest, their exploding album, ticket and merch sales, and their outstanding success on Spotify.

“We think it's a shit prejudice against rock music that there always have to be drugs involved. We fully threw ourselves into our participation with the utmost professionalism. We give everything for the music. So of course we don't want people to think that we can only do that because we take drugs.” – Victoria De Angelis

Prior to Eurovision, Måneskin was more of an insider's tip outside of Italy. Handmade rock music, not creating something entirely new but paying homage to the good old times with classic guitar riffs and cracking drum beats, being a lot of fun but also quite fragile and vulnerable at times and, first and foremost, conveying a captivating energy. Finally, on the stage of Rotterdam, live after so many months of isolation and renunciation, this wave of energy spilled straight over into European living rooms. It seemed easy to (mistakenly) interpret the winning song “Zitti e buoni” (Shut up and behave) as a declaration of frustration of our youth in times of a pandemic. In fact, singer Damiano David is singing about the favourite topic of the band: the unrelenting need to, against all odds, be yourself, despite or perhaps because you are different. The message fits their provocative sex appeal, which the band uses to demonstrate their independence of gender norms at any given time. But the core essence of rock music has always been the promise of unlimited freedom.

Thus at the first moment, the meeting with Måneskin is kind of startling. It's Wednesday, we are in the top floor of the new Sony head quarters in Berlin. The four Italians have just started their two-week long promotion tour through Europe. In the afternoon there will be a live concert in a queer club [the SchwuZ, but that's not mentioned here] in Neukölln, which will be streamed via TikTok. Around one million viewers will watch the show, some of them even from Brazil, so people at Sony are pretty excited [for Måneskin to come here]. But at first, these stunningly gorgeous creatures [yes, that's the exact wording :D] are standing surrounded by an entourage of people – their management, PR team, a stylist, a photographer, people who can hold a smartphone or a cigarette if needed [this paragraph is worded a little weirdly, especially taking into account that basically their whole team / 'entourage' is just friends of them, but it seems like the journalist didn't know that or maybe they just wanted to describe their first impression]. They seem like fictional / artificial characters out of a Hollywood movie. Transparent frill blouses with blazers and flared leather trousers, even the platform boots, everything brand-new, the makeup makes their faces look like a glossy magazine cover even in person. The smokey eyes of De Angelis and Raggi make them look smug and bored. Later, on the pictures it will probably look cool.

So of course your first impression might be: This band is under contract to industry giant Sony ever since their success on an Italian casting show [X Factor] in Winter 2017. The music industry must have its hand in the game when a band is photographed half-naked by Oliviero Toscani and styled by Etro. Also, one does not simply rent a villa with a pool in Rome to produce new music there, isolated from the rest of the world. And who else went to London for two whole months, shortly before the winter lockdown, just for inspiration? After the TikTok concert in Berlin – De Angelis and David are now wearing fishnet shirts that sparkle with every move, their bare nipples covered with an X of black tape – the band is posing with a few influencers. In the world of social media you would call that 'producing content'. But what does that mean for a band who are preaching their hosanna of authenticity? How authentic is Måneskin? And is their pointedly casual approach to sexuality and gender cliches in today's pop-cultural spirit more than a marketing strategy?

We're in the interview, the recording device is running for not even five minutes, when Victoria De Angelis says: “Actually, we just try to be ourselves and do what we really want to do.” And really: The more you listen to those four how they speak about the early days of the band in their slurred Roman dialect, about the shoe box and their own experiences with being different, but most importantly about their shared obsession [with music], the more you realise that [De Angelis] is  very serious. Ethan Torchio, who got his first drum kit at the age of six or seven from his father because he was beating everything he could reach, says: “For me, music is like food. I cannot live without it.” The bassist next to him laughs at his pathos. Singer Damiano David applauds the otherwise more reserved friend for his truthfulness [it says 'klarer Punkt', meaning 'for the point he makes', but it makes it seem like Damiano is agreeing with Ethan here, although it doesn't indicate whether he agrees that yes, music is everything for Ethan or that he understands and feels the same].

De Angelis and guitarist Raggi already knew each other from middle school and they were the ones who tried to form a band at the age of only 13, a band that actually took music seriously.

De Angelis: “It's just difficult at that age to find other people who really put everything into music and who truly commit themselves and are willing to invest a lot of their time.”

Raggi: “We set strict rules and scheduled fixed times for the rehearsals, for every day.”

David: “Fever, stomach ache, there was no excuse. Even if you were feeling sick in the rehearsal room. At least you were in the rehearsal room.”

The way the four of them talk across each other, completing each other's sentences, taking turns in talking and sometimes joking about each other, seems intimate and playful. Singer David remembers how at first bassist [De Angelis] was merciless towards him when it came to her first metal band project, as she told him that he wasn't committed enough [to the music]: “Back then I was still playing Basketball. I was one of the people that Vic absolutely didn't want [in her band].” Drummer Torchio was later discovered through Facebook, even though there had already been a drummer, a close friend, but he was not good enough. It seems as if even back then music was everything for them. Even if it meant that only Raggi managed to graduate.

And why rock, why rock music of all things? Because it's great, the four of them say in unison. David adds: “Actually, it's a genre that allows you to do everything you want to do.”

When they played on the street, they were laughed at by their classmates. But not only there. De Angelis explains that she never wanted to be a typical girl: “I was always deterred by those stupid boxes that people put you in, and that are just restricting and constraining you, because something is only regarded as male or female. I always rejected that. Instead, I just wanted to do the things I enjoyed doing, I went skating and played football.” Torchio says: “Friends who are not friends anymore were already telling me at the age of ten that those“ – he grabs his long, silky black hair – “were wrong. Because I'm a boy and boys are meant to have short hair, long hair is only for girls. I was bullied a lot for that.”

“Compared to the past, people in our age became much more open-minded. It gets better.” – Thomas Raggi

Frontman David on the other hand, for whom eye shadow, jingling earrings and nail polish as well as his bare torso with the tattoos have become trademarks by now, says: “I was actually more of the average boy.” De Angelis convinced him to try out some eyeliner, which he describes as a spiritual awakening: “I liked myself much more [with makeup]. I saw myself more as myself. As if it had been a suppressed desire of mine.” On a trip to Copenhagen with the others, when he realised that it really didn't matter what people were thinking about him, he got his first fake fur [coat? the article doesn't specify that] in a second-hand shop and let his clothing style be guided by his own love to experiment: “I realised that my whole life I was just going at half speed.” When it comes to diversity all four of them are becoming almost missionary.

At the same time, their success is not only opening doors for them. Back home in Rome they are barely able to go out on the street due to all the paparazzi. “[You need a] hoodie and huge sunglasses”, David says, “the mask is quite helpful, too.” And still, none of them is complaining, and Torchio explains why: “Even if those experiences right now may have sides that are not so pleasant, we still know that for us a dream is coming true. We experience something that we always had in our minds, so we are willing to face every consequence that this entails.”

So is the band facing difficult times, is Måneskin going to change with all the success? Again, all of them answer at the same time.

David: “I'm not worried about that.”

Raggi: “No way!”

De Angelis: “On the contrary. Everything that happened to us happened because we are who we are, so we want to continue the exact same way and stay ourselves.”

Just a few hours later, they are at the stage in Neukölln, bouncing around like pinballs, hammering at their instruments, flirting with each other. “We are out of our minds, but different from the others”, David sings their winning hymn against conformism, and: “The people talk, unfortunately they talk.” Here on stage, the four paradise birds [a German word describing someone with a flamboyant personality] with their half-nude-glittering outfits are radiating an incredible energy with the utmost sincerity, and you begin to wish there was a live audience instead of the TikTok cameras, absorbing and spreading this energy. Måneskin. A cry for a life after the pandemic, a cry for freedom and a better world.

“We do what we wished for all our lives.” – Ethan Torchio

[americxn]

How the Evans would react to you posting a funny picture of them on social media

@cleanup-aisle5, thank you for the idea girl <3 word count - 2200 

TATE LANGDON

“The fuck is this?” You jumped with a yelp at your boyfriends sudden appearance at your shoulder. Turning to give him a light shove, you blinked at the phone he thrusted in your face. “Oh,” you laughed innocently, shrugging as you replied simply. “It’s you.” “Yes I know it’s me. Delete it now!” Tate demanded scrolling through the comments on the picture you had posted an hour earlier with a scowl. “But it’s a cute picture.” You insisted, the words carried by a giggle, your hands raising to his chest as you took a step closer to him.  “What? Am I not allowed to show off my boy?” You pouted mockingly, an evil smile stretching on your lips at his irritated expression. “You’ll delete it.” He huffed, but still reached around you to wrap his arms around your waist.  “Or what?”  Tate leaned down so that his lips were at your ear, his fluffy curls brushing against your cheek. “You don’t want to find out.” Your toes curled at the way his tone dropped, his rough voice rumbling through you. Forcing yourself to push away from him, you shrugged, humming in mock contemplation. “Maybe later.” You turned away. He was on you in a second but you had anticipated it, managing to dart forwards before his hands could close around you and ran out of the kitchen and down the hall. Tate yelled after you as you ran, his fingers almost catching ahold of your wrist as you pushed open the front door and hurried down the front steps, only stopping once you had crossed the boundary between the front garden of the house and the pavement.  You turned slowly, a triumphant grin on your face as you met Tate’s face mere inches from yours. You took a casual step back as he hands tried to reach for.  And maybe it was cruel but you turned away with a little wave, the concrete of the pavement warm against the soles of your bare feet. “I’m going to go see if the neighbours need any help with anything.” Tate gaped after you as you turned and skipped across the road to the house opposite yours. “It can be my good deed of the day, y’know?” You threw over your shoulder as Tate flashed his middle finger at you playfully and turned to go back inside the house. You looked after Tate as he went back in the house, only lasting about thirty seconds before bounding after him and through the front door that he had left open in anticipation, knowing that you would follow him. KIT WALKER

“Baby?” You turned with a hum away from the dishes you were cleaning in the sink to address your boyfriend as he walked slowly across the living room, frowning down at his phone. “When did you take this?” He stopped, pausing, before his mouth fell open. “And why did you post it?”  You chortled, turning back to your dishes. “You looked so cute, I couldn’t help it.” “No, I look awful! Y/n, all of your friends are liking it!” He squealed, running over to you and thrusting his phone in your face.  You pushed his phone down with a giggle. You had posted the picture earlier that morning, of Kit asleep on the couch, his face smooshed against the cushions with his mouth parted slightly, a little puddle of drool darkening the fabric beneath him.  “No, I like it.” You went back to your dishes. Kit frowned at your refusal, before a devilish smile graced his lips and he backed away slowly. You glanced over a shoulder, confidence faltering. “Wait- Kit what are you doing?” The plate you were in the process of scrubbing clean was abandoned in the soapy water, splashing you with water as you dropped it before chasing after him. He giggled as he saw you coming for him and broke out into a run, evading your reaching hands and bolting out of the living room, down the short hall to your shared bedroom. The door slammed shut on your face just as you reached the threshold and you scowled at your boyfriend through the closed door. “Kit!” You complained, the door holding fast as you tried to shove it open.  “Don’t give what you can’t take, sweetheart.” His voice was muffled through the wood of the door and you frowned, confused, before your own phone buzzed in your back pocket.  Fishing out your phone you swiped on the notification you had just gotten, your mouth falling open as you saw what Kit had just posted. You slammed your palm against the door angrily as a picture of you from a few months ago came up on your feed, of you laying on the floor, an empty bottle of wine grasped loosely in your fingers, your eyes only half open against the flare of Kit’s camera. And certainly not in a cute way. More in a, ‘I’ve vomited four times already, where the fuck am I’ type of way. “When even was that?” You demanded, watching in horror as Kit’s friends started to like the post. “It’s from when you blacked out a few months ago.” He snickered through the door.  “Kittttt.” You whined, trying the door again and growling in frustration when it still didn’t open. “I’m going to kill you.”  “Delete the one you posted of me and I’ll delete this one.” “No!” Your acute stubbornness would allow no such thing. “Then it stays up.” You fell silent for a second, trying to think of anything you could use as leverage against Kit to make him delete the picture but you came up short. “Fine.”  “Fine.”  You hit the door with a fist as you turned away, Kit’s incessant giggling echoing from behind you.  You knew that it was only a matter of time before one of you gave in, but like hell would you be the one to delete your post first.  KYLE SPENCER 

Kyle turned to you from the desk he was sat at, you tucked against the headboard of his bed, watching him study. “You know I saw what you posted of me.” You looked up, smirking. “What did you think?”  He turned around fully in his seat, running his fingers through his hair and tucking an imaginary strand behind his ear in mock vanity. “I looked hot.” He said in an overly exaggerated chad voice, turning to get back to his work. You laughed. “So you don’t want me to delete it?”  His persona dropped and he spoke with his back still turned to you, his head dipping to focus on whatever he was working on. “If you want it up, keep it up,” he shrugged, “whatever makes you happy.” You smiled at his words, your heart warming.  JIMMY DARLING  Jimmy did have a phone, one you had bought for him for his birthday last year, but he wasn’t really on social media, and what he was signed up to, he only used to promote upcoming shows. He used his phone mainly to stay in contact with you and the others at the camp and often got frustrated at how difficult typing was made for him due to his hands. You posted pictures of you and Jimmy frequently, so much so that your all your socials had practically turned into a fan page for the boy. Jimmy didn’t mind this at all, thinking it cute when you giggled at a funny picture you had just taken of him, or when he caught you scrolling through your camera roll which mostly just consisted of pictures of Jimmy or the both of you together.  He considered your frequent posting of pictures of him as your love language and so when you would post a particularly unflattering picture of your boy, you would show it to him and he would just laugh, not caring who saw it or what they thought of it, only caring that you loved him enough to bother sharing pictures of him with the rest of the world. JAMES MARCH

“Darling?” James called as he entered your shared room, a little frown creasing his glorious face. “Yeh?” You looked up, laughter dancing in your eyes. Sally chortled away from where she sat beside you on your and James’ bed.  He paused. “What’s so amusing?” “Nothing.” You insisted, trying to compose yourself, locking your phone and chucking it on the bed as you stood and met him halfway across the room, gathering him into a hug. “How have you been?” You asked him quietly, Sally giggling away behind you. “I have been well, dearest,” he replied, his gaze softening before they snapped to Sally, confused and slightly irritated. “What?” He bristled, pulling away to survey you and your poorly concealed smile. “Y/n,” he demanded and you tried to reassure him that it was nothing before Sally waved her phone in the air, stating, “it’s nothing for you to worry about, James.” She stood and tried to walk past the two of you stood in the centre of the room, James’ irritation mounting. Sally was taunting him purposely and it was having the desired effect. As Sally made to walk past you, his hand darted out, snatching up her phone.  “Hey!” She shouted, reaching to snatch it back but James had already strode off, trying to figure out how to “turn this retched device on.”  “No!” You blurted, chasing after him. He turned, regarding you with surprise and then suspicion, his eyes narrowing to slits. “Turn it on.” He insisted, thrusting the phone at you. Sighing, you did as he asked, unlocking the phone and raising your eyebrows at him when the password screen came up.  “I can’t even get in, see? It’s not my phone.” You held the phone up so James could see. “Relax, we were laughing at some weird guy Sally was messaging on Tinder.” You turned from James, handing the phone back to Sally with a wink, who tried in earnest to hold in her laughter as she took her leave. “What’s Tinder?” James grumbled, placing his cane on the bed and shrugging off his jacket. You took it from him and went to hang it in the wardrobe, chuckling at his question.  Of course it was a lie. Only a few minutes early, you had posted a beautiful collection of unflattering pictures that you had taken of James in the past week and Sally had appeared in your bedroom moments later in hysterics, demanding that you show her all the pictures you had of your unphotogenic boyfriend.  And as guilty as you felt about not telling him, which to be honest wasn’t very, he would never know. And Sally would kill you if you took the post down. You smiled to yourself as James walked away to pour himself a drink, returning a moment later and presenting you with a large glass of wine, a charming grin gracing his face, his irritation already forgotten.

RORY MONAHAN 

Rory’s favourite pastime was going onto your phone, getting into your social media and posting pictures of himself on your profiles. At first you didn’t mind, keeping the posts up and watching as all his fans would flock to like and comment on the pictures but as soon as he started to post gross pictures of you on your own socials, you changed all of your passwords and made sure to never leave your phone unattended. It didn’t take Rory long to guess what you had changed your passwords to, however, and he logged onto your socials on his own phone and continued to post, thankfully returning to just posting pictures of him, and you eventually stopped caring. As long as it kept him entertained, you were happy to let him carry on doing it.

KAI ANDERSON

“Delete it. Now.” You turned to your boyfriend’s voice from where you stood in your shared kitchen.  You groaned at him. “Oh, come on.” You drew out the final word. “It’s funny, Kai.” “People won’t take me seriously as a leader.” You scoffed at his response, leaning against the marble countertop of your kitchen and beckoning him over. He complied, coming to stand before you and bracing his arms either side of you on the surface behind you. Pressing a kiss to his head, you wrapped your arms around him, sighing contentedly.  “You’ve been gone all day, I’ve been lonely.” He leaned into your touch, resting his chin on the top of your head.  “I had a lot to sort out, but it’s finished with now.”  You pulled back, puckering up your lips in invitation for Kai to lean down and kiss you. But he didn’t, instead raising his hand and placing a finger on your lower lip, pulling it down gently with a thumb to reveal your bottom teeth.  He leaned down, grazing a ghost of a kiss to your mouth before clamping his teeth down on your lower lip and pulling back slowly, only releasing your lip when you shuddered, suppressing a groan.  A sweet, fluttery sensation filled your stomach as you met Kai’s intense gaze, anticipating his next move.  But he only smirked, pushing away from your body and sauntering over to the fridge, whistling merrily whilst rooting through the fridge, looking for something to eat.  You frowned in irritation, knowing full well that he was aware of the effect that lip biting had on you.  “Asshole.” You mumbled. He looked over a shoulder. “What was that?” “Nothing.” You chirped innocently. The fridge door shut and he walked back over to you slowly, tension, thick and hot, filling the room.  Kai resumed his position before you, your back pressed to the counter as he pushed his body even closer to yours, taking your chin in his hand so that you had no other choice but to look directly at him.  “Delete the picture, and I’ll give you what you want.” He murmured, eyes dipping to your lips, before meeting your gaze again. And with that, he was gone, the air suddenly too cold as his body was removed from yours, his footsteps getting quieter as he left the kitchen, seemingly unbothered. Flustered, you straightened, looking after him, longing burning from deep within you. Needless to say, the picture was deleted mere minutes later.

[bethchapelsbonnet]

"I named my little plant after you."

I thought this prompt was cute...

"I named my little plant after you."

Of course they would have differing paths. Blue Valley had a lot to offer, but even still, some traveling was necessary at times and right now, paths were.. so different. Rick had been crying a lot whenever she left.

"Ignore it. It's just my abandonment issues flaring up. I know you'll be back…" he sobbed into her hair.

Beth cupped his face and got onto her tiptoes to pelt him with kisses, "Of course I will. Of course I will! Here…" She reached into her bag and said, "I know one of the main problems that you'll have, (after the abandonment scare, of course), is feeling like you don't have something to care for." She smiled up at him as she pulled something out, "You're a nurturer, a protector and a provider, which are just a few of the many reasons I love you. I got you this, to maybe distract you from missing me a little bit."

She handed him an organic lavender growing kit. "You grow a lavender plant!" She cheered, far more excited than he was. "Instructions and everything is including and you'll have a plant that has many usages!"

He smiled through his tears. She was trying to cheer him up, so he tried to be… well.. at least put together. They kissed some more and then she was on a plane and he was crying again, staring at this silly box with a purple flower on it.

.

It took him a few days to get himself out of the funk enough to open her gift, but after he did, he started the instructions. He frowned when he initially set it up, but faked a smile when he sent her the photos.

She sent him back: I'm so excited! Make sure to talk to it - from me! 😁

"She wanted us together, so you're stuck with me, now." Was his first comment. He'd have more over time..

At first, he worried he might have made a mistake. He perused the instructions and checked online about growing a lavender at home. When he realized that it might take him a little longer than his mind was planning on, he relaxed, but fussed at it, "You had me worried that you'd died or something!" He took a deep breath. "Sorry. I didn't mean to get angry. I was just scared. She left you in my care. She went on this little… thing about how I should be able to do this. If I fail at this, not only are you dead, but what if she loses faith in me? Even a fraction is too much…" he frowned and checked the soil. "I don't know if this soil is doing what we need, Girlfriend. I think I'm going to try to switch it out."

Then, he was researching doing that.

After a few weeks, she looked so much better. Whenever Beth did their video chat, she was SO glad that he looked so like himself. Happy and healthy, with his little plant nearby. "Awwww, look at your little plant!" She cooed and covered her heart.

He smiled, proudly and gently touched the lavender. "I named my little plant after you." Beth gasped and he shrugged his shoulders, "Well, not AFTER you, after you. I call her Girlfriend." Beth squealed. That was adorable. "She's got social media," he said and showed her his phone.

Beth's eyes were wide. "A lot has taken place while I've been on my venture." She leaned forward, smiling uncontrollably, "Tell me EVERYTHING about Girlfriend!"

He moved the plant closer to the screen, explaining, "She likes to hear about herself," with a fond eye roll. "That's the first and most important thing to know…"