#like wanting to be a kid again and being a little escapist about things

[ghostcrows]

ugggh man the

the young pb episode is like. its sweet but its also like if i was finn i would kms immediately after all of that. the psychological fuckery would ruin my brain. i kinda get why he was huddled over a piece of her hair for an episode

[psychopompii]

Happy Pure Heroine day to all those who celebrate 🥳🥳

I genuinely love this album so fucking much OH MY GOD, I could go for hours and hours about it so here’s some posting/rambling about it for it’s 10th birthday!!

I was 8 when this album first came out and “Royals” was my shit. I loved whenever they played it on the radio and knew all the words. When Covid happened and I was in my sophomore year of high school (16 y.o. For everybody not in the states) I listened to all of Pure Heroine and Melodrama to have something new to listen to in art class and I fell IN LOVE HOLY SHIT. On my first listen through, my favorite song was “Buzzcut Season” but after listening on repeat it’s solidly “A World Alone” and “400 Lux” is my go-to shower song :^)

SONG ANALYSIS

Here’s some explanations for each of the songs (at least in my interpretation) for all of y’all that are wondering about the album’s thematic content:

Tennis Court: Referring to both a literal tennis court as well as Lorde’s reflection on her rising fame. Ella has said in interviews that the song doesn’t have a definite meaning but I like to think of it as a bit of a reference to the tennis court oath of the French Revolution: When all those in the third estate swore that they would not disband until there was a written constitution in France. With the way the song talks about staying together in the face of change it makes sense both in a historical context as well as in an adolescent one

400 Lux :A song about young love and an unspoken crush. The idea of wanting to waste time with someone you love. This is the most “I am a teenager doing things” song of this album and I love it so much. Talking about sneaking out, lying in the street, drinking orange juice, and talking in the car but having so many things left unsaid ex. “And I like you” I just love this song so so much! Fun fact: the beat in the back sounds like the ticking of a clock, referencing the first line, “We’re never done with killing time”

Royals: AAAA I LOVE THIS SONG SO FUCKING MUCH (*´∀｀*) Essentially talking about how Ella doesn’t view herself as a “traditional” celebrity in a sense, not indulging in typical materialistic affairs ex. Blood stains, ball gowns, trashing the hotel rooms. As well as how she isn’t viewed as a celebrity in her home country of New Zealand, allowing her to establish her persona of a down to earth, brooding girl, ahead of her time

Ribs: PEAK SONGWRITING <333. About Ella’s first house party and the quiet aftermath of it, there’s such a sense of fear and fragility that permeates the entire song. So much emphasis is placed in the idea that this excess, this partying, cannot cure the bittersweet horror of growing up. There is a yearning for childhood and simpler times “Sharing beds like little kids/ laughing till our ribs get tough/ but that will never be enough” but also the understanding that you will never relive them but also transform those actions as you age

Buzzcut Season: Ella’s reflection on her teenage years in New Zealand. Paired with “Team” this very much so seems like the escapist aspect of being an adolescent, trying to shy away from the uncomfortable aspects of your life “Explosions on TV/ upon the news they try to tell us all that we will lose” in favor of peace, “now we live beside the pool where everything is good/I’ll never go home again”

Team : A meditation on teenage life in New Zealand once More, though with a bit more of a realistic tone paired with the sharp wit shown in “Royals.” Ella revels in the life she lives in, “We live in cities you’ll never see on screen/Not very pretty but we sure know how to run free.” There is love in the little things, such as the imperfections of the teenage body “A hundred jewels between teeth/[boys with] skin in craters like the moon” can refer to teenagers having braces/retainers and acne. The camaraderie from “Tennis Court” is present here as well, with the idea that Ella and her friends will stick together, not needing the glamour and excess talked about in “Royals”

Glory and Gore : A song about the violence of being a teenager, though done in a satirical Hunger Games-esque way. To me this song very much so refers to the clan-like mentalities a lot of teens have when developing their friend groups or being evolved in cliques

Still Sane: Fame critiques? On my Pure Heroine album? More likely than you think. In this song Lorde speaks a lot about her inner fear of becoming famous, knowing the high standards she has to live up to from both herself and the public. Being an elder Gen Z Ella would have definitely witnessed the breakdown/bad girl eras of numerous female celebrities and would be advised not to reenact any of their meltdowns, “I won’t be her tripping over on stage” as well as having to keep in mind how her public perception will influence her career, "Only bad people live to see their likeness set in stone." There is also a hidden melancholy as well, when she first began to rise to fame Lorde was only 17, and this greatly isolated her from her peers, referenced in lines like "All work and no play keeps me on the new shit/ All work and no play lonely on that new shit." With the reference to The Shining's, "All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy" can also allow the listener to infer that Lorde's work as a musician is taking away her carefree teenage years.

White Teeth Teens: Another commentary on teenage life and cliques! Huzzah! This song is pretty straight forward, at least to me. There is an inherent juxtaposition with the subject of the song and the title; White teeth are the epitome of health and perfection, clean and perfect and coveted, while the actions referred to in the song such as drinking and smoking will damage the teeth. Lorde rejects this hypocrisy of said teens through being herself authentically, though she does admit throughout the song that she could understand the appeal of being a white teeth teen.

A World Alone: The end to the album proper. This song gets sooo many bitches it’s so good. AWA refers to all the main themes and symbols Ella refers to throughout the album: day and night, bruises, teenage life, social cliques and their superficiality, teenage solidarity, and teenage romance. In this song Ella has fully matured in a sense, going from the beginning of the album where she states “Don’t you think that it’s boring how people talk?” To “the people are talking, let them talk” Lorde once more notices the shallowness of those around her “All the double-edged people and their schemes/ They make a mess then go home and get clean” though she doesn’t let them bother her, finding comfort in her true friends “You’re my best friend and we’re dancing in this world alone.” She understands that her world and she are both changing, both as she grows as a person and a musician which is emphasized in the both the setting of the song, “that slow-burn wait as it gets dark” and her remark “I know we’re not everlasting” but the key difference from the beginning of the album is that she understands that she will become someone fully realized instead of being a being of continuous chaos, “One day the blood will flow so gladly one day we’ll still get still”

This post is getting ungodly long and Tumblr has a character limit so I'll go over the extra songs in another post! In the meantime here are some pictures and gifs of Lorde <333

[basic-bamboo]

I kind of want to talk about some of my experiences as a "transmasc" (I'm a genderfuck label escapist, but that's what people would call me if they saw me) person who has worked with children and how that has changed in recent years.

I worked my first kids camp in a few years just because it worked out well and I was honestly just so much more scared than I ever have been. I was one counselor out of 10 or 12 in a room of 40 odd children and I was mostly kept too distracted to think about my situation- as opposed to when I used to lead after school classes by myself or with one other person 4 days a week. But there were a few interactions that really stuck with me.

I was masking (because, as I said, 12 adults and 40 children in one room) and I also wear a brimmed hat to keep the lights out of my eyes. I had taken off my mask because it was a long day and I was getting a headache and one of the kids stopped in front of me and stared openly at me

"you have a beard?" He asked

"yep" i answered

The gears were working in his head. He was staring, but not really looking at me. He was thinking.

"but, are you a boy or a girl?"

"I'm a little bit of both" i answered as honestly as i could while keeping it simple.

"like, are you transgender?"

It is always a relief when children already know what trans is. "yes!"

He ran away for a time and played and later he stopped by me again, this time with his older brother. They had clearly been speculating about my situation and at this point began openly discussing my body.

"she's got boobs and a beard" the younger brother said

An alarm went off in my head. I started imagining the worst case scenario of what could happen to me if someone overheard that and decided that I had been having an inappropriate conversation.

While I very much think body parts are just body parts and there shouldn't be any shame in discussing them, these were not my kids. I had met them that morning, briefly. They weren't even the kids that were assigned to my table that I was supervising. This was not the time or place for an anatomy and gender lesson. I may as well have been a stranger.

"let's not talk about those things" i said, trying to find the right words.

"yeah" the older brother said "you should say breasts"

I had to try not to laugh if I'm being honest.

"let's not talk about those body parts at all" I said.

This seemed to satisfy them or at the very least they lost interest and ran away to play with the other kids.

But my mind was still racing with the thoughts of what an outside viewer would think of they heard just that little snippet of conversation and what they would think of me and, more importantly, what they would do to me.

[hermannsthumb]

Maria. *Grabs your face* MARIA. I would LOVE to see 15 bobbing for apples from the autumn fic meme written by you. Nothing would delight me more!

Anonymous asked: Halloween prompt #15 please!!... "Bobbing for apples but we meet accidentally underwater lady and the tramp style." OR "I thought we'd have fun bobbing for apples but you actually hate it and are really mad now"

15. Bobbing For Apples

from autumn fic prompts here

KATE ❤️__ ❤️for you id write anything... and anon the lady and the tramp scenario is so fucking funny/good

---------------------------

It’s a really good thing that Hermann has Newt, because if Newt’s being honest, he has no damn clue what the poor dude would do without him. Work himself to death, probably. Or spend every Saturday night alone in his bunk. So depressing. Newt considers it his big charitable act of—well, of all time—to force Hermann into social functions, whether it's fun nights out at the bar (with Newt!), or down the hall a few feet for awesome movie marathons in Newt’s quarters (with Newt!), or something like tonight, which is a super awesome and fun Halloween party that, like, everyone on the base was invited to (including Newt!).

Hermann was all set to spend another night alone (probably changing the batteries in all his calculators or rearranging the hangers in his closet) when Newt dragged him out, more or less by the collar of his argyle sweater, with multiple threats to make his life a living hell the following week in the lab if he didn't comply immediately. "Seriously, dude," Newt had said, ominously, while Hermann looked at him like a furious cat ready to take a swipe, "you're gonna put in those vampire fangs and get drunk with me, or you're gonna regret it. I mean it." Newt was not opposed to blasting the shittiest depths of his Spotify account over his bluetooth speakers or using Hermann's favorite coffee mug to hold his dissection tools. Luckily for both of them, Hermann decided the risk wasn't worth it.

Newt knows Hermann is bound to recognize how selfless Newt is being and thank him for it eventually. Probably. Maybe a few years from now. For now, Newt is enjoying the warm and fuzzy feeling of having done a good deed, and also of drinking a considerable amount of spiked punch.

Hermann is not enjoying either.

"I did, in fact, have plans for tonight," he tells Newt, sipping his ginger ale and observing Newt with a fierce scowl. He flat-out refused the booze Newt tried to push on him. It's fine, whatever—it's enough for Newt, right now anyway, that he actually came. They'll work up to bigger stuff like that later.

"Like what?" Newt says. "Doing a crossword puzzle and watching the second half of that boring-ass documentary you put on last weekend?"

Newt considers it an affront to the very concept of movie nights that Hermann used his pick on a documentary, and one about the jaeger program that didn't even bother interviewing him, no less. Newt loves a good documentary, don't get him wrong, but movie nights are for escapist shit. You don't see him switching on Godzilla. Plus, having to watch stock footage of Dr. Gottlieb Sr. blabbing his mouth about how smart he was while you were debating making a move on his son (who was currently in you bed, looking super cute in your sweatpants, because he'd forgotten to pack pj's) was kind of a mood-killer. "It wasn't boring," Hermann sniffs, which tells Newt that his guess was dead-on. "It was...interesting. And anyway, just because they aren't your idea of plans..."

"Okay, whatever," Newt says. "Let's just have fun. That's the point of a party."

He throws an arm around Hermann's shoulder and drags him closer, until their heads knock together painfully. He hears Hermann growl low in his throat. Newt doesn't say, soon, we won't have the time to do stupid shit like this anymore, so we should enjoy it while we can, even though he wants to. It's better to not make fun stuff depressing. Plus, Hermann might decide to take that as an invitation to bail and put on his documentary. Instead he reaches up across Hermann and flicks his chin. Hermann's whole body stiffens. "I can't believe I got you into this super awesome party and you're not even pretending to be thankful," Newt says.

With no great deal of difficulty, Hermann pushes Newt off of him. Newt lands heavily back in his chair, making the whole thing wobble, and he laughs as he just manages to catch himself from falling off the other side. "You got me in?" Hermann says. "Newton, I was invited three weeks ago."

Newt stops laughing. "You were?"

"Yes," Hermann says. The corner of his lip twitches up, with a smugness so powerful Newt can feel it radiating off of him in waves. Bastard. "I took it upon myself to ask if you might be permitted to come, too." He adds, sarcastically, "Out of the kindness of my heart. I know how terribly put out you get when you aren't included in these sorts of things."

Newt considers this new information, and then discards it, because it really doesn't fit the image of himself he's been cultivating as the cool, hip friend to Hermann's uncool, unhip nerd. Like, come on, between the two of them, Newt is obviously the one you'd want at your party. Hermann's gotta be kidding. Probably. Maybe. "It's a lame party anyway," Newt mumbles.

He tries to put his arm around Hermann's shoulder again, remembers that Hermann really didn't like that the first time, and then drops it back down at his side instead. "Totally lame," he continues. Newt recalls the Halloween parties of his youth with a warm, fond glow: elaborate costumes, tacky decorations, passing around bowls of peeled grapes in the dark, carving jack-o-lanterns while his dad hovered protectively over him to make sure he didn't take a finger off with the knife. This is none of that. Barely anyone even dressed up! The lack of Halloween spirit is tragic. "There aren't even any party games."

"Yes there are," Hermann says, mildly.

He points across the room at a large metal tub that Newt somehow missed before. It looks like it's filled with water, and...

"Dude," Newt says.

He doesn't wait to ask before he's hopping to his feet and dragging Hermann along after him by his blazer cuff. Hermann swats at his heels a few times with his cane, but eventually—like he does with most of Newt's ideas—gives in. "I'm a fuckin' champ at bobbing for apples," Newt boasts. "I used to—oops, excuse me," (he runs into two guys who are, like, twice his height, upsetting their drinks, and he hears Hermann groan as something purple spills on his sweater), "I used to always win it at the fall fest when my dad would take me." And then when he went back as an adult by himself, but it was less impressive a win when you were up against a bunch of ten-year-olds.

"You do have an exceptionally large mouth," Hermann says, rubbing at his stained shoulder. "I suppose that helps." As Newt bends to investigate the iron tub, he says, "Oh, Newton, don't, it's been out all night. Who knows what sorts of germs are in there?"

Newt gets to his knees and rolls up the sleeves of his PPDC-issued labcoat. He's a mad scientist to Hermann's vampire (vampire librarian?) tonight. Yeah, it's kind of a lazy costume, but it was free—he already had everything he needed in the lab. "I can get it in five seconds, max," he declares. His record is one second, but he's the first to admit he's a little rusty, and he'd rather impress Hermann by beating his estimate. "Will you hold my headlamp?"

Grumbling, Hermann takes it. Newt sets his glasses on the ground. "You're going to get yourself bloody soaking," Hermann says, and then he complains about something else, too, but Newt is screwing his eyes shut and ducking his head into the tub, which makes it difficult to hear him. One second—two seconds—two and a half—Newt emerges victorious from the tub, teeth clenched down firmly on an apple, and accidentally splatters a large amount of water on Hermann's shoes. He pulls the apple out of his mouth with a grin and waves it at Hermann. "See. I'm a fucking pro."

He tucks his glasses back on his face to discover that Hermann is staring at him with a very strange expression on his face. Newt can't decide if it's the blacklight bulbs overhead that are washing him out and making him look so flushed, or something else entirely. Then, in a second, he's grumpy and scowling and tsking over his wet shoes. "A pro," he echoes. "Hardly. It can't be that complicated."

Newt gestures grandly at the tub and takes a bite out of his apple. Hermann can always be relied upon to never turn down a challenge, especially when it means making Newt look—potentially—stupid. Newt uses it to his advantage often. Whatever it takes to help the guy have a good time. "It's all yours, dude."

Hermann grumbles something again about Newt being too arrogant for his own good, and something else about showing Newt how to do it without making a mess of everything, then gets down to his knees with a quiet hiss of discomfort. He shoves his cane, and Newt's headlamp, at Newt, though bewilderingly leaves his blazer on. "I'll be just a moment," he says, and dunks his head into the tub.

He splashes back up no more than five seconds later. Apple-less. "Bugger," he coughs, and then coughs some more. The entire front of his sweater is soaked. "I didn't—I didn't start out right. Let me—"

Newt watches Hermann try to drown himself a few more times in mild interest before he finally intercedes. "Need a hand?" he says, getting to his knees next to Hermann.

"No," Hermann splutters.

Newt takes his glasses off again. "Yeah, you do. Okay, now watch me—"

He emerges with another apple in seconds.

Hermann grits his teeth. "Newton—"

"One more?" Newt says, his grin widening.

Back under. Another apple. He winks at Hermann when he goes in for a fourth time, and this time, he feels the water of the tank being upset as Hermann (refusing to be outdone once again) splashes in alongside him. God, Newt loves riling Hermann up like this—he gets so funny, and kinda cute, when he's mad about something. Red in the face, and scowling, and sometimes (when he's real mad) speaking in a dangerously low and rough sort of voice with his r's rolling that makes Newt shiver, just a little. Like, Newton, you worthless, pathetic little man, cease this immediately, or else I'll... He actually said that to Newt once. It made Newt feel a little warm under his collar. Hermann's probably going to say something similar to him this time, and Newt can't wait.

Ten seconds in. Newt has been cutting Hermann a little slack at first, just to see if he can catch up, but finally decides to just go for the apple that's been bobbing steadily against his mouth this whole time. (He loves beating Hermann at stuff.)

And, well, apparently Hermann goes for it too.

They both miss the apple. Newt's mouth is up against Hermann's for another five seconds before he realizes what's happening (that that is definitely not an apple, that that is definitely a mouth, that that mouth is wide and weird another to belong to only one person Newt knows, that that mouth is parting in surprise, oh my God) and then he pulls away so quickly that he breathes in what feels like half the tub of water. He falls back on his ass, coughing furiously, and it's not until he shoves his glasses back on with a shaking hand that he realizes that Hermann has done the same. "I," Hermann says. His eyes are wide. "I'm sor—"

"It's fine," Newt squeaks.

"It was—"

"I know!"

Newt and Hermann's mouths were touching for five whole seconds. Underwater, while apples bobbed against their foreheads, but their mouths still touched. Oh my God. In elementary school, Newt thinks dizzily, that would be enough to catch cooties. This was so not how he wanted his awesome eventual seduction of Hermann to go down. For one thing, it wasn't even a seduction.

"I'm gonna get a towel," Newt says.

Hermann nods. He looks strangely adorable with water droplets on his nose and his hair plastered to his head like that. Newt has to get out of here before he does something stupid, like take Hermann's pointy cheeks between his hands and put their mouths together on purpose. He doesn't think Hermann would respond to that very well right now.

"I'll get you one too," Newt says, and it takes a lot of effort to force himself to his feet.

Hermann nods again.

"Okay," Newt says, and stumbles away. Out of the corner of his eye, he just catches Hermann raising a hand to his mouth.

[incorrectlumityquotes]

Why Amity fell for Luz: A Theory

Watching all the episodes of The Owl House and reviewing them brought back a lot of thoughts and feelings that I maybe forgot about. We all ship things and sometimes we do it for fun; sometimes for deeper reasons. I just started lumity because it reminded me of Diana & Akko from Little Witch Academia. I loved that show so much that I wanted more, and I thought it would be cool if Luz & Amity did something similar. I had no idea that it was going to go beyond that, so DAMN. To quote a talking science wolf, “For years we ask how, but we should ask why.” I mean, we saw how. But why? Well I can take a guess.

If we’re are going to start anywhere it’s going to be with the girl in question, Amity Blight.

As far as I know as of this typing, Amity Blight is a witchling from The Boiling Isles. She lives in Bonesboro at The Blight Manor estate with her parents and her siblings. She attends Hexside School of Magic and Demonics. Good for her.

Amity has an ambitious and competitive personality. She’s always striving to be better and be at the top of whatever she is doing. When she’s introduced in I Was a Teenage Abomination, she’s showing having great pride in being the top student in her abomination class. In Adventures in the Elements, she goes to The Knee in hopes of training to beat her siblings’ high score on the placement exam.

Amity also has a bit of a temper and gets annoyed easily. In I Was a Teenage Abomination, she sics her abominations on Willow and Luz just because she wasn’t named top student that day. In Enchanting Grom Fright, Amity snapped at the person she bumped into before realizing it was Luz. And later in the same episode, Amity beat up Hooty when he decided to get too close.

But she does have a soft sensitive side. She keeps a diary in her secret room in the library and even reads to kids in her free time. Amity also has a strong sense of integrity. She despises cheating (and cheaters) and feels guilt when she’s forced to break ties with Willow.

So why did someone like this fall for Luz of all people? (see above image)

Enter what I call my Shipping Theory of Compliments

The Shipping Theory of Compliments is that two characters would be shipped and sometimes canonically enter a romantic relationship based on their personalities complimenting each other and fulfilling elements they don’t have alone necessary to developing the character.

People like to use the image of a missing puzzle piece, but I don’t like that comparison because I think it’s a little inaccurate and I don’t like puzzles. Think of it more like the two pieces of the yin and yang coming together and then growing the circles of the opposite colors in them.

Something like that.

And it’s compliments, not opposites. When you think compliments, think more Star and Marco from Star vs the Forces of Evil. Star wants to go on a magical adventure. Marco also wants to go on a magic adventure. The difference is that Star goes in recklessly while Marco wants to plan it out a bit. They still have their adventure as oppose to Star’s opposite who wouldn’t want to go on a magical adventure. That sort of thing.

So how do Luz and Amity compliment each other?

Let’s start with that they have in common. Obvious stuff aside, they’re both training to become the best witches they can be. The difference comes that Luz is a human who has to learn magic via glyphs that she finds and Amity learns magic the “proper” way on The Boiling Isles. 

Luz and Amity are also both fans of The Good Witch Azura book series. Difference is that Luz is more open about her fandom while Amity tries to keep it a secret. Also petty thing but they’re both fan artists too, but I think Luz might be a better than Amity. But hey, her crosshatching is improving.

Luz and Amity are also (at the start of the series) both lonely people. Luz’s mom says that she doesn’t have any friends, and Amity doesn’t like her “friends.” The difference is that Luz reaches outward to ease her loneliness (being social and friendly, trying new things, etc.) while Amity reaches inward (keeping a diary, staying busy, having a secret spot, etc.). They both also use escapist fiction to ease their loneliness.

That’s all well and good, but now we get into the real speculative parts. 

...complimenting each other and fulfilling elements they don’t have alone necessary to developing the character.

When I was taking acting classes I was taught that the way you see people act is a persona based on their experiences on what it takes to survive and avoid physical, emotional and social death. So now we have to speculate based on what we were given on what emotional/social needs and wants has Amity not been getting before that she has with Luz.

First let me point you to another show called F is for Family. F is for Family is an adult animated sitcom on Netflix that follows a very dysfunctional family in the 1970s. These are legitimately bad characters, not in terms of being poorly written. What I’m saying is that these guys are assholes. But here’s where it gets interesting.

One of the characters is Kevin Murphy, the teenage son of the family. He’s a dim-witted wannabe rockstar who is always yelled at and put down by his parents throughout the entire series. However in season four Kevin meets Alice. Alice teaches Kevin that his favorite band is a big reference to Tolkien and gives him a copy of The Hobbit. They bond over their love of Lord of the Rings and get along really well. Alice calls him smart for being able to read all of Lord of the Rings over a few days and never puts him down. Even in the one time they did fight she never yelled at him or raised her voice which he found weird because he’s so used to being yelled at. Alice gave Kevin the emotional support he always wanted but never got from his family.

Using that as a backdrop, let’s go back to Amity.

Amity grew up with her parents making her do things she didn’t want to do, making choices for her. Amity wanted to be one way. Her parents wanted something else. Amity’s mother even dyes Amity’s hair green so it matches her siblings. Amity wanted to be friends with Willow. Amity’s parents wanted her to be friends with the mean kids. While Amity does work hard to be the best at what she’s doing, her parents also put pressure on her to make sure that she is at that level. 

Her siblings are another bag of awful. They constantly refer to her by an annoying nickname that I’m guessing has an embarrassing moment attached to it. They seem to live by a double standard that Amity despises. She has to work hard and follow the rules just to be accepted while they are naturally talented and break the rules with everyone still thinking that they’re perfect. 

Family is supposed to provide unconditional love except it looks like the love of the Blights is based on conditions. Nobody just likes Amity for who she is. She doesn’t have a friend.

Enter: the friendliest person she’s ever met

Amity has to struggle and work for the simplest things, even affection. Except when it comes to Luz. Luz is naturally friendly and positive. Amity doesn’t have to earn her kindness. Even when she’s bullied Luz before, Luz is always coming back with a smile. I suppose when you live life surrounded by jerks, you’ll want to hang out with the one person who’s always nice to you. Sort of.

Yes, Amity did think Luz was a bully for constantly getting her into trouble. But even at Covention and Lost in Language, Luz kept reaching out to her. This combined with Amity’s awareness of her own behavior is what convinced her to try to reach out in kind to Luz by the end of Lost in Language. “She’s trying to be nice to me, so I should try too,” I’m guessing is the mindset especially in Adventures in the Elements. And then...Luz continued to be nice to her which is kind of a big deal for Amity.

Let’s tally up what we have so far:

Luz and Amity have similar interests (The Good Witch Azura series, art, fiction, learning magic)

Luz and Amity have similar values (work ethic, disdain for cheating, protecting those closest to you, etc.)

Luz gives Amity the positivity and affection that Amity doesn’t normally get anywhere else

They still have differing personalities with Amity being more competitive and Luz having more of a live-and-let-live attitude.

Even with all these things in mind, why was Amity so scared to ask Luz to Grom?

Speculating again but my theory is that Amity wasn’t sure if Luz actually liked her or if Luz is just friendly because that’s how Luz is. Amity was scared of being rejected because she felt that maybe she was just reading the situation wrong. Luz is this ray of sunshine in her gray skies (if you’ll forgive the cliché). People like Amity always think of all the worst possibilities (I know because I do this too). Amity was probably thinking a bunch of what ifs. “What if Luz doesn’t actually like me? What if she’s just being friendly because she feels sorry for me? What if she has feelings for someone else? What if she never actually liked me? What if she’s straight?”

Luz is Amity’s first crush and it is scary as all hell to put yourself out there like that for the first time. She wasn’t expecting to get married at Grom night. She just wanted to dance with the girl she liked.

The dance at Grom was like confirmation for her that it could happen. Amity didn’t have to ask out Luz because Luz asked her. Being with Luz isn’t a pipedream. It’s a definite possibility. And we all know how she reacted to that idea.

Uh...she’ll be in her bunk.

While Luz and Amity aren’t together as of this typing, I believe it’s bound to happen. Until then, after The Lumity Trilogy, Amity knows that Luz is the girl she likes. 

tl;dr version

Amity fell for Luz because they have similar interests and values, their personalities differ in a compatible way and Luz provides Amity emotional needs and wants that she doesn’t get anywhere else.

Also, round eared girl pretty.

.

Thanks everyone for reading.

[kingstylesdaily]

Playtime With Harry Styles

via vogue.com

THE MEN’S BATHING POND in London’s Hampstead Heath at daybreak on a gloomy September morning seemed such an unlikely locale for my first meeting with Harry Styles, music’s legendarily charm-heavy style czar, that I wondered perhaps if something had been lost in translation.

But then there is Styles, cheerily gung ho, hidden behind a festive yellow bandana mask and a sweatshirt of his own design, surprisingly printed with three portraits of his intellectual pinup, the author Alain de Botton. “I love his writing,” says Styles. “I just think he’s brilliant. I saw him give a talk about the keys to happiness, and how one of the keys is living among friends, and how real friendship stems from being vulnerable with someone.”

In turn, de Botton’s 2016 novel The Course of Love taught Styles that “when it comes to relationships, you just expect yourself to be good at it…[but] being in a real relationship with someone is a skill,” one that Styles himself has often had to hone in the unforgiving klieg light of public attention, and in the company of such high-profile paramours as Taylor Swift and—well, Styles is too much of a gentleman to name names.

That sweatshirt and the Columbia Records tracksuit bottoms are removed in the quaint wooden open-air changing room, with its Swallows and Amazons vibe. A handful of intrepid fellow patrons in various states of undress are blissfully unaware of the 26-year-old supernova in their midst, although I must admit I’m finding it rather difficult to take my eyes off him, try as I might. Styles has been on a six-day juice cleanse in readiness for Vogue’s photographer Tyler Mitchell. He practices Pilates (“I’ve got very tight hamstrings—trying to get those open”) and meditates twice a day. “It has changed my life,” he avers, “but it’s so subtle. It’s helped me just be more present. I feel like I’m able to enjoy the things that are happening right in front of me, even if it’s food or it’s coffee or it’s being with a friend—or a swim in a really cold pond!” Styles also feels that his meditation practices have helped him through the tumult of 2020: “Meditation just brings a stillness that has been really beneficial, I think, for my mental health.”

Styles has been a pescatarian for three years, inspired by the vegan food that several members of his current band prepared on tour. “My body definitely feels better for it,” he says. His shapely torso is prettily inscribed with the tattoos of a Victorian sailor—a rose, a galleon, a mermaid, an anchor, and a palm tree among them, and, straddling his clavicle, the dates 1967 and 1957 (the respective birth years of his mother and father). Frankly, I rather wish I’d packed a beach muumuu.

We take the piratical gangplank that juts into the water and dive in. Let me tell you, this is not the Aegean. The glacial water is a cloudy phlegm green beneath the surface, and clammy reeds slap one’s ankles. Styles, who admits he will try any fad, has recently had a couple of cryotherapy sessions and is evidently less susceptible to the cold. By the time we have swum a full circuit, however, body temperatures have adjusted, and the ice, you might say, has been broken. Duly invigorated, we are ready to face the day. Styles has thoughtfully brought a canister of coffee and some bottles of water in his backpack, and we sit at either end of a park bench for a socially distanced chat.

It seems that he has had a productive year. At the onset of lockdown, Styles found himself in his second home, in the canyons of Los Angeles. After a few days on his own, however, he moved in with a pod of three friends (and subsequently with two band members, Mitch Rowland and Sarah Jones). They “would put names in a hat and plan the week out,” Styles explains. “If you were Monday, you would choose the movie, dinner, and the activity for that day. I like to make soups, and there was a big array of movies; we went all over the board,” from Goodfellas to Clueless. The experience, says Styles, “has been a really good lesson in what makes me happy now. It’s such a good example of living in the moment. I honestly just like being around my friends,” he adds. “That’s been my biggest takeaway. Just being on my own the whole time, I would have been miserable.”

Styles is big on friendship groups and considers his former and legendarily hysteria-inducing boy band, One Direction, to have been one of them. “I think the typical thing is to come out of a band like that and almost feel like you have to apologize for being in it,” says Styles. “But I loved my time in it. It was all new to me, and I was trying to learn as much as I could. I wanted to soak it in…. I think that’s probably why I like traveling now—soaking stuff up.” In a post-COVID future, he is contemplating a temporary move to Tokyo, explaining that “there’s a respect and a stillness, a quietness that I really loved every time I’ve been there.”

In 1D, Styles was making music whenever he could. “After a show you’d go in a hotel room and put down some vocals,” he recalls. As a result, his first solo album, 2017’s Harry Styles, “was when I really fell in love with being in the studio,” he says. “I loved it as much as touring.” Today he favors isolating with his core group of collaborators, “our little bubble”—Rowland, Kid Harpoon (né Tom Hull), and Tyler Johnson. “A safe space,” as he describes it.

In the music he has been working on in 2020, Styles wants to capture the experimental spirit that informed his second album, last year’s Fine Line. With his debut album, “I was very much finding out what my sound was as a solo artist,” he says. “I can see all the places where it almost felt like I was bowling with the bumpers up. I think with the second album I let go of the fear of getting it wrong and…it was really joyous and really free. I think with music it’s so important to evolve—and that extends to clothes and videos and all that stuff. That’s why you look back at David Bowie with Ziggy Stardust or the Beatles and their different eras—that fearlessness is super inspiring.”

The seismic changes of 2020—including the Black Lives Matter uprising around racial justice—has also provided Styles with an opportunity for personal growth. “I think it’s a time for opening up and learning and listening,” he says. “I’ve been trying to read and educate myself so that in 20 years I’m still doing the right things and taking the right steps. I believe in karma, and I think it’s just a time right now where we could use a little more kindness and empathy and patience with people, be a little more prepared to listen and grow.”

Meanwhile, Styles’s euphoric single “Watermelon Sugar” became something of an escapist anthem for this dystopian summer of 2020. The video, featuring Styles (dressed in ’70s-­flavored Gucci and Bode) cavorting with a pack of beach-babe girls and boys, was shot in January, before lockdown rules came into play. By the time it was ready to be released in May, a poignant epigraph had been added: “This video is dedicated to touching.”

Styles is looking forward to touring again, when “it’s safe for everyone,” because, as he notes, “being up against people is part of the whole thing. You can’t really re-create it in any way.” But it hasn’t always been so. Early in his career, Styles was so stricken with stage fright that he regularly threw up preperformance. “I just always thought I was going to mess up or something,” he remembers. “But I’ve felt really lucky to have a group of incredibly generous fans. They’re generous emotionally—and when they come to the show, they give so much that it creates this atmosphere that I’ve always found so loving and accepting.”

THIS SUMMER, when it was safe enough to travel, Styles returned to his London home, which is where he suggests we head now, setting off in his modish Primrose Yellow ’73 Jaguar that smells of gasoline and leatherette. “Me and my dad have always bonded over cars,” Styles explains. “I never thought I’d be someone who just went out for a leisurely drive, purely for enjoyment.” On sleepless jet-lagged nights he’ll drive through London’s quiet streets, seeing neighborhoods in a new way. “I find it quite relaxing,” he says.

Over the summer Styles took a road trip with his artist friend Tomo Campbell through France and Italy, setting off at four in the morning and spending the night in Geneva, where they jumped in the lake “to wake ourselves up.” (I see a pattern emerging.) At the end of the trip Styles drove home alone, accompanied by an upbeat playlist that included “Aretha Franklin, Parliament, and a lot of Stevie Wonder. It was really fun for me,” he says. “I don’t travel like that a lot. I’m usually in such a rush, but there was a stillness to it. I love the feeling of nobody knowing where I am, that kind of escape...and freedom.”

GROWING UP in a village in the North of England, Styles thought of London as a world apart: “It truly felt like a different country.” At a wide-eyed 16, he came down to the teeming metropolis after his mother entered him on the U.K. talent-search show The X Factor. “I went to the audition to find out if I could sing,” Styles recalls, “or if my mum was just being nice to me.” Styles was eliminated but subsequently brought back with other contestants—Niall Horan, Liam Payne, Louis Tomlinson, and Zayn Malik—to form a boy band that was named (on Styles’s suggestion) One Direction. The wily X Factor creator and judge, Simon Cowell, soon signed them to his label Syco Records, and the rest is history: 1D’s first four albums, supported by four world tours from 2011 to 2015, debuted at number one on the U.S. Billboard charts, and the band has sold 70 million records to date. At 18, Styles bought the London house he now calls home. “I was going to do two weeks’ work to it,” he remembers, “but when I came back there was no second floor,” so he moved in with adult friends who lived nearby till the renovation was complete. “Eighteen months,” he deadpans. “I’ve always seen that period as pretty pivotal for me, as there’s that moment at the party where it’s getting late, and half of the people would go upstairs to do drugs, and the other people go home. I was like, ‘I don’t really know this friend’s wife, so I’m not going to get all messy and then go home.’ I had to behave a bit, at a time where everything else about my life felt I didn’t have to behave really. I’ve been lucky to always feel I have this family unit somewhere.”

When Styles’s London renovation was finally done, “I went in for the first time and I cried,” he recalls. “Because I just felt like I had somewhere. L.A. feels like holiday, but this feels like home.”

Behind its pink door, Styles’s house has all the trappings of rock stardom—there’s a man cave filled with guitars, a Sex Pistols Never Mind the Bollocks poster (a moving-in gift from his decorator), a Stevie Nicks album cover. Fleetwood Mac’s “Dreams” was one of the first songs he knew the words to—“My parents were big fans”—and he and Nicks have formed something of a mutual-admiration society. At the beginning of lockdown, Nicks tweeted to her fans that she was taking inspiration from Fine Line: “Way to go, H,” she wrote. “It is your Rumours.” “She’s always there for you,” said Styles when he inducted Nicks into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame in 2019. “She knows what you need—advice, a little wisdom, a blouse, a shawl; she’s got you covered.”

Styles makes us some tea in the light-filled kitchen and then wanders into the convivial living room, where he strikes an insouciant pose on the chesterfield sofa, upholstered in a turquoise velvet that perhaps not entirely coincidentally sets off his eyes. Styles admits that his lockdown lewk was “sweatpants, constantly,” and he is relishing the opportunity to dress up again. He doesn’t have to wait long: The following day, under the eaves of a Victorian mansion in Notting Hill, I arrive in the middle of fittings for Vogue’s shoot and discover Styles in his Y-fronts, patiently waiting to try on looks for fashion editor Camilla Nickerson and photographer Tyler Mitchell. Styles’s personal stylist, Harry Lambert, wearing a pearl necklace and his nails colored in various shades of green varnish, à la Sally Bowles, is providing helpful backup (Britain’s Rule of Six hasn’t yet been imposed).

Styles, who has thoughtfully brought me a copy of de Botton’s 2006 book The Architecture of Happiness, is instinctively and almost quaintly polite, in an old-fashioned, holding-open-doors and not-mentioning-lovers-by-name sort of way. He is astounded to discover that the Atlanta-born Mitchell has yet to experience a traditional British Sunday roast dinner. Assuring him that “it’s basically like Thanksgiving every Sunday,” Styles gives Mitchell the details of his favorite London restaurants in which to enjoy one. “It’s a good thing to be nice,” Mitchell tells me after a morning in Styles’s company.

MITCHELL has Lionel Wendt’s languorously homoerotic 1930s portraits of young Sri Lankan men on his mood board. Nickerson is thinking of Irving Penn’s legendary fall 1950 Paris haute couture collections sitting, where he photographed midcentury supermodels, including his wife, Lisa Fonssagrives, in high-style Dior and Balenciaga creations. Styles is up for all of it, and so, it would seem, is the menswear landscape of 2020: Jonathan Anderson has produced a trapeze coat anchored with a chunky gold martingale; John Galliano at Maison Margiela has fashioned a khaki trench with a portrait neckline in layers of colored tulle; and Harris Reed—a Saint Martins fashion student sleuthed by Lambert who ended up making some looks for Styles’s last tour—has spent a week making a broad-shouldered Smoking jacket with high-waisted, wide-leg pants that have become a Styles signature since he posed for Tim Walker for the cover of Fine Line wearing a Gucci pair—a silhouette that was repeated in the tour wardrobe. (“I liked the idea of having that uniform,” says Styles.) Reed’s version is worn with a hoopskirt draped in festoons of hot-pink satin that somehow suggests Deborah Kerr asking Yul Brynner’s King of Siam, “Shall we dance?”

Styles introduces me to the writer and eyewear designer Gemma Styles, “my sister from the same womb,” he says. She is also here for the fitting: The siblings plan to surprise their mother with the double portrait on these pages.

I ask her whether her brother had always been interested in clothes.

“My mum loved to dress us up,” she remembers. “I always hated it, and Harry was always quite into it. She did some really elaborate papier-mâché outfits: She made a giant mug and then painted an atlas on it, and that was Harry being ‘The World Cup.’ Harry also had a little dalmatian-dog outfit,” she adds, “a hand-me-down from our closest family friends. He would just spend an inordinate amount of time wearing that outfit. But then Mum dressed me up as Cruella de Vil. She was always looking for any opportunity!”

“As a kid I definitely liked fancy dress,” Styles says. There were school plays, the first of which cast him as Barney, a church mouse. “I was really young, and I wore tights for that,” he recalls. “I remember it was crazy to me that I was wearing a pair of tights. And that was maybe where it all kicked off!”

Acting has also remained a fundamental form of expression for Styles. His sister recalls that even on the eve of his life-changing X Factor audition, Styles could sing in public only in an assumed voice. “He used to do quite a good sort of Elvis warble,” she remembers. During the rehearsals in the family home, “he would sing in the bathroom because if it was him singing as himself, he just couldn’t have anyone looking at him! I love his voice now,” she adds. “I’m so glad that he makes music that I actually enjoy listening to.”

Styles’s role-playing continued soon after 1D went on permanent hiatus in 2016, and he was cast in Christopher Nolan’s Dunkirk, beating out dozens of professional actors for the role. “The good part was my character was a young soldier who didn’t really know what he was doing,” says Styles modestly. “The scale of the movie was so big that I was a tiny piece of the puzzle. It was definitely humbling. I just loved being outside of my comfort zone.”

His performance caught the eye of Olivia Wilde, who remembers that it “blew me away—the openness and commitment.” In turn, Styles loved Wilde’s directorial debut, Booksmart, and is “very honored” that she cast him in a leading role for her second feature, a thriller titled Don’t Worry Darling, which went into production this fall. Styles will play the husband to Florence Pugh in what Styles describes as “a 1950s utopia in the California desert.”

Wilde’s movie is costumed by Academy Award nominee Arianne Phillips. “She and I did a little victory dance when we heard that we officially had Harry in the film,” notes Wilde, “because we knew that he has a real appreciation for fashion and style. And this movie is incredibly stylistic. It’s very heightened and opulent, and I’m really grateful that he is so enthusiastic about that element of the process—some actors just don’t care.”

“I like playing dress-up in general,” Styles concurs, in a masterpiece of understatement: This is the man, after all, who cohosted the Met’s 2019 “Notes on Camp” gala attired in a nipple-freeing black organza blouse with a lace jabot, and pants so high-waisted that they cupped his pectorals. The ensemble, accessorized with the pearl-drop earring of a dandified Elizabethan courtier, was created for Styles by Gucci’s Alessandro Michele, whom he befriended in 2014. Styles, who has subsequently personified the brand as the face of the Gucci fragrance, finds Michele “fearless with his work and his imagination. It’s really inspiring to be around someone who works like that.”

The two first met in London over a cappuccino. “It was just a kind of PR appointment,” says Michele, “but something magical happened, and Harry is now a friend. He has the aura of an English rock-and-roll star—like a young Greek god with the attitude of James Dean and a little bit of Mick Jagger—but no one is sweeter. He is the image of a new era, of the way that a man can look.”

Styles credits his style trans­formation—from Jack Wills tracksuit-clad boy-band heartthrob to nonpareil fashionisto—to his meeting the droll young stylist Harry Lambert seven years ago. They hit it off at once and have conspired ever since, enjoying a playfully campy rapport and calling each other Sue and Susan as they parse the niceties of the scarlet lace Gucci man-bra that Michele has made for Vogue’s shoot, for instance, or a pair of Bode pants hand-painted with biographical images (Styles sent Emily Adams Bode images of his family, and a photograph he had found of David Hockney and Joni Mitchell. “The idea of those two being friends, to me, was really beautiful,” Styles explains).

“He just has fun with clothing, and that’s kind of where I’ve got it from,” says Styles of Lambert. “He doesn’t take it too seriously, which means I don’t take it too seriously.” The process has been evolutionary. At his first meeting with Lambert, the stylist proposed “a pair of flares, and I was like, ‘Flares? That’s fucking crazy,’  ” Styles remembers. Now he declares that “you can never be overdressed. There’s no such thing. The people that I looked up to in music—Prince and David Bowie and Elvis and Freddie Mercury and Elton John—they’re such showmen. As a kid it was completely mind-blowing. Now I’ll put on something that feels really flamboyant, and I don’t feel crazy wearing it. I think if you get something that you feel amazing in, it’s like a superhero outfit. Clothes are there to have fun with and experiment with and play with. What’s really exciting is that all of these lines are just kind of crumbling away. When you take away ‘There’s clothes for men and there’s clothes for women,’ once you remove any barriers, obviously you open up the arena in which you can play. I’ll go in shops sometimes, and I just find myself looking at the women’s clothes thinking they’re amazing. It’s like anything—anytime you’re putting barriers up in your own life, you’re just limiting yourself. There’s so much joy to be had in playing with clothes. I’ve never really thought too much about what it means—it just becomes this extended part of creating something.”

“He’s up for it,” confirms Lambert, who earlier this year, for instance, found a JW Anderson cardigan with the look of a Rubik’s Cube (“on sale at matches.com!”). Styles wore it, accessorized with his own pearl necklace, for a Today rehearsal in February and it went viral: His fans were soon knitting their own versions and posting the results on TikTok. Jonathan Anderson declared himself “so impressed and incredibly humbled by this trend” that he nimbly made the pattern available (complete with a YouTube tutorial) so that Styles’s fans could copy it for free. Meanwhile, London’s storied Victoria & Albert Museum has requested Styles’s original: an emblematic document of how people got creative during the COVID era. “It’s going to be in their permanent collection,” says Lambert exultantly. “Is that not sick? Is that not the most epic thing?”

“To me, he’s very modern,” says Wilde of Styles, “and I hope that this brand of confidence as a male that Harry has—truly devoid of any traces of toxic masculinity—is indicative of his generation and therefore the future of the world. I think he is in many ways championing that, spearheading that. It’s pretty powerful and kind of extraordinary to see someone in his position redefining what it can mean to be a man with confidence.”

“He’s really in touch with his feminine side because it’s something natural,” notes Michele. “And he’s a big inspiration to a younger generation—about how you can be in a totally free playground when you feel comfortable. I think that he’s a revolutionary.”

STYLES’S confidence is on full display the day after the fitting, which finds us all on the beautiful Sussex dales. Over the summit of the hill, with its trees blown horizontal by the fierce winds, lies the English Channel. Even though it’s a two-hour drive from London, the fresh-faced Styles, who went to bed at 9 p.m., has arrived on set early: He is famously early for everything. The team is installed in a traditional flint-stone barn. The giant doors have been replaced by glass and frame a bucolic view of distant grazing sheep. “Look at that field!” says Styles. “How lucky are we? This is our office! Smell the roses!” Lambert starts to sing “Kumbaya, my Lord.”

Hairdresser Malcolm Edwards is setting Styles’s hair in a Victory roll with silver clips, and until it is combed out he resembles Kathryn Grayson with stubble. His fingers are freighted with rings, and “he has a new army of mini purses,” says Lambert, gesturing to an accessory table heaving with examples including a mini sky-blue Gucci Diana bag discreetly monogrammed HS. Michele has also made Styles a dress for the shoot that Tissot might have liked to paint—acres of ice-blue ruffles, black Valenciennes lace, and suivez-moi, jeune homme ribbons. Erelong, Styles is gamely racing up a hill in it, dodging sheep scat, thistles, and shards of chalk, and striking a pose for Mitchell that manages to make ruffles a compelling new masculine proposition, just as Mr. Fish’s frothy white cotton dress—equal parts Romantic poet and Greek presidential guard—did for Mick Jagger when he wore it for The Rolling Stones’ free performance in Hyde Park in 1969, or as the suburban-mom floral housedress did for Kurt Cobain as he defined the iconoclastic grunge aesthetic. Styles is mischievously singing ABBA’s “Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! (A Man After Midnight)” to himself when Mitchell calls him outside to jump up and down on a trampoline in a Comme des Garçons buttoned wool kilt. “How did it look?” asks his sister when he comes in from the cold. “Divine,” says her brother in playful Lambert-speak.

As the wide sky is washed in pink, orange, and gray, like a Turner sunset, and Mitchell calls it a successful day, Styles is playing “Cherry” from Fine Line on his Fender acoustic on the hilltop. “He does his own stunts,” says his sister, laughing. The impromptu set is greeted with applause. “Thank you, Antwerp!” says Styles playfully, bowing to the crowd. “Thank you, fashion!”

[literaticat]

Do you think “issue books” are becoming less popular and being out-paced by more escapist works now?

I feel like in the 90's / early 2000s, there were a lot of books that were very obviously ISSUE BOOKS. Like, SMACK -- about kids addicted to heroin, or CRANK, about kids addicted to meth, or GIRL INTERRUPTED about a girl in a psychiatric ward, or IT'S KIND OF A FUNNY STORY about a boy in a psychiatric ward, or LIVING DEAD GIRL about a girl kidnapped by a pedophile who lives with him for YEARS (omg that book is SO disturbing!). These were often quite intense, "edgy" books about very dramatic issues.

Those books still exist, but they are more likely to be somewhat more nuanced -- and the ISSUE at the core is more likely to be about Social Justice, racism / transphobia / something like that, or exploring mental health issues or whatever it is within the context of a larger story, rather than the basic "this is what it's like in a psych ward" narrative.

In other words, maybe more like social issues intersecting with and woven into regular contemporary realistic YA, rather than straight up "harrowing portraits of kids on drugs" or "majorly disturbing accounts of molestation."

So, books that I'd consider more modern, nuanced "issue books" are like, THE HATE U GIVE (which yes, sure, it's "about" racism and there is an act of police brutality that sets it off, but is also interwoven with lots of other stuff) - - or DOES MY BODY OFFEND YOU (about girls who start a dress code revolution in their school, among other things) -- or WITH THE FIRE ON HIGH (has a teen mom at the center of the plot, but it's not ABOUT that, it's just a fact that she is dealing with in addition to lots of other things)

Then again.... lots of books that are "purely escapism" ALSO weave in "issues." Like, there are lots of fantasy novels from recent years where the "bad guy" seems a lot like T___p, or the hero is saving the world from some despot who wants to take away civil rights, etc. In the graphic novel SQUAD for example, like yes it's about girls who turn into werewolves (escapism!) -- but also it's about girls who turn into werewolves quite specifically to kill and eat date-rapey douche-bros. So, it's fiercely feminist and explores fighting against toxic masculinity, etc (Issues!).

I guess my point is -- I think these days it's more likely that even purely "bubblegum" escapist fare will weave in a little thread of "issue" -- and "issue" books will also weave in some romance, thrills, friendship, fun, or otherwise escapist threads.

[static-fanatic-1]

Main Four: Escapist S/O with a Three Year Old

This ask disappeared for some reason so I’m really sorry about that. A few other disappeared as well and I don’t know why, luckily I took pictures so I still have them.

Im going to separate them to make it to make it different than the poly relationship ones, I hope you don't mind.

Gon:

• Imagining this baby boy having a baby boy, it's the cutest thing. Not really as a Yandere but you get the point.

• After being gone for four years he became desperate, anyone with any information of you had become important to him. He was patient at first but he can only last so long. He probably went to your family and friends and asked about you. If they know he'll take care of them one way or another.

• Once he finds you he is ecstatic. He sits outside of your apartment, jumping up and down just waiting to walk in and hug you. But when he sees you walking past the slightly open window with something in your arms, he freezes. Gon simply stops and stares at the moving bundle in your arms. At first he might not understand, but once he thinks about what this might mean, he grows furious.

• Lets just say he jumped to the conclusion that it is your but might not be his.

• Gon enters your house by breaking the front door open. You are obviously surprised and jump back from the place near the window, the child in your arms now crying. He storms around the apartment, looking for any sign of another guy in your life. When he finds nothing he storms over to you and demands to know where the baby came from.

• Out of fear of his immense aura, you would be quick to say it's his. Just like that he switches back to his happy, go lucky self.

• You'll be shaken up by this of course, but he won't pay any mind when he rips the child from your arms and holds it in his. He will shush it and calm it down easily while dotting both you and them for doing such a good job.

• Gon will grab your hand and drag you to the couch or bedside, whatever is closer, and hold the both of you close. By now the toddler won't be crying anymore and instead laughing and playing with their dad. They may not have been outright told who their dad was or what they look like, but the baby will know.

• Speaking of the toddler, this thing would be beyond adorable. Big round eyes and a button nose, chubby cheeks and spiky blackish-green hair, they will be adorable.

• I don't think Gon will ask why you left, instead he will just take you two somewhere safe and make sure you can't leave again. You or the child.

Killua:

• Luckily Killua doesn't have a baby thing like Illumi or Kurapika, but he'd still be proud to be a father.

• When he finds you he is beyond surprised that you were able to evade him for such a long time. Sadly the little chase must come to an end, and it ends now.

• You've been gone for so long that anyone who had or as an affiliation with you is dead, pretty much no questions asked. Because you have been running off for so long you probably would not know this, the only way you would be able to escape for so long is because you left everything behind. It's sad but that is how it would have to be.

• When he finds you he will be beyond pissed off, I mean you left him for four years. That won't ever happen again and he'll make sure of it. Still, he won't show how pissed he is, instead it will be covered by an eerily calm and dull mask.

• He would enter the home you've been staying in at night, carefully maneuvering in the dark to get to you. Killua will start to notice some strange things, kids toys? Small baby bottles? He would instantly know why you left, and in return he would understand your fear, but that won't stop him.

• Instead of going to your room he will find out where the toddler is. Killua would sneak in undetected and loom over the crib/small bed, his child resting inside. The assassin would instantly know it's his, his chest swelling with a sense of pride. The fluffy white hair and pale skin are a huge indication as to who is the father.

• Carefully and gently he would wake up the kid, calmly whispering sweet nothings and how his daddy is home. The toddler would instantly understand, and will excitingly jump up and out of bed to tell you.

• You will wake up by being roughly shaken by your kid, a small questioning 'what' slipping past your lips. Why the hell you they be so excited at this hour? But when your sleepy gaze pulls them in, and your eyes settle on the dark figure looming in the doorway, you know what's wrong. Killua would calmly watch before stepping forward into the moonlight.

• You would be afraid, your child would be happy and tapping about how daddy's home, and Killua would have a smug look across his features.

• That will be that, Killua would use the kid as a hostage of sorts, as insurance to keep you with him. The bouncing baby would be a target to his family, but nothing will happen to the kid or you for as long as he lives.

Kurapika:

• Oh dear, one of the scarier yanderes of the Hunter x Hunter universe. At least for me.

• This guy is already unhinged because of you leaving, being gon for so long, without anyone to keep him in check, everyone would be killed.

• Do you guys remember the Kurapika having an S/O who just vanishes? Yeah, he would give up after six or so years, depending on how long it takes to slaughter anyone who might have a vendetta against him.

• When four years hits he is hunting down the Phantom Troupe, at least starting to hunt them down. He will be wondering the rooftops trying to find the Troupe, maybe he is currently trailing a few of them.

• If like to imagine you accidentally bump paths with them on your way to wherever you are going. Like your walking through the streets with your son/daughter and you accidentally bump shoulders with them. You would apologize (like a decent human being) and move on your merry way. (I might actually turn this into a short story because it sounds fun;))

• If That happens Kurapika would be holding his breath, because you have been found and you were too close to the enemy.

• Weare talking about Kurapika so obviously he would be angry you have left, but seeing you happy and with his child... he's beyond relieved. I mean just look at the kid! Cute blonde hair and round, brown eyes with a round face and gleeful smile.

• I can see Kurapika being very calm about the situation, which would be terrifying since he's a bit emotional. He would meet you at your house with a blank expression.

• When you two meet again he will have mixed emotions. Should he be angry, disappointed, relieved, happy? Honestly he doesn't know.

• But he knows one thing, you won't escape again. He will act like the nice guy to your kid and try to paint you as a damsel in distress. He will manipulate your kid to start being as protective as himself, and he will do this with all of your kids. Kurapika wants more children, he wants a big family, and he'll make sure he has one.

• He will trap you and lock you up, making sure your kids learn to be like him. The kids will also be a bargaining chip, you won't want to leave them but they won't want to leave their dad.

• He might not be as angry as usual, but his manipulation will surely compensate.

Leorio:

• This guy would be deathly irritated at everything if you left him for so long. He would snap at pretty much everyone for the smallest of things. But finally, after devoting so much time in finding you he has finally done it.

• Leorio would simply find you in the street and try and pluck you to the side to give you a piece of his mind. Though before he can do that you are met with some other girls, instantly he would be both curious and more irritated.

• He would take his time brooding in the dark alleyways as your group walks to a daycare. The black haired guy would furrow his brows as he watched you smile and pick up a small kid. The two of you would be laughing.

• Leorio's mood is ever changing from irritated to super happy. This would be one of those moments. He would immediately smile to himself and calmly follow you on your way home.

• When you make it home you see a man standing near your doorway, you are nervous about this man but he doesn't seem threatening. That is until you realize who it is.

• Simple 'Hey babe' exchanges will be given, your son/daughter asking who the man is. Your too frozen to answer.

• So he does for you. He'll answer with his name and then his affiliation with you, this will make your child's day. They had a dad?! That crazy!

• They'll jump into Leorio's arms and start talking about random things. Leorio would act as if nothing happened, as if he was just gone on a business trip or something. And that's what the toddler will be told too, he was gone for a really long business trip.

• You on the other hand will know, and despite him not outright using the kid to threaten you, you probably won't even try. His firework like temper would be enough to scare you into submission.

[ripleyvs]

— BASICS

Name: Ripley Daniel Van Sant Age / D.O.B.: 25 / 1 April 1995 Gender, Pronouns & Sexuality: Agender, They/He, Bisexual  Hometown: Asheville, North Carolina  Affiliation: Media  Job position: Production Assistant  Education: Bachelors in Communication from NYU Relationship status: Single Children: None  Positive traits: Flexible, Independent, Peaceful, Sociable, Youthful Negative traits: Aimless, Artificial, Casual, Escapist, Scatterbrained

— BIOGRAPHY ( tw for substance abuse, drug abuse, addiction, mention of rehab ) 

Trash. That’s what everyone in the town of Asheville said about the Van Sant family. They were a family of seven, living in a cramped, falling to pieces house on the outskirts of town. Ripley was the middle child in their family. They grew up not entirely poor, but one of the poorer families in town: Ripley’s father worked two jobs to keep the family afloat and their mother did what she could as well, working her own job and odd jobs when she could. Which left Ripley and all their siblings adultless most of the time, especially since the nearest neighbor was at least six miles away. What the Van Sants lacked in money, however, they gained in being a close-knit family. Ripley’s mother told bedtime stories to her children when she was home and their father often would play catch with his children when he wasn’t exhausted or at work. As much as the rumors about the family spread through town, they were wrong. They weren’t pushing drugs, they weren’t doing anything illegal, they were just lower class, below-average income American family with nothing but each other.

Life was alright for Ripley, until he turned six and their parents got a divorce. It didn’t surprise anyone—they’d been having problems for a while and with little money saved up, tensions in the house had grown high. Ripley was too young to understand what was going on, but suddenly their father was gone, leaving only one parent in the house. Almost six months went by before Ripley even saw their father again and it was only because he wanted custody of the children. In the time he was gone, Ripley’s mother had begun dating someone new, a friend from high school. So appalled that she had the nerve to start dating after such a short period of time—and to someone he considered a close family friend—he walked out of their lives, swearing he’d never come back; which is a promise he kept. Soon, Ripley’s mother remarried her girlfriend and the family moved into a slightly bigger and better house. Eight years old at the time of their mother’s marriage, Ripley suddenly had a room they only had to share with one sibling, not three. And they had two moms now, rather than just the one. It was an adjustment for them, but Ripley was nothing if not excited for a family like the one they’d previously had.

Things started to change for Ripley when they entered high school. The kids around them all started paying more attention to clothes and shoes, things that they knew they could never afford and would never be able to ask for. Despite living in better conditions than before, their parents still didn’t have that much extra money to buy fancy things for their children, especially since it wasn’t one pair of Converse, it was five. Ripley didn’t mind, at first. But then the other children started making fun of them for their handed down clothing and ripped up shoes, and something in them snapped. They were better than those other kids, they knew it, even if they didn’t have what everyone else around them did. At first it was little things that Ripley did that got them into trouble: fights with other students, talking back to teachers, and snapping at anyone that tried to help. When that stopped satisfying them, Ripley sought out other ways to be a little more defiant: stealing, lying, going to parties, getting drunk. It wasn’t long before they fell in with the wrong crowd, where they started dealing and doing drugs. Ripley’s teachers all tried to get more involved with their life and keep them away from the groups of people they’d gotten involved with, but the more they tried, the more Ripley pushed them away, refusing help from everyone. With a steady income from the drugs they were dealing, Ripley could get anything they wanted, and those people that made fun of their plain clothing, boring sneakers, and handed down cell phone all had to watch as they suddenly owned the best they were willing to buy. They rose to the top, surrounding themself with the people that used to make fun of them—if only to prove that they had the ambition to do what it took to prove everyone wrong.

All good things must come to an end, however, and things fell fast for Ripley. Senior year of high school, Ripley overdosed on some prescription drugs they’d taken before class—a careless mix of things they couldn’t even identify. Rushed to the hospital, the doctors managed to save their life and they were sent to rehab for the rest of their senior year. When they were released, Ripley ended up redoing their senior year, but rather than finish school off in Asheville, their parents relocated to Blowing Rock, North Carolina, a smaller town where no one would know what had happened to them. And luckily, it helped with the healing process. As did something else Ripley never expected to happen: a doctor at their rehab facility told them to get involved with something—a sport, a club, a job, anything. With no real interest in any violent sport, Ripley did something unexpected: they tried out for the cheerleading team. Surprisingly, they managed to get through their senior year with little effort and without relapsing, despite temptation. And then they decided to spend their first year at a community college to keep their head on their shoulders before transferring to NYC to be close to their brother their sophomore year.

College ended up being a breeze for them, putting their soul focus in on their work, Ripley was able to graduate in three years. They currently live with their older brother, Pip, in a tiny apartment. Their brother works in the video game industry while Ripley ended up getting a job working at NPR through a connection they made at school. They are keeping their head down and attempting to climb up the ranks in the production world because one day they’d like to host their own radio show, but that’s a long way off as they are slowly working their way through graduate school. Currently, they have a podcast that they produce with a friend called Crimes and Chaos, which mostly talks about true crime, but occasionally will discuss supernatural topics.

— WANTED CONNECTIONS / PLOTS

friends

hookups 

fans of the show

people they met in college

fellow queer friends 

neighbors

[salty-ironstrange-shipper]

Okay so, I'm listening to I think I'm in love again by kat dahlia and there this "I say "fuck you" While I'm thinking of you as my husband" And my brain just screamed IRONSTRANGE!! I M U S T read fluffy ironstrange fics!

So you got any fluffy fics for me? Cuz I don't think I'll be able to sleep tonight without reading any floffy ironstrange fics

here are some ~fluffy fics for ya’

(there ended up being a lot, so they’re under the cut)

Peter Parker is a Little Shit

1,044 words

Peter wants to learn how to play the trumpet. Stephen, upon finding out Peter wishes to annoy the former Avengers with it, suggests he doesn't have to learn how to actually play.

Professors Stark and Strange

1,195 words

There's two kinds of professors, the brick wall and the over share. Dr. Strange is professor brick wall and Dr. Stark is professor overshare. How their students learned that they're married with two kids.

An Open Invitation to Dance

1,601 words

Tony has a ring in his pocket and a half-formed plan to get the love of his life to say yes to him

Maybe less than that of a plan

12% of a plan?

a vague idea

The Escapist

1,890 words

Stephen and Tony knew that moving Peter into his crib would be tough. But, they didn't expect this.

“Good kitty”

2,157 words

Sometimes it can be hard to make the first move - especially when your crush is also your hot new neighbor with an adorable cat.

Fortunately, Levi the kitty is there to give Tony and Stephen a little push.

Just a family

2,251 words

They loved each other long before. They will love each other forever. Its just a question of finding each other again!

a rebirth AU inspired by lucifersfavoritechild's tumblr

A Passage in Time

2,264 words

Tony takes Stephen on a nice beach vacation to get away from the cold winter. Other things happen. Like an engagement.

Peter Parker's Homecoming

2,346 words

Five-year old Peter Parker anxiously waits to go to his new home, where his adopted parents, Tony and Stephen Stark-Strange await his arrival.

Where Severus Snape is hot, not a stalker, and somehow gets the girl

2,387 words

And then, as if he wasn’t already the most embarrassing estranged biological dad ever, Tony stopped in his tracks, raised his sunglasses (because of course he would wear sunglasses inside a lecture hall in April), and gave Professor Strange the most blatant, sustained once-over in the history of fuckboyness. Then he put down his glasses, shot a winning smile at the teacher, and said, “Well, I’m Tony Stark, of course.”

Or: Peter Parker is sick and wants to cut his Neuroscience class. Tony just wants to help (and maybe date his son's hot teacher). Stephen Strange just wants to give his lecture in peace.

Burden of Proof

2,561 words

Based on a prompt/headcanon from my dear rinn aka Maevee

"I do have a tiny headcanon just of Christine meeting Tony and fangirling out a bit, like maybe while she's at work so she's struggling to be professional. Strange tells her he's dating Tony Stark and she doesn't believe him, so he brings her proof."

Are You Trying to Deduce Me?

2,619 words

When Tony throws a costume party, both he and Stephen end up coming as very different but very familiar versions of the same character.

Tony Stark's secret husband

2,870 words

It’s not like they wanted to keep the secret because they didn’t. They never spoke about going public with their wedding, and nobody but for tabloids ever asked either Stark or Stephen about their romantic lives so, again, Tony wouldn’t blame either himself or Stephen for keeping it between the two of them.

I Feel Loved

2,913 words

After months of waiting and yearning Stephen returns to Tony for a long-promised date. Things escalate quickly from that point on.

Pint-Sized Parker

3,636 words

Tony is called away from a meeting to deal with a now toddler-aged Peter Parker, who went snooping around in Stephen Strange's spells.

Contentment

3,732 words

Tony hadn't gotten a good night's sleep since before Afghanistan. Even with Thanos gone and everyone back, he still can't shake the nightmares. At a party, Stephen Strange gives him hope for the future that they fought for.

basically just fluff.

I Hate (Love) You

3,990 words

Tony has a hard time spitting out the words I love you. Stephen doesn't mind.

Strange Strawberry Sorbet

6,023 words

After the realization came the denial, immediately followed by depression. So what if Stephen might kind of...maybe...sort of...be in like with Tony. Tony deserves better than a nobody, hobo sorcerer with blasted, shaking hands and the only thing going for him being magicky party tricks he's questionably good at.

Stephen will absolutely NOT ask Tony out on a date, let alone confess to the myriad of feelings he has for the man.

Then again, Peter Parker doesn't need permission to spin his webs like the puppetmaster he is and this time, this time he brought reinforcements.

Petulance (Among Other Things)

6,988 words

Tony’s stuck going to a conference—against his will, thank you very much—and Stephen’s not even coming with him. He’s all alone. Abandoned. Unloved. Melodramatic. Possibly. Just a tiny bit.

—

A conference. A storm. A warmth.

Five Times Tony Saw Stephen Naked and the One Time He Helped

7,117 words

Tony isn't entirely sure how he feels about the Sorcerer Supreme.

He is sure, however, that he's seen enough of him to make those feelings even more complicated.

The Two Lives of Stephen Strange

8,365 words

After losing the love of his life, Stephen Strange finds out he can visit him in his dreams.

tap dancing on a land mine

Tony discovers, much to his delight, that Stephen holds a special hatred for being called “babe”. Of course, that means Tony only goes out of his way to push this newly discovered button of Stephen’s like it’s his god-given purpose in life. Because that’s what true love’s all about, right?

[tossawary]

Chapter 19: “Weddings and Funerals” of “pride is not the word I’m looking for” random favorite lines with commentary because I’m doing a re-read. Not a full list or full commentary. 

-

 When Shang Qinghua told Mobei-Jun that he didn’t need Shen Qingqiu assassinated, it wasn’t because he thought everything would somehow work out if he just sat back and didn’t do anything. It definitely wasn’t because he was planning a so-called “perfect murder” and didn’t want the demon lord messing up his plans. The Problem of Shen Qingqiu has always been a lot more  complicated than “just get rid of the guy potentially making my nephew’s life a living hell”. That’s why it’s a real problem! 

- 

AN: Shang Qinghua’s thought process: “Can this problem be solved by: 

A) Waiting for the problem to go away? 

B) Murder? 

C) None of the above? 

If the answer is C... 

Fuck, it’s a real problem.” 

- 

 Shang Qinghua thinks that might actually be possible, though he’d have to do some research and smack his head until his Author God memories hopped into line. He thinks that the youth-restoration procedure would probably do the job, but he also thinks that Shen Qingqiu would probably rather be dead than be physically sixteen again or something (super fucking understandable) and have to start the cultivation process over from scratch (ah, that would be so annoying and embarrassing). 

- 

AN: Given that I actually invented a de-aging potion for this fic (if one that’s difficult to put together), the AU of “Original Shen Qingqiu is physically 16 again” has been rattling around inside my head ever since I wrote these lines. Shen Qingqiu was like, “Wait, let me picture how unbearably overprotective Yue Qingyuan would be... hmm... no, I’ll just stay like this.” 

- 

 Luo Jiahui seems a little anxious about the empty spaces at the table, but she fills the space as best she can by chattering about assorted restaurant business. At least until she abruptly takes a deep breath and says, “Hua-Ge, I have something to tell you.” 

 Shang Qinghua freezes in the middle of taking a drink. His unhelpful brain immediately races to guess the worst possible conversational subjects. His sister-in-law has somehow figured out that he’s a transmigrator?! His sister-in-law has decided that her son is not going to the Demon Realm under any circumstances?! His sister-in-law knows Binghe better than he does and has realized that the young protagonist is being abused after all?! Oh,  fuck, what is it? 

 “I’m getting married!” Luo Jiahui announces, breathlessly. 

 “Oh,” Shang Qinghua says, heart rate going at the speed of sound. “Wait,  what?” 

- 

AN: This chapter is why I didn’t go into the details of LJH/LQG in the last chapter, immediately post-timeskip. I wanted to blindside everyone with an “Oh, it’s THAT serious?!” moment. The last chapter established that “SQH is handling things”, then this chapter establishes that, as the plot goes on, “SQH is only barely handling things”. Which helps prep the following breakdown with the System World Update in chapters 20-22. 

- 

 “You didn’t have any time for yourself,” Shang Qinghua agrees, following this conversation of very obvious things that he already knew so far. He didn’t have any time for himself back then either, between organizing a conference and finding a cure on top of the usual day-in-day-out of the sect. “You did a really good job looking after them all by yourself!” 

 “They don’t always agree with that,” Luo Jiahui says, smiling but self-deprecating. 

 “Aha, well, they’re young.” 

 The disagreements of what was best for the children is why Shang Qinghua really had to get Fanli (who didn’t see herself as a child) out of the house by any means necessary. He was at a bit of a loss at how else to help. She was never part of  Proud Immortal Demon Way! Not even as a fragment of backstory mentioned in passing! Shang Qinghua struggles to compensate for these extra people who were never characters sometimes. 

 “Qingge was very understanding,” Luo Jiahui says. “But… well… then Fanli was gone and I had the restaurant keeping me busy, but that was all my own choice… and what good was waiting really doing us? It didn’t have to be everything or nothing. So… we talked… about what we wanted and what- what we were afraid of… and we decided to go forward slowly.” 

- 

AN: I said in the Author’s Notes on AO3 that I was going to use Jiage to shame Moshang and Qijiu, and I meant it. TALK TO EACH OTHER!!! Shang Qinghua, you need to talk to Mobei-Jun about what you want! Shang Qinghua, you can’t keep putting things on hold because of the plot! 

- 

 No offense to either his sister-in-law or his junior martial brother, but aren’t love stories supposed to be a little more… fiery? 

 “When I was younger, I thought that falling in love was supposed to be all excitement and passion and not being able to live without someone even for a second,” Luo Jiahui admits, a little wistfully. “I thought that it was supposed to be thinking about them all the time, not being able to stay away from each other, and needing to know what they’d been doing every second they were away. It was like becoming a completely different person. I thought that being in love was about one of us getting horribly jealous every time we even talked to someone else, doing things I didn’t really understand and changing myself just to keep him happy, and keeping secrets and sneaking around just to keep things from exploding. Because love is not being able to help yourself like that, right?” 

 Shang Qinghua can’t really manage to speak right now. 

 It’s like someone has cut his fucking throat. 

 Which is fine! 

 “But that ended really badly for me,” Luo Jiahui says, with a nervous huff at her own understatement. “It was very exciting, but looking back, being in that kind of love was also very frightening sometimes… and it was a little lonely too… being in love with someone I couldn’t really talk to or trust.” 

-

AN: This is more specifically vagueing SVSSS Bingqiu than Moshang, but it’s also shaming Moshang too. Airplane Shooting Towards The Sky wrote some extremely messed-up romances and he would have said, “Yes! It’s all super messed-up! That’s kind of the point!” But it also means that the man can’t really conceptualize (at least at first) or articulate the kind of relationship he would actually be happy to have with Mobei-Jun, especially when his relationship with Mobei-Jun had such violent beginnings 

- 

 The first person he tells himself is, weirdly enough, Qi Qingqi. Liu Qingge apparently already told both Liu Mingyan and Luo Fanli before he left, so Shang Qinghua heads over to see how the girls are handling it. (Also, he wants to pump Liu Mingyan for information on her mother’s opinions on weddings and marriage, in a really pathetic attempt to ready himself for the rumble.) He makes her agree to keep the information to herself before telling and she does, like a bro! 

 And then he tells and she laughs in his fucking face! Eventually, she realizes that he’s looking for sympathy, he’s not just here to let her enjoy his suffering, as a form of payment after everything he and Liu Qingge have inflicted on her. Then she laughs at him again, even louder. 

 Sure, he’d laugh too if he was in her shoes! But not to her face! Rude! 

 - 

AN: Qi Qingqi also pointed while laughing, I think. It’s funny because it’s not her dealing with Liu Family shit this time. 

- 

 Shang Qinghua expected, this time last year, to be laser-focused on the plot! His attention was not going to stray even a little bit, he promised himself; he was going to be 110% dedicated to making sure that everyone he tripped into caring about made it through the least shitty version of  Proud Immortal Demon Way  possible. He was going to be a  machine  of a transmigrator! No distractions! All he wanted was for his family to make it through the quickest, least shitty bare bones of a plot! And he was going to  achieve, damn it! 

 Instead, he finds himself planning his sister-in-law’s wedding and it eats up time he didn’t fucking know he had to give. Immortal Alliance Conference, eat your fucking heart out! Cang Qiong Mountain Sect? Did he work there? Nope, he’s never heard of the place! He’s the Peak Lord of wedding planning now! 

- 

AN: This is me telling myself I’m going to get my life 100% together and then getting into a new video game and baking cookies instead. Or ditching my housecleaning plans to hang out with friends at a moment’s notice. 

- 

 At the wedding itself, Fanli tells her sister’s father-in-law that Binghe is also  very into birds and Shang Qinghua’s nephew spends a good chunk of the rest of the celebrations (and his precious time away from Qing Jing Peak) held hostage by his own politeness, listening to his new grandfather earnestly tell him about the various migration habits of demonic birds. 

 Well! Better him than Shang Qinghua, honestly! 

-

AN: Inspired by that time we went on vacation and one of my brothers got mistaken by one of our travelling companions for a budding serious birdwatcher instead of someone who just thinks they’re neat - and also likes to point at them and intentionally call them by the wrong name. 

Also, LQG’s Dad in this fic and SY would probably get along super well. 

LQG and his dad in this universe have gone out on month-long camping trips to in which they pretty much don’t talk the entire time. They stalk monsters through the wilderness and have a great time.

- 

 Shang Qinghua is too busy keeping an eye on Luo Fanli and being  not talked to by Liu Mingyan, who is eighteen-ish years old now he thinks and still deeply embarrassed by the fact that he told her off for her real person fiction. (He doesn’t want to discourage her passion for writing! She’s pretty good for a kid! It’s pretty cute! Everyone needs their escapist hobbies! He just doesn’t want identifying information about his family being spread around freely, even if the characterizations of the couple are… uh… wildly reimagined, and he doesn't want to have to spend his very valuable time keeping a lookout for more illicit fiction.) It’s difficult to read her expression through the ever-present veil, but… yeah, she’s still pissed off at him.

 Ugh, teenagers. 

 Binghe is not allowed to bring several hundred nieces-in-law into Shang Qinghua's life. Just... no. Fuck, no. 

 He doesn’t even get a date to commiserate about this with. 

 It’s a very small wedding, family only (Luo Jiahui’s shitty parents  don’t count  and her older brother was forced to decline the invitation), so that Luo Jiahui and Liu Qingge can keep their privacy. Madam Liu huffed about it - the battles in talking her down were both great and terrible - but her son stood his ground! Sure, people might whine someday about not being invited, but the great thing about Liu Qingge is that they can more or less just say,  “Well, we couldn’t stop him from doing whatever he wanted!”  And people just have to take that unless they want to claim they could take on the Bai Zhan Peak War God! 

- 

AN: Trying to imagine the AU in which SQH brought MBJ as his date to this wedding. SQH would’ve liked to be able to bring MBJ as a date, but alas, they are not dating and the groom would probably try to kill the man. 

- 

 Shang Qinghua is not expecting, soon after returning from his sister-in-law’s happy and long-awaited wedding, to be solemnly informed that Shen Qingqiu’s health has only really deteriorated these past months. Wow, that’s a huge downer. 

 Also, he already knew that? He’s been getting Mu Qingfang all the right supplies to treat their shixiong. He didn’t actually abandon his duties to the sect for a family wedding. He knew that Shen Qingqiu had fallen sufficiently ill to need tending on Qian Cao Peak in the past month and he considered it, well, convenient timing in regards to Binghe’s permission to attend his mother’s wedding not being randomly revoked. Cold-hearted, maybe! But he had lots of other things to worry about at the time, like informing Mobei-Jun that his sister-in-law was getting married and so he’d be regrettably absent to attend the wedding. 

 Then he’s told that Shen Qingqiu is not expected to improve this time. 

  “Oh, shit, they really think he’s dying,” Shang Qinghua realizes. 

 This really wasn’t in  Proud Immortal Demon Way. 

- 

AN: I seriously contemplated cutting this chapter in half because of this mood switch. Like, I went in intending on writing a serious mood switch, but in practice, wow. It felt like a lot more in practice. 

- 

 “Our sect leader asks about the boy and his progress,” Shen Qingqiu rasps, his voice turning more and more accusing. “He’s  so very  concerned about the boy. We can’t have such a beloved child  crying  to his devoted family that he’s been mistreated or neglected, can we? How flattering these assumptions are. It makes a man wonder what exactly people think he’s going to  do to the boy.” 

 Shang Qinghua might have an itemized list somewhere, honestly. 

 “Ah, I can’t speak for anyone else,” Shang Qinghua says finally. “But please don’t take it personally, Shen-Shixiong. I don’t really trust anyone. Anything can happen behind a locked door, you know?” 

 Some honest cynicism can go over well with the man. 

 Shen Qingqiu laughs bitterly now. 

- 

AN: It can be fun in media where Character A is like, “Ahhh, I hope no one discovers my secret!” And Character B is like, “So, about this extremely obvious thing that you’re doing...!” 

Shen Qingqiu is as honest and open as he is throughout this scene because he honestly thinks that he’s dying. He’s determined to be blithe about it. 

- 

Shang Qinghua at least gets to see Mu Qingfang’s face journey as Shen Qingqiu accuses their sect leader of letting him think that he’d left him to die. As Shen Qingqiu yells about being treated like an unwanted ghost, as a potential blackmailer, as an embarrassing disappointment, as a petty troublemaker, as a spoiled child, as a problem to be solved, and as the last blemish on Yue Qingyuan’s reputation - anything but as someone worthy of being trusted with Yue Qingyuan’s problems and of being treated like an equal friend. 

 Yue Qingyuan tries to explain that he didn’t think Shen Qingqiu wanted to hear his excuses, and Shen Qingqiu shoots back that he would rather fucking die than beg the man he’d thought had forgotten about him to explain when exactly he became not worth rescuing as soon as possible. 

 Yue Qingyuan tries to explain that he didn’t want Shen Qingqiu’s pity or to force the man to be grateful that he’d  tried. 

 Shen Qingqiu tells the man to go fuck himself. How could it not hurt for someone he loved to hurt him and then just…  move past the hurt  like the pain wasn’t  who they were? 

 “All the world could revile me… reject me… leave me to die… and I would pay their hatred no heed! What do they truly know of what I am? Of who I am?” Shen Qingqiu demands. “But if  Qi-Ge  could throw me away… decide that I just wasn’t worth the  trouble anymore now that he’d had a taste of a better life… then I really must be wretched beyond all things at the root! If he believed it, then… then it had to be true.” 

- 

AN: Because I just wrote a Qijiu confrontation over this exact thing, like, a few days before, I thought that I could get away with writing out this entire confrontation in full. I think it works better if the audience has to imagine some of it. And because SQH is the POV character, it felt right that he not be in the room and not be a full witness to this scene. He doesn’t get to see everything. 

[floralovebot]

I read your timmy/riven/helia headcanons and I LOST IT hahahaha I love it! I just got curious about that sad headcanon you mentioned about helia (I think about his past?)? Like you have said, like other people I project into him a lot so he's my favorite and wanted to know about that hc cuz now I can't stop thinking about it 🙊

AHH A FELLOW HELIA STAN MY BELOVED!!! HI!!!!

okay so,, i'd like to preface this with a couple things. 1. it's based off of a rewrite that i've had in my head since i was like, 10 and i'm never actually gonna write/post it kldhglahdgl. 2. i want to explain why i came up with this backstory and headcanon! cause ik anyone who isn't a helia stan or at least really likes him, probably won't understand (not in a gatekeepy way but in a "this character is so underdeveloped that if you haven't paid attention to every little thing about them you probably won't immediately catch on to the thought process behind this" kind of way).

So,,,, oh dear okay first no one is allowed to judge me. if you judge i'm gonna cry >:(

When I was trying to come up with Helia's backstory, a lot of different ideas went through my mind. Naturally being a Helia stan, I first went with the "he grew up at red fountain" route! But then I realized I wanted something with a little more umph, and as I realized certain things about him, growing up at RF (red fountain) didn't immediately make sense? At least,, not completely... You see, Helia is a major perfectionist (we've covered this in past lessons) and a major escapist. Something that stands out about him though, is that everyone we've seen that knew him for a long time (ie family members or childhood friends) are extremely supportive of him and understanding of mistakes (even bigger ones).

Helia's escapism has a direct connection to his perfectionism, ie if he makes a mistake, no matter how small or inconsequential, he freaks out and leaves. Something that makes him slightly different from other, similar characters though, is that his perfectionism only has to do with himself (usually). He doesn't worry about what other people think of him, only about the guidelines he's set for himself. So, if he makes a mistake that crosses those guidelines or rules, that's when he gets upset and leaves. (I honestly think him leaving RF for art school the first time could've been a product of this, though that's heavily just thinking and not canon).

While anyone can be a perfectionist and escapist without any big reason, I really wanted to explain why Helia is like that. His issues in particular seem more based on fear and invisible rules than just feeling inadequate (like some of the other escapists in the group... ahem bloom ahem). One thing that really stood out to me, was the arc in the comics where he left the school for a third time because he made a mistake on a mission that almost cost Brandon and Codatorta their lives. He let emotions and personal life get in the way of what he was doing and that allowed someone to mess with their ship, causing a malfunction that almost killed them. Helia, instead of trying to figure out what happened, immediately resigned from the school because "a good specialist wouldn't have done that". He places these almost impossible standards on his entire life, both personal and work-related. And again, while that can happen to anyone, the level he does this at is so much higher than the other characters (even the royals who are notorious for doing this).

I want to preface this next bit with I'm a dumb bitch who's obsessed with apocalyptic media. So like,, the backstory I came up with is that his planet basically got overrun with monsters born from wild/dark magic and that most people died in the chaos. This happens when he's very young and he only survives because he had adults taking care of him. Eventually, he would get separated from his family and come across another group of survivors are willing to bring him along. He ends up bonding with a young woman who he essentially uses to replace his mom (cause yknow,, kids need parents and all). At some point, they're looking for food or medical supplies and he makes a mistake (likely making a loud noise or something) that draws monsters to them. The young woman saves him and in the process sacrifices herself. Cue survivor's guilt that transforms into extreme perfectionism. After this, he would run away and eventually Codatorta finds him because specialists were sent to find survivors. Cue him growing up at RF where he can get the proper training but he's too young to go on missions. This sparks the perfectionism and starts the escapism. (Not even gonna pretend that this backstory isn't heavily inspired by tlou and twdg.)

I also wanted a reason for why he's so heavily protective of Saladin, a very strong wizard who's been in countless wars and by all means, doesn't need protection. Like,, obviously they're family so duh. But idk,, his protectiveness of Saladin tends to overshadow his own life (for instance in the comics I mentioned earlier, Helia only comes back to RF because he had to help save Saladin and in the process gives up his job as an artist). I wanted to explain why Helia is such a good specialist but is also constantly trying to get away from that life (ie he grew up there and doesn't want to live in war constantly). I also wanted to explain why Helia seems so unphased when things happen! Like he just,, he shows emotions, but they're so subdued compared to everyone else.

OKAY ANYWAY,, jeez this is long already (and I condensed it... I have an entire google doc that explains all of this in a much more eloquent way). The trivelia headcanon was about Helia feeling comfortable sharing these things with them. He would bond with Riven specifically over not knowing/having family. Over the years, Helia would share just the tiniest little tidbits here and there about what happened (this apocalypse coincided with the Domino war and as such no one helped them. the Magix news centers kept pushing this issue aside to the point where a lot of people don't even know it happened) and how he feels about it. Like I've said before, Helia has a hard time talking about his life and especially his emotions. So Riven and Timmy (and Flora :) ) would really be the only ones who get to hear these tidbits. Eventually, Helia would have to go back because there are rumors that the monsters are trying to spread to other planets. Timmy would be his main source of communication when he's there as the others wouldn't be allowed to go (since they aren't native to the planet and could be in danger with the wild magic around [.. things happened to the first specialists that got sent... not good things]). (Also not gonna lie that the monsters are heavily inspired by the aliens in a quiet place.. In the google doc, I have an entire section dedicated to the monsters alone alkgdldajg).

.... this is so long.........

[dreamiesdotcom]

slow | n.jm, l.hc

summary: Jaemin likes some things slow — slowly walking from your houses to school, slowly drinking warm drinks, slowly putting puzzle pieces together, slowly dancing to Jisung's upbeat playlist, slowly baring yourselves of masks, slowly learning to trust — but slowly falling in love, he's not very sure.

word count: 2563

a/n: this is based off this post of mine (as per @flirtyhyuck 's request) and im here to say that im sorry this wasnt supposed to see the light of day

"Can you please tell Jeno to tell his best friend to stop staring at mine?" Jaemin almost growls, pulling your chair over nearer to him. You whine a little at being closer to the scent of his coffee, scrunching your nose up and pulling away. He gasps at the rejection but you smile at him and reach for his hands instead. He rolls his eyes and faces Renjun, "Please."

"Na, you know I don't talk to people. I'm allergic." Renjun grumbles. "Talk to Jisung instead, he's been hanging out with the music kid for a project."

"He's older than you, and he has a name," Jisung grimaces over a cup of hot chocolate. "His name is Mark. Mark Lee."

"See?" Renjun shrugs as if to prove a point. "He even knows his 'name'."

"But this is so unfair!" comes the inevitable whine from the younger. "Chenle is friends with Hyuck-hyung!"

"Chenle is friends with everyone. Whatever, one of you needs to do it." Jaemin sighs, turning his chair to face you. He raises a brow, "What're you thinking?"

Your hand still loosely wraps around his, and he slowly entwines them together.

Warm. It's warm like a cup of whatever the hell it is Na Jaemin is drinking. What were you thinking, though? A while ago, there was a lot — random numbers, other subjects, an article you read yesterday, the way Jisung's eyes shined at the mention of Mark. Right now, there's only one; Don't catch feelings.

Those thoughts are regular and they were haunting. These days, they're not as incessant as the past few months, but they still come and they are unbelievably strong — don't catch feelings. Something tells you that it's too late and you already did. Something tells you that you are stupid.

But, what if things worked, right? He's soft and kind and he's lovely. You fit in a lot of things and you disagree in some but that's just perfectly balanced, isn't it? He won't hurt you — oh, how he won't do that. He never will. Na Jaemin, this magical boy — what if?

"Damn, Lee Donghyuck is really in love with you," someone chimes loudly, and you don't even need to see who's rushing to your table before Jisung groans in disdain and makes space for this odd friend. Chenle makes a vague motion, asking people to look away. "He talked my ear off about how pretty you looked while painting at Art's class. He's whipped."

What if, huh? You turn away from the idea with a smile. Don't be silly...

"No, he's not, Chenle." You reply to the boy but keep your eyes at Jaemin, smiling still. "I wasn't thinking about anything. That was me spacing out."

Jaemin rolls his eyes again, seemingly moodier than usual. His soft giggle later makes you laugh, though. Oh, how weak this boy was. How weak he became when someone smiled at him. Or maybe, only when a specific someone does it.

"What do you mean 'No he's not, Chenle'?" The brat refuses to get the hint and live him down. He makes a quick show of turning around to the other side to check Lee Donghyuck and his friends' table, then pointing at them, "He's staring at you."

"He's not!" You hiss, glaring at the people who are either eavesdropping or watching or worse, both.

"Is, though." Jisung shrugs. "I bet he writes you love songs."

"Does not!" you glare at the duo, begs Jaemin through your eyes to tell them to stop. Unfortunately, Jaemin is already gushing at the two. You stomp your feet to get their attention, "We don't even know each other!"

And that was a lie. Renjun's eyes read those words, he must've known. He probably knew about the accidental bumping into each other at the playground, or the awkward laughs you two share at the convenience store; maybe he saw him helping you with Mathematics at the library, or he stumbled upon most of your accidental meetings; those were by coincidence, right? They had to be. Renjun's eyes also read another set of words: Don't break his heart.

But how can you not? You weren't in love with him. You were in love with somebody else, and you wished that the sunshine boy didn't adore you like that. Why does Renjun care about Hyuck? They haven't even spoken to each other. You sigh, and at that very moment, you hear the door open and close. Donghyuck and his friends left. The room mourns the lack of the warmth of their muffled laughter.

"You know what, I'll just go see Lee Donghyuck." You huff your cheeks, palms slamming on either side of the table. Jaemin startles, tries to speak, but you're already cutting him off with a much more determined gaze.

"I have his number from when Chenle got it for me. I'll go home, change clothes, ask him to meet up and I'll prove you guys wrong." you stand up, tearing away from his stare. "It'll drive me crazy if I don't."

"But we—" he bites back a sigh, but you notice the way his hands attempted to reach up and pull you back down to your chair. It seemed like a quiet plead to hang around. He smiles, "Do you need a ride?"

That day you told him no, and you pinched his cheeks instead of your usual kind of goodbye; that one where you pout and tug at his sleeves, wishing for fifteen more minutes without words but only your eyes, knowing you'd meet each other tomorrow but not quite wanting to even part.

If Jaemin knew that it will be the moment where everything begins to change, he knows he would have held you tight and never let you go.

You officially got together with Donghyuck on the 24th of December. Jaemin isn't interested in knowing how it happened, but he briefly remembers the next few days after that: everyone talking about Donghyuck's sweet voice, Mark and Jeno playing the guitar, and a kiss under a mistletoe. Renjun and Jisung gave him as many sweets as they could manage to find, though they quickly realized that he isn't gonna give up on his little role of a boy not broken. Chenle was the one who talked him down, smacked his head, hugged him tight, and told him to snap out of it.

It was sure as hell disrespectful and he got an earful after that, but it did help Jaemin. At that moment, there was a silent agreement between the three that it was all that mattered: Jaemin accepted the pain and knew that he wasn't alone in all of this.

Heartbreak felt bitter and it wasn't kind, but Jaemin knew that much. Chenle's been saying those things to him for a while now — especially if it's because of someone you're close to. Even more if you haven't confessed yet, hyung. Damn it. It hurts so much — he said so many times Jaemin couldn't bother count. He never learned this, though, and he never even thought that he'd be in this situation: right now, he should be making a homework. Right now, he just realized that a heartbreak is even more extremely cruel if you never even realized that you had feelings until the moment you're hurting.

He looks down on his open notebook, glares at the unanswered question before ultimately giving up. Beside him, Renjun lost himself in a book and Chenle fell asleep. He searches for Jisung only to find him with a very familiar-looking boy — Mark Lee — shyly talking behind a bookshelf. Jaemin grits his teeth and wonders what the hell it is that this group has that he keeps losing his friends to them.

Sometimes, Jaemin falls into the ways of an escapist, as Renjun said once. He and his big words were normal. What's not normal is his daydream — it wasn't the two of you and your friends in Neverland, and it wasn't his imagination of how future plans would unfold — because sometimes he tends to do that, imagine how things would go. Right now, he's not thinking of that sleepover at Chenle's. He's not drinking up the image of a long, aimless drive (that will certainly happen. Jisung won't allow it not to happen), stargazing and exchanging theories on extraterrestrial life (that will definitely happen once again, because of Jisung as well, but now with the help of Renjun). His daydreams center on rain clouds today.

In his mind, you're both in some comforting cottage in the woods and there's a thunderstorm. The scent of petrichor and deep wood mixes with a calm and cozy atmosphere. You're tucked safely in his arms and he has you all to himself; right now, in his mind, he can be as selfish as possible. You're talking and laughing over sweet little nothings, and Jaemin has to catch himself a little so that even if he continues to fall, it wouldn't be as fast. He likes some things slow. He likes soaking up certain moments just as much as he likes the other events' turbulence. With you, he loved everything slow.

Slowly walking from your houses to school. Slowly drinking warm drinks. Slowly putting puzzle pieces together. Slowly dancing to Jisung's upbeat playlist. Slowly baring yourselves of masks. Slowly learning to trust.

Slowly falling in love, he's not very sure. More often than not, he would ask himself in his mind: 'Would it all be different if I fell in love faster?'

Maybe there were some things that needed to be rushed. Some things that needed to be instantaneous. He laughs inside his mind and asks again, 'Can this heartbreak be quicker, then?'

The false memory is ruined.

Jaemin comes back down to reality at the scent of roses. His shoulders ache a little from leaning at the lockers, so he stands properly and meets your confused expression. Roses. Chocolates. Letters. You. You look awfully flustered and the pink hue in your cheeks becomes bolder and bolder each phrase your eyes read. Jaemin smirks and takes a peek.

I don't know what went through my head or whatever hopeless romantic spirit decided to posses me today, but I love you. And I miss you. Let's have a date?

Cheesy. His grin grows wider but he promises himself that it's the last. He won't look at you so lovingly again. He won't feel like this anymore. Donghyuck is bratty and headstrong but he was kind and he cherished you, ready to give you the world — Jaemin finds that he can do that, too. Except that it's Donghyuck whom you intensely love. He promises himself that he'll get over you but only because he knew that he's bad at promises.

"Against Hyuck?" he drawls as if to make a joke. His laugh sounded way too wounded for it to be funny, though, and he leans to the lockers again because his knees buckle at your gaze, the one that slowly makes him melt all the damn time. "There was never really a chance for me, huh?"

He thinks you'd run away and go as far as possible from him from then on. He thinks you should — he implied that he liked you. He implied that he wanted a chance. He implied that he hoped for it. When you didn't do anything but tear your eyes away from the lovely note, he assumed you've taken it as a joke, that you were dense — that you were dense again. Instead, you tilted your head to him, "This is where it gets painful."

He aches to ask what it is that you meant, but he found that he couldn't speak. He's tongue-tied and he couldn't move, couldn't find the right words to say. It's as if his ability to make a sound was stolen from him. He's unaware of the world because all he can see is tender gazes and all that he can listen to is a gentle voice, then the words he never thought he'd hear — you were staring at him and then you sighed.

"You did, once."

A series of unexpected events have already unfolded, but this probably was one of the top three. He doesn't know where he gets the strength, but he stands straight again. He tears all the what if's and what could've been's and what will never be away for this moment, and he doesn't dwell on the fact that you loved him. That there was a chance. That he completely missed that chance because he was so afraid, so scared of falling in love and ruining all that you both have slowly built together. He doesn't understand how he even got to crack up at that realization, but he does — "And that was a perfect exchange. Jisung would love that."

You wink at him in quick humor, but you laugh at him with unrest, "Why Jisung?"

"He's into this kind of thing these days." He shrugs. "Speaking of, isn't it weird how Jisung all so suddenly likes sappy movies? Is he going through something?"

"He hasn't said anything. Maybe he's not yet ready to share with the class, Jaemin." You reply, smirking, "Are you playing detective, or are you nosy?"

"I'm concerned." He lights flicks your forehead. You giggle as he does that, eyes fluttering shut, and his heart stings again. When you open them, he's staring at you.

The look in your eyes screamed of honesty and pure truth. Jaemin understands, he always does. And he knows too, he knows that you're aware as well. He knows that you saw the same sincerity in his eyes and you knew that every single bit of that intense moment was true. At that, he swings an arm at your shoulders and led the two of you to the exit, opening a talk about your other friends and plans of meeting at 12 pm at the usual for lunch, then he cracks a joke, and you genuinely chuckle.

"I used to daydream about us," used to be said to prompt a laugh. On a normal day, that was the joke that makes you fall over and not the multiple bizarre versions of "Why did the chicken cross the road?". On a normal day, you two would talk hours and hours about daydreaming about each other, some sappy and some downright comedy. On a normal day, that's the topic you both center around as you walk your way to your other friends.

Today wasn't a normal day, though, because today you shine under the sun brighter than others, and you look very stunning in yellow. Today wasn't a normal day because you didn't take the normal route, instead, you made a turn to bid someone a quick farewell. Today, "Do you think there's another world where we're together?" doesn't feel like a question elicited from Renjun's multiverse theories and "If you knew, would you try?" isn't just a verse from Jisung's surprising secret stash of self-written poetry. Today, "You were a dream that shined brightly above me and just like the fate of a gazer and a star, you are so far from my reach" isn't just something he read out of the book Chenle reads.

Today, Jaemin watches you fall in Donghyuck's arms like it was all you were meant to do, and his heart breaks.

[readerbookclub]

Hello everyone! It's time for another book list. This list is composed of books where characters have special powers/abilities. Let's dive right in!

Our first novel is the book that inspired this list! It was suggested to me in a survey, and I loved it immediately (thanks to the person behind that suggestion!). This newly released novel is a superhero story about so much more than just super powers. It's about race and what it means to be a young black man:

The Cost of Knowing, by Brittney Morris:

Sixteen-year-old Alex Rufus is trying his best. He tries to be the best employee he can be at the local ice cream shop; the best boyfriend he can be to his amazing girlfriend, Talia; the best protector he can be over his little brother, Isaiah. But as much as Alex tries, he often comes up short. It’s hard to for him to be present when every time he touches an object or person, Alex sees into its future. When he touches a scoop, he has a vision of him using it to scoop ice cream. When he touches his car, he sees it years from now, totaled and underwater. When he touches Talia, he sees them at the precipice of breaking up, and that terrifies him. Alex feels these visions are a curse, distracting him, making him anxious and unable to live an ordinary life. And when Alex touches a photo that gives him a vision of his brother’s imminent death, everything changes. With Alex now in a race against time, death, and circumstances, he and Isaiah must grapple with their past, their future, and what it means to be a young Black man in America in the present.

Our next book approaches the classic super hero story from a different perspective--the villain’s. 

Soon I will Be Invincible, by Austin Grossman

Doctor Impossible—evil genius, diabolical scientist, wannabe world dominator—languishes in a federal detention facility. He's lost his freedom, his girlfriend, and his hidden island fortress. Over the years he's tried to take over the world in every way imaginable: doomsday devices of all varieties (nuclear, thermonuclear, nanotechnological) and mass mind control. He's traveled backwards in time to change history, forward in time to escape it. He's commanded robot armies, insect armies, and dinosaur armies. Fungus army. Army of fish. Of rodents. Alien invasions. All failures. But not this time. This time it's going to be different... Fatale is a rookie superhero on her first day with the Champions, the world's most famous superteam. She's a patchwork woman of skin and chrome, a gleaming technological marvel built to be the next generation of warfare. Filling the void left by a slain former member, Fatale joins a team struggling with a damaged past, trying to come together in the face of unthinkable evil.

For our next book, we take a step back from the world of superheroes. Instead we turn to those who create these much-loved stories:

The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay, by Michael Chabon:

Joe Kavalier, a young Jewish artist who has also been trained in the art of Houdini-esque escape, has just smuggled himself out of Nazi-invaded Prague and landed in New York City. His Brooklyn cousin Sammy Clay is looking for a partner to create heroes, stories, and art for the latest novelty to hit America - the comic book. Drawing on their own fears and dreams, Kavalier and Clay create the Escapist, the Monitor, and Luna Moth, inspired by the beautiful Rosa Saks, who will become linked by powerful ties to both men. With exhilarating style and grace, Michael Chabon tells an unforgettable story about American romance and possibility.

In our next book, the character is not a superhero. But she does possess a special ability, a connection to the dead. (To be honest, it’s really hard to find standalone superhero books, so we had to switch it up a bit!)

Elatsoe, by Darcie Little Badger

Imagine an America very similar to our own. It’s got homework, best friends, and pistachio ice cream. There are some differences. This America been shaped dramatically by the magic, monsters, knowledge, and legends of its peoples, those Indigenous and those not. Some of these forces are charmingly everyday, like the ability to make an orb of light appear or travel across the world through rings of fungi. But other forces are less charming and should never see the light of day. Elatsoe lives in this slightly stranger America. She can raise the ghosts of dead animals, a skill passed down through generations of her Lipan Apache family. Her beloved cousin has just been murdered, in a town that wants no prying eyes. But she is going to do more than pry. The picture-perfect facade of Willowbee masks gruesome secrets, and she will rely on her wits, skills, and friends to tear off the mask and protect her family.

Being a super hero is cool and all, but most of us aren’t. Sometimes, you’re just a normal kid, living a normal life. That’s what our last book explores:

The Rest of Us Just Live Here, by Patrick Ness

What if you aren’t the Chosen One? The one who’s supposed to fight the zombies, or the soul-eating ghosts, or whatever the heck this new thing is, with the blue lights and the death? What if you’re like Mikey? Who just wants to graduate and go to prom and maybe finally work up the courage to ask Henna out before someone goes and blows up the high school. Again. Because sometimes there are problems bigger than this week’s end of the world, and sometimes you just have to find the extraordinary in your ordinary life. Even if your best friend is worshipped by mountain lions...

Please vote here!

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[hldailyupdate]

Playtime With Harry Styles

THE MEN’S BATHING POND in London’s Hampstead Heath at daybreak on a gloomy September morning seemed such an unlikely locale for my first meeting with Harry Styles, music’s legendarily charm-heavy style czar, that I wondered perhaps if something had been lost in translation.

But then there is Styles, cheerily gung ho, hidden behind a festive yellow bandana mask and a sweatshirt of his own design, surprisingly printed with three portraits of his intellectual pinup, the author Alain de Botton. “I love his writing,” says Styles. “I just think he’s brilliant. I saw him give a talk about the keys to happiness, and how one of the keys is living among friends, and how real friendship stems from being vulnerable with someone.”

In turn, de Botton’s 2016 novel The Course of Love taught Styles that “when it comes to relationships, you just expect yourself to be good at it…[but] being in a real relationship with someone is a skill,” one that Styles himself has often had to hone in the unforgiving klieg light of public attention, and in the company of such high-profile paramours as Taylor Swift and—well, Styles is too much of a gentleman to name names.

That sweatshirt and the Columbia Records tracksuit bottoms are removed in the quaint wooden open-air changing room, with its Swallows and Amazons vibe. A handful of intrepid fellow patrons in various states of undress are blissfully unaware of the 26-year-old supernova in their midst, although I must admit I’m finding it rather difficult to take my eyes off him, try as I might. Styles has been on a six-day juice cleanse in readiness for Vogue’s photographer Tyler Mitchell. He practices Pilates (“I’ve got very tight hamstrings—trying to get those open”) and meditates twice a day. “It has changed my life,” he avers, “but it’s so subtle. It’s helped me just be more present. I feel like I’m able to enjoy the things that are happening right in front of me, even if it’s food or it’s coffee or it’s being with a friend—or a swim in a really cold pond!” Styles also feels that his meditation practices have helped him through the tumult of 2020: “Meditation just brings a stillness that has been really beneficial, I think, for my mental health.”

Styles has been a pescatarian for three years, inspired by the vegan food that several members of his current band prepared on tour. “My body definitely feels better for it,” he says. His shapely torso is prettily inscribed with the tattoos of a Victorian sailor—a rose, a galleon, a mermaid, an anchor, and a palm tree among them, and, straddling his clavicle, the dates 1967 and 1957 (the respective birth years of his mother and father). Frankly, I rather wish I’d packed a beach muumuu.

We take the piratical gangplank that juts into the water and dive in. Let me tell you, this is not the Aegean. The glacial water is a cloudy phlegm green beneath the surface, and clammy reeds slap one’s ankles. Styles, who admits he will try any fad, has recently had a couple of cryotherapy sessions and is evidently less susceptible to the cold. By the time we have swum a full circuit, however, body temperatures have adjusted, and the ice, you might say, has been broken. Duly invigorated, we are ready to face the day. Styles has thoughtfully brought a canister of coffee and some bottles of water in his backpack, and we sit at either end of a park bench for a socially distanced chat.

It seems that he has had a productive year. At the onset of lockdown, Styles found himself in his second home, in the canyons of Los Angeles. After a few days on his own, however, he moved in with a pod of three friends (and subsequently with two band members, Mitch Rowland and Sarah Jones). They “would put names in a hat and plan the week out,” Styles explains. “If you were Monday, you would choose the movie, dinner, and the activity for that day. I like to make soups, and there was a big array of movies; we went all over the board,” from Goodfellas to Clueless. The experience, says Styles, “has been a really good lesson in what makes me happy now. It’s such a good example of living in the moment. I honestly just like being around my friends,” he adds. “That’s been my biggest takeaway. Just being on my own the whole time, I would have been miserable.”

Styles is big on friendship groups and considers his former and legendarily hysteria-inducing boy band, One Direction, to have been one of them. “I think the typical thing is to come out of a band like that and almost feel like you have to apologize for being in it,” says Styles. “But I loved my time in it. It was all new to me, and I was trying to learn as much as I could. I wanted to soak it in…. I think that’s probably why I like traveling now—soaking stuff up.” In a post-COVID future, he is contemplating a temporary move to Tokyo, explaining that “there’s a respect and a stillness, a quietness that I really loved every time I’ve been there.”

In 1D, Styles was making music whenever he could. “After a show you’d go in a hotel room and put down some vocals,” he recalls. As a result, his first solo album, 2017’s Harry Styles, “was when I really fell in love with being in the studio,” he says. “I loved it as much as touring.” Today he favors isolating with his core group of collaborators, “our little bubble”—Rowland, Kid Harpoon (né Tom Hull), and Tyler Johnson. “A safe space,” as he describes it.

In the music he has been working on in 2020, Styles wants to capture the experimental spirit that informed his second album, last year’s Fine Line. With his debut album, “I was very much finding out what my sound was as a solo artist,” he says. “I can see all the places where it almost felt like I was bowling with the bumpers up. I think with the second album I let go of the fear of getting it wrong and…it was really joyous and really free. I think with music it’s so important to evolve—and that extends to clothes and videos and all that stuff. That’s why you look back at David Bowie with Ziggy Stardust or the Beatles and their different eras—that fearlessness is super inspiring.”

The seismic changes of 2020—including the Black Lives Matter uprising around racial justice—has also provided Styles with an opportunity for personal growth. “I think it’s a time for opening up and learning and listening,” he says. “I’ve been trying to read and educate myself so that in 20 years I’m still doing the right things and taking the right steps. I believe in karma, and I think it’s just a time right now where we could use a little more kindness and empathy and patience with people, be a little more prepared to listen and grow.”

Meanwhile, Styles’s euphoric single “Watermelon Sugar” became something of an escapist anthem for this dystopian summer of 2020. The video, featuring Styles (dressed in ’70s-­flavored Gucci and Bode) cavorting with a pack of beach-babe girls and boys, was shot in January, before lockdown rules came into play. By the time it was ready to be released in May, a poignant epigraph had been added: “This video is dedicated to touching.”

Styles is looking forward to touring again, when “it’s safe for everyone,” because, as he notes, “being up against people is part of the whole thing. You can’t really re-create it in any way.” But it hasn’t always been so. Early in his career, Styles was so stricken with stage fright that he regularly threw up preperformance. “I just always thought I was going to mess up or something,” he remembers. “But I’ve felt really lucky to have a group of incredibly generous fans. They’re generous emotionally—and when they come to the show, they give so much that it creates this atmosphere that I’ve always found so loving and accepting.”

THIS SUMMER, when it was safe enough to travel, Styles returned to his London home, which is where he suggests we head now, setting off in his modish Primrose Yellow ’73 Jaguar that smells of gasoline and leatherette. “Me and my dad have always bonded over cars,” Styles explains. “I never thought I’d be someone who just went out for a leisurely drive, purely for enjoyment.” On sleepless jet-lagged nights he’ll drive through London’s quiet streets, seeing neighborhoods in a new way. “I find it quite relaxing,” he says.

Over the summer Styles took a road trip with his artist friend Tomo Campbell through France and Italy, setting off at four in the morning and spending the night in Geneva, where they jumped in the lake “to wake ourselves up.” (I see a pattern emerging.) At the end of the trip Styles drove home alone, accompanied by an upbeat playlist that included “Aretha Franklin, Parliament, and a lot of Stevie Wonder. It was really fun for me,” he says. “I don’t travel like that a lot. I’m usually in such a rush, but there was a stillness to it. I love the feeling of nobody knowing where I am, that kind of escape...and freedom.”

GROWING UP in a village in the North of England, Styles thought of London as a world apart: “It truly felt like a different country.” At a wide-eyed 16, he came down to the teeming metropolis after his mother entered him on the U.K. talent-search show The X Factor. “I went to the audition to find out if I could sing,” Styles recalls, “or if my mum was just being nice to me.” Styles was eliminated but subsequently brought back with other contestants—Niall Horan, Liam Payne, Louis Tomlinson, and Zayn Malik—to form a boy band that was named (on Styles’s suggestion) One Direction. The wily X Factor creator and judge, Simon Cowell, soon signed them to his label Syco Records, and the rest is history: 1D’s first four albums, supported by four world tours from 2011 to 2015, debuted at number one on the U.S. Billboard charts, and the band has sold 70 million records to date. At 18, Styles bought the London house he now calls home. “I was going to do two weeks’ work to it,” he remembers, “but when I came back there was no second floor,” so he moved in with adult friends who lived nearby till the renovation was complete. “Eighteen months,” he deadpans. “I’ve always seen that period as pretty pivotal for me, as there’s that moment at the party where it’s getting late, and half of the people would go upstairs to do drugs, and the other people go home. I was like, ‘I don’t really know this friend’s wife, so I’m not going to get all messy and then go home.’ I had to behave a bit, at a time where everything else about my life felt I didn’t have to behave really. I’ve been lucky to always feel I have this family unit somewhere.”

When Styles’s London renovation was finally done, “I went in for the first time and I cried,” he recalls. “Because I just felt like I had somewhere. L.A. feels like holiday, but this feels like home.”

“There’s so much joy to be had in playing with clothes. I’ve never thought too much about what it means—it just becomes this extended part of creating something”

Behind its pink door, Styles’s house has all the trappings of rock stardom—there’s a man cave filled with guitars, a Sex Pistols Never Mind the Bollocks poster (a moving-in gift from his decorator), a Stevie Nicks album cover. Fleetwood Mac’s “Dreams” was one of the first songs he knew the words to—“My parents were big fans”—and he and Nicks have formed something of a mutual-admiration society. At the beginning of lockdown, Nicks tweeted to her fans that she was taking inspiration from Fine Line: “Way to go, H,” she wrote. “It is your Rumours.” “She’s always there for you,” said Styles when he inducted Nicks into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame in 2019. “She knows what you need—advice, a little wisdom, a blouse, a shawl; she’s got you covered.”

Styles makes us some tea in the light-filled kitchen and then wanders into the convivial living room, where he strikes an insouciant pose on the chesterfield sofa, upholstered in a turquoise velvet that perhaps not entirely coincidentally sets off his eyes. Styles admits that his lockdown lewk was “sweatpants, constantly,” and he is relishing the opportunity to dress up again. He doesn’t have to wait long: The following day, under the eaves of a Victorian mansion in Notting Hill, I arrive in the middle of fittings for Vogue’s shoot and discover Styles in his Y-fronts, patiently waiting to try on looks for fashion editor Camilla Nickerson and photographer Tyler Mitchell. Styles’s personal stylist, Harry Lambert, wearing a pearl necklace and his nails colored in various shades of green varnish, à la Sally Bowles, is providing helpful backup (Britain’s Rule of Six hasn’t yet been imposed).

Styles, who has thoughtfully brought me a copy of de Botton’s 2006 book The Architecture of Happiness, is instinctively and almost quaintly polite, in an old-fashioned, holding-open-doors and not-mentioning-lovers-by-name sort of way. He is astounded to discover that the Atlanta-born Mitchell has yet to experience a traditional British Sunday roast dinner. Assuring him that “it’s basically like Thanksgiving every Sunday,” Styles gives Mitchell the details of his favorite London restaurants in which to enjoy one. “It’s a good thing to be nice,” Mitchell tells me after a morning in Styles’s company.

MITCHELL has Lionel Wendt’s languorously homoerotic 1930s portraits of young Sri Lankan men on his mood board. Nickerson is thinking of Irving Penn’s legendary fall 1950 Paris haute couture collections sitting, where he photographed midcentury supermodels, including his wife, Lisa Fonssagrives, in high-style Dior and Balenciaga creations. Styles is up for all of it, and so, it would seem, is the menswear landscape of 2020: Jonathan Anderson has produced a trapeze coat anchored with a chunky gold martingale; John Galliano at Maison Margiela has fashioned a khaki trench with a portrait neckline in layers of colored tulle; and Harris Reed—a Saint Martins fashion student sleuthed by Lambert who ended up making some looks for Styles’s last tour—has spent a week making a broad-shouldered Smoking jacket with high-waisted, wide-leg pants that have become a Styles signature since he posed for Tim Walker for the cover of Fine Line wearing a Gucci pair—a silhouette that was repeated in the tour wardrobe. (“I liked the idea of having that uniform,” says Styles.) Reed’s version is worn with a hoopskirt draped in festoons of hot-pink satin that somehow suggests Deborah Kerr asking Yul Brynner’s King of Siam, “Shall we dance?”

Styles introduces me to the writer and eyewear designer Gemma Styles, “my sister from the same womb,” he says. She is also here for the fitting: The siblings plan to surprise their mother with the double portrait on these pages.

I ask her whether her brother had always been interested in clothes.

“My mum loved to dress us up,” she remembers. “I always hated it, and Harry was always quite into it. She did some really elaborate papier-mâché outfits: She made a giant mug and then painted an atlas on it, and that was Harry being ‘The World Cup.’ Harry also had a little dalmatian-dog outfit,” she adds, “a hand-me-down from our closest family friends. He would just spend an inordinate amount of time wearing that outfit. But then Mum dressed me up as Cruella de Vil. She was always looking for any opportunity!”

“As a kid I definitely liked fancy dress,” Styles says. There were school plays, the first of which cast him as Barney, a church mouse. “I was really young, and I wore tights for that,” he recalls. “I remember it was crazy to me that I was wearing a pair of tights. And that was maybe where it all kicked off!”

Acting has also remained a fundamental form of expression for Styles. His sister recalls that even on the eve of his life-changing X Factor audition, Styles could sing in public only in an assumed voice. “He used to do quite a good sort of Elvis warble,” she remembers. During the rehearsals in the family home, “he would sing in the bathroom because if it was him singing as himself, he just couldn’t have anyone looking at him! I love his voice now,” she adds. “I’m so glad that he makes music that I actually enjoy listening to.”

Styles cuts a cool figure in this black-white-and-red-all-over checked coat by JW Anderson.

Styles’s role-playing continued soon after 1D went on permanent hiatus in 2016, and he was cast in Christopher Nolan’s Dunkirk, beating out dozens of professional actors for the role. “The good part was my character was a young soldier who didn’t really know what he was doing,” says Styles modestly. “The scale of the movie was so big that I was a tiny piece of the puzzle. It was definitely humbling. I just loved being outside of my comfort zone.”

His performance caught the eye of Olivia Wilde, who remembers that it “blew me away—the openness and commitment.” In turn, Styles loved Wilde’s directorial debut, Booksmart, and is “very honored” that she cast him in a leading role for her second feature, a thriller titled Don’t Worry Darling, which went into production this fall. Styles will play the husband to Florence Pugh in what Styles describes as “a 1950s utopia in the California desert.”

Wilde’s movie is costumed by Academy Award nominee Arianne Phillips. “She and I did a little victory dance when we heard that we officially had Harry in the film,” notes Wilde, “because we knew that he has a real appreciation for fashion and style. And this movie is incredibly stylistic. It’s very heightened and opulent, and I’m really grateful that he is so enthusiastic about that element of the process—some actors just don’t care.”

“I like playing dress-up in general,” Styles concurs, in a masterpiece of understatement: This is the man, after all, who cohosted the Met’s 2019 “Notes on Camp” gala attired in a nipple-freeing black organza blouse with a lace jabot, and pants so high-waisted that they cupped his pectorals. The ensemble, accessorized with the pearl-drop earring of a dandified Elizabethan courtier, was created for Styles by Gucci’s Alessandro Michele, whom he befriended in 2014. Styles, who has subsequently personified the brand as the face of the Gucci fragrance, finds Michele “fearless with his work and his imagination. It’s really inspiring to be around someone who works like that.”

The two first met in London over a cappuccino. “It was just a kind of PR appointment,” says Michele, “but something magical happened, and Harry is now a friend. He has the aura of an English rock-and-roll star—like a young Greek god with the attitude of James Dean and a little bit of Mick Jagger—but no one is sweeter. He is the image of a new era, of the way that a man can look.”

Styles credits his style trans­formation—from Jack Wills tracksuit-clad boy-band heartthrob to nonpareil fashionisto—to his meeting the droll young stylist Harry Lambert seven years ago. They hit it off at once and have conspired ever since, enjoying a playfully campy rapport and calling each other Sue and Susan as they parse the niceties of the scarlet lace Gucci man-bra that Michele has made for Vogue’s shoot, for instance, or a pair of Bode pants hand-painted with biographical images (Styles sent Emily Adams Bode images of his family, and a photograph he had found of David Hockney and Joni Mitchell. “The idea of those two being friends, to me, was really beautiful,” Styles explains).

“He just has fun with clothing, and that’s kind of where I’ve got it from,” says Styles of Lambert. “He doesn’t take it too seriously, which means I don’t take it too seriously.” The process has been evolutionary. At his first meeting with Lambert, the stylist proposed “a pair of flares, and I was like, ‘Flares? That’s fucking crazy,’  ” Styles remembers. Now he declares that “you can never be overdressed. There’s no such thing. The people that I looked up to in music—Prince and David Bowie and Elvis and Freddie Mercury and Elton John—they’re such showmen. As a kid it was completely mind-blowing. Now I’ll put on something that feels really flamboyant, and I don’t feel crazy wearing it. I think if you get something that you feel amazing in, it’s like a superhero outfit. Clothes are there to have fun with and experiment with and play with. What’s really exciting is that all of these lines are just kind of crumbling away. When you take away ‘There’s clothes for men and there’s clothes for women,’ once you remove any barriers, obviously you open up the arena in which you can play. I’ll go in shops sometimes, and I just find myself looking at the women’s clothes thinking they’re amazing. It’s like anything—anytime you’re putting barriers up in your own life, you’re just limiting yourself. There’s so much joy to be had in playing with clothes. I’ve never really thought too much about what it means—it just becomes this extended part of creating something.”

“He’s up for it,” confirms Lambert, who earlier this year, for instance, found a JW Anderson cardigan with the look of a Rubik’s Cube (“on sale at matches.com!”). Styles wore it, accessorized with his own pearl necklace, for a Today rehearsal in February and it went viral: His fans were soon knitting their own versions and posting the results on TikTok. Jonathan Anderson declared himself “so impressed and incredibly humbled by this trend” that he nimbly made the pattern available (complete with a YouTube tutorial) so that Styles’s fans could copy it for free. Meanwhile, London’s storied Victoria & Albert Museum has requested Styles’s original: an emblematic document of how people got creative during the COVID era. “It’s going to be in their permanent collection,” says Lambert exultantly. “Is that not sick? Is that not the most epic thing?”

“It’s pretty powerful and kind of extraordinary to see someone in his position redefining what it can mean to be a man with confidence,” says Olivia Wilde

“To me, he’s very modern,” says Wilde of Styles, “and I hope that this brand of confidence as a male that Harry has—truly devoid of any traces of toxic masculinity—is indicative of his generation and therefore the future of the world. I think he is in many ways championing that, spearheading that. It’s pretty powerful and kind of extraordinary to see someone in his position redefining what it can mean to be a man with confidence.”

“He’s really in touch with his feminine side because it’s something natural,” notes Michele. “And he’s a big inspiration to a younger generation—about how you can be in a totally free playground when you feel comfortable. I think that he’s a revolutionary.”

There are references aplenty in this look by Harris Reed, which features a Victoriana crinoline, 1980s shoulders, and pants of zoot-suit proportions.

STYLES’S confidence is on full display the day after the fitting, which finds us all on the beautiful Sussex dales. Over the summit of the hill, with its trees blown horizontal by the fierce winds, lies the English Channel. Even though it’s a two-hour drive from London, the fresh-faced Styles, who went to bed at 9 p.m., has arrived on set early: He is famously early for everything. The team is installed in a traditional flint-stone barn. The giant doors have been replaced by glass and frame a bucolic view of distant grazing sheep. “Look at that field!” says Styles. “How lucky are we? This is our office! Smell the roses!” Lambert starts to sing “Kumbaya, my Lord.”

Hairdresser Malcolm Edwards is setting Styles’s hair in a Victory roll with silver clips, and until it is combed out he resembles Kathryn Grayson with stubble. His fingers are freighted with rings, and “he has a new army of mini purses,” says Lambert, gesturing to an accessory table heaving with examples including a mini sky-blue Gucci Diana bag discreetly monogrammed HS. Michele has also made Styles a dress for the shoot that Tissot might have liked to paint—acres of ice-blue ruffles, black Valenciennes lace, and suivez-moi, jeune homme ribbons. Erelong, Styles is gamely racing up a hill in it, dodging sheep scat, thistles, and shards of chalk, and striking a pose for Mitchell that manages to make ruffles a compelling new masculine proposition, just as Mr. Fish’s frothy white cotton dress—equal parts Romantic poet and Greek presidential guard—did for Mick Jagger when he wore it for The Rolling Stones’ free performance in Hyde Park in 1969, or as the suburban-mom floral housedress did for Kurt Cobain as he defined the iconoclastic grunge aesthetic. Styles is mischievously singing ABBA’s “Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! (A Man After Midnight)” to himself when Mitchell calls him outside to jump up and down on a trampoline in a Comme des Garçons buttoned wool kilt. “How did it look?” asks his sister when he comes in from the cold. “Divine,” says her brother in playful Lambert-speak.

As the wide sky is washed in pink, orange, and gray, like a Turner sunset, and Mitchell calls it a successful day, Styles is playing “Cherry” from Fine Line on his Fender acoustic on the hilltop. “He does his own stunts,” says his sister, laughing. The impromptu set is greeted with applause. “Thank you, Antwerp!” says Styles playfully, bowing to the crowd. “Thank you, fashion!”

[hlupdate]

THE MEN’S BATHING POND in London’s Hampstead Heath at daybreak on a gloomy September morning seemed such an unlikely locale for my first meeting with Harry Styles, music’s legendarily charm-heavy style czar, that I wondered perhaps if something had been lost in translation.

But then there is Styles, cheerily gung ho, hidden behind a festive yellow bandana mask and a sweatshirt of his own design, surprisingly printed with three portraits of his intellectual pinup, the author Alain de Botton. “I love his writing,” says Styles. “I just think he’s brilliant. I saw him give a talk about the keys to happiness, and how one of the keys is living among friends, and how real friendship stems from being vulnerable with someone.”

In turn, de Botton’s 2016 novel The Course of Love taught Styles that “when it comes to relationships, you just expect yourself to be good at it…[but] being in a real relationship with someone is a skill,” one that Styles himself has often had to hone in the unforgiving klieg light of public attention, and in the company of such high-profile paramours as Taylor Swift and—well, Styles is too much of a gentleman to name names.

That sweatshirt and the Columbia Records tracksuit bottoms are removed in the quaint wooden open-air changing room, with its Swallows and Amazons vibe. A handful of intrepid fellow patrons in various states of undress are blissfully unaware of the 26-year-old supernova in their midst, although I must admit I’m finding it rather difficult to take my eyes off him, try as I might. Styles has been on a six-day juice cleanse in readiness for Vogue’s photographer Tyler Mitchell. He practices Pilates (“I’ve got very tight hamstrings—trying to get those open”) and meditates twice a day. “It has changed my life,” he avers, “but it’s so subtle. It’s helped me just be more present. I feel like I’m able to enjoy the things that are happening right in front of me, even if it’s food or it’s coffee or it’s being with a friend—or a swim in a really cold pond!” Styles also feels that his meditation practices have helped him through the tumult of 2020: “Meditation just brings a stillness that has been really beneficial, I think, for my mental health.”

Styles has been a pescatarian for three years, inspired by the vegan food that several members of his current band prepared on tour. “My body definitely feels better for it,” he says. His shapely torso is prettily inscribed with the tattoos of a Victorian sailor—a rose, a galleon, a mermaid, an anchor, and a palm tree among them, and, straddling his clavicle, the dates 1967 and 1957 (the respective birth years of his mother and father). Frankly, I rather wish I’d packed a beach muumuu.

We take the piratical gangplank that juts into the water and dive in. Let me tell you, this is not the Aegean. The glacial water is a cloudy phlegm green beneath the surface, and clammy reeds slap one’s ankles. Styles, who admits he will try any fad, has recently had a couple of cryotherapy sessions and is evidently less susceptible to the cold. By the time we have swum a full circuit, however, body temperatures have adjusted, and the ice, you might say, has been broken. Duly invigorated, we are ready to face the day. Styles has thoughtfully brought a canister of coffee and some bottles of water in his backpack, and we sit at either end of a park bench for a socially distanced chat.

It seems that he has had a productive year. At the onset of lockdown, Styles found himself in his second home, in the canyons of Los Angeles. After a few days on his own, however, he moved in with a pod of three friends (and subsequently with two band members, Mitch Rowland and Sarah Jones). They “would put names in a hat and plan the week out,” Styles explains. “If you were Monday, you would choose the movie, dinner, and the activity for that day. I like to make soups, and there was a big array of movies; we went all over the board,” from Goodfellas to Clueless. The experience, says Styles, “has been a really good lesson in what makes me happy now. It’s such a good example of living in the moment. I honestly just like being around my friends,” he adds. “That’s been my biggest takeaway. Just being on my own the whole time, I would have been miserable.”

Styles is big on friendship groups and considers his former and legendarily hysteria-inducing boy band, One Direction, to have been one of them. “I think the typical thing is to come out of a band like that and almost feel like you have to apologize for being in it,” says Styles. “But I loved my time in it. It was all new to me, and I was trying to learn as much as I could. I wanted to soak it in…. I think that’s probably why I like traveling now—soaking stuff up.” In a post-COVID future, he is contemplating a temporary move to Tokyo, explaining that “there’s a respect and a stillness, a quietness that I really loved every time I’ve been there.”

In 1D, Styles was making music whenever he could. “After a show you’d go in a hotel room and put down some vocals,” he recalls. As a result, his first solo album, 2017’s Harry Styles, “was when I really fell in love with being in the studio,” he says. “I loved it as much as touring.” Today he favors isolating with his core group of collaborators, “our little bubble”—Rowland, Kid Harpoon (né Tom Hull), and Tyler Johnson. “A safe space,” as he describes it.

In the music he has been working on in 2020, Styles wants to capture the experimental spirit that informed his second album, last year’s Fine Line. With his debut album, “I was very much finding out what my sound was as a solo artist,” he says. “I can see all the places where it almost felt like I was bowling with the bumpers up. I think with the second album I let go of the fear of getting it wrong and…it was really joyous and really free. I think with music it’s so important to evolve—and that extends to clothes and videos and all that stuff. That’s why you look back at David Bowie with Ziggy Stardust or the Beatles and their different eras—that fearlessness is super inspiring.”

The seismic changes of 2020—including the Black Lives Matter uprising around racial justice—has also provided Styles with an opportunity for personal growth. “I think it’s a time for opening up and learning and listening,” he says. “I’ve been trying to read and educate myself so that in 20 years I’m still doing the right things and taking the right steps. I believe in karma, and I think it’s just a time right now where we could use a little more kindness and empathy and patience with people, be a little more prepared to listen and grow.”

Meanwhile, Styles’s euphoric single “Watermelon Sugar” became something of an escapist anthem for this dystopian summer of 2020. The video, featuring Styles (dressed in ’70s-­flavored Gucci and Bode) cavorting with a pack of beach-babe girls and boys, was shot in January, before lockdown rules came into play. By the time it was ready to be released in May, a poignant epigraph had been added: “This video is dedicated to touching.”

Styles is looking forward to touring again, when “it’s safe for everyone,” because, as he notes, “being up against people is part of the whole thing. You can’t really re-create it in any way.” But it hasn’t always been so. Early in his career, Styles was so stricken with stage fright that he regularly threw up preperformance. “I just always thought I was going to mess up or something,” he remembers. “But I’ve felt really lucky to have a group of incredibly generous fans. They’re generous emotionally—and when they come to the show, they give so much that it creates this atmosphere that I’ve always found so loving and accepting.”

THIS SUMMER, when it was safe enough to travel, Styles returned to his London home, which is where he suggests we head now, setting off in his modish Primrose Yellow ’73 Jaguar that smells of gasoline and leatherette. “Me and my dad have always bonded over cars,” Styles explains. “I never thought I’d be someone who just went out for a leisurely drive, purely for enjoyment.” On sleepless jet-lagged nights he’ll drive through London’s quiet streets, seeing neighborhoods in a new way. “I find it quite relaxing,” he says.

Over the summer Styles took a road trip with his artist friend Tomo Campbell through France and Italy,setting off at four in the morning and spending the night in Geneva, where they jumped in the lake “to wake ourselves up.” (I see a pattern emerging.) At the end of the trip Styles drove home alone, accompanied by an upbeat playlist that included “Aretha Franklin, Parliament, and a lot of Stevie Wonder. It was really fun for me,” he says. “I don’t travel like that a lot. I’m usually in such a rush, but there was a stillness to it. I love the feeling of nobody knowing where I am, that kind of escape...and freedom.”

GROWING UP in a village in the North of England, Styles thought of London as a world apart: “It truly felt like a different country.” At a wide-eyed 16, he came down to the teeming metropolis after his mother entered him on the U.K. talent-search show The X Factor. “I went to the audition to find out if I could sing,” Styles recalls, “or if my mum was just being nice to me.” Styles was eliminated but subsequently brought back with other contestants—Niall Horan, Liam Payne, Louis Tomlinson, and Zayn Malik—to form a boy band that was named (on Styles’s suggestion) One Direction. The wily X Factor creator and judge, Simon Cowell, soon signed them to his label Syco Records, and the rest is history: 1D’s first four albums, supported by four world tours from 2011 to 2015, debuted at number one on the U.S. Billboardcharts, and the band has sold 70 million records to date. At 18, Styles bought the London house he now calls home. “I was going to do two weeks’ work to it,” he remembers, “but when I came back there was no second floor,” so he moved in with adult friends who lived nearby till the renovation was complete. “Eighteen months,” he deadpans. “I’ve always seen that period as pretty pivotal for me, as there’s that moment at the party where it’s getting late, and half of the people would go upstairs to do drugs, and the other people go home. I was like, ‘I don’t really know this friend’s wife, so I’m not going to get all messy and then go home.’ I had to behave a bit, at a time where everything else about my life felt I didn’t have to behave really. I’ve been lucky to always feel I have this family unit somewhere.”

When Styles’s London renovation was finally done, “I went in for the first time and I cried,” he recalls. “Because I just felt like I had somewhere. L.A. feels like holiday, but this feels like home.”

“There’s so much joy to be had in playing with clothes. I’ve never thought too much about what it means—it just becomes this extended part of creating something”

Behind its pink door, Styles’s house has all the trappings of rock stardom—there’s a man cave filled with guitars, a Sex Pistols Never Mind the Bollocks poster (a moving-in gift from his decorator), a Stevie Nicksalbum cover. Fleetwood Mac’s “Dreams” was one of the first songs he knew the words to—“My parents were big fans”—and he and Nicks have formed something of a mutual-admiration society. At the beginning of lockdown, Nicks tweeted to her fans that she was taking inspiration from Fine Line: “Way to go, H,” she wrote. “It is your Rumours.” “She’s always there for you,” said Styles when he inducted Nicks into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame in 2019. “She knows what you need—advice, a little wisdom, a blouse, a shawl; she’s got you covered.”

Styles makes us some tea in the light-filled kitchen and then wanders into the convivial living room, where he strikes an insouciant pose on the chesterfield sofa, upholstered in a turquoise velvet that perhaps not entirely coincidentally sets off his eyes. Styles admits that his lockdown lewk was “sweatpants, constantly,” and he is relishing the opportunity to dress up again. He doesn’t have to wait long: The following day, under the eaves of a Victorian mansion in Notting Hill, I arrive in the middle of fittings for Vogue’s shoot and discover Styles in his Y-fronts, patiently waiting to try on looks for fashion editor Camilla Nickerson and photographer Tyler Mitchell. Styles’s personal stylist, Harry Lambert, wearing a pearl necklace and his nails colored in various shades of green varnish, à la Sally Bowles, is providing helpful backup (Britain’s Rule of Six hasn’t yet been imposed).

Styles, who has thoughtfully brought me a copy of de Botton’s 2006 book The Architecture of Happiness,is instinctively and almost quaintly polite, in an old-fashioned, holding-open-doors and not-mentioning-lovers-by-name sort of way. He is astounded to discover that the Atlanta-born Mitchell has yet to experience a traditional British Sunday roast dinner. Assuring him that “it’s basically like Thanksgiving every Sunday,” Styles gives Mitchell the details of his favorite London restaurants in which to enjoy one. “It’s a good thing to be nice,” Mitchell tells me after a morning in Styles’s company.

MITCHELL has Lionel Wendt’s languorously homoerotic 1930s portraits of young Sri Lankan men on his mood board. Nickerson is thinking of Irving Penn’s legendary fall 1950 Paris haute couture collections sitting, where he photographed midcentury supermodels, including his wife, Lisa Fonssagrives, in high-style Dior and Balenciaga creations. Styles is up for all of it, and so, it would seem, is the menswear landscape of 2020: Jonathan Anderson has produced a trapeze coat anchored with a chunky gold martingale; John Galliano at Maison Margiela has fashioned a khaki trench with a portrait neckline in layers of colored tulle; and Harris Reed—a Saint Martins fashion student sleuthed by Lambert who ended up making some looks for Styles’s last tour—has spent a week making a broad-shouldered Smoking jacket with high-waisted, wide-leg pants that have become a Styles signature since he posed for Tim Walker for the cover of Fine Line wearing a Gucci pair—a silhouette that was repeated in the tour wardrobe. (“I liked the idea of having that uniform,” says Styles.) Reed’s version is worn with a hoopskirt draped in festoons of hot-pink satin that somehow suggests Deborah Kerr asking Yul Brynner’s King of Siam, “Shall we dance?”

Styles introduces me to the writer and eyewear designer Gemma Styles, “my sister from the same womb,” he says. She is also here for the fitting: The siblings plan to surprise their mother with the double portrait on these pages.

I ask her whether her brother had always been interested in clothes.

“My mum loved to dress us up,” she remembers. “I always hated it, and Harry was always quite into it. She did some really elaborate papier-mâché outfits: She made a giant mug and then painted an atlas on it, and that was Harry being ‘The World Cup.’ Harry also had a little dalmatian-dog outfit,” she adds, “a hand-me-down from our closest family friends. He would just spend an inordinate amount of time wearing that outfit. But then Mum dressed me up as Cruella de Vil. She was always looking for any opportunity!”

“As a kid I definitely liked fancy dress,” Styles says. There were school plays, the first of which cast him as Barney, a church mouse. “I was really young, and I wore tights for that,” he recalls. “I remember it was crazy to me that I was wearing a pair of tights. And that was maybe where it all kicked off!”

Acting has also remained a fundamental form of expression for Styles. His sister recalls that even on the eve of his life-changing X Factor audition, Styles could sing in public only in an assumed voice. “He used to do quite a good sort of Elvis warble,” she remembers. During the rehearsals in the family home, “he would sing in the bathroom because if it was him singing as himself, he just couldn’t have anyone looking at him! I love his voice now,” she adds. “I’m so glad that he makes music that I actually enjoy listening to.”

Styles’s role-playing continued soon after 1D went on permanent hiatus in 2016, and he was cast in Christopher Nolan’s Dunkirk, beating out dozens of professional actors for the role. “The good part was my character was a young soldier who didn’t really know what he was doing,” says Styles modestly. “The scale of the movie was so big that I was a tiny piece of the puzzle. It was definitely humbling. I just loved being outside of my comfort zone.”

His performance caught the eye of Olivia Wilde, who remembers that it “blew me away—the openness and commitment.” In turn, Styles loved Wilde’s directorial debut, Booksmart, and is “very honored” that she cast him in a leading role for her second feature, a thriller titled Don’t Worry Darling, which went into production this fall. Styles will play the husband to Florence Pugh in what Styles describes as “a 1950s utopia in the California desert.”

Wilde’s movie is costumed by Academy Award nominee Arianne Phillips. “She and I did a little victory dance when we heard that we officially had Harry in the film,” notes Wilde, “because we knew that he has a real appreciation for fashion and style. And this movie is incredibly stylistic. It’s very heightened and opulent, and I’m really grateful that he is so enthusiastic about that element of the process—some actors just don’t care.”

“I like playing dress-up in general,” Styles concurs, in a masterpiece of understatement: This is the man, after all, who cohosted the Met’s 2019 “Notes on Camp” gala attired in a nipple-freeing black organza blouse with a lace jabot, and pants so high-waisted that they cupped his pectorals. The ensemble, accessorized with the pearl-drop earring of a dandified Elizabethan courtier, was created for Styles by Gucci’s Alessandro Michele, whom he befriended in 2014. Styles, who has subsequently personified the brand as the face of the Gucci fragrance, finds Michele “fearless with his work and his imagination. It’s really inspiring to be around someone who works like that.”

The two first met in London over a cappuccino. “It was just a kind of PR appointment,” says Michele, “but something magical happened, and Harry is now a friend. He has the aura of an English rock-and-roll star—like a young Greek god with the attitude of James Dean and a little bit of Mick Jagger—but no one is sweeter. He is the image of a new era, of the way that a man can look.”

Styles credits his style trans­formation—from Jack Wills tracksuit-clad boy-band heartthrob to nonpareil fashionisto—to his meeting the droll young stylist Harry Lambert seven years ago. They hit it off at once and have conspired ever since, enjoying a playfully campy rapport and calling each other Sue and Susan as they parse the niceties of the scarlet lace Gucci man-bra that Michele has made for Vogue’s shoot, for instance, or a pair of Bode pants hand-painted with biographical images (Styles sent Emily Adams Bode images of his family, and a photograph he had found of David Hockney and Joni Mitchell. “The idea of those two being friends, to me, was really beautiful,” Styles explains).

“He just has fun with clothing, and that’s kind of where I’ve got it from,” says Styles of Lambert. “He doesn’t take it too seriously, which means I don’t take it too seriously.” The process has been evolutionary. At his first meeting with Lambert, the stylist proposed “a pair of flares, and I was like, ‘Flares? That’s fucking crazy,’  ” Styles remembers. Now he declares that “you can never be overdressed. There’s no such thing. The people that I looked up to in music—Prince and David Bowie and Elvis and Freddie Mercury and Elton John—they’re such showmen. As a kid it was completely mind-blowing. Now I’ll put on something that feels really flamboyant, and I don’t feel crazy wearing it. I think if you get something that you feel amazing in, it’s like a superhero outfit. Clothes are there to have fun with and experiment with and play with. What’s really exciting is that all of these lines are just kind of crumbling away. When you take away ‘There’s clothes for men and there’s clothes for women,’ once you remove any barriers, obviously you open up the arena in which you can play. I’ll go in shops sometimes, and I just find myself looking at the women’s clothes thinking they’re amazing. It’s like anything—anytime you’re putting barriers up in your own life, you’re just limiting yourself. There’s so much joy to be had in playing with clothes. I’ve never really thought too much about what it means—it just becomes this extended part of creating something.”

“He’s up for it,” confirms Lambert, who earlier this year, for instance, found a JW Anderson cardigan with the look of a Rubik’s Cube (“on sale at matches.com!”). Styles wore it, accessorized with his own pearl necklace, for a Today rehearsal in February and it went viral: His fans were soon knitting their own versions and posting the results on TikTok. Jonathan Anderson declared himself “so impressed and incredibly humbled by this trend” that he nimbly made the pattern available (complete with a YouTube tutorial) so that Styles’s fans could copy it for free. Meanwhile, London’s storied Victoria & Albert Museum has requested Styles’s original: an emblematic document of how people got creative during the COVID era. “It’s going to be in their permanent collection,” says Lambert exultantly. “Is that not sick? Is that not the most epic thing?”

“It’s pretty powerful and kind of extraordinary to see someone in his position redefining what it can mean to be a man with confidence,” says Olivia Wilde

“To me, he’s very modern,” says Wilde of Styles, “and I hope that this brand of confidence as a male that Harry has—truly devoid of any traces of toxic masculinity—is indicative of his generation and therefore the future of the world. I think he is in many ways championing that, spearheading that. It’s pretty powerful and kind of extraordinary to see someone in his position redefining what it can mean to be a man with confidence.”

“He’s really in touch with his feminine side because it’s something natural,” notes Michele. “And he’s a big inspiration to a younger generation—about how you can be in a totally free playground when you feel comfortable. I think that he’s a revolutionary.”

STYLES’S confidence is on full display the day after the fitting, which finds us all on the beautiful Sussex dales. Over the summit of the hill, with its trees blown horizontal by the fierce winds, lies the English Channel. Even though it’s a two-hour drive from London, the fresh-faced Styles, who went to bed at 9 p.m., has arrived on set early: He is famously early for everything. The team is installed in a traditional flint-stone barn. The giant doors have been replaced by glass and frame a bucolic view of distant grazing sheep. “Look at that field!” says Styles. “How lucky are we? This is our office! Smell the roses!” Lambert starts to sing “Kumbaya, my Lord.”

Hairdresser Malcolm Edwards is setting Styles’s hair in a Victory roll with silver clips, and until it is combed out he resembles Kathryn Grayson with stubble. His fingers are freighted with rings, and “he has a new army of mini purses,” says Lambert, gesturing to an accessory table heaving with examples including a mini sky-blue Gucci Diana bag discreetly monogrammed HS. Michele has also made Styles a dress for the shoot that Tissot might have liked to paint—acres of ice-blue ruffles, black Valenciennes lace, and suivez-moi, jeune homme ribbons. Erelong, Styles is gamely racing up a hill in it, dodging sheep scat, thistles, and shards of chalk, and striking a pose for Mitchell that manages to make ruffles a compelling new masculine proposition, just as Mr. Fish’s frothy white cotton dress—equal parts Romantic poet and Greek presidential guard—did for Mick Jagger when he wore it for The Rolling Stones’ free performance in Hyde Park in 1969, or as the suburban-mom floral housedress did for Kurt Cobain as he defined the iconoclastic grunge aesthetic. Styles is mischievously singing ABBA’s “Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! (A Man After Midnight)” to himself when Mitchell calls him outside to jump up and down on a trampoline in a Comme des Garçons buttoned wool kilt. “How did it look?” asks his sister when he comes in from the cold. “Divine,” says her brother in playful Lambert-speak.

As the wide sky is washed in pink, orange, and gray, like a Turner sunset, and Mitchell calls it a successful day, Styles is playing “Cherry” from Fine Line on his Fender acoustic on the hilltop. “He does his own stunts,” says his sister, laughing. The impromptu set is greeted with applause. “Thank you, Antwerp!” says Styles playfully, bowing to the crowd. “Thank you, fashion!”