#Sir Harry Films

[kirain]

Let us all raise our wand for Michael Gambon (Albus Dumbledore) who brought light and happiness to so many, including the young actors he worked with and inspired. 🪄

Rest in peace, Headmaster.

[the-imaginative-hobbyist]

Happy 28th to THE ROCK (1996), one of the best action movies of the 1990's in my opinion, and because I subscribe to the theory that John Mason is an older version of Sir Sean Connery's 007, I also consider it one of the best James Bond movies, too.

[gone2soon-rip]

SIR MICHAEL GAMBON (1940-Died September 27th 2023,at 82,Pneumonia).Anglo-Irish actor forever remembered by millions of Harry Potter fans as Professor Albus Dumbledore,in the last 6 films of the Harry Potter film franchise.

Gambon started his acting career with Laurence Olivier as one of the original members of the Royal National Theatre. Over his six-decade-long career, he received three Olivier Awards, two Screen Actors Guild Awards, and four BAFTA Awards. In 1998, he was knighted by Queen Elizabeth II for services to drama.

Gambon appeared in many productions of works by William Shakespeare such as Othello, Hamlet, Macbeth and Coriolanus. Gambon was nominated for thirteen Olivier Awards, winning three times for A Chorus of Disapproval (1985), A View from the Bridge (1987), and Man of the Moment (1990). In 1997, Gambon made his Broadway debut in David Hare's Skylight, earning a Tony Award for Best Actor in a Play nomination.

Gambon made his film debut in Othello (1965). Other notable films include The Cook, the Thief, His Wife & Her Lover (1989), The Wings of the Dove (1997), The Insider (1999), Gosford Park (2001), Amazing Grace (2006), The King's Speech (2010), Quartet (2012), and Victoria & Abdul (2017). Gambon also appeared in the Wes Anderson films The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou (2004), and Fantastic Mr. Fox (2009). Gambon enhanced his stardom through his role of Albus Dumbledore in the Harry Potter film series from 2004 to 2011, replacing Richard Harris following his death in 2002.

For his work on television, he received four BAFTA Awards for The Singing Detective (1986), Wives and Daughters (1999), Longitude (2000), and Perfect Strangers (2001). He also received two Primetime Emmy Award nominations for Path to War (2002) and Emma (2009). Other notable projects include Cranford (2007) and The Casual Vacancy (2015). In 2017, he received the Irish Film & Television Academy Lifetime Achievement Award. In 2020, he was listed at No. 27 on The Irish Times' list of Ireland's greatest film actors.Michael Gambon - Wikipedia

[fourorfivemovements]

Films Watched in 2023: 90. I Walked with a Zombie (1943) - Dir. Jacques Tourneur

[pedroam-bang]

The King (2019)

[edeschmedie]

Finally finished watching Cromwell (1970) yesterday. Out of all Michael Jayston films (current obsession still going strong!) I have been wanting to watch this the most because the English Civil War is a subject in which I am quite interested. Even then, going in, I prepared myself for historical inaccuracies and departures from my understanding of certain events and personalities because that's just what you do when you watch a historical film.

First thing to note is that the film has many good points. For its time, the film looked marvellous. I love the battle scenes and those scenes set in the House of Commons and the royal court – simply beautiful sets. Charles I's entrance into the Commons is my favourite; his flamboyantly colourful clothes set against a sea of MPs in black, providing a powerful contrast between royal decadence and somber Parliamentary sensibilities.

There's also a lot to admire in the acting. Alec Guinness is exquisite as Charles I and the character was played largely in line with my impressions of the doomed king: a sympathetic personal side (his reunion with his family after the war reportedly even moved Cromwell to tears) but a truly awful and weak ruler who didn't hesitate to drop even his most loyal supporters, as convincingly conveyed in the scene where Charles unfairly dismissed Prince Rupert after the Bristol surrender ("You promised mountains and yet performed molehills!"). Masterful performance.

Other supporting performances were strong too. I thought Dalton's Prince Rupert worked, despite the character being so different (read: less flamboyant) in my mind. Jayston's Ireton and Thomas Fairfax (not familiar with the actor, sorry) are even more different than what I imagined. I wasn't sure how I feel about the characterisation of Ireton and Fairfax. Seeing as I know Ireton primarily for the Heads of Proposals (probably the most famous document of that period, certainly influential in the Putney Debates, so there's really no escaping it) the differences stand out a bit. And no mention at all that he's Cromwell's son-in-law. Weird choice since that could have supported the storyline of Ireton being a strong influence on Cromwell, but on the whole I think that didn't take away from the story.

All this would have made the film an acceptable one save for one very key thing. I really couldn't stand Richard Harris's take on Cromwell. I know many biogs (even the ones that are sympathetic, like Antonia Fraser's Our Chief of Men) make allusion to Cromwell's 'changeable moods' but I don't think what Harris did captured what it means. Cromwell was most likely having nervous breakdowns (melancholia was the term used at the time by his physician) at certain periods of time, usually when he was faced with big decisions to make. What Harris did however was something else.

As I said, I don't mind occasional departures from history especially if they serve the film but here they did not. History aside, Harris made Cromwell changeable in a matter of seconds which backfired spectacularly considering that Cromwell is still one of the most divisive figures in English history. A careful balance must be struck between his nervous personality and his well-documented charisma and charm that helped him win supporters. There was no suggestion of the latter in the film. Even and calm tone of voice one second and suddenly booming rage in the next, shouting at everyone around him, even politicians who were on his side. Hard to see why anyone would see a leader in this unpredictable man sorely lacking in charisma. The personal side was more successfully portrayed –in scenes with his wife and when he received news of his son's death – although not enough to make up for the dismal attempt at capturing Cromwell the politician.

Aside from the lack of charisma, film Cromwell wasn't even portrayed as a visionary. It's like all ideas and plans he had for a better England seemingly originated from or were suggested to him by others around him chiefly Ireton. So, no charisma, no vision. Bad combo especially when stood next to Guinness' Charles I.

As the film is titled 'Cromwell', its success would largely depend on whether the character is convincingly played. I don't think it was. The film would have me believe that Cromwell's authority comes solely from his booming voice, as if sound volume was the only thing that matters in leadership. That's mainly why, despite all the good things that recommend this film and despite my willingness to forgive historical inaccuracy, I couldn't really enjoy it.

[bumblee-stumblee]

The Telegraph

Scores of actresses turn down roles in play critical of JK Rowling’s gender views

Craig Simpson

Thu, June 13, 2024 at 6:49 AM PDT·3 min read

A play that criticises JK Rowling’s views on gender is struggling to cast women with 90 actresses so far rejecting parts.

The stage production, which is set to debut at the Edinburgh Fringe, has already caused outrage over a working title which labelled the gender-critical Harry Potter author a c----.

The production is yet to cast any of the female roles, including that of Rowling herself.

The part of Harry Potter film star Emma Watson has also been repeatedly turned down, and around 90 actresses have refused to take part in the project amid concerns over its critique of Rowling.

The author has become a figure of hate online among some activists, and received death threats after publicly sharing concerns about the encroachment of transgender campaigning on women’s rights.

Actors have been found for male leads, who will portray Harry Potter cast members Rupert Grint and Daniel Radcliffe.

Creative producer Barry Church-Woods told the Telegraph: “This project has met some kind of resistance every step of the way, though I’ve been generally surprised by how difficult it has been for us to recruit the female cast in particular.

“It’s a well-paid gig meeting industry standards and the script is terrific.”

He added: “I think it’s fair to say that a few things are coming into play in casting.”

The play, which was written by queer-identifying Hollywood scriptwriter Joshua Kaplan, tells the story of a fictional intervention staged for Rowling by the stars of the Harry Potter franchise, Watson, Grint and Radcliffe.

The three actors publicly denounced Rowling in 2020 when she first raised concerns about the spread of gender ideology, the belief that gender is unfixed and changes according to how people self-identify.

The work was initially titled TERF C***, with TERF standing for trans-exclusionary radical feminist, a term which has been deployed pejoratively against women who have opposed trans ideology.

It is understood that 30 actresses have turned down the role of Rowling in the play, and 60 have refused the part of Watson, while agencies representing aspiring female stars have been nervous to put their clients forward for the project.

There is some suggestion that the actress may have ideological misgivings about the play, or be concerned about a potential backlash.

It has been suggested by producers that some actresses may not want to appear in a play critiquing Rowling and ruin their chances of appearing in the lucrative new Harry Potter TV series on the Max streaming service.

Rowling is acting as executive producer for the series, and will be involved in key decision-making.

Mr Church-Woods said: “We’ve had agents reluctant to put names forward, I suspect, because they do not want to damage their clients chances of landing roles on the new Potter TV series.”

Writer Mr Kaplan has insisted that his play does not carry a set message, and is more about “relationships and how Rowling’s opinions evolved” rather than a work “interrogating the substance of her opinions”.

TERF plays the Sir Ian McKellen Theatre from August 2 to 25.

But I thought TWAW? Why aren't they looking to hire Transwomen actors to play the women's roles if they truly believe that they are women?

Isn't it funny how they seem to know what a woman is when they want to use them to mock other women?

[hollowdeath]

some personal n s f w headcanons about harry <3

CW: fem!reader, mentions of rough/aggressive sex, breeding, & public sex

switch. literally the definition of a switch. some days he's completely stressed out and can't seem to catch a break so he takes it out on you. needy, sloppy, rushed kisses leading to aggressive groping and clothes coming off, sometimes ripped off, before roughly using you for his own pleasure. other days he's completely overwhelmed with his responsibilities and just needs to be taken care of. puppy dog eyes and shy gestures leading to soft kisses, breathy moans, and dry humping. harry begging "please, please touch me, need you so bad", whining, pleading, just so so needy and soft with you. loves when you're on top. secretly kinky: being choked, being tied up, anything to give you the control.

oral fixation. i mean, i think we can all agree that harry loves, and i mean loves, eating pussy. you might have to beg him to stop due to the overstimulation, otherwise he would be there for hours if you let him. from soft, firm kisses down your stomach to eager, loving bites on your thighs to full on making out with your pussy, he quite literally lives for the experience. and dont even get him started on face sitting...the way you look down at him and use his mouth for your own pleasure could easily send him over the edge multiple times.

breeding kink!!! this boy loves nothing more than the risk of finishing inside you, it just makes it that much more enjoyable. of course the physical sensation itself feels incredible on its own, but the intimacy it creates between the two of you is what makes it so, so hot. the trust you have in each other makes you only more attracted to the other. whether it's you begging for it or harry telling you to "take it, baby, you take me so well", its almost an unspoken agreement that it's the preferred way to finish things off for both of you. he loves stepping back and watching his cum spill out of you, though most of the time it feels so good he just stays inside of you until he catches his breath.

nudes. oh, how he cherishes his collection of dirty photos of you. like i've said before, i think harry would be really into film photography, and that would include taking photos of you in his favorite poses and positions, developing them, and keeping them in a safe place to look at when he misses you. he keeps his favorite one in his wallet; nothing too vulgar, just something sexy for when he needs a smile. sometimes he stops in the middle of foreplay and politely asks for your consent to get his camera and take a picture of you because, "you just look so lovely from right here". he'll spend the next few minutes taking photos, complimenting you between them as he gets all the right angles. "so, so beautiful. just like that. god, you're amazing."

voyeurism. not a lot of people would think harry is into public displays of affection because he's a bit shy and reserved around other people, but that only makes it more tempting for him. he's always trying to subtly touch you whenever he can get away with it. alone in an aisle of a store? he's already grabbing a handful of your ass. waiting for dinner in a crowded restaurant? his hand's halfway up your skirt. nobody's around in the forbidden forest? he's sure the creatures in there would love to see you put on a show for him. he just can't help himself sometimes, something about letting everyone know that you're his girl and that he isn't afraid of showing them really gets him going.

dirty talk. harry seems like the type of guy to talk you through it, if you know what i mean. he really takes pride in his ability to make you cum just from his words. he knows exactly what turns you on, whether its praise or degradation, and uses it to his advantage often. from "you look so pretty taking me so well, sweetheart" to "just take it like a good little slut" real quick. LOVES nicknames and titles in bed; absolutely loses his mind if you reply "yes, sir" to anything he says. again, he's a switch, so he loves when you take control and talk dirty with him too. he has a particularly soft spot for being praised because all he wants is to be a good boy for you.

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Cyd Charisse (The Bandwagon, Brigadoon, Singin’ in the Rain)—LEGS LEGS LEGS I would sell my soul for the legs of Cyd Charisse - she oozed style and glamour and sex appeal!! And she could DANCE! She was dancing next to the greats - Gene Kelly, Fred Astaire but they are never who you're looking at because why would you when you can look at her. I will only sit through too long ballet breaks for her. If there was any woman who you could call sex on legs it was her. These dances are everything to meeee (she comes in at the minute mark) and this dance too of course is iconic. In the words of Fred Astaire 'When you've danced with Cyd Charisse you stay danced with'

Suchitra Sen (Harano Sur, Chaowa Pawa)—Suchitra Sen! She had a 25-year career in Bengali films, and was at the height of popularity for a solid two decades as half of the wildly beloved pair of Uttam-Suchitra, who were practically the entire romantic genre of Bengali films by themselves. She acted in literary adaptations, romantic comedies, (melo)dramas and inspired-by-current-events films. She was the first Indian actress to receive an international award at the Moscow International Film Festival. In 1978, after the release of her last film (a box-office flop) she pulled a Garbo and put herself out of the public eye completely. She made no appearances, gave no interviews, refused awards, all of it. She didn't even show up for her daughter's or grand-daughters' debuts! She was taken for funerary rites in a covered hearse! The glamour! The mystery! That blinding smile!

This is round 2 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Suchitra Sen:

Not to take away from her costars in Devdas (1955), but the great Indian cinematic tradition of Tragic Romantic Yearning would not, I argue, be what it is without Suchitra Sen's performance in that film. I root for things to turn out better for her every time, even though I know how things are going to go.

A Bengali cinema icon. Liked crows (per Gulzar, "It was an astonishing sight. The crows used to pick at the grapes from her hand").

Linked gifset

She once rejected Raj Kapoor's movie offer (one of the most successful actor and director at the time). She was quoted saying, “In men, I don’t look for beauty. I look for intelligence and sharp conversations. I had refused Raj Kapoor’s offer almost immediately. He came to my residence offering a lead role and, as I took my seat, he suddenly sat near my foot and offered me a bouquet of roses while offering the role. I rejected the offer. I did not like his personality. The way he behaved – sitting near my foot – did not befit a man.”

Legendary poet, lyricist, director and writer Gulzaar had this to say about her "Glad that my ‘Sir’—that’s what I call her— got the Dada Saheb Phalke award during her lifetime. Contrary to people’s perceptions, Suchitra Sen is an extremely warm and very very friendly person. I adore and respect her. But she has the right to choose her friends. Surely she’s justified in keeping away from every Tom, Dick and Harry. She’s the only example of such quiet dignity in show-biz. That’s why the media compares her with Great Garbo. Suchitra Sen is my Sir. I’ll explain. During the shooting of Aandhi she started calling me Sir. Everyone in Kolkata calls her Madame. Since I’m her junior I requested her not to call me Sir. But she insisted. (We always converse in Bengali). So I call her Sir and she calls me Sir.”

Linked musical number [won't let me display embedded for some reason]

Cyd:

Photos do not do Cyd Charisse justice, unfortunately, because she is at her hottest while dancing, which she was exquisitely good at. Just go watch her first number in Singin' in the Rain, in that green dress; nothing I could say here will be more convincing that that.

She had amazing legs, and she knew how to use them! You probably know her best from the dream sequence in Singin' In The Rain. She was such a stunning dancer, and all her dance scenes are hard to look away from.

Dancing in the Dark clip:

She's an amazing dancer and my favorite from the period. Here's her and Fred Astaire in the Band Wagon:

I just like a woman who's there to be really incredibly good at dancing.

One of the most talented female dancers in Hollywood history, but what sets her apart from other competitors for that title is that she...umm...well let's be blunt, she was the dancer who put sex into it. The one who said "Hey, you know that A+ leg tone that naturally develops from doing this for a living? Why don't I let people see that? Like at every opportunity?" She reportedly insured her legs for five million dollars after hitting it big, which just goes to show that fame makes you crazy. It should have been ten million.

Arguably the Best female dancer of her time, she supposedly insured her legs for $5 million dollars. Stole the show whenever she had a dance number, even if she went uncredited. Musicals started to go out of fashion so unfortunately she didn't have as many big roles as she should have, but those she did are unforgettable. The Broadway Melody number in Singin' in the Rain - the green dress!

She could pirouette in pointes or tear it up in taps. Fred Astaire called her "beautiful dynamite" and wrote, "That Cyd! When you've danced with her you stay danced with." Gene Kelly partnered with her three times. Her legs were (reportedly) insured for $5 million in 1952 ($57.8 million in 2024 dollars)! Everyone in this poll will be iconic, but for raw physical grace, Cyd is up there with the best.

Legs for days, beautiful dancer in the most iconic scenes of Singin in the Rain. She's glorious. As some guys sung to her in It's Always fair weather, 'baby you knock me out!'

Incredibly, Cyd Charisse only started learning to dance as a rehab exercise to strengthen her body after a childhood bout of polio. She was in high demand as a dance partner, Fred Astaire called her beautiful dynamite and said "When you've danced with her, you stayed danced with". She was one of a few leading ladies to dance with both Astaire and Kelly, declaring them both delicious. Kelly apparently was stronger, while Astaire was more coordinated. She also said her husband would always know who she had been dancing with because Kelly left her bruised, while Astaire didn't leave a mark. She's better known for her dance numbers today, but she was a leading lady in her time! Her Scottish accent in Brigadoon leaves a lot to be desired, but compared to the other actors in the movie, it's almost good. She appeared in The Harvey Girls alongside Judy Garland and Angela Lansbury in her first speaking role, but she really burst onto the scene with Singin' in the Rain and her infamous Broadway Melody Ballet number with Gene Kelly (no one could handle a length of fabric like Cyd Charisse). She was brought in because Debbie Reynolds wasn't really a dancer and Kelly was notoriously a stickler about his Vision. After that she starred opposite Astaire in The Band Wagon, which was a bit of a flop but created some enduringly incredible dance numbers. She went on to star in a number of MGM movies, and was one of the last of the Studio era stars to remain on contract. Since we've got up to 1970, I'm including her opening routine in The Silencers (1966) to show just how long she was making a splash - she's into her 40s here and still a siren:

and of course, the iconic Broadway Melody Ballet -

[prolix-yuy]

Simulated

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader Actress

Summary: You're a professional, which is why a sex scene with Dieter Bravo will be no problem at all. Now you just have to convince yourself to believe it.  

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, descriptions of male and female bodies, simulated sex, grinding, fantasizing about sex, anxiety, lil bit of size kink, probably incorrect method for filming sex scenes but I'm using what I know and making up the rest. Don't do this for real, this is fantasy and Dieter is a filthy boy.

Notes: This leapt out of my brain and was enabled by the Discord besties. Dieter brainrot is setting back in but I doubt anyone's complaining. This may be the sexiest thing I've ever written without actual sex happening, but you all can be the judge of that.

Cross-posted on AO3

Midnight Alley Masterlist

Trembling on the verge of passing out is not how you wanted your first time in Dieter Bravo’s arms to be, but no amount of reprimands to your rebelling body have worked. 

It’s not him, far from it. Dieter had been nothing but gentlemanly since you came in for scene blocking. The director offered to have stand-ins while they adjusted lighting and staged the shots, but you boldly offered to come in anyways. It wasn’t your first shoot, but it was your first sex scene, and you wanted to impress the director with your no-nonsense attitude about it. 

All that confidence flew out the window when you came face to face with your scene partner, Dieter Bravo. Well aware of his aloof playboy nature, you didn’t expect his handshake to be so warm, the quirk of his smile to make your heart flutter, or for him to smell so strongly of eucalyptus. Apparently his agent mentioned you would be there for staging, and he decided to come in to test your chemistry. No issues there, your curious eyes roaming over his wrinkled cargo pants and threadbare sweater. He could be wearing nothing and you’d still melt into a puddle. Which, shockingly, wouldn’t be that far in the future.

Calm down, girl. Be professional.

To be fair, Dieter is fucking gorgeous, even under the bloodshot eyes and air of annoyance. His curls are even softer looking in person, heavy shoulders stretching his t-shirts and bulky forearms complimenting his thick thighs. Even the little pooch of a tummy makes you salivate. While your friends drool over Tom Hiddleston or Harry Styles, your heart beats fast for men who can crush you under their bulk. “Weighted blanket boys,” you like to call them, and Dieter wholly falls into that category. 

Which is why when you got the casting call for a bit part in the crime drama Midnight Alley, which Dieter had been co-starring in for three seasons, you leapt at the opportunity. Even if you didn’t get to share a scene, at least you could catch a glimpse, maybe say hello. That was surely worth the long hours. His proclivities for casual sex definitely didn’t fit into that plan. No sir. Definitely not.

It all became real when you got the pages. Your character was a one night stand, relegated to three scenes - the bar where you make eyes across a crowd, the tasteful sex scene (though only barely - tv ratings have really changed in the last twenty years), and the morning after when he leaves to go to a crime scene. The “gaze across the smoky dance floor” was easy enough; anyone with half a brain and a pulse would blush at Dieter’s intense stare, raised eyebrow, and sly grin, a signature of his questionable character. It raises goosebumps down your arms, his parted lips and the slip of his pink tongue resting just inside, the crinkle of his eyes when he knows he’s got you. If a man ever gave you that look you’d be in his bed in moments. 

Scratch that. Not just any man. Dieter’s the only one who could pull that off.

The blocking should have evened out your nerves, and in the moment you believed it did. Dieter was an absolute gentleman, even warmer than you hoped, as you waited to be called on set.

“Ever done a scene like this before?”

“First time. Can you tell?”

He thumbed through his thicker script.

“Wasn’t going to make you more nervous by pointing it out. But yes.”

You blew out a puff of air, making Dieter smirk even more as you crinkled your sheets.

“How do we…?”

“You know the direction?”

“Yeah, it seems…straightforward.”

“Well, today we’re just going to do the major movements - positions, angles, you know - and while they mark focus and shine a light directly up my asshole, we can talk.”

A burst of giggles pulled a wider smile onto his face, waiting for you to calm yourself.

“What do we talk about?”

“What’s comfortable for you. What would pull you out of the scene. What you’re open to. You’re our guest after all.”

So your afternoon was spent pantomiming the sex acts written for you and…talking. Which wasn’t supposed to be sexy, or like two hours of incredibly hot foreplay, but your body apparently didn’t get the memo.

“Anything you really don’t want me to touch? Besides the obvious,” Dieter asked, coming down from his hands to his elbows by your face. The tip of his nose brushed briefly against yours. A hairlight shifted in your periphery.

“My ribs are pretty ticklish,” you admitted, nodding to the assistant director Ramona when she moved on to the next setup. Scooping his hands behind your back, Dieter pulled you on top, showing how to sit a little further up on his stomach to fake the grinding. Unfortunately, the plush flesh against your core didn’t help with the ache.

“Here’s okay?” he asked, wrapping his hands just under your breasts, the tips of his thumbs barely grazing the swell. You nodded, body getting jolted again when the director Adiel asked for Dieter to scoot up the bed a few inches.

“My, uh…” you said, then stopped as you lost confidence. Dieter took his hands off your chest and laced them on his own. He looked up at you expectantly. “My…nipples are really sensitive, so I know I’ll have pasties on and everything, but, it’s like, uncomfortable if they get touched certain ways. So I just wanted to…warn you of that. It shouldn’t be a problem, just, ah, you know, just in case.” Your throat closed up, embarrassment at even saying anything crushing your tongue against the roof of your mouth.

“Thanks for telling me, I appreciate it.” Dieter patted your thigh and his smile was a little more tender than before. 

God, he really looked good underneath you.

“My skin’s sensitive too, scratches show up really clearly on it and it pisses off the cinematographer. So that’s the only thing we’ll have to watch out for there.” The shuffle of changing positions interrupts your conversation until you’re on your stomach with him pressed against your back.

“Sorry if I pop one too, it’s kind of par for the course with these. I’m good at keeping it under control for the most part.” You giggle into the pillow as he hovers over you. 

“My biggest advice?” Dieter murmurs, mouth close to your ear. You hum into the pillow. “Let yourself have fun. It’s not gonna feel natural, but that doesn’t mean it’s gotta feel cold. You won’t offend me if you go off script. I might too, if it feels right. If we’re having fun, the audience will too.”

The weight of his body bearing down on you drives any more anxieties out of your blissed-out brain.

The day of the sex scene comes quicker than you’d like, and the tender crush you’d been nursing for Dieter has become a panicked bird inside your ribcage. You’d spent the hours before preparing, mentally and physically with an indulgent morning routine, but nothing can stop your nerves when Dieter catches sight of you and gives a little wave. He’s in jeans and a black button-up, hair being artfully styled but sunglasses still on. One knee bounces in the chair but otherwise he looks cool as a cucumber. 

The sliver of golden chest you peep through the neck of his shirt sends you scurrying to your dressing room.

Everything leading up to the moment you step on set is distraction. Chatting with makeup, hair, props, with the fucking boom operator who looks just as confused as you are that you’re asking about good places to eat in the area. You talk with the intimacy coordinator, who gives you final notes on the scene. (“If Dieter makes you uncomfortable at all you give me The Eyes and I’ll correct him. No questions asked. I’ve worked with him for years, and I will cuss him out to his face.”) Eventually there’s no one left, and you’re standing alone clutching a water bottle to your chest when Dieter sidles up.

“Nervous?”

You almost jump out of your bathrobe. Which would suck because all you had on was a dark lace lingerie set, pair of pasties and the strange modesty patch protecting your lady bits. Sometimes seeing the behind-the-scenes really did erase the movie magic.

“Yeah, sorry. It’s a little more real now than the rehearsal,” you sigh, and Dieter’s bray of a laugh actually calms you. He puts a hand on your back and rubs firm, soothing circles that bring your heart back into an acceptable rhythm.

“You’ll do fine. And I’ve done this…eh, probably more times than it’s polite to mention. You’re in good hands.” He pulls off his sunglasses, treating you to rich brown eyes you could lose yourself in if you weren’t a professional, goddammit. 

“Close the set, please!” Ramona calls out, and the nonessential crew files out until it’s just you and Dieter and about eight other people who will be watching you writhe and moan. Taking in a deep breath and letting it out loudly, you shake your limbs and metaphorically gird your loins (since they already are pretty girded).

“Can I have actors on set please?” You stride up to the bed with as much confidence as you can muster, Dieter strolling up behind you. Now that he’s close he smells like fresh cotton and spice, a sharp shift from the earthier scents you’d been experiencing. Even a hint of mint from his breath, suddenly thankful you’d brushed and mouthwashed twice. 

“Positions for Scene 17.”

Yes, the first shot. Dieter would be hovering over you, kissing you as he pulls his shirt off. You would be in your bra and panties, slivers of your body visible in the frame but Dieter’s broad chest and unbuttoned waistband on display. Sliding the bathrobe off and placing it off camera, you arrange your limbs on the bed, hands shaking just a little now. Dieter stands at the foot, and if you weren’t about to simulate sex you’d swear he was devouring you with his heavy gaze.

Just getting into character. Breathe.

“Roll sound.”

“Speed.”

“Scene 17a, take one. Roll camera.”

“Rolling.”

“...Action.”

As the set drops to silence, you watch Dieter change from the slightly aloof but sympathetic actor to a brooding morally gray detective needing to bury his failures in a soft body. Despite your coaching, your eyes widen at the set of his jaw, how dark his eyes become when he wrenches off the offending button-up. He sinks to his knees between your thighs and hovers over you, hands pushed into the mattress on either side of your head. 

“Be good for me, yeah?” he husks, deeper and full of gravel. You nod, and he descends to crush your lips together. He urges your mouth open and works your lips together, but his tongue stays obediently behind his teeth. 

Fuck, for a second you forgot you were acting.

His hips dip, denim scraping along the inside of your thighs. He parts from your mouth with a gasp, forehead coming down to press against yours. He takes a deep breath, then…

“Cut! Reset.”

You blink slowly, Dieter already lifting back up to stand at the foot of the bed, rebuttoning his shirt. 

“Any notes?” he asks, voice so calm and clear you snap back to the reality of the situation. 

“When you’re kissing, pull her thighs up around you,” Adam says, Dieter’s head swiveling back.

“That all right by you?” he asks, smoothing the shirt on his skin. 

“Yeah, yeah, absolutely,” you answer, trying not to croak out the words. It was just the first take, it’s fine that you’re a little off-kilter. It would be easier by the second one.

It was not. Not by the third either, still swimming in the heady arousal that wafts from Dieter’s commanding presence. The director complimented how you clutched at his shoulders when he squeezed your thighs, which you tried to pass off as purposeful rather than hanging on for dear life. You were doomed, you’d bitten off more than you could chew and you were going to mess up this role and had no idea how to stop it.

Three more scenes to go.

You take a lap as they reposition the cameras, flip-flops slapping against the concrete floors of the soundstage as you debate if you have enough time to rub one out before going back, just to take the edge off.

“Actors back on set!”

Dammit.

Scene 18 has you riding Dieter, his hands guiding you until he bares his teeth (your signal to move with him) and rolls you on your back to pound you into the mattress. The lingerie is gone now, the cool air of the soundstage caressing over curves of your body that most people rarely see. Dieter averts his eyes when you disrobe, and carefully arranges himself below you. You’re feeling more centered, straddling Dieter with a little less fire burning between your legs, but your troubles take a sharp turn.

“Lean forward a little more, you’re half out of the shot.”

“A little faster.”

“Put your hand on his stomach about ten seconds in.”

“Never mind, back to how we had it before.”

“No, we said no hand, remember?”

“Do you need a break?”

Your body shakes after take 6, half from the exhaustion of lifting up on your knees over and over, your toes starting to go numb, and half with anxiety over forgetting another cue, or missing another note. The smile you keep shooting the director is getting strained, and mortifying tears start to prick your eyes. Dieter is watching your face closely, and with a pointed look at Ramona she calls a brief break. 

“Hey,” he murmurs, guiding you off his lap to sit on the edge of the bed. You cross your arms over your chest, and he reaches over to give you your robe. Draping his own over his lap, he strokes that soothing pattern of circles over your back as you shake your head.

“Sorry, it felt so easy in rehearsal, I’m having like, a weird lockup right now,” you stammer out.

“It’s okay,” he says, “I know what it is.” You look up at him with more desperation in your eyes than you mean. He nods sympathetically.

“It’s the cock sock, isn’t it?” 

He delivers the line completely deadpan. The shock of the phrase, plus the serious set of his brow, makes hysterical laughter burst from your lips. You bury your face in your hands and shake as Dieter’s deep chuckles tickle into your ear.

“That’s better, just need to get a little of that tension out,” he soothes, meeting your eyes with a charming smile. If only this could be a real moment, not something looked on by several men and women drinking coffees. Dieter seems like the kind of partner who would always make you comfortable, and seen, and absolutely satisfied.

That last thought tingles the baby hairs on the back of your neck as you move back into position. Straddling Dieter once again, the ridiculous genital covering out of sight, he grips your shoulders.

“Okay, let’s get back into character here, yeah? Remember your motivation?”

You nod. Not that the scene really needed a deep backstory, but you’d decided you were blowing off steam after a rough few days at work and an ex texting you to get back together. Dieter was mysterious, exciting, so different from your past boyfriends, and when he met your eyes across the room all you wanted was for him to wash the bad taste of their memories out. 

“Got it? Good. Here’s mine,” he says, leaning up while the last few preparations finish around you. Lips to your ear, he whispers only for you. 

“Another dead end, another long day, and I want something to distract me. I’ve got my eye on my usual type, but then I see you. You stand out in the crowd, bold, confident. You hold my stare, challenge me. I thought I wanted something easy, something mindless, but looking at you, I changed my mind. I wanted something with substance, someone to give as good as she gets, and I know you’ll give me even better. My cock got hard just looking at you, you’re fucking perfect. And then when you let me buy you a drink and you criticized my whiskey choice, I wanted to bend you over the bar right there. So I’m taking you home to bury my troubles, but you can surprise me as many more times as you like. I like to be surprised. I want you to take me as much as I’m taking you.”

Dieter lies back with a hell of a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

“Action!”

Your body moves with an ease that had been eluding you, liquid rolls as you take your time riding him. His hands come up to your hips, urging you faster, and instead you grind down on him, pressing your hands into his chest and pinning him into the bed. You’re not supposed to be fighting him, but it feels so right to arch and rock harder into him. His bare legs flex against your ass, meeting your hips with his thrusts. You can imagine how good he’d feel if you weren’t faking this, how his powerful thrusts would hit your g-spot. His hand cups the back of your neck, teeth bared in warning as he rolls you onto your back. 

“You’re so sexy,” he growls in your ear, hooking your legs around his waist and smacking his hips into yours. The impact is softer than it looks, aided by your moans and writhing beneath him. He goes for a handful more thrusts before “Cut!” is shouted again.

“There we go! I like the improv, can we do just one more for coverage?” Ramona says, giving you an approving smile when you immediately get into position. 

“I could go all night,” Dieter shoots back, earning an eye roll from half the crew and a dry mouth from you when he flicks his gaze back and winks. 

The second take flows even better, your bodies finally speaking to each other. Dieter palms your ass, you slow your hips. He urges you to go faster, you grind down on him. He grits his teeth as you push his chest, nails just about to bite into the supple flesh. His eyes capture yours over and over, and the hunger inside them is some damn good acting. 

The cues, the flip, and you’re on your back again, but this time Dieter drops his head to cover your breast with his hot mouth. You arch, a strangled gasp as you wait for his tongue, his teeth, but he works his jaw against the flesh and nothing more.

Fuck, you want something more.

When he pops his mouth off he resumes the script, thrusting frantically into you but with more force this time, even an edge of desperation. You meet his energy, throwing your head back and letting him yank you against him over and over. The slap, the friction, this gorgeous man before you all makes slick weep from your untouched cunt, clit aching for the act you’re simulating.

“Cut! Excellent, really good work guys, you’re hitting your groove here. Let’s move on to 19.”

Dieter stays above you for a few seconds more, your chests heaving. The lust bleeds away to a soft smile as he pats your side.

“Good work, you take direction really well.”

You bite your tongue to stop yourself from saying, “Just from you.”

You take one more walk around the soundstage to try and calm your rebellious body, but the moment you see Dieter again, kneeling in the bed with the blankets bunched in front of his hips, it’s all dashed away. Even his respectful touches as he guides you to your stomach, checking in if you’re comfortable, all burn across your skin. You just need to get through this scene.

“Action!”

This is indeed the finale. Dieter would finish above you, pounding into you from behind. You were supposed to lie there and take it, let him cuss and choke into the back of your shoulder before his breathing slows and you cut to the next morning. You could do that. You totally could. Most men you’ve been with hump you into the bed like this and it does very little for you. This would be fine.

The moment Dieter starts rutting against your ass you know you’re done for. You’re too worked up, and the position lightly teases your nipples. A wrinkle of blanket rubs against your mound just enough to relieve your clit, and while you know you should stop you can’t help but grind into the bed just enough to light up your nerves. Dieter hovers above you, thick forearms planted by your shoulders as he hisses and grunts his way to a fake climax. You press back against him, giving your own satisfied smile as he drops his forehead between your shoulders and rolls his hips again. 

“Not bad, can we go one more time?”

Shit. You’d hoped that would be enough, arousal rising dangerously between your thighs. Rearranging the sheets to deny you pleasure, you catch Dieter slumping to one side and watching you. It’s intense, being in his stare, but also warming and protective. When you lie back on your stomach and give him a nod that you’re ready, he leans down and whispers in your ear.

“If you want it, you can have it. I won’t tell anyone. You take it when it comes.”

You barely get a moment of shock before the cameras are rolling and the scene begins again. Did Dieter just…insinuate that he’d cover for you if you came? The thought makes wetness gush between your thighs, now lacking the friction you were relishing in earlier. The need aching in your cunt makes you roll your hips back against Dieter, a strained “fuck” spitting through his teeth. He grabs your hips and guides you against his narrow ones, not quite hitting where you want but the snap and slap of him against you still works you up more than it should. You cry out, bury your face in the pillow, fist the blankets as he chases his release. The practiced groan signals the end, this time his cheek pressing against your back and a kiss dotting your spine. 

Thank God. You were finally in the clear.

“I think we need one more, guys. I want a little more…intimacy this time. You both okay with that?”

Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck.

“I don’t…” you started to protest until Dieter’s hand finds its way to the back of your neck.

“I think you can do it. I know you can. One more time?” he asks, but in his eyes is a promise that makes you nod, even against your better judgment.

This time I’ll make you cum.

Dieter changes tactics when the cameras roll. He starts off fast, yanking you back against him. Sitting up on his heels he arches you off the bed with his expansive hands. His thighs cage you in, squeezing tight. Something thick and soft slides against your ass, and you realize Dieter is hard behind you, cock still wrapped up but the weight of it against you obvious. You want him between your legs, fat head sliding over your clit, but you let him adjust you to exactly where he wants. 

With Dieter’s guidance you rock and writhe against him, drips of praise reaching your ears. With a deeply groaned, “Fuck, baby,” he folds over you, stomach pressing into your back. His fingers lace with your own, hugging you to his chest as he pumps his hips in long strokes. His cock nudges your lower back, little gasps keening out. He noses your cheek and guides you to turn your face to the camera. 

“This okay?” he mouths into your ear and you let out a, “Yes, please,” loud enough to mean anything for the camera. You slide a hand into his hair, gripping the thick curls to a stuttered sigh of pleasure. The pressure and motion finally gives you the stimulation you need, and it’s barely any time before your orgasm barrels to the forefront. You tighten your grip on Dieter’s large hand and school your face just enough to not look like you’re cumming through the hottest scene you will ever act in.

“That’s it, take it, take it baby, you’re doing so well, fucking god, look at you,” Dieter groans into your ear. He presses you deeper into the mattress, muting the uncontrollable bucking of your hips for the camera. Teeth scrape along your jaw in tender nips as he stutters to his fake finish, a guttural groan and relaxing of his body signaling the end of the scene. But Dieter lifts up on one elbow and pinches your chin between two fingers, turning your face to his. He looks at you like a mystery to be solved, like a gift, and then kisses you, slow and indulgent.

“Cut! Excellent, loved the ad libbing Dee, but you gotta stop saying fuck, we’ll have to cut that out,” the director says. Dieter laughs against your back, and the warmth of his skin makes you want to melt into the bed and never leave. 

“You doing okay?” he asks, lifting up off you and tugging both your bathrobes over to give you some modesty. He fists his own over his swollen erection, a little pink high in his cheeks and sweat along his hairline.

“Yeah, perfect, absolutely,” you say lightly, legs wobbling when you try to stand up. His eyes drag over you, a prideful smile playing on his lips as you try to cover up your dazed affect. “One more scene?” you say brightly.

“Yeah,” he says, distracted. “One more scene.”

The final shot of your day is the following morning, soft yellow light traded for the cool blue of daylight streaming in. You’re facing away from the camera, Dieter waking and looking over at your naked shoulder. He sits up and strokes along the curve of your waist, making you sigh in your sleep. He watches you with a mix of regret and resolution, kisses your shoulder, and gets out of bed.

The scene is done in one take. You wish it took all day.

The end of the shoot is quiet, taking off makeup and getting back into your public clothes. You strain to hear someone coming to your dressing room, a certain wild-haired brown-eyed man giving you a sendoff. A kind word, a piece of advice, you’d take anything. But he doesn’t come, and you leave the soundstage with your check and thanks and promises of references. 

The drive back to your apartment is quiet, music even feeling too loud for the moment. Weaving through LA traffic, the moments of your day slip through your mind like silk ribbons.

You suppose this is what meeting your heroes is like. A moment in the sunlight of their presence, then back to the real world of auditions and day jobs and hoping your parents never see this particular part of your portfolio. The dishes need washing, calls need to be made, and you have to go on with your life. It was an excellent experience, albeit a slightly inappropriate one. But if that’s the worst you got up to with Dieter then it was fairly tame.

The fleeting thought of what you’d actually hoped you’d get up to with Dieter comes and leaves without incident. 

By the time you get home you’re planning what casting call you’d go to tomorrow, making your grocery list, and considering if you can get away without doing laundry tonight. Which is why you walk past the bouquet of flowers in the atrium without checking who it’s for. Waiting for the elevator, however, curiosity gets the better of you and you peek at the card.

Your name. It’s your name on the perfectly imperfect bouquet of garden roses and eucalyptus. You’re opening the card as your cell phone vibrates in your pocket. Fishing it out, you greet the Midnight Alley casting agent on the other end.

“Are you open to a semi-recurring role?” 

“W-what?”

“Yeah, the director and AD were really impressed with your chemistry with Bravo. They’ve been trying to write him a love interest in the show, but he’s turned down all the potential actresses and guest stars. No chemistry, bad chemistry, whatever, but the point is he asked for them to consider you.”

Your hands shake, the clean white card pinched between your fingers.

I think we can do better together than that. Dinner?

-DB

“What do you think?”

Your heart flutters as you set it free.

“When can I start?”

END

[harry-on-broadway]

Snapshot

Word Count: 3.4K || Rating: M

A/N: This is my super late entry into the SweetandSpicyFicChallenge I hosted with @hslllot​ and @harrysblackcoat​. It’s a sweet little blurb (with a hint of spice) inspired by the coziest photo of Harry to exist. Enjoy! 

***

2017

“Stop!”

You put your hand in front of your face, hoping to block Harry’s advances.

“Just one more,” he said, laughing.

“That’s what you said five minutes ago.”

“It’s not my fault you’re this beautiful.”

Click.

You heard the camera shutter and put your hand down, figuring you were safe for a minute. Harry’s head was bent over the device. He frowned as he looked at the back of the camera.

“I think it’s out of film.”

“Are you sad you can’t use your new toy anymore?”

“Yes,” he sighed. “The lighting is almost perfect and I just wanted one good photo of you.”

You bit back your sarcastic reply upon hearing the earnestness in his voice. The film camera had been a recent vacation purchase, with Harry justifying it by saying he’d been looking for a new hobby and always planned on learning photography. In the days that followed, he’d started practicing, taking pictures of the view from your Paris hotel room, the flowers you saw at the market, and to your displeasure, you. You knew you should be flattered by his admiration and dedication to preserving you for eternity on film, but being hounded by a camera when you just wanted to relax was no fun. Harry of all people should know that.

“Harry, we can pick up more film tomorrow. Let’s just go to dinner now.”

He pouted. “Do you promise? You’re not just saying that? Because I know how you feel about the camera.”

“Yes, Harry, I promise we can get more film tomorrow. But I’m getting hangry and need to eat. Food. Now.”

He placed the camera on his nightstand. “Alright then, let’s go since someone needs to be fed.” He slung his arm around you, pulling you close before you all headed out into the Parisian night.

***

2018

“Right then, we have to get it on this try. There are no second chances.” He looked at you to make sure you understood.

“Yes sir,” you said, getting into position.

“Sir?” He arched his brow.

“Oh you liked that?”

“Yeah, but we’ll get into that later.” He placed his hands on your hips and positioned you how he wanted, back to the lake where the sun was rising. “OK, when I say cheese, we’re smiling.”

“Harry, I know. I’ve taken a picture before.”

In the year since he bought his camera, he’d graduated from taking pictures of you and his surroundings, and had started incorporating what he described as “self-portraits” of the two of you in the mix, an interesting technique for someone who despised selfies any other time.

He took his place beside you, resting his left arm across your shoulders and using his right to position the camera in front of your faces.

“One, two, three, cheese!” he said as his finger pressed down on the shutter, the flash momentarily blinding both of you. “That’s going to be a great one, I just know it.”

“Doesn’t it bother you?” you asked as he put the camera back in the case. “Not knowing how it looks until later? Like what if it doesn’t turn out? You can’t recreate the moment.”

“It’s a game of chance but it’s kind of fun.” The corner of his mouth lifted. “We might not be able to recreate the moment, but we’ll always have the memory.”

“So when I look at that overexposed picture of me on the beach, I’ll always remember how annoying you were when I was trying to sleep.”

He kissed you. “Yes, and when we get this roll back and I’ve invariably misjudged how to frame both of us, we’ll always remember how overconfident I was that time at the lake.”

“In more ways than one,” you grimaced, remembering how the canoe you all had rented the day before had tipped after Harry insisted he knew how to steer.

“I heard that!”

“That was my intention!”

***

2019

“Please? I promise I’ll be careful.”

“Since when have you been interested in film photography?”

You and Harry were seated outside of a cafe in Tokyo, bundled up against the cold temperatures as you waited for your tea. He’d been in the city working on his new album and after a few weeks of settling in, he’d invited you to come out and spend some time with him. You could tell he loved Japan. There was an extra pep in his step and he lit up whenever he was able to take you to one of his favorite spots.

“I just want to learn. You’re like an expert now and maybe I want to be able to take a turn.”

“I sense an ulterior motive.”

“You’re right, Harry. It’s my evil plan to get payback for you harassing me with the camera for years.”

“I knew it!” His eyes crinkled as his face scrunched with delight. “We can stop by the apartment and pick it up after this. Get some practice in while we do some sightseeing?”

“That’s perfect.”

You spent the rest of the afternoon wandering around Tokyo with the man you were certain was the love of your life. While he knew how to press your buttons and often enjoyed riling you up, he was unbelievably patient with you that day. He coached you through it all, helping you capture snapshots of buildings and dogs and even your dinner, offering gentle corrections whenever you went wrong.

That night, when you returned to the apartment you were calling home for the duration of your stay, you were still messing around with the camera and had started to see why Harry enjoyed it so much.

“Are you almost done?” Harry asked from the couch. The long day showed on his face and you knew that while he’d never admit it, he was tired and desperately ready for bed.

“Just one more,” you murmured, placing the camera in front of your eye and lining up Harry in the viewfinder. In the small square you could see him, curled up on the couch, head resting on his hand as he scrolled through his phone. You held your breath, not wanting to disturb him in this near perfect moment. As your finger pressed down on the shutter, he looked up, almost as if he had sixth sense.

“Another one?” he asked, a tired smile on his face.

“What? I learned from the best!”

You had no clue if the picture had turned out or not, but if you’d somehow managed to not fuck it up, you knew it would be your favorite.

***

2020

“Tell me what it is!”

“No!”

Harry pouted. “Please. Please tell me. I’m getting desperate here.”

You doused the package that had just arrived in Lysol, hoping that would be enough to fight off whatever was lurking on the cardboard. “If you keep whining, you’re not going to find out.”

“Fine. Should I start lunch?”

“Sure. I left some carrots and tomatoes on the cutting board if you want to throw those in a salad? I’m going to run this upstairs and then I can help.”

Harry raised an eyebrow, but didn’t question you any further. You scurried up the stairs and when you reached the bedroom, you looked behind you one more time to make sure that you were in fact alone. Confident that you were, you tore the tape off of the package and dumped its contents onto the bed.

Boredom was starting to set in after three weeks locked in the house, and with no end in sight, you’d decided to order a little entertainment for the both of you. Lingerie in a variety of colors and styles covered the bed. You sorted through the pieces, making sure the sizes were correct before hiding them in the drawer you thought Harry would be least likely to look in and heading back to meet him in the kitchen.

The two of you spent the afternoon just as you’d spent all the afternoons before, lounging by the pool, swimming laps, and planning your next meal. You put thoughts of your plan out of your head until just before dinner when you slipped on a lacy bra and panties underneath your shirt and shorts.

Dinner was essentially a repeat of the last 21 nights you’d spent together, though you didn’t mind the repetition, savoring the mundane moments with Harry after so many years of chaos. When you saw him rise from the table and head to the sink to start washing up, you put your plan into motion.

You crept up behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing your face between his shoulder blades.

“Hello there,” Harry said with a chuckle. “Can I help you?”

“I didn’t think we were done,” you purred in your best attempt at a seductive whisper.

“Did you want dessert? I think there’s some ice cream in the freezer. There might be some of the pound cake left too.”

“That wasn’t what I had in mind.”

“Oh.”

Harry turned around to face you. “I’m in the mood for something a little spicier,” you said, pulling him towards you and planting an open-mouth kiss on him.

“Bedroom?” he asked, breathing heavily.

“Yes, and don’t forget your camera.”

By the time Harry had made it upstairs, panting as though he’d sprinted a mile, you’d shed your clothes and had reclined on the bed in the little red number you’d unpacked earlier that day.

“I’m ready for my close up,” you said, a hint of shyness creeping up on you. While phone and FaceTime sex was nothing unfamiliar, there was something strangely intimate about exposing yourself in a way that would be captured permanently.

“Fuck,” Harry whispered, slowly lifting the camera up. Click. Click. Click. “You look incredible, baby,” he said, pulling his eye away from the viewfinder to gaze at you in full. “Now how about you take that off.”

***

2021

“Big night, huh?” Nervous energy had been pulsing through the Vegas hotel room you were sharing with Harry, who was presently ignoring you. “Not even a smile, H? Come on!”

He looked up from his phone and pressed his lips together in an expression that might have resembled a smile if you had been standing across the room, squinting at him.

“Baby, don’t be nervous. You’ve been waiting so long for this, just like everyone else. It’s going to be amazing.”

“What if I’ve lost it?” His question caught you off guard.

“Your…talent?”

“Yeah. It’s been awhile. I’m kind of rusty.”

“That’s true you haven’t performed for anyone except me in 18 months.”

“And those shows are just for you.” His lips curled into a cheeky grin. “Can’t give the goods away to everyone.”

“I’d hope not.”

You reached across the sofa and squeezed his arm. “Seriously though, you could just stand on stage doing nothing and they’d love you. Everyone’s just so happy to be able to be together again.”

“I know, I know. It just feels like a big responsibility, performing, keeping people healthy, showing that we can do it all safely.”

“And there’s no one more prepared than you.” You pressed your lips against the back of his hand. “I’m going to shower. Are you going to head out?”

He glanced at the time on his phone. “Yeah, I probably should. Start getting ready.” Like clockwork there was a knock at the door, summoning him to the venue. He sighed. “I’ll see you there?”

“Of course. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

He gave you a quick kiss, and you smiled at the casual display of affection. In the early days of your relationship every hug, kiss, cuddle, and fuck had been a production, with both of you giving it everything you had since you didn’t know when you’d see each other next. But after a year and a half together, knowing that Harry was only a room away, you didn’t feel the need to rush everything, a luxury you never thought you’d be afforded.

You arrived at the venue a couple hours later and made your way backstage. Your goal was always to stay out of sight, though Harry had a habit of bringing you into the fray. As you milled about the edge of the crowd that surrounded him, you managed to catch his eye. He was listening to the crew member that was walking him through something, but his gaze was locked on you the entire time. Though his mouth was covered, you could tell he was smiling based on the way the corners of his eyes crinkled. You were about to approach him when the crew began to pile around him, helping him climb into the box that would transport him under the stage. You quickly blew him a kiss, which he caught and slipped into his pants pocket.

With Harry ready to go, you followed Jeff out into the arena, feeling the butterflies swirl in your stomach as the show’s intro began. The crowd’s energy was contagious and you could feel your heart thudding as Harry ascended to the stage. You knew this was coming, having watched him rehearse it several times before and your phone was in your hand, ready to capture the moment.

You didn’t get a chance to look at the image until later that night when Harry was snoring beside you in bed. It wasn’t the perfect picture – the way your phone camera caught the light caused a bit of a lens flare, slightly obscuring Harry’s body, but his face was clear, the joy and happiness he felt evident by the huge smile on his face.

You never wanted to forget that moment.

You immediately set it as your lock screen.

***

2022

“You are worse than my mum!”

“I know you mean that as an insult, but your mother is an amazing woman, so I’ll take it as a compliment.”

“Well, I don’t think we need to capture the car ride to the Today show.”

“She said she wanted updates on everything. And who am I to deny her that?” You positioned your phone in front of Harry’s face and snapped a quick picture. His disgruntled scowl filled your screen and you laughed. “The least you could do is smile.”

“What will it take for you to leave me alone? Ten dollars? Fifteen?”

“That’s all you have to offer me? A fifteen dollar bribe?”

“Hmm.” He drummed his index finger against his lip. “I’ll throw in a kiss.”

You pretended to ponder the offer before dropping your phone in your lap. “You drive a hard bargain.”

He laughed lightly, reaching across the center seat to interlace his fingers with yours. “I know it’s a big week and that everyone wants to cheer me on every moment, but I also just kind of want things to be normal, you know. Just five minutes where it’s not all about me. To balance it all out.”

“Well then, I guess now would be the perfect time for me to bring up the fact that you left your socks and underwear on the floor of the bathroom for the third day in a row. How hard is it to pick up after yourself? Just because you have an album coming out doesn’t mean you’re off the hook when it comes to chores.” He was smiling at you now, the scowl from earlier long gone.

“Oh! Also, I need your advice on a couple of things. First, I’m getting my nails done tomorrow and I need to decide which shape I should do, and the color. I’m feeling like maybe a glitter? And then I wanted to try this new coffee. And the Instagram I saw it on said it’s best with almond milk. But I don’t like almond milk. So do you think it would work with oat milk?”

Harry nodded thoughtfully. “First, my sincerest apologies about the underwear. It won’t happen again.”

“Famous last words.”

He squeezed your hand. “Second, you should absolutely do a glitter and maybe whatever the pointy shape is?”

“Why?”

“Feels nice when you have long nails and scratch at my hair and…other things.” You shot him a surprised glance as he flushed. “Anyways,” he continued, clearing his throat. “I don’t think the milk matters. You won’t be able to taste it with all the flavoring.”

The car came to a stop and you could hear the screams from the crowd, even with the windows shut. Harry took a deep breath and you scratched at his arm.

“I have some serious questions for you about what dog breed I most resemble, but we can get into that whenever you're done with this thing.” You gestured out the window.

Harry smiled, the first true authentic one to grace his lips that morning. “Thank you,” he said.

You knew exactly what he meant. “Anytime, baby.” You picked your phone up again. “But just one more for the road.”

***

2023

“One more step. And another one.”

Harry’s voice was low in your ear, his hands were over your eyes as he guided you into the living room of your London home. You all walked awkwardly, you standing in front of him as he nudged you, one step at a time, further into the room.

“Wouldn’t it have been easier to just blindfold me?” you huffed as he stepped on the back of your heel for the third time.

“So you’re not enjoying this?” You could hear the smirk in his voice.

“You stepping on me? No, not particularly.” Your shin made contact with what you assumed was the coffee table and you yelped. “Harry, for the love of God just tell me what’s going on.”

“Calm down, don’t get yourself all worked up. But keep your eyes closed” He moved his hands down to your shoulders and spun you around so you were facing the opposite direction. Opposite of what you didn’t know, but you could feel Harry wrap his arms around your waist. “OK, you can open them.”

When you opened your eyes, you blinked several times adjusting to the dim light that surrounded you, and once your vision had been restored, your jaw dropped.

The painting that usually hung on the wall in your living room had been removed, and a clothesline had been strung in its place, zig-zagging across the wall. “Is that-?” You turned to look at Harry.

“Why don’t you go see?”

You stepped forward out of his grasp and determined that your first impression was right. Small photographs had been hung on the line with clothespins. Photographs from every stage of your relationship with Harry.

Group shots from those early outings when you were both too scared to make a move, instead settling for the buffer of mutual friends. Photographs from the first vacation you took with one another, the fateful trip when he’d bought his first film camera. Pictures from every family gathering, big and small. Selfies snapped at concerts, goofy Snapchats with every filter imaginable, and even a portrait your mother had taken of you at your graduation – you were smiling wide, looking straight at the camera while Harry beamed at you, his pride evident.

You felt the tears involuntarily well in your eyes as you were overcome by the realization of just how much Harry loved you and how much you loved him. “H, this is incredible but what’s this all for?” You turned around to face him, and you couldn’t tell if it was your own blurry vision, but it looked like Harry was crying too.

“We’ve been through so much and have so many snapshots of our lives. But I want a whole fucking album with you.” Time moved in slow motion as he reached into his pocket and sank down onto one knee. He held a film canister in his hand and when he opened it, a ring fell out. “What do you say, love? Do you want to keep me in the picture forever?”

You laughed, cheeks wet, as you nodded. “Of course.”

Harry rose from the floor, slipping the ring onto your finger before he kissed you with a passion you’d never felt before. You looked up at him when you all broke apart, frowning when you saw him fishing around in his pockets again.

“H, I don’t think anything can beat this surprise.”

“Don’t worry,” he said, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and holding you close as he lifted his phone. “I just want to capture this moment.”  

***

talk to me!

[emilybeemartin]

Ok ok ok ok listen. Because I have anxiety I feel it's my duty to say that this show won't be for everyone. I came to it over quarantine because my husband suggested we read Bernard Cornwell's series together, and I agreed because I liked Hornblower and knew this was the army equivalent and, let's face it, I wanted to see scruffy mid-thirties Sean Bean in uniform.

THE PREMISE:

Richard Sharpe is a lowborn rank-and-file soldier in the 95th Rifles during the Napoleonic Wars who is raised to an officer after saving Sir Arthur Wellesley's life (this all happens differently in the books, but the basic event is the same). Throughout the series, he rises in the ranks thanks to his bravery and heroism/recklessness, but he's always caught between two worlds--trying to be a leader of common men while never being accepted by the rest of the highborn officers.

Let's start with the bad:

CONS:

Look, this is a 90s drama glorifying the British army. So like, there are gonna be issues. Women are mostly romantic side pieces to be wooed and rescued, and there are plenty of subplots, verbiage, and stereotypes that didn't age well. Production values are low for the first few and so you've got battle scenes with like fifteen guys and a horse, which honestly I find endearing. But no episode is more cringey than Sharpe's Gold. Due to legal issues, the script had to be rewritten with none of the original material, and it turned into this bizarro semi-supernatural horror involving Aztec gold (in Spain, yes). It's completely different from all the other episodes, and even Sean Bean didn't like it (he called it a "mish mash," which is true). It's such a weird piece of work that we almost stopped watching the show, but we continued, and we were relieved to find that the rest of the series is markedly better. History Hack podcast does a great dive into why this episode was so whack.

PROS:

I MEAN COME ON

Sean really understood this character--absolute chaos on the battlefield and shy and awkward pretty much everywhere else. He's amazing in battle scenes and he's EPIC at acting wounded. But the scenes I replay over and over are when he's socially out of his depth and gets flustered and sputtery and so Sheffield the captions can't handle it.

Supporting cast:

You'll find a lot of your classic British TV favorites making appearances throughout this series, and the camaraderie among the riflemen is always fun. Obviously this is a dude fest, as stated above, but some of the women are also written and acted really, really well--- Assumpta Serna as Teresa is that winning combination of a love interest/action heroine who doesn't devolve into a damsel in distress, and even passes the Bechdel test on a few occasions. And Diana Perez as Ramona is so badass and enjoyable.

Locations: Aside from a few interior sets, these films are mostly shot outside on location, with practical effects and stunts. There's some gorgeous scenery of the Crimean peninsula standing in for Spain and Portugal, and it's just really fun watching these guys run around rocky escarpments and fields with flares and stage explosives going off around them.

Music: I saw someone tag the opening theme as "electric guitar jumpscare" and they're not wrong. It's wonderfully anachronistic and totally 90s and you'll never get used to it. But far better are the soldiers' songs John Tams threads throughout, as well as his and Muldowney's thematic scores, and you will always, always finish an episode with him singing "Over the Hills and Far Away" stuck in your head.

Filming Lore: There was a LOT that happened during filming. Everything from Paul McGann having to drop out as the lead to misadventures in filming in Crimea just after the collapse of the Soviet Union. History Hack podcast has an awesome series of "filming of" episodes with input from cast, crew, and historians, and Jason Salkey (Rifleman Harris) has a book called "From Crimea With Love" that details the batshit filming adventures. I haven't read it but he references it every six minutes throughout the podcasts.

So: you've been warned, you've been primed. Start with Sharpe's Rifles; it's on Youtube. Watch it and Eagle, maybe jump to Battle or Siege if you're not sure, and then make up your mind.

If this all sounds enjoyable to you, but you wish there were more tall ships, more Paul McGann, more heroic brooding, and even MORE true love cosplaying as masculine camaraderie, you're in luck! Because you should also watch Hornblower!

And then draw fan art of it all! Please,,, I am so lon el y

[scotianostra]

On August 3rd 1305 William Wallace was betrayed and handed over to the English.

One of the biggest misconceptions in the story about Wallace is that Robert the Bruce betrayed him, this is not true and one of many inaccuracies in the Hollywood film Braveheart, a great film in it’s own right, but it was not a true depiction on our heroes life, it was a Hollywood love story.

There has been debate about Wallace’s betrayal for centuries while Blind Harry’s accounts might be called into question because it was written over 250 years after the events, Sir John Menteith is the man that history has judged to have betrayed Wallace, Menteith’s descendants have argued that but for Harry’s account and tradition, there is no proof that the then sheriff of Dumbarton is innocent, they also say as the Sheriff of Dumbarton he may only have been doing his lawful duty, but as he was appointed by Edward king of England in my opinion this duty was illegal anyway

However putting the ancestors protests aside you only have to take a look at the evidence in the ‘Chronicle of Lancaster,’ written in the thirteenth century, where it is stated that 'William Wallace was taken by a Scotsman, namely, Sir John Menteith, and carried to London, where he was drawn, hanged, and beheaded. also in the account of the capture and execution of Wallace contained in the Arundel manuscript, written about the year 1320, it is stated that 'William Wallace was seized in the house of Ralph Rae by Sir John Menteith, and carried to London by Sir John de Segrave, where he was judged. John of Fordun a Scottish Chronicler wrote less than 100 years afterwards that..

'The noble William Wallace was, by Sir John Menteith, at Glasgow, while suspecting no evil, fraudulently betrayed and seized, delivered to the King of England, dismembered at London, and his quarters hung up in the towns of the most public places in England and Scotland, in opprobium of the Scots.’

Whatever the actual events there is little doubt in my mind of Menteith’s involvement, Wallace was held in Dumbarton Castle but by the 23rd of August, which to me seems a remarkably short amount of time, they had taken Wallace to London had a show trial and executed him, more to come of that in a few weeks time.

Pics are of The Wallace monument at Robroyston, the monument is a 20 foot high granite Celtic cross paid for by public subscription and unveiled before a crowd of around 1000 people at 4:30pm on Saturday 4th August 1900. The keen eyed among you will have noticed that the plaque says he was captured on August 5th, but my source in The Society of William Wallace has p[previously assured me that it was on the 3rd, those details read;

This memorial erected 1900 A.D. By public subscription is to mark the site of the house in which the hero of Scotland was basely betrayed and captured about midnight on 5th August 1305 when alone with his faithful friend and co patriot Kerlie Who was slain.

Wallace’s heroic patriotism as conspicuous in his death as in his life so roused and inspired his country that within nine years of his betrayal the work of his life was crowned with victory and Scotland’s independence regained on the Field of Bannockburn.

On the cross in stone is

In Defence

Then the Lion Rampant followed by

WALLACE MCCCV

&

"Dico Tibi Verum Libertas Optima Rerum Nunquam Servili Sub Nexu Vivito Fili"

Taught to Wallace in his boyhood.

(Latin translation as: "My Son, Freedom is best, I tell thee true, of all things to be won. Then never live within the Bond of Slavery.") "We are not here to sue for peace but to fight for the freedom of our country" Wallace at Stirling Bridge

Who dared to nobly stem tyrannic pride or nobly die

Burns.

I think the fact that so many attended that day, and the fact the public paid for the Cross speaks volumes, many see the story of Sir William Wallace as a modern reincarnation due to the film Braveheart, while this may have ignited the interest of many a Scot scattered around the globe with the Diaspora, it shows that Wallace was and is still a large part of the Scottish psyche.

[rom-e-o]

We've turned thrifting into such a thing for the girls. Imagine if, after they get to know their respective Twins, they take on the task of FINALLY helping them clean out their old things they don't wish to keep. Lots of things need to be tossed. But there are still plenty of items that are still good and can be put to use. (There might be a few items the girls latch onto too.) The twins, at this point, are very familiar with monetary donations, but the girls take the opportunity to introduce them to another kind. The boys go with them to bring the boxes to the stores and bins and everything. These places aren't ENTIRELY new worlds to them, but it's been DECADES since they stepped a full foot into them.

I love this for so many reasons. One, it involves the girls sharing their passion with the men they love. They were deprived of the chance to do that for many decades (Oliver and Orin? Thrifting??? Not even if the planets aligned). Two? It allows the gents yet another opportunity grow from their past, but in a different way.

The Twins were misers - they walked the line between having nothing and overusing the things they did have to the point of them breaking/becoming threadbare. I can see them clinging onto some things too, from Isabel/Belle, or even their parents. It's not intentional - they get shoved into the back of a closet, like a physical version of the memories they shoved down and hide away.

We see a little bit of this in the film, when he gifts Jen's doll to Harry, and I love them doing this on a more official scale once the wifeys come into their lives.

They box up some items, and it takes a day or so. Wifey helps.

Then they go to drop things off. I can immediately imagine one of them bringing their items to the donation door, and the volunteer is like, "Oh, sir, that painting you're donating is lovely." If it's Adonis, I imagine it's some personality-less bird painting. Like something you'd see in a office lobby. Isabel loved birds, and it's from when they were trying to furnish a flat, but things kind of fell apart, and he just kind of ... grabbed stuff he thought she liked? (She did not.) He's like, "Oh, um ... you can take it, if you'd like."

"Really? Oh, thank you! My grandmother would adore this - she just moved to a new flat, you see. This will be her first piece of art."

And in that moment, the whole beauty of thrifting kind of clicks for him. the joy of passing things onto others.

Then there comes the part where they browse the store with wifey. We've established that they feel immense relief knowing their lovely ladies do appreciate antiques (heh) and don't just throw out furniture/decor that's half a year old. They know this, but seeing it in action is even more eye-opening.

"Oh, look at this vase! It would be beautiful for flowers - or as an umbrella bucket", "Darling, look at this sweater! Oh, you'd look so dapper in this. The knit is amazing quality", "Oh, records! Why don't we choose a few random ones, they listen to them tonight? See if we discovered some long lost treasure?"

[sabspoetic]

Okay, this is so random, but I have to say it somewhere. I’m really mad at Harry Potter producers for literally dumbing down Ron, Ginny and Harry. In book all three of them were SO SASSY, and in movie Harry is super awkward person, Ron is super dumb and scared of EVERYTHING, and Ginny is casual teen girl that is daydreaming about her crush.

BUT, in books Harry is sassy and sarcastic, Ron is very brave, and Ginny is the coolest girl in the whole school. Like, how could producers not film the scene where Harry tells Snape ‘there’s no need to call me sir professor’ like HOW?! And how could they change Ron COMPLETELY?! For example, in POA movie, when Harry, Ron and Hermione are in the shrieking shack, Ron is literally hiding behind Hermione bc he is scared of Sirius, but in book he’s like ‘if you want to kill my friends you have to kill me first’ he stands in front of Harry and Hermione with literally a broken leg and SHIELDS them.

And I could go on for hours talking about movie and book Ginny differences. Book Ginny is the COOLEST girl in the whole universe, she’s giving off ‘I’m an only girl in the family of boys’ vibes, but movie Ginny is like ‘oh my gosh, I like Harry so much, let me tie your shoelace Harry, open your mouth Harry I have cookies’ like WHY?! She is the sassiest person in entire hp book series.

Book Hermione also is different from movie Hermione. In movie she’s like ‘exciting isn’t it, braking the rules’ but book Hermione literally kidnapped Rita Skeeter, she’s like ‘yeah, well, she is an illegal animagus, so if she’ll snitch on me I’ll snitch on her’ so yeah, books are WAY better than movies, at least for me.

Snape is ONLY character that I like better in movies. People who have only read books hate him with their whole hearts. I was like that as well when I read the books for the first time, then I watched movies and he literally became one of my fav characters. Book Snape was like ‘yeah, well, screw the boy and that mf James, actually it would be better for him to die, save only Lily, she will be widowed and I will have her for myself, yeah’, but movie Snape was like ‘save them, save them ALL, please, I will do anything for you, ANYTHING.’ So yeah, movie Snape is a great man and book Snape is a total dick.

[pedroam-bang]

Sherlock Holmes: A Game Of Shadows (2011)