#my vibe must have changed recently because this is the second time in a week ive been Gender-Interrogated by a child

[rockpapertheodore]

"You talk like a boy, but you're a girl!"

Young, precious, precious 6 year old child, I adore you. I couldn't help respond with, "oh yeah? Is that your official diagnosis, doctor?" in affectionate awe.

She, of course, was basing her observation upon my clean-shaven face, and BEAUTIFULLY GLOSSY, LUXURIOUS HAIR TAMED INTO A HUMBLE, OVER-THE-SHOULDER BRAID. Not sure how to explain that it's more complicated than that while her mother was right there waiting for her card to finish running through, I successfully deflected entirely with, "girl, I've had this braid longer than you've been alive," like... like I was some sort of boomer... but I at least kept it cheeky with how I said it so it was clear I was having fun.

Her mom was kind of embarrassed?? I think. Which she shouldn't be, because it was cute as shit. She also complimented my hair and then said it looked really good on me and not knowing on how to reply to that, I just did my patented THOUSAND-WATT GRIN OF DEFLECTION with a big "AWW, THANK YOU MA'AM. RECEIPT? NO? HAVE A WONDERFUL DAY" because I wasn't sure how to take the sudden change in tone of voice idk

[fuckentoastybitch]

My VN List!

I'm listing them according to ones I've played and ones I plan to play (as well as brief notes about either my opinion on the game or why I'm interested in them, formatted like this.)

This is for my own personal collection tbh, I just need to put them all in one place.

A. Have played:

The Arcana. Played since I was 16, all time favourite and Julian is my husband. This game shaped my interest for fantasy settings and magic. BUT! As a long time fan I must warn new players that trying to get the full experience for this game is difficult because of its coin system. The only reason I manage to keep playing for years is because I literally take a year's worth of breaks in between routes and logged in every. Single. Day. to collect coins and keys. It's literally been 6 years and I still haven't 100% the game yet cause I simply didn't have that kind of energy and time to do that anymore, but I still love the characters very deeply till now.

Blooming Panic. Second all time fave. Fell for Quest first, fell for Toasty hardest, for some reason is obsessed with xyx. I've revolved my entire personality around BP since 2023.

ERROR 143. Fun! Micah is technically not my type but I really like the general aesthetic and humor of the game. Iirc there are still more content to come to the game so I am very excitedly and patiently waiting.

3 Seasons. This was short and sweet. I think what I liked the most about this was the unique character designs, especially Rye and Briar's. I heard the dev's are working on more content on the current LI's + Briar's route, I'm really excited for those.

Our Life: Beginning & Always. Our life was INCREDIBLE, to put it simply. The entire game and story was very well thought out that it even made me reflect on my own life at each phase along the game. It gave me a really strong sense of nostalgia and reminded me of my own feelings during every change I had experienced. I actually wanted to make a whole post about OLBA but I got busy and already forgot everything I wanted to say, ehe. I still have to play the DLC and get the remaining locked CGs though.

Assignment Due: Project Blue. THIS GAME IS ADORABLE. I already made a blog post about what I like about it and I will again emphasis on how this game felt like it was made specifically for me. I love Asher so much aaaaa. I heard rei, the dev is working on another game for Eden, I'm looking forward for that, too.

Coffee Talk. Coffee talk was so so good! I need to play more non-romance VNs too cause this was so enjoyable in terms of its storytelling, setting, gameplay and design. Every character had such a nice story that tied up nicely, even the MC who's supposed to be just an observer throughout the entire thing. Also the cozy vibes and music is a 10/10 would recommend.

A Date with Death. This one's so cute too! I played only one route last year and just picked it up again recently. I have only one route left to finish and the new DLC!. Anyways yes the Grim Reaper is very babygirl I can attest to it.

seekL. THIS IS SO GOOD. SO SO GOOD. If you didn't see the one week phase where I basically went insanely obsessed with seekL, you missed out. Hacker man save me.. save me.. hackerman..

B. Want to play:

Lost in Limbo. Really pretty art and interesting concept. The theme seems very fantasy/magic centric which really pulls me in. But this game is still a WIP iirc

When The Night Comes. Technically I'm currently playing this one, but only the intro and hadn't touched the game in months cause I've been busy. Again, the fantasy setting caught my interest aaand I just met Ezra but I already love him. Will continue this as soon as I can!

Infinite Blue. I've played the demo! Very mysmes reminiscent lol. The game looked very cute so far and Brooklyn reminded me that I'll never run away from my old man liker allegations. It's already out so I def gotta play it soon.

Coffee Talk Episode 2. Don't really need an explanation for this one except that the new characters I've seen so far looks really cool.

Tavern Talk. D&D inspired Coffee Talk! If it's not obvious already, I LOVE fantasy settings so even though I've never played D&D, it is right up my alley and I wish I could play it someday. I've been eyeing the production of this game for a while so I'm really excited that it's finally out!

Obscura. This one looks really REALLY cool but I haven't actually read into what it's actually about. The art alone looks good enough to get my attention. Really curious about it, I hope I'll play it soon.

Intertwine. Just from looking at the 2023 Otome Jam entries overall I thought this one looked most visually appealing to me. I love the color scheme, and the aesthetic reminds of the string of fate myth (that probably is the theme)

DATA BR<3ACH. I'm usually not a fan of cyberpunk setting but this one seemed pretty intriguing to me visually!

Innerlog. By Jenny V Pham! I enjoyed Error 143 so I have no doubt I'll enjoy this one too.

Andromeda Six. My impression of this one is "space D&D" lol. I can't believe I haven't played this one yet.

TOUCHSTARVED. I can NOT believe only the demo is out cause the quality looks like it should've been a long existing popular franchise. One thing I'm a little hesitant about playing this game is because it's goth themed and in case you haven't noticed, a lot of the media I like have a softer, more pastel aesthetic. lol. But that's a personal preference and yet I definitely need to play it sometime soon.

Cupid's Chatroom. There's really not much to say. Pink aesthetic? Mysterious chatsim that appeared out of nowhere? My cup of tea 100%

Na Daoine Maithe. I've played the demo of this one and it is sooo interesting. I like myths but I've never really read into Gaelic ones. The art is so pretty and the story so far is very intriguing. I can't wait for the full game.

Swiped!: Double Shots of Love. FINALLY AN INDIE VN WITH OLDER MALE LOVE INTERESTS DFKJFDSJKD I played the demo, it was really really cute! The professor LI was made to call me out lol

Wake Me Up If You Need Me. A game made by rice! Someone who I've seen around in the fandom and who's really talented at making songs and audios. I had no idea they made a game but I just found it recently and I have to play it.

Keyframes. It looks really good but I'm interested mostly cause I found out Charlatean (Toasty's VA) is in this kjsdhfgkjd

Rekindle. I follow the lovely artist that's creating it and the DEMO IS OUT!. I saw one (1) art of Jules and he is EXACTLY my type so I'm already looking forward to this game.

Our Life: Now & Forever. Baxter's OL game! I already loved Cove's so I'm really really interested in this version of the game. Plus, I actually really like the autumn aesthetic compared to Cove's beachy style.

Hummingbird's Crown. Has a very interesting premise: a time loop mystery. I'm definitely interested in this one for its story potential rather than the romance, I love me a good mystery.

Aaand that's it. Thankfully "( – ⌓ – )

There's actually a few more that I added in my twitter bookmarks but those are relatively new and I haven't decided if I really want to play them yet. I'm following the devs though so that interest might grow over time. These lists are long enough as they are already, haha.

[door]

showing up to the 10 songs meme 2 weeks late with nothing but the revelation that music is great actually did you know? @brisling tagged me so here we go

apologies in advance for the melancholy lol. that's my summer vibe!

"Are My Thoughts With You?" Linda Ronstadt yt spotify this list was tough in part because i have been listening to linda's silk purse almost exclusively for like. 3 months? anyway consider this track to represent the entire album but also, specifically, this song

"Sheridan Square" Howard Ashman yt spotify i am at any time seconds away from crying about howard ashman. in another universe would i have spent a day listening to different versions of this and ranking them, the way i did "suddenly, seymour"? we'll never know. "We're on the good ship Titanic, we're gonna sing 'til the boat goes down."

"Fallen Snow" First Aid Kit yt spotify was really proud of myself for getting to this album only like 4 months after it came out, then got to this track and haven't really left it yet. we love a bass line, we love humming

"Second Hand News" Fleetwood Mac yt spotify y'all know about rumours?

"Treeline" Black Belt Eagle Scout yt spotify so much of KP's music feels like standing in the middle of a sonic forest, and i love that about it, but this feels like sitting at a campfire while she tells me a story, quietly, so we don't disturb the wildlife, and i fucking love that too

"Tóxica" Sofía Martín & Le Shuuk yt spotify every single person on my dash shared this and they were so correct

"I Like Birds" EELS yt spotify spent some time with the grosse point blank ost after watching it recently which led to spending some time with eels

"Forgetfulness" Tank And The Bangas yt spotify there's something so musical theatre (affectionate) about tank and the bangas

"2 Be Loved (Am I Ready)" Lizzo yt spotify fucks and then the key changes and u know what? fucks MORE

"Haunted" Spanish Love Songs yt spotify my friend kevin sent this to me yesterday and unfortunately i must announce that this is the song of the summer

links to yt/spotify playlist if you are interested in that

[ashitomarisu]

As the summer begins to wind down, I want to share a few non-spoiler things about my experience reliving Digimon's "AiM era" (which covers Adventure, Adventure 02, and Tamers).

(Note: I will not go in-depth because I have a couple followers actively watching this franchise so let's cut to the chase.)

June

Adventure had the least impact on me since I knew most of the story and background already from watching the dub during my childhood. Although, that did not affect my enjoyment in the slightest as the moments between seeing Mimi and [my boi] Gomamon still hit the feels as it did the first time.

(He is best digimon; don't @ me).

[Side note: I did start to let Gabumon slide as second best, since I do remember loving him as a kid for looking LIKE a doglike creature, and MetalGarurumon is still one of the coolest Ultimate forms at that point.]

As for the music? Of course, Butter-fly was a huge nostalgic punch (for the first week), but then it got old (in a weird way). BRAVEHEART still kicks ass though. In terms of the ED, hearing "I Wish" and "Keep on" felt nice to revisit AiM (Ai Maeda) early in her career trying to perfect those vocals (more on that later).

=Let's fast-forward to 02.=

July

(Is "currencist" a good adjective to describe a noob who refuses to accept anything but dollars? )

This is the season I watched over and over again in reruns and still cannot get over it. It ties in with the original 8 as a continuation, but is HEAVILY driven with spoilers. With that, the only change I notice is the fact I finally paid attention more to the ending, which I failed to understand for the last two instances I watched this.

All I can say is "what a literal dark turn".

Nevertheless, the music was a memorable portion of this season. Target ~Akai Shougeki~ is my personal favorite OP with Kouji Wada putting a lot of effort into the song. Miyazaki returns with BRAVEHEART but also Break Up!, a huge double-header of hits to my ears. "Ashita wa Atashi no Kaze ga Fuku" by AiM, on the other hand, is AiM at her literal rise. Her vocals improved so much throughout the ED, and has become my favorite ED overall as of recently. All three singers brought their A-game for this sequel.

Oh, and one more thing: THE NEW TRIO. I can't choose who gets my heart I guess.

August

(I LOST COUNT OVER HOW MANY TIMES THIS BASTARD KEEPS SAYING "MOUMANTAI").

All crossover ideas aside, it was a pleasure [and a pain] to rewatch this spinoff. Supposedly, I had to remember this season was directed by someone who worked on Evangelion; thus, the darker vibe lurking over the usual Digimon traits. Despite the oncoming fear factor ranging from [this spoiler] to [that spoiler], the season still left a massive scar on my psyche. As for the main characters, Ruki and Renamon are still my guilty duo. I still get pumped up looking at Kyubimon every time it appears on screen.

The music this season is decent, although...

[Side note: Once upon a time, I actually considered Days~Aijou to Nichijou~ to be my favorite ED from AiM. However, upon discovering the English translation...]

(I've been living a lie for 8 years).

-----

Overall, this has been an insane, memorable trip back in time for me. Unfortunately, fall is approaching and I must move on from this nostalgic phase.

------

With the "Digital Summer" over, let's get into what is in store for September. Luckily, I have already lined up something (good, I suppose). The only catch? WE HAVE TO GO BACK ABOUT 13 YEARS.

IT'S TIME TO GO BACK TO THE 80s!!!

Now, if I can remember which button it is to reveal the hint...*brb; pushing buttons*

Okay! Here is the hint:

(If I did an audio hint, it would be a dead giveaway).

Until then, here's hoping your buddy doesn't have a bonk stick nearby.

[whitetrashjj]

hi! so i've recently finished the 100 very late i know and ahh! i've gotten to love bob and eliza as well after watching interviews of them im so happy theyre married they look so in love (i say this like i didnt spend the last 3 weeks of my life obsessing over them LMAO) and i was rly surprised to see that they kept denying hating the romantic bellarke agenda? especially in the earlier seasons, but it was SO obvious, to me at least, that they were the main ship of the show... i scoured the internet for reasons why but all i could get was that the fandom hates jroth and the fandom would like to bury jroth alive SDJHFDSHJ but yeah! still rly curious and ik you were actively in the fandom during the time so if you could just briefly explain i would be vvvvv grateful

Okay... I'm gonna try and give a bit of a run down of the history of beliza and bellarke and jroth and clexa and how that all influenced things. Keep in mind I wasn't in the fandom from the start so the beginning is second hand recounts.

Okay so from the start bellarke was obviously intended, they were canon in the books but clearly with the Finn thing and everything else they were going for a more slow burn kinda vibe which was good obviously. Now this is where the bellarke denial started, but it was more casual there. Like a playfull not trying to give away the slow burn or surprise (this is very typical for slow burn ships and that's why I love the Pates for how they are handling jiara). So all was well in the house.

At this point Bob and Eliza were really good friends so that wasn't a problem. At one point apparently Devon kinda let it slip that they were actually in a fwb kinda situation at some point during the early season. I never saw first hand proof of this but it was a known fact amongst the fandom and I find likely given where they ended up.

Now, I'm not 100% on the order of event here but the following happened over s2/s3. Two major things that changed the fate and reception of bellarke forever.

The first being clexa. Now, from a story telling pov clexa was never going to last and Lexa's fate was always sealed. But I'm not going to go too much into that whole thing. But obviously there was alot of hype around Lexa and that ship. Which Jason loved, that man is driven by ego and having thousands of people up his ass fuel him. So he shifted his focus to them, knowing full well he was going to kill Lexa. And then when the backlash hit he kept pandering to them - putting little Lexa mentions in to keep the viewer ship, to keep people talking about his show. And by result of this the bellarke denial came in strong and their romantic development or story like was put on hold.

Now meanwhile it seems beliza had a falling out, Bob started dating his long term gf Aryn and they would not attend cons together. Also time to double down on the bellarke denial. Only this time it was legit (not that bellarke wasn't happening or intended, but they didn't like it and didn't want it to happen) we got the infamous 'bellake shit' quote from Eliza, which she insisted she actually said 'ship', even tweeted it (has since then once happily married admitted that she said shit lol) And yeah while we were still getting the on screen hints it seemed no one was rooting for it personally.

Then. The tide turns. Bob and Aryn has broken up. And we hear an announcement. Bob and Eliza are going to a con together?? Wait. what? And this con. Let me tell you. Changed the world. They were best friends again. Now, I am not an irl people shipper, there have been very few that I have seen and speculated before they were together and these two were one. I can't remember exactly why but there was something in the air before that and I was sus. And then there were a few things, like Eliza was saying how her favourite song was Ophelia and then she turns to Bob and says 'you must be so sick of hearing it i play it so much' and I was hmm because are they spending that much time together? Bob was wearing a bunch of mardigras necklaces and when Eliza said she wanted one and a fan overheard bob saying to her something 'you'll have to give me something later for one' and then after break Eliza had some ??? Which people freaked out about but not enough in my opinion. And then the fact that (actually this might have been a later con my timeline is messy its been a while) Eliza was wearing an engagement ring and straight up told people she was engaged when they asked. People assumed it was to the guy who play mccrery because there was rumours of them dating but they hadn't been seen together in ages.

And then most importantly they were now pro-bellarke. Talking excitedly about the scenes. Saying themselves are sometimes confused because the script will saying something like 'bellamy looks at her lovingly.' but then Jroth continues to deny things. they weren't to the level of it now but they were for sure making it clear that jroth was gaslighting a fandom lol.

Anyway moving on to one quite morning, I hadn't touch social media all morning as it did laundry and when I finally take a break the fandom is imploding - thankfully I had only missed it by like 15minutes. But Bob and Eliza has both tweeted that they had gotten married with a pic of their hands on their wedding day. Now I instantly believed it - oh yeah it's all coming together. But there was all this shock because it seemingly came out of no where. People thought they had been hacked, and then other cast would congratulate them and then they were hacked. Certain people were saying its a cover because Eliza and Alycia actually got married, and other were saying Bob and Eliza were homophobic for getting married during pride month. But at the end of the day it was all true, there were married and it was happily ever after.

But for some reason this seemed to piss off JRoth and he seemed to get so much worse. At one point during the filming of season 7 i think (i get confused about later seasons it could have been 6 or 8) Bob and Jason unfollowed each other and we though it was hilarious until we realised what it could have meant. Recently beliza revealed that the bellarke get together was actually written, in a place that so many people has speculated and it would have made sense but at the last minute it was taken out.

It seemed like Jason didn't like the beliza was together, he was having more and more issues with Bob and Jason just didn't do bellarke out of spite. Did that stupid murder out of spite and gave a pandering ending for clexas out of spite.

Once the show was over beliza have been very open about how bellarke was always planned from the beginning and they don't understand why it never happened.

Any way I've been out of it for a while so I'm a bit foggy on the detail these days but that's the guts of it. Anyone is free to add

[chudleycanonficfest]

Family Tradition

Day 19, Story #1 is by @bavalon18

Title: Family Tradition

Author: bavalon18/Edie K. 

Pairing: Weasley family vibes

Prompt: "Siblings: The only enemy you can't live without" -Anonymous

Rating: Teen but only for language

Summary: The Weasley siblings engage in a long running debate. Set 2 years post War. 

  Thank you to adenei for the notes and help in rounding out this dialogue heavy piece! 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

“I hope you’ve all saved room for pudding,” Molly Weasley said to her large family that was gathered around the table. Sunday dinner at the Burrow was a regular occurrence but this week it was a particularly full table with even Charlie in town. And now that the dishes were scrubbing themselves in the kitchen sink, it was time to enjoy the sweet end of their meal. 

  “I’ve been waiting all week,” Percy said eagerly but as Molly lowered the two large cast iron pans she had been levitating onto the long table, the smile left his face. 

  “Mum! Where’s the chocolate?” Ron blurted. 

  “Ron, don’t be rude!” chastised Hermione. 

  “I'm not! Last Sunday, Mum said she felt like she had baked everything recently and was out of ideas. I said we hadn’t had chocolate in a long time and Percy mentioned her Double Devil Food and Mum agreed and that's what we were to get,” Ron said. 

  “Oh, I know dear,” Molly said, now beginning to serve. “But when I was babysitting for Victorie on Wednesday, Bill mentioned he was craving berry cobbler so I thought it’d be nice, what with berries in season.”

  “Oh,” said George knowingly, “Bill wanted it.”

  “Make your own bloody cobbler,” Ron snapped at his oldest brother. 

  “Make your own chocolate cake,” Bill fired back. 

  “Boys,” sighed Arthur, setting down his fork. 

  “It was at least two to one for chocolate cake,” pointed out Percy. 

  “Except Bill’s the favorite so his vote counts for three,” said George. 

  “I was home for two whole hours before this bloody ‘who’s the favorite’ fight broke out,” said Charlie, taking a plate of cobbler from his mother. “Might be a record.”

  “I don’t have favorites!” Molly said, clearly offended. 

  “Yes you do! It’s Bill and then Ginny,” said Percy. 

  “Must we do this every time?” asked Fleur, rolling her eyes. 

  “Me?” said Ginny. “Get out of here.”

  “Yeah,” agreed George. “Everyone knows Ginny’s Dad’s favorite.”

  “Ginny’s Mum’s second favorite because she’s the girl,” Ron said.

  “That’s quite sexist, Mum,” quipped George, digging into the cobbler on his plate. 

  “Yes, that sounds right,” Percy nodded. 

  “There is no way I’m the favorite over Ron,” Bill argued. 

  “Ron is the one that got away with everything,” George agreed. 

  Ron’s mouth dropped open as he stared at George from across the table. “You have to be joking.”

  “George is right. You stole Dad’s car TWICE and the second time you crashed it and lost it. And what happened to you?” Percy asked, using his fingers to tick off each of his points. 

  “The first time was justified - I was rescuing Harry from his shit relatives and I wasn’t alone,” Ron explained, glaring at George. 

  “Language,” scolded Molly. “There are children.”

  “Rescuing the Chosen One. Can’t expect us to face consequences for that,” George added. 

  “And the second time, Mum humiliated me with a howler in the Great Hall!” 

  “Wait. Are you saying when you stole that flying car, took it to Hogwarts and lost it, all you got was fucking Howler?!” Charlie shouted. Fleur made a face at the pieces of dessert Charlie had flung across the table in his outrage. 

  “Language!” snapped Molly for the second time. 

  “He left school and went to the Ministry to fight Death Eaters and she didn’t say anything during his fifth year!” Bill added. 

  “Yet when Fred and I left school, we got our arses chewed,” agreed George. 

  “I feel like those two events were different,” Hermione said, quirking her eyebrow and George shrugged with a grin. 

  “Ron was gravely injured,” Molly said. “It was hardly the time for punishment. 

  “Ginny was there as well,” said Arthur. “But we were hardly in the mood to dole out consequences.”  

  “How is Ginny the only girl and the youngest and Ron still gets away with more than her?” Charlie pondered. 

  “No way,” said Ron. 

  “After the war, Mum and Dad let Hermione share his bed the whole summer,” Bill raises his eyebrows in a suggestive manner at Ron, causing Hermione to flush. 

  “Well, it’s not like she hadn’t already shared the tent with him and Harry for a year,” Fleur reminded her husband. 

  “Except Harry wasn’t in Ron’s room with them!” said Ginny. “Harry was sleeping in Percy’s old room!”

  “Oh, was he sleeping in Percy’s room all summer?,” asked Ron, his tone mocking. Ginny, checked that her mother was distracted with serving before raising a middle finger in his direction. 

  Bill turned to his mother, hands gesticulating wildly. “You wouldn’t let my fiancée and I share a room the week before our wedding because you wanted me to ‘set a good example.’ What was the point if you changed your mind nine months later?” 

  “Bill, you’ll find that you learn new lessons with each child.”

  “This is bullshit.”

  “Language!” Molly chided again. 

  “Ron gets away with the most because he’s the one that found Mum’s actual favorite,” pointed out George. 

  “That’s exactly why! She doesn’t want to upset Harry.”

  “Please don’t drag me into this again,” Harry pleaded, who until that point had been quietly observing the sibling bickering. 

  “I certainly like Harry better than the rest of you right now! He’s not testing my patience!” said Molly, hands on her hips. 

  “You’re all in your twenties and thirties,” said Arthur, exasperated. “You should know by now we don’t have favorites. I can’t wait for your own kids to get you back with this ridiculous squabbling.”

  “I’m sorry Ron, I didn’t realize the change in pudding would bother you so much. I’ll make you a cake and drop it at your place tomorrow. Now, let me get the ice cream,” Molly said, walking back to the kitchen. 

  “What the hell? Where’s mine? I was the one that asked for cake?” asked Percy, mouth open in disbelief. 

  “Percy, welcome to the bottom,” said George.

  “We should get t-shirts,” Charlie suggested, raising his glass in salute. 

[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!”

[bogkeep]

hmmmmmmmmmm maybe i’ll write an Introspective Musing Post about my relationship to religion and their depiction in stories because i’ve pondering about this topic lately

so for those who are reading this and DON’T know what’s been going on...  there’s this webcomic i fell in love with some years ago, about six years actually, that depicts a post-apocalyptic fantasy/horror adventure set in the nordic countries. it had, and has still, some very uncomfortable flaws regarding racial representation, and the creator has historically not dealt very well with criticism towards it. it’s a whole Thing. my relationship with this comic has fluctuated a lot, since there are a lot of elements in it i DO love and i still feel very nostalgic about, and like idk i felt like i trust my skills in critical thinking enough to keep reading. aaand then the creator went a teensy bit off the deep end created a whole minicomic which is like... a lukewarm social media dystopia where christians are oppressed (and also everyone is a cute bunny, including our lord and saviour jesus christ). which is already tonedeaf enough considering there are religious people who DO get prosecuted for their faith, like, that’s an actual reality for a lot of people - but as far as i can tell, usually not christians. and then there’s an afterword that’s like, “anyway i got recently converted and realized i’m a disgusting human being full of sin who doesn’t deserve redemption but jesus loves me so i’ll be fine!! remember to repent for your sins xoxo” and a bunch of other stuff and IT’S KIND OF REALLY CONCERNING i have, uh, been habitually looking at the reactions to and discussions around this, maybe it’s not very self care of me but there’s a lot of overwhelming things rn and it’s fantastically distracting, yknow? like, overall this situation is fairly reminiscent of the whole jkr thing. creator of a series that is Fairly Beloved, does something hurtful, handles backlash in a weird way, a lot of people start taking distance from Beloved Series or find ways to enjoy it on their own terms, creator later reveals to have been fully radicalized and releases a whole manifesto, and any and all criticism gets framed as harassment and proving them right. of course, one of them is a super rich person with a LOT of media power and a topic that is a lot more destructive in our current zeitgeist, and the other is an independent webcomic creator, so it’s  not the same situation. just similar vibez ya feel as a result of this, i have been Thinking. and just this feels like some sort of defeat like god dammit she got me i AM thinking about the topic she wrote about!!! i should dismiss the whole thing!!! but thinking about topics is probably a good thing so hey lets go. me, i’m agnostic. i understand that this is a ‘lazy’ position to take, but it’s what works for me. i simply do not vibe with organized religion, personally. (i had the wikipedia page for ‘chaos magic’ open in a tab for several weeks, if that helps.) i was raised by atheists in a majorly atheist culture. christian atheist, i should specify. norway has been mostly and historically lutheran, and religion has usually been a private and personal thing. it turns out the teacher i had in 7th grade was mormon, but i ONLY found out because he showed up in a tv series discussing religious groups in norway later, and he was honestly one of the best teachers i have ever had - he reignited the whole class’ interest in science, math, and dungeons and dragons. it was a real “wait WHAT” moment for my teenage self. i think i was briefly converted to christianity by my friend when i was like 7, who grew up in a christian family (i visited them a couple times and always forgot they do prayers before dinner. oops!), but like, she ALSO made me believe she was the guardian of a secret magic orb that controls the entire world and if i told anybody the world would burn down in 3 seconds. i only suspected something was off when one day the Orb ran on batteries, and another day the Orb had to be plugged in to charge. in my defense i really wanted to be part of a cool fantasy plot. i had no idea how to be a christian beyond “uuuuh believe in god i guess” so it just faded away on its own. when i met this friend several years later, she was no longer christian. i think every childhood friend of mine who grew up in a christian family, was no longer christian when they grew up. most notably my closest internet friend whose family was catholic - she had several siblings, and each of them took a wildly different path, from hippie treehugger to laveyan satanist or something in that area. (i joined them for a sermon in a church when they visited my town. my phone went off during it because i had forgotten to silence it. oops!) ((i also really liked their mother’s interpretation of purgatory. she explained it as a bath, not fire. i like that.)) i have never had any personal negative experiences with christianity, despite being openly queer/gay/trans. the only time someone has directly told me i’m going to hell was some guy who saw me wearing a hoodie on norway’s constitution day. yeah i still remember that you bastard i’ve sworn to be spiteful about it till the day i die!! i’ve actually had much more insufferable interactions with the obnoxious kind of atheists - like yes yes i agree with you on a lot but that doesn’t diminish your ability to be an absolute hypocrite, it turns out? i remember going to see the movie ‘noah’ with a friend who had recently discovered reddit atheism and it was just really exhausting to discuss it with her. one of these Obnoxious Atheists is my Own Mother. which is a little strange, honestly, because she LOVES visiting churches for the Aesthetic and Architecture. we cannot go anywhere without having to stop by a pretty church to Admire and Explore. I’VE BEEN IN SO MANY CHURCHES FOR AN ATHEIST RAISED NON-CHRISTIAN. i’ve been to the vatican TWICE (i genuinely don’t even know how much of my extended family is christian. up north in the tiny village i come from, i believe my uncle is the churchkeeper, and it’s the only building in the area that did not get burnt down by the the nazis during ww2 - mostly because soldiers needed a place to sleep. still don’t know whether or not said uncle believes or not, because hey, it’s Personal) i think my biggest personal relationship to religion, and christianity specifically, has been academic. yeah, we learned a brief synopsis of world religions at school (and i remember the class used to be called ‘christianity, religion, and ethics’ and got changed to ‘religion, beliefs, and ethics’ which is cool. it was probably a big discourse but i was a teen who didnt care), but also my bachelor degree is in art history, specifically western art history because it’s a vast sprawling topic and they had to distill it as best they could SIGHS. western art history is deeply entangled with the history of the church, and i think the most i’ve ever learnt about christianity is through these classes (one of my professors wrote an article about how jesus can be interpreted as queer which i Deeply Appreciate). i also specifically tried to diversify my academic input by picking classes such as ‘depiction of muslims and jewish people in western medieval art’ and ‘art and religion’ when i was an exchange student in canada, along with 101 classes in anthropology and archaeology. because i think human diversity and culture is very cool and i want to absorb that knowledge as best as i can. i think my exchange semester in canada was the most religiously diverse space have ever been in, to be honest. now as an adult i have more christian friends again, but friends who chose it for themselves, and who practice in ways that sound good and healthy, like a place of solace and community for them. the vast majority of my friends are queer too, yknow?? i’ve known too many people who have seen these identities as fated opposites, but they aren’t, they’re just parts of who people are. it’s like... i genuinely love people having their faiths and beliefs so much. i love people finding that space where they belong and feel safe in. i love people having communities and heritages and connections. i deeply respect and admire opening up that space for faith within any other communities, like... if i’m going to listen to a podcast about scepticism and cults, i am not going to listen to it if it’s just an excuse to bash religion. i think the search for truth needs to be compassionate, always. you can acknowledge that crystals are cool and make people happy AND that multi level marketing schemes are deeply harmful and prey on people in vulnerable situaitons. YOU KNOW???? so now’s when i bring up Apocalypse Comic again. one of the things i really did like about it was, ironically, how it handled religion. in its setting, people have returned to old gods, and their magic drew power from their religion. characters from different regions had different beliefs and sources. in the first arc, they meet the spirit of a lutheran pastor, who ends up helping them with her powers. it was treated as, in the creators own words, ‘just another mythology’. and honestly? i love that. it was one of the nicest depictions i’ve seen of christianity in fiction, and as something that could coexist with other faiths. I Vibe With That. and then, uh, then... bunny dystopia comic. it just... it just straight up tells you christianity is literally the only way to..?? be a good person??? i guess?? i’m still kind of struggling to parse what exactly it wanted to say. the evil social media overlord bird tells you the bible makes you a DANGEROUS FREETHINKER, but the comic also treats rewriting the bible or finding your own way to faith as something,, Bad. The Bible Must Remain Unsullied. Never Criticize The Bible. also, doing good things just for social media clout is bad and selfish. you should do good things so you don’t burn in hell instead. is that the message? it reads a lot like the comic creator already had the idea for the comic, but only got the urge to make it after she was converted and needed to spread the good word. you do you i guess!! i understand that she’s new to this and probably Going Through Something, and this is just a step on her journey. but the absolute self-loathing she described in her afterword... it does not sound good. i’m just some agnostic kid so what do i know, but i do not think that kind of self-flagellating is a kind faith to have for yourself. i might not ever have been properly religious, but you know what i AM familiar with? a brain wired for ocd and intrusive thoughts. for a lot of my life i’ve struggled with my own kind of purity complex. i’ve had this really strange sensitivity for things that felt ‘tainted’. i’ve experienced having to remove more and more words from my vocabulary because they were Bad and i did not want to sully my sentences. it stacked, too - if a word turned out to be an euphemism for something, i could never feel comfortable saying it again. i still struggle a bit with these things, but i have confronted these things within myself. i’ve had to make myself comfortable with imperfection and ‘tainted’ things and accept that these are just, arbitrary categories my mind made up. maybe that’s the reason i can’t do organized religion even if i found one that fit for me - just like diets can trigger disordered eating, i think it would carve some bad brainpaths for me. so yeah i’m worried i guess! i’m worried when people think it’s so good that she finally found the correct faith even if it’s causing all this self-hate. is there really not a better way? or are they just trusting she’ll find it? and yeah it’s none of my concern, it’s like, i worry for jkr too but i do not want her within miles of my trans self thANKS. so like, i DO enjoy media that explores faith and what it means for you. my favourite band is the oh hellos, which DOES draw on faith and the songwriter’s experience with it. because of my religious iliteracy most of it has flown over my head for years and i’m like “oh hey this is gay” and then only later realize it was about god all along Probably. i like what they’ve done with the place. also, stormlight archive - i had NO idea sanderson was mormon, the way he writes his characters, many of whom actively discuss religion and their relationship to it. i love that about the books, honestly. Media That Explores Religion In A Complex And Compassionate Way... we like that i’ve been thinking about my own stories too, and how i might want to explore faith in them. most of my settings are based on magic and it’s like, what role does religion have in a world where gods are real and makes u magic. in sparrow spellcaster’s story, xe creates? summons? an old god - brings them to life out of the idea of them. it’s a story about hubris, mostly. then there’s iphimery, the story where i am actively fleshing out a pantheon. there’s no doubt the gods are real in the fantasy version of iphimery, they are the source of magic and sustain themselves on slivers of humanity in exchange. but in the modern version, where they are mostly forgotten? that’s some room for me to explore, i think. especially the character of timian, who comes from a smaller town and moves to a large and diverse city. in the fantasy story, the guardian deity chooses his sister as a vessel. in the modern setting, that does not happen, and i don’t yet know what does, but i really want timian to be someone who struggles with his identity - his faith, his sexuality, the expectations cast upon him by his hometown... i’m sure it’s a cliché story retold through a million gay characters but i want to do it too okay. i want to see him carve out his own way of existing within the world because i care him and want to see him thrive!!! alrighty i THINK that’s all i wanted to write. thanks if you read all of this, and if you didn’t that’s super cool have a nice day !

[thefanficmonster]

Kick Some Ghost Ass

”Until Dawn Gang x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Swearing, Sex jokes (excuse my bad humor)

Genre: CRACK, Humor

Summary: It’s one thing when trouble finds this gang, but why don’t we take a look at what happens when they go actively looking for trouble. Needless to say, chaos ensues and no one is spared. Some are more affected than others, and some are dead-ass traumatized, but isn’t that just how life is in general?

Requested by my dearest ever - Until Dawn Anon. Hi lovely! I’ve missed writing your requests and I’m really happy to be back, creating another chaotic fic! I’m sorry it has taken me so long to post it but here it finally is - crazy as ever! I hope you enjoy it! Love you to Blackwood Pines and back baby ❤❤❤

I don’t know how I’ve found myself in this situation but I’m not complaining. If I get to do dumb crazy shenanigans with my crew, I’m ready for just about anything. Not to mention I’m no stranger to ghost hunting. I’m that kid that made DIY Ouija boards and took them to cemeteries with their terrified friends. You should’ve seen us leaving after capturing no ghostly activity - my friends relieved as fuck, and me pissed as fuck.

But today, I’m not expecting nor will I be accepting any disappointment. Especially not with Jess swearing on her Chanel purse that she wasn’t making things up when she said she had a haunted house she wanted us to visit. I must say, I appreciate this group’s enthusiasm when it comes to the paranormal. Never have I had someone who catches my vibe on the subject so well, let alone an entire gang all sharing the same opinion as me - that ghosts, demons and poltergeists are so fucking cool. Sure, Emily took a bit of convincing and Jess is not one to give a shit about the other world creatures invisible to the human eye, but something allegedly happened that changed her mind.

Her a-hundred-and-something-year-old great-grandmother passed away recently and though the death itself didn’t shake Jess up as much as it probably should’ve, the events that followed led to this moment right now - the eleven of us pooling out of two minivans that have pulled up to a terrifying looking house in a wooded are of the suburbs. Jess literally gathered us all on an ‘emergency meeting’ in the courtyard of our college just so she could explain the situation in detail - she doesn’t do well with explaining things in general, let alone when she’s hysterical - so we only understood what she was trying to say when she mentioned the word ‘ghost’. That’s when we all started listening more closely, with the exception of Emily, Beth and Sam but the latter two were intrigued despite trying yo hide it. You can only imagine how excited Josh, Chris and I were, Mike and Matt following a close second behind. Ash was a tiny bit more hesitant but Chris convinced her to give in. And just like that, a week later, here we are.

“I gotta ask, did your great-gran own a VHS player? Or a chest in the attic? Bonus points if there’s a creepy, child-sized doll in there.“ Josh asks as he yanks all the equipment he insisted we bring out of the trunk of the minivan.

“Quit fucking around, Josh! This is serious!“ Jess complains from the spot she’s standing in, shivering in the cold autumn breeze.

“Yeah, Josh! VHS players, creepy dolls, that’s all child’s play.“ I scold him as I pull on my jacket, wrapping it around me more tightly, “Shit gets serious when there’s a secret basement.“

“Y/N!“ Jess shrieks in exasperation. Honesty, how am I supposed to NOT bother her when doing the opposite is so much easier and brings more amusement? “You’re not helping!“

“Wasn’t trying to.“ I wink at her, driving her into a new level of fury that almost leads her to chuck her phone at me. If it weren’t such a prized possession of hers, I’m pretty sure she would’ve chucked it with the intention of knocking me dead. I’m lucky she has the aim of a drunk toddler that spun around fifteen times.

“Hey, quit pissing my girlfriend off, will ya?!“ Mike, who is basically halfway inside the trunk of the other van calls out to us.

I roll my eyes but choose to let it slide. However, someone else doesn’t. Emily does a dramatic turn on her heel, turning to face Mike, or at least the only part of him which is visible. You can imagine how hard it is arguing with an ass like THAT. I don’t know how Emily does it but oh well, I guess I do it too, in a way.

“So it’s girlfriend now, huh? No space between the words?“ Oh that smile she’s flashing him, it could make the Devil himself shiver. I find it kinda hot though - it means shit’s about to go down or hit the fan, either way, the rest of us will be entertained.

Mikey boy straightens up, gracing the rest of us by-standers with his dazzling features. Nah, I’m capping. I honestly think Mike is as attractive as I am patient - very little, almost not at all. It’s surprising how him and Jess are now apparently together since I always pegged her to be the superficial type.

“Got a problem with that, Em?“ He asks, eyebrow raising, head tilting to the side. Oh yeah, it’s on now. But, as someone who’s been quite excited to do some ghost hunting, and also as a representative of the peanut gallery formed of the rest of us who find it amusing and annoying, I feel the need to cut it short before it goes where it shouldn’t. I came to see some exorcist shit, not Keeping Up With The Bitter Exs.

“Jess, I sure hope your grandma is a blood-thirsty ghost cause I can think of at least two people I’d serve to her on a silver platter.“ I snatch the keys the blond has been jingling nervously between her fingers and jog up the stairs to the front door.

Ok I maybe overexaggerated the eeriness of the house. It sure wouldn’t sit right with you if you saw it around sunset or at night, especially not if it’s foggy, but a horror movie house it is most certainly isn’t. It’s pristine and well kept, not a single crack in the walls, the only reason it’s unsettling is because: 1) We’ve all seen a few too many horror movies; 2) There’s been reports of ‘ghostly activity’ - as far as Jess is to be trusted.

While I’m surfing through all the keys, checking each and every single one of them on the door because the real key is unmarked, I can’t help but overhear the conversation going on behind me on the porch.

“Can you believe we got all this in a single day and for a discount on top of all?! Whoever says Craigslist sucks isn’t doing it right.“ Chris’ enthusiasm over the deal him and Josh got on the ghost hunting equipment has been what’s keeping a wide grin on his face this whole time. Though I’m proud of my boys for not getting murdered by the Craigslist seller, I must say I hate that I lost the bet we had - I had to pay them each ten bucks if they didn’t get scammed/kidnapped/murdered and I’m now twenty bucks poorer. I’m not saying I value those twenty bucks more than my friends, though my broke ass needs all the bucks it has and all the dollar bills it could get, but Lord knows I hate losing.

“Yeah, and the guy was only mildly sketchy.“ Josh adds just as excitedly and proudly, “To be honest, Cochise and I were probably the scary looking ones in that parking lot.“

A look over my shoulder shows the twins, Sam, Matt and Ash giving the duo skeptical and somewhat disappointing looks and shakes of their heads. I’ll admit, the equipment is in very good condition and it’s the complete set for ghost-hunting, according to BuzzFeed at least. I’m impressed with the purchase - probably had something to do with how scary Chris and Josh actually look. The all-nighters we’ve all been pulling lately have taken a toll on them worst with the dark circles and bags under their hollow eyes, pale faces and brains turned to mush. I know I’d give them a discount to avoid them pulling out meat cleavers on me.

“That’s all fine and dandy guys, but do you know how to work any of this?“ Sam asks, hesitantly lifting the EMF reader and turning it in her hand, analyzing it with a curious gaze. 

Josh and Chris exchange a look before the former replies, “Just the cameras and voice recorder, the rest falls on them.” He points a finger at me and laughs, “Though they aren’t able to work something as simple as keys, they are more than qualified to be a ghostbuster.”

“You know, Josh, jokes on you, I can work keys! Jess, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to be able to work well with organizing things, hence my problem with these keys.“ I hurl the bunch of keys connected my a scarlet keychain at Josh, “Lemme demonstrate my true skills.“ I hop down the flight of stone stairs and approach the pile of equipment the guys have created smack-dab in the middle of the house’s driveway. 

“Oh, I gotta see this!” Mr. Ex-Class-President all but runs over, frowning when we all turn to look at him just as I pick up the spirit box to show off how it works, “Oh that’s what you meant. So you aren’t taking your clothes off?“

Jess and I are alike in one thing - the need we feel to chuck objects at people who piss us off. “You’re girlfriend is, like, right behind you, Munroe. Have some decency!”

“I was gonna enjoy a show as well, but I’m guessing we won’t be getting one.“ The girlfriend in question replies, looking at me quizzically as though that’s gonna convince me into discarding my outfit.

“No, unless you’re a ghost.“ I point the device I’m holding at Mike, “But if your boyfriend here keeps acting up I might turn him into one.“

“That sounds kinda kinky.“ Beth’s comment surprises me. The wink she sends me even more so. “And I kinda like it.“

Ok, ok, ok, hold on. 

Flirting with Munroe is one thing, but Beth is a completely different story. I can be threatening Mike with a knife one moment and cracking sex jokes with him over cold beer the next. While Beth actually has the ability to get me flustered and blushing, and my close relationship with her brother doesn’t help. Mother fucker can just whack me upside the head every time he catches me fussing over my silly crush on his sister.

“Ew, you too! Keep it in your pants or at least get a room.“ Emily doesn’t miss a beat when it comes to being herself. She’s truly a garbage bin full of treasure.

“We’d do the latter if SOMEONE could get the door open.” I glare daggers at Josh who is making hopeless attempts at what I was doing earlier - unlocking that damn door.

“I’d be more than happy to come through for you ladies.“ Mike says, getting in a stance of a runner before a race, his body directly opposite the door.

Oh I can’t wait to see where this is going. I SHOULD RECORD IT.

“Mike, it’s still breaking and entering and it’s still against the law even if the person’s dead.“ Sam points out, entering her mother-like mode, ruining the fun and causing me to pout at her. She gives me a look of disappointment - one worse than I’ve ever seen on my parents - so I just shut my trap before she can also express said disappointment through words and have me feeling guilty for the rest of the day.

A loud crash suddenly echoes causing us to turn our heads to look for the source of the terrifyingly startling sound. One glance is all it takes to put our minds at ease and a second one is enough to provoke different reactions in all of us - the broken window telling the story of where Josh has disappeared.

“What did I just say about breaking and entering?!“ Sam shouts after him while the vast majority of us are cracking up like hyaenas. Jess is just gaping at the broken window next to the front door in disbelief. She obviously can’t decide whether to join in on the fun or serve as back-up to Sam. Josh did technically damage private property that’s partially hers, but if you ask me it serves her right for not marking her keys.

“Sorry, I was too busy breaking the window to hear that part of the conversation!“ Josh’s apologetic smile appears on the other side of glassless frame. I can’t tell if he’s genuinely sorry or holding back laughter but either way, he looks innocent enough for Sam to let him off the hook as long as he doesn’t cause any more trouble - in which case: tough luck. Chris, Josh and I are nothing if not troublemakers, especially when we’re together. Chris tones it down when Ash’s around, and the same goes for Josh with Sam while I’m simply problematic regardless of who’s watching. My chaos is untamable, it’s a blessing and a curse and I love it, even though it’s landed me in hot water more than once. It’s nice to be around people on the same wavelength - chaos resides within this group and not a single one of us can hide it.

“At least we have a way in now.“ Ash offers Josh a helping hand in this argument after she recovers from the overwhelming fit of laughter. “I hope the broken window doesn’t anger your gran, Jess.“

The blond snaps out of her trance briefly, “No, she was a very sweet lady, but damn is Josh creative!” She hurries to correct herself, “Destructively creative.”

I hurry to correct her once again, “Chaotically creative.”

“Guys, do you mind coming in? It’s very creepy standing here alone!“ Josh calls out to us, looking over his shoulder at the interior of the house, “I’m expecting to be snatched and dragged to that secret basement we mentioned.“

“Mention it one more time and I swear to God-!“ Jess screams, fists tightened.

Before her angry wrath could crash atop us, we all make our way into the house through the broken window, carefully avoiding the shards of glass strewn about. One step inside and we’re met with the upmost of horror clichés - a drop in temperature. We’re all wearing thick hoodies because the weather outside is chilly in and of itself, but said hoodies aren’t as efficient at holding the house’s cold at bay and away from out skin.

Chris and Matt make their way in last, carrying the equipment consisting of three cameras, flashlights for everyone, an EMF reader, a spirit voice box, a voice recorder and a motion detector. I help them hand a light to each group member as well as a ghost-hunting device before we venture onward.

“If I were your grandma’s ghost, I’d be ten times more pissed about that window. It looks to me like that lady payed a lot of attention to keeping things in order.“ Matt comments while he examines the expensive looking painting hanging in the hallway.

I hear Emily scoff, “Unlike some.” but the remark is said so quickly and quietly I’m pretty sure I’m the only one who heard it.

Jess laughs, “She did like things in order, but she was never as strict as you might think. As I said, she was very sweet.“

“So do you just not take after her at all or were you adopted?“ Emily’s remarks are no longer a mumbled jumble of words, “No, nevermind, of course you’re not adopted. Your parents are smart people, they wouldn’t have chosen you if they had the chance.“

Jess laughs again, much more menacingly this time, causing me to exchange a look with Hannah who’s walking beside me. “Twenty bucks says one of them isn’t making it out of here.” It’s just a matter of time, to be honest. If not the lodge, or any party we’ve ever attended as a group, this haunted house is the perfect opportunity for a murder. We could even argue it was a ghost.

Luckily, the two cats clawing at each other’s throats don’t overhear, “No, my parents aren’t stupid, but your boyfriend clearly is. He chooses to date you! Or are you holding him captive or something.“

Ok that’s enough. I can tolerate a lot of things, but people calling one of my best friends stupid is not something I’m about to put up with, “How dare you call one of my hoes stupid?” I sneer at Jess, eyes narrowing.

“I thought I was your hoe too!“ She fights back, looking almost offended.

“Even more reason you shouldn’t have called him that! I don’t tolerate my hoes not respecting each other.“ 

I don’t get to see where this argument goes because Ashley’s shriek echoes throughout the hallway, stealing mine as well as the attention of everyone else. 

“There’s a ghost in here!“ Making it to the doorway of the room she’s in first, I peak my head inside and see the EMF reader she’s holding going nuts as if it’s detected something.

“Don’t worry, Ash, there’s a dead cactus here. That’s not the ghost we’re looking for, is it?“ Chris, my amazingly bright friend says, quirking an eyebrow suggesting that remark was nothing short of dead-ass serious.

“Chris, darling, that’s not how it works. Cactuses are plants.“ I point out as sweetly as I can as to mask my laughter.

“Don’t the same ghostly rules apply?“ The genuine look of confusion he gives me almost makes me lose it.

“Ok children, leave the room, we need to set up a motion detector to be sure.“ Beth says with a tone that suggests she’s more than over our insanity. Jeez, count on her and Sam to start parenting us through our chaos. They are of high authority, must admit - one genuinely feels bad if they don’t comply to whatever these two girls demand.

We all pile out in the hallway while the twins set up this interesting motion detector with green dots. I don’t know what Jess’ granny looked like, but I bet that even the most unattractive of people would look hella good with this lighting. Thankfully the room is dark enough with the shutters closed and the curtains drawn, allowing the dots to be perfectly visible.

We stare at the minimalistic room littered with fluorescent green dots on every surface for maybe a minute or two but not much happens to the disappointment to some and relief to others. However, as if not wanting to let us down, the ghost makes a shy appearance if the shift of the green dots is anything to go by.

“Oh shit, is that a ghost?“ Chris whispers, sounding as amazed as I feel in this moment.

“It better be.“ I mutter in response, refusing to blink and risk missing anything important.

The sudden presence of the obnoxious noise of the spirit voice box makes us all jump. As I turn my head to glare at whoever’s using it, Josh speaks up. “Are you an attractive ghost?”

“Josh, that’s my great-grandmother, you ass!“ Jess barks with disgust in her voice.

In the meantime, I catch glimpse of Mike rolling up his sleeves. Oh shit, this ain’t good.

“I’ve been waiting for this!“ He shouts victoriously, cracking his knuckles.

Knowing this won’t end well, the first thing I do is snatch the camera from Chris’ hands and turn it on.

“Um, Mike, what do you mean?“ Sam’s back to being concerned, turning to the rest of us when Mike doesn’t give her a response, “What’s he gonna do?“

“Fight it.“ I answer as though it’s the most normal thing to ever have been done, “Or, ash he calls it - kick some ghost ass.“

“A freaking ghost?! He’s gonna try to tussle with something he can’t see?“ I can’t tell if Matt’s tone is disbelief, amusement or disappointment, but I believe he isn’t about to try and stop or dear ex-president in his pursuit and that’s all that matters. I ain’t about to let someone stop whatever’s about to go down from going down.

“That’s still my great-grandmother, you dumbass!“ Jess shrieks with something alike terror.

“Don’t worry Jess, I’m sure she’ll go easy on him.“ I say in an attempt to reassure her but I can’t even be bothered really, I’m too laser-focused on the circus that’s about to take place in front of me.

Mike, as if encouraged by my words, charges into the room. Much to his dismay, before he could even reach the ghost, he’s met with a much more vigorous enemy - the carpet. The rascal trips him up and Mr. Munroe falls flat on his face.

The group stays silent, looking at the glorious aftermath of the glorious fall. Told ya these lights could make everything fabulous. Must say, it’s truly an honor for me to have been able to catch all that on tape.

“10/10, would ghost-hunt with Mikey Munroe again.“

[twoidiotwriters1]

Written In The Stars CXL (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: This gif is huge but it’s the only one I could find with detective!Erick vibes and it excels at it so enjoy -Danny

Words: 2,936 

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Listen to: ‘Black Butterflies and Déjà Vu’ (Acoustic) -by The Maine

Chapter Two: Just Friends.

HARRY POTTER: THE CHOSEN ONE?

Rumours continue to fly about the mysterious recent disturbance at the Ministry of Magic, during which He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was sighted once more...'

"Well, look at that," Mel threw the paper onto the backseat. "Looks like Harry's going to have a fun year."

"He'll enjoy it no doubt," Erick replied, his eyes fixed on the road. "Is it true, though?"

"You were there..."

"I mean the prophecy."

They'd been driving for two days and they still had no idea where Slughorn could be. Mel was starting to miss her bed and her hair was gross, she was more than grumpy.

"I can't talk about it."

"Yes or no would be fine..."

"If you want to believe it go ahead, I'm sure Harry'll appreciate one of his friends participating in the gossip."

Erick scoffed, she looked back at him with a frown.

"What?"

"I don't gossip about Potter," He grumbled. "And I don't think he'd cared if I did. We're not friends."

"After all you've done you think he would consider you a mere acquaintance?"

"You remember how he treated me last year at Grimmauld Place?"

"You remember how he treated everyone last year?" She raised a brow.

"I've spent lots of good moments with you — but him... you really think he considers me a friend?"

Mel opened her mouth but nothing came out of it, she had no idea.

"Lots of things can change in a year," She said at last.

"Maybe," Erick agreed, then he looked at her shortly and smiled. "You're still the same girl from six years ago, though."

Mel let out something that sounded like half a snort.

"Because I'm the only one that doesn't bully you?"

"You're the only one that bullies me," He laughed. "Listen, you might think that being sweet sucks, but that's not all you are. You're the best witch of our age..."

"Doubt that," She said bitterly, "if I were I'd be the one with a prophecy, don't you think?"

"So there is a prophecy?"

"I'm just saying," Mel responded promptly. "That if I were meant to do great things, the stars would've said something about it — I wouldn't be so incompetent..."

"The stars are balls of gas floating outside the planet, not deities," Erick rolled his eyes. "Don't you remember what I told you?"

"You've said many things to me, you have to be more specific."

"You can do anything, but you're afraid it won't end well. You're the only person who gets to decide your future," He glanced at her once more. "So what is it, Miss Dumbledore? Are you going to make history?"

"I'm going to have lunch," She concluded.

"You have the picture?"

"Of course I have the picture, I'm not you."

"I left it in the car once!" Mel scowled. "And we weren't close to finding him!"

"Quiet," He fixed his hat. "We can't attract attention to ourselves."

"In that case, you should stop acting like a fool," She snatched the hat out of his head. "You're ridiculous."

"No!" He pushed his hair back grumpily. "My hair looks weird today!"

"You look fine — let those poor curls breathe, they suffer under all the things you put on them..."

"I only use wax," He grumbled. "Wouldn't hurt you to brush your hair for a change..."

"I already cut it," She gestured vaguely to her bangs. "The hardest thing I've done in my life, by the way..."

"Hardest thing? The fight in the Ministry was a breeze for you?" Erick snorted.

"You know what —"

Mel froze; a small man was approaching the house across the street. Erick grabbed the photo from inside his pocket and stared at it, then nodded. They turned their backs on the man, both of them staring at the reflection of a window to keep an eye on Slughorn.

"We're eight hours away from home... what if he moves while we're driving back?"

"Don't think so," Mel watched as the man opened the door with a flick of his wand. "He stays at least four days in each place, he'll be there long enough for us to inform my uncle."

"Okay," The boy smiled. "We did it."

"This isn't over," Mel squeezed his arm, noticing the two figures ahead. "He's been followed."

"What?"

"Look..."

She discretely pointed to the other two reflections: men in dark robes were standing seven houses away from Slughorn's. Mel didn't recognize them, but no muggle would walk around wearing that kind of clothes.

"We have to get rid of them."

"You read my mind," She responded. "D'you think they know we're here?"

"They're following him, not us..." He tilted his head and eyed her up and down. "How do you feel about being the distraction?"

"You think you can take down two death eaters on your own?"

"If I can't and they kill me, I know you can."

"Fair enough," Mel grinned. "I'll lure them into the alley, wait for us there..."

The girl crossed the street, she didn't know if they would know who she was, but she was hoping her face was still unknown to most wizards. She crashed against one of them and dropped her wand on purpose.

Both men froze and quickly retrieved her wand; Mel gave them a panicky look over her shoulder that she hoped was convincing. The wizards had been taken by surprise, but they ran after her. She took a shard turn and ended up cornered in the alley.

"Bad luck for you, missy," said one. "We can't —"

A flash of blue hit him on the back, then a second one reached the other man and he fell forward too.

Erick walked into the alley. "We should obliviate them."

"Sharp aim you got there," Mel commented.

"Thanks," He replied casually, "are you all right?"

"Yeah, they were too busy giving a dramatic speech," She stared at the men and frowned. "Dumbledore said Slughorn was afraid like everyone else, but it looks like he's got a reason to be hiding, don't you think?"

Erick crouched down and inspected the men's pockets.

"Nothing," He sighed. "Can't blame Dumbledore for hiding stuff — The more we know the more the Death Eaters could get from us if they catch us."

"He told my mum I'd be safe," Mel scowled. "What does he value more than what's left of his own family?"

Erick raised a brow.

"Did you get hurt?"

"No."

"Listen, we're inexperienced, he's not going to trust us right away with all the information —"

"It's thanks to me and Harry that he's found out half of the things he knows! If that's not enough then I don't know what he wants!"

"I don't want to argue with you," Erick stood up. "He said he would tell you everything, I don't understand what's the problem..."

"I don't understand why you're okay with being his puppet —!"

"I'm not a puppet!" He replied fuming, then pointed his wand towards the men. "Obliviate!"

In less than a minute it was done. Erick fixed his robes and snatched his hat from Mel's head.

"Time to go home."

Mel threw a soft punch at him and Erick grunted, staring at her with confusion and holding the place she'd hit.

"I hate it when you act like that," She picked up the men's wands, "like a villain."

"Thought you were over fairytales," He muttered. "Villains aren't real..."

She walked past him and slammed the wands on his chest, Erick grunted again.

"You know I'm right!" He followed her out of the alley. "You would've done the same!"

"Shut up!"

They arrived at Privet Drive in the afternoon, she saw Harry move away from his window and knew he was going to ask them all about their adventure.

"Don't mention the Death Eaters to Harry."

The seatbelt snapped back into place and Erick hissed, shaking the hand he'd hurt.

"Why?"

"If he finds out I was chased down a street he'll go crazy, and I've been trying to convince him to... to stay out of my problems. Leave it to me, I can handle his tantrums way better than you."

They got out of the car, Mel opened the trunk and pulled out her bag as well as Erick's.

"Hi!" Harry greeted. "How was your mission?"

"Successful," Erick said shortly.

"How're you?"

"Brilliant!" She said. "I have to take our bags inside, so..."

"Let me help," He replied.

"Oh, I got it! Erick needs a hand in the kitchen, though..."

"I still don't know how the stove works," He put an arm around Harry's shoulders and guided him into the house. "I was thinking chicken soup, but I have no idea how to cook it!"

"Sure," Harry followed him cheerfully, Mel had the feeling he'd missed them.

"Did you find the man?"

Erick hummed.

"Cool," said Harry, grabbing three plates from the sink.

Mel was upstairs taking a shower, Erick begged for her to hurry.

"Did... er... Did all go well for real?"

"What do you mean?"

"Did you really just found the man and came back?"

"We came back as soon as we finished, yes. She was safe at all times, I promise."

"I know," Harry put the dishes on the counter. "I would've felt something otherwise... you know about the lifeline, right?"

He knew about that, whatever made them feel each other's pain. Erick didn't understand how that worked, but he'd never asked.

"Right," He nodded. "Bet you must hate that..."

Harry stared at him.

"She didn't tell you? What Dumbledore said to us?"

"Why would she?"

"Well," Harry looked down again, drying the plates carefully. "You're the one she goes to when she has a problem."

"Only when I'm available," He said quickly. "It's just... lately everyone else is always preoccupied with... well, you."

Harry hadn't thought about it, but that was true. A few weeks ago half of the order had gone to King's cross just to talk to his uncle, everywhere he went the conversation would always end up being about him.

Mel had known Harry for nine years and she'd always looked after him, with or without the connection, he understood why she felt like they didn't need it. Harry, on the other hand, depended so much on their lifeline to make sure she was safe... but was it really necessary? Would it be equally helpful for both sides? They truly needed to give each other space to think.

"I'm glad you're here," He confessed. "Don't think I'm being helpful... all the things I've done... all she sees when she looks at me is Voldemort."

Erick didn't wince, which caught Harry's attention and made him curious.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"You're from a pureblood family, but they weren't Death Eaters... How come you're not afraid of his name?"

"Oh," Erick tilted his head. " knew I wasn't supposed to say it, but I was used to hearing it. My Grandad would call him Voldemort all the time... I just never say it out loud because, you know..."

"I was really rude to you last year," He sighed. "I'm sorry."

"You had your reasons..."

"They weren't good enough."

"Listen, Harry, I know how it is... feeling like you're on your own, having one person that makes your life better and then having to walk away because you could hurt them more than you make them happy — I've been angry like that too. Actually, it also happened in my fifth year. Guess we do have things in common, huh?"

Harry had a funny look on his face. It was true, they did have a thing in common: They both wanted the best for Mel.

Right now, the best was Erick.

"You're a good bloke, Flint," He admitted. "I'm sorry I didn't listen to Mel before, we could've been good friends since the start."

"I wasn't likeable then, believe me," The Slytherin chuckled. "But she refused to take a no for an answer... She's something special, isn't she?"

"She is," Harry agreed.

"Yeah, she is," He sighed, perhaps a bit too dreamily.

This didn't go unnoticed by Harry.

"Listen," The boy began carefully. "Take care of her, alright?"

"I don't think she needs a man to look after her," Erick replied distractedly.

"No, listen, don't make the same mistakes I did — I don't want her to suffer, that's why I gave her up in the first place. You understand that?"

One thing Erick knew from talking with Hermione and the twins was that Harry never admitted that he'd dated Mel. He had no idea why he'd been chosen to be the first to hear it.

"I don't know if she — she doesn't want me that way," He'd never felt as embarrassed about anything in his life as he did now, standing in front of this sixteen-year-old who somehow made him feel like he was an idiot.

Harry stared at him carefully, he took his time to answer.

"If she says no, I know Mel will make you regret it if you bother her too much — But if she wants you... I don't mind it."

"Okay," Erick said hoarsely. "Thanks?"

"Excellent," Harry grabbed the plates and set them on the table.

Erick stared at the boy and couldn't help but wonder how much Harry had to suffer to stop fearing the little things in life like demanding stuff from an older, taller guy?

Or maybe, just maybe, Harry wasn't afraid of him because he was a friend.

Could that really be it? He'd been waiting for this quite some time, and yet he couldn't stop the thought of something else being the real reason behind Harry's serenity. He wasn't the same boy Erick could torment by pretending he was flirting with Mel, and for some reason, he found that disturbing.

"One last thing?" Erick turned off the stove.

"Yeah?" Harry looked at him over his shoulder, eyes attentive.

"My old friends used to call me Flint," He smiled a bit. "So please, call me Erick."

The boys were having lunch when she entered the kitchen.

"I hope the Dursleys didn't make you starve while we were gone," Mel said as she sat in front of them.

"Not much."

"That's not good," She raised a brow. "How long till Dumbledore comes for you?"

"He'll pick me up tonight, didn't he tell you?"

"Haven't seen him since we left..."

"You're still moody, then?" Erick raised a brow, noticing her pout. "Thought the shower would help, I genuinely believed your bad mood was thanks to the underwear you'd been wearing for —"

"We don't need to talk about that," She blushed.

The boys laughed and she stared at them, what was that about?

An owl flew in through the window and landed in front of Erick.

"Dumbledore," He raised his eyebrows. "He wants us to go with him and Harry... We must be ready at seven as well. I should pack..."

"No need — Mum took all our stuff, our trunks are waiting at the burrow. She took Grey too."

"Ah, so that's why my feet haven't been attacked today!" Erick folded the letter. "Okay then, looks like you won't get rid of us for the rest of the summer, Glasses."

"Pity," The boy replied.

"Hang on!" She pushed her plate away. "I left you alone for half an hour and now you're best mates? You can't call him Glasses — Only I get to call him that!"

"You're the only one that calls me that because it's a stupid name," Harry raised a brow. "I call you Mellow but everyone else does too! We never said my nickname was exclusive. If he wants to sound stupid then let him."

"You see? He doesn't mind," Erick smirked, then he understood Harry's words and frowned. "I do not sound stupid."

"I feel betrayed," Mel sulked. "I'm not sure I'm liking this friendship between you."

"You were the one who wanted us to get along!" Erick exclaimed. "You should be happy! Looks like your efforts finally paid off..."

"Only took us two years," Harry grinned.

"I finished with the laundry and it's your turn to wash the dishes —" She walked into Erick's room and gazed up from the basket. "Shit — You're naked!"

Mel looked away, feeling her cheeks burning at the sound of his hearty laugh.

"I just took off my shirt!"

"I came here to leave your clothes — Possibly a shirt you can wear right now..." She walked up to the bed, Erick did so at the same time.

He didn't mean to walk up to her half-naked, but he didn't step back either. He just stood there, his chest moving up and down with every breath.

Erick had freckles over his shoulders, he also had thin scars across his torso from the cuts that had almost killed him. Mel redirected her attention to his face only to meet his hazel eyes softened by the sunset, his lips were forming a tiny, yet noticeable smirk.

"I'll take that," He seized the clothes gently, "and I'll wash the dishes after my shower."

"Okay."

"And I'll lock my door from now on since no one taught you to knock first," Erick teased, she felt like he could tell how fast her heart was beating.

Mel looked up at him resolutely.

"A prince doesn't expose a lady," She said in a firm voice.

"I'm no longer a prince," He replied without breaking eye contact, "and you've never been a lady."

Mel stormed out of the room without even responding.

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

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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!”

[passionate-reply]

Have you and Telex met somewhere before? If not, you may want to make their acquaintance. This delightfully irreverent Belgian electro-disco trio came in next to last at 1980′s Eurovision Song Contest. And then they did an album featuring English lyrics by Sparks’ Ron and Russel Mael! Find out all about what makes this record tick, in this week’s installment of Great Albums. Full transcript below the break...

Welcome to Passionate Reply, and welcome to Great Albums! It’s time to break outside the Anglosphere, and take a look at one of the finest synth-pop acts to come from Belgium: the irreverent post-disco trio of Telex. Telex were, in fact, so European that they were sent to that most European of institutions, the Eurovision Song Contest, in the year 1980, in what was perhaps their finest hour in the spotlight.

Music: “Eurovision”

While many contemporary listeners may find “Eurovision” amusing, it actually didn’t go over well in the contest itself, and Telex managed to place second to last on behalf of the Belgian people, losing even the (arguably) more illustrious last place to Finland. It was one of the earliest true “joke entries,” so perhaps the masses weren’t ready for this approach yet. Despite its generally upbeat sound, I think the lyrics of “Eurovision” come across as really quite harsh--and the song’s availability in both English and French meant that plenty of people understood them. Mocking the financial instability of Italy and, apparently, anyone dumb enough to tune into Eurovision, there’s really a rather condescending, perhaps even cruel, sensibility about it. A conspicuous reference to the Berlin Wall, a symbol of some of Europe’s deepest divisions and greatest political turmoil, gives it an extra nudge towards feeling rather contextually inappropriate. Telex’s “Eurovision” might just be the most cynical or anti-European song ever entered...at least up until Hatari of Iceland gave us the thunderous industrial anthem “Hatrið Mun Sigra,” in 2019.

Telex’s follow-up to this “incident” is, in my opinion, where their career starts to really get interesting. While it isn’t that heavily advertised, 1981’s Sex was actually something of a collaboration album, featuring English-language lyrics on all tracks which were contributed by Ron and Russell Mael of Sparks. Given the recent resurgence of interest in Sparks spurred by Edgar Wright’s documentary on them, I figure now is as good a time as ever to revisit this somewhat lesser-known work in the Sparks catalogue--or, at least, with one foot in the Sparks catalogue.

In my opinion, Sex takes the better aspects of both of these groups and combines them into something that feels like more than the sum of its parts. Telex’s soft, yet sprightly synth arrangements have as much fun and flair as those of fellow Sparks collaborator Giorgio Moroder, and feel more substantive and organic than Sparks’ many attempts to play with various genres in which they remained outsider dilettantes. Likewise, the Mael brothers’ lyricism is a major improvement to the often clunky English offered by previous efforts by the Belgians. Recontextualized amidst a sea of dreamy Euro-pop, and delivered by Telex’s suave yet unassuming vocalist Michel Moers, the same style of lyricism that often makes Sparks feel crass and overwrought to me becomes transmuted into something I’m much more amenable to. Much like Devo, I’ve often found the “smartest guys in the room” vibe of Sparks a bit off-putting, but Sex has a certain subtlety or ambiguity about it, that keeps me coming back and pondering it.

Music: “Dummy”

The feel-good, squelching bass grooves of “Dummy” recall the most affable work of the seminal Yellow Magic Orchestra, and a falsetto hook that’s to die for marks it as one of the more pop-oriented tracks on the album. Had it stopped at “Dummy, hey, I’m talking to you,” it would be not only less interesting musically, but also conceptually; the overt questioning, “now who’s the dumb one?”, rescues it from simply being mean. I like to think it calls to mind the archetype of the fool who is constantly vocally doubting the intelligence of others, in an attempt to cover for their own insecurities. While it’s a comparatively simple track, lyrically, it establishes some of the album’s most important themes, portraying traditional “intelligence” as mutable, and perhaps questionable. Despite its appeal, “Dummy” was actually not included on the original tracklisting of the album, but rather debuted as the B-side to the single “Brainwash,” before receiving this promotion in later revisions of the LP. In this rare case, I actually think the later edition is superior, and it’s the one I’d recommend.

Music: “Brainwash”

Besides just sharing opposite sides of the same single, there’s also a strong thematic connection between “Dummy” and the slower-paced, narrative-driven “Brainwash.” Arguably the most high-concept track to be had on Sex, “Brainwash” tells the tale of an intellectual who willingly forfeits his intelligence for the sake of falling in love. That, in and of itself, is a take on the love song that I’ve never heard before. We all know the trope that being in love makes one stupid--our word “infatuation” is basically Latin for “being made stupid.” But “Brainwash” suggests that, given the choice, we might well be better off as fools rushing in. What good is a life full of knowledge if it is one without passion, and deeper humanity? The narrator of “Brainwash” seems fully cognizant of what they abandon, and makes an informed decision to do so. But what complicates things even further is the development that the object of the narrator’s affections seems desperate to make them regain their prior book smarts--perhaps a commentary on how society frames this issue, and its willingness to prioritize the prestige of education over genuine human happiness. The single “Haven’t We Met Somewhere Before?” explores a related, but also distinct tension between knowledge and happiness.

Music: “Haven’t We Met Somewhere Before?”

Moreso than anything else on the album, “Haven’t We Met Somewhere Before?” is really sort of harrowing. Moers’s falsetto feels less like a fun disco aftershock and more like a cry of pain, and the stilted melody and more brash synthesiser stabs establish an air of unease--though still not so strong that it feels out of place alongside lighter tracks like “Brainwash.” Its lyrical narrative is plainly a tragic one, with a narrator who thinks he’s encountered his wife, but can’t quite piece it together, or get the response that he’s looking for. It’s evocative of the very real agony a sufferer of dementia and their loved ones might face, losing their memories, and, with them, their connection to the people around them. But perhaps the most eerie thing about the track is that it never does dip into more maudlin territory, even if it feels like it ought to. In the full context of the album, and particularly the sentiment expressed by “Brainwash,” we’re forced to question just how unfortunate the tale expressed in this song is. Perhaps “Haven’t We Met Somewhere Before?” is also suggesting that love is more powerful than knowledge, in its own way. Perhaps the characters it presents have transcended the need for knowledge of their shared history, because their bond is deeper and more primal than that? Similarly subversive questions about love are also posed by “Exercise Is Good For You.”

Music: “Exercise Is Good For You”

With a pleasingly abrasive, textured synth line and a rather singable refrain, “Exercise Is Good For You” is the one track cut from the later version of the album that I do find myself missing. This track’s narrator has devoted themselves to exercising--perhaps over-exercising--in the wake of a bad break-up. At first blush, it may seem a bit absurd, but this is a real-life coping mechanism, and one that can potentially be quite dangerous, particularly as it’s often combined with eating disorders. The potential for peril is compounded by the notion that, well, “exercise is good for you,” and that in a world where too few of us partake, anyone who does must be doing the best for their health. While it doesn’t deal with the realm of knowledge, I do think “Exercise Is Good For You” works in a similar space as tracks like “Brainwash” and “Haven’t We Met Somewhere Before?” do, offering an ambiguous narrative that asks us to question something we habitually value--in this case, by portraying the apparent virtue of physical fitness in a darker and less healthy light.

Earlier, I referred to this album simply as Sex, but for the UK market, it was re-christened Birds & Bees. There is obviously something quite transgressive and irreverent about naming a pop album “Sex”! We like to think of pop music as trading chiefly in themes of love and romance, so the title Sex functions as a bit of a “low blow,” suggesting that we ought to think more cynically about “what’s really going on below.” Despite this, there’s really not a lot of terribly bawdy tracks to be had on either version of the album, which may come as some surprise if you’re familiar with their early track “Pakmoväst.” I think the fact that the album title was changed, and seemingly “censored” with the very knowing title Birds & Bees, only adds to its transgressiveness, and lends it a certain allure of the forbidden.

You won’t find birds or bees on the cover of the album, however, but rather a butterfly, feeding off the nectar of two large flowers. It’s certainly an image that can be read as evocative of sensuality, with yonic visual overtones. Perhaps more overtly offensive to the eye is its queasy, dull yellow colour scheme, which is actually much more stuck in the 70s than the rather sharp and with-it electro-disco stylings of the music.

Historically, the butterfly is often used as a symbol of innocence, particularly with respect to the carnal knowledge of sex. In François Gérard’s depiction of the mythological heroine Psyche, a butterfly hovers above the subject, as she receives her first kiss from her lover, Cupid, a god of lust and sexual desire. The suggestion of youthful innocence is only heightened when the title Birds & Bees is applied. We might also consider the similarity between the idea of naivete or innocence as a virtue, and the apparent thrust of tracks like “Brainwash,” which also challenge the utility and benefit of knowledge about the world.

Telex would go on to release three more LPs after this one, and while they never quite surpassed a cult following, they keep up with the times quite respectably, incorporating sampling and digital synth textures without losing their signature levity and playfulness. I think they’re well worth a listen if you’re interested so far.

Music: “Raised By Snakes”

My favourite track on this album is one that’s exclusive to the later release, and never appeared anywhere else: “Mata Hari,” which was not only added to the album, but given the prominent position as its opening track. Mata Hari was actually a real person, a courtesan famous for her exotic dances inspired by her time in the Dutch East Indies. But she became caught up in the political storm of the First World War, and the French government convicted her of spying for the Germans--even though many believed she was framed. After her execution for the alleged crime, her severed head was embalmed and displayed in a Parisian museum, for all to gawk at...until it mysteriously went missing, possibly stolen by an “admirer.” It’s a strange and tragic tale, for sure, and one suitably treated with a sense of mystery and uncertainty by the song. An undoubtedly complex and controversial figure, Mata Hari can be seen as a symbol of European disunity, not unlike the Berlin Wall, as well as a representation of sensuality used for devious and destructive ends. I think this track enriches the album’s themes while also feeling somewhat separate, with its more pensive mood and third-person lyricism. That’s everything for today--thanks, as always, for listening!

Music: “Mata Hari”

[beautifulterriblequeen]

Impressions from TTM

Spoilers, spoilers everywhere. Just a big bulleted list of thoughts as I read through the graphic novel. Not a lot of detail included, so it’ll make a lot more sense if you’ve already read it yourself!

looks like Moonshadow elves cross the arms of the dead... when they have a body to bury

it’s nice to see that Rayla imagines Runaan with all his shirts, the way she last saw him

kinda looks like Rayla changed into her jammies right on her bed and dumped her clothes on that little table. maybe she’s afraid of letting the few things she actually possesses out of her sight

listen we get one little panel of Opeli in here and it’s great

Soren’s cape smacking Callum in the face, 10/10

Lujanne’s appearance out of nowhere, along with Allen’s is just adorable, she’s so sparkly. And also she can apparently just turn totally invisible with an illusion spell? Even at a new moon? Probably because of the Nexus I guess

Lujanne’s “Big strong man with big strong feelings.” She and Runaan have exactly the same type and I support them

Allen’s face when Lujanne says it aches to miss Phoe-Phoe

Callum eating off Rayla’s plate and wondering how Lujanne suspected they were a couple, hmmm

Soren and Allen bonding

Rayla warning Lujanne about hand disguises, as if that was something Runaan made very sure she knew

Rayla’s cute chaos grin when Callum’s Aspiro spell goes off is my favorite pic of her in this whole graphic novel

Lujanne’s “Oh.” afterward is my fave pic of her, too, she does not seem to handle reality well!

Bait’s tongue will never get old

Lujanne’s whole speech during Phoe-Phoe’s rebirth ritual is so touching and beautiful, my heart

Lujanne putting the newborn Moon Phoenix into Ezran’s hands, like she knows he’ll have the best connection with her

Callum’s tears as he reminds Rayla that Runaan killed Harrow, he’s trying to move on, but it hurts

Rayla’s self-soothing behavior when she has her second nightmare in the book--she must have these most every night :((((

the big symbol on the Moon Temple doors looks like a stylized Moon staff, like it’s a building for mages

Lujanne saying Rayla might not want or need the truth right after Callum mentions Runaan’s name to her, he sassily asks about her husbands and she turns it into a compliment

Callum’s big reaction to the moon opals is adorable. The only other one he’s seen was part of a pair of treasured gifts between long-time spouses, so it kinda looks like he’s all “uhh we just started dating”

also Ethari must’ve made cute metal swirly covers for the pair he and Runaan wore, since these two are undecorated--maybe he got his from Lujanne?

listen Lujanne is a hoot and all but she’s both an ally and an antagonist. Her actions are trustworthy but her advice is generally terrible. It’s an interesting parallel to how Runaan says a lot with his actions too, but he talks a lot less than Lujanne

Rayla yeeting herself into a fight just to ask Soren for a talk is 10/10 Moonshadow assassin goals

but her hood is up when she’s lurking in the trees--she might not have known where she’d find Soren and was anticipating something less fun on the feels-o-meter

Rayla in the mud again. Soren keeps making people fall in the mud

Allen’s grumpy squiggle

Callum, I love you, but you have no respect for moon opals. It’s like they wronged you in a previous life or something

that dancing elf has very long hair and shoulder pauldrons, and they start off dancing with six kneeling, watching, hooded elves around them--Moon Druids wore hoods even before they were assassins. Considering what Lujanne said about why the portal was sometimes opened, maybe those six kneeling elves are waiting under their emotion-hiding hoods to farewell a loved one who’s recently died?

can’t tell for sure but maybe the elf is dancing along the lines in the stone like they mark patterns for ritual dances, which would be the bomb

Soren and Rayla’s conversation is pretty wrenching. Seeing Soren have to struggle with what he did because it’s tangled up with Viren is rough because as a Crownguard it should just have been his duty to defend his king and he’d have nothing to feel weird about

Rayla dissociating herself from the term “assassins” and Soren dissociating from calling Viren “my father” in the same conversation is 10/10 excellent growth

Soren must know what happens to prisoners his dad gets a hold of, even if he doesn’t know the details :(((

“we captured him” and “Viren took him” seem to be talking about the Crownguard and Viren, not the brodigies and Viren

Rayla having a wooden sword at the end of the day bc she played swordfighting with Allen and Soren all day long

the panel where Rayla doesn’t say anything at all after telling Callum that she asked Soren about Runaan actually says so much, you can hear it

every time Lujanne’s white lies idea gets repeated, things get worse

Allen’s reading glasses, there must be one optician in the human village and he caters to soft kindly gentlemen of a certain age

in the moon phase montage, baby Phoe-Phoe is flying next to Ezran after one week at the Nexus. Maybe he’s paying her back by helping her learn to fly after she helped him teach Zym how to fly! Did they bond as tightly as Ezran did with Zym? I support Ezran just bonding with the most powerful flying creatures in all the land.

the irony of Callum using Lujanne’s tactics against her is amazing, but really the white lies thing is a giant ball of chaos in this story and it does not play favorites

Bait on the stone pillar during rebuilding

all the noises the Moonhenge makes are 10/10

Rayla dancing with Callum even though there’s almost no chance she’s ever done that dance before

Lujanne’s pupils going white, that is a cool effect, what’s it mean?

the black moon in the pink sky is so spooky! Is it just me or does the color scheme here kinda vibe like the space outside Aaravos’s library?

the smoky assassin squad, 10/10 creep factor, I love it

the lightning being a literal crack of doom with “CRAK-DOOM” as Katolis Castle appears, “echoes of thunder” indeed, very nice

Lujanne being mad but she can’t decide if it’s at Callum or herself

when she says pulling Rayla out now will leave her soul on one side and her body a husk. After the Insta live stream last night where we learned that soulfang serpents are Moon primal creatures, that’s... super interesting

smoky assassins go tssh in the rain like they’re still hot from being cremated, thanks I hate it

Andromeda finds Rayla first and seems closest/most aggressive so I wonder why she might hate Rayla more than the others

the assassins’ wrist bindings have gone red but they’re still attached and seem to trap the souls where they are. But all they need to be free is to perceive that Rayla completed their task, even though we know otherwise. So... would that work for killing any target? If you’re certain that you did it, does your binding fall off even if you’re wrong? eyes Pip

this must not be the actual afterlife since the spirits kind of mist up toward the moon and vanish, it’s more like a lobby, no one stays here unless they get stuck

portaling around just by shouting at villains, excellent

Rayla literally dropping a sword at the sight of the pod Viren’s in, yeah, it’s that creepy, I agree

Viren’s eyes are so black I think they’re Aaravos’s. I got a whole headcanon on Good Viren and Evil Viren for S4 now, wow

Phoe-Phoe pulling out a feather for Callum, awww my heart! This is why Ezran had to come, to bond with her so together they could save Callum and Rayla, it’s so sweet

so these humans are from the Storm Spire battle, bc that’s the Storm Spire behind Rayla and Callum on p108, with the rune-written arch. Did they die hating Rayla and Callum from the battle? Did they even know Rayla was up there? Or is pod Viren/Aaravos actually making them attack out of hatred for Viren’s death? One of these is definitely creepier and more awesome

Rayla’s confidence that Callum can and will boost her at the right moment with his magic, my heart, I love battle couples

that one panel that mirrors the Ghost Feather key art, hhhhhh

Rayla being the better swimmer, such precious irony, thanks Runaan

them holding hands and swimming upward together on the full-page panel is blessed

Lujanne pulling Rayla out of the lake with both arms gives me feels bc my grandma saved my life once

Lujanne being super soft over Rayllum, she is indeed a hopeless romantic

Rayla says “gone” about her parents and Runaan, and that’s the word Ethari used too, and I’m suddenly wondering if Ethari reached right into that pool and has always known that the lotus is half-submerged and if the sword he’s been making is for himself

I’m so glad Rayla told Callum what she saw of Viren

Rayla deceiving Callum and heading into danger alone because his life is more valuable to her than her own is exactly what Runaan did for her the night of the full moon in Katolis. I’m leaning toward her having thought this over and doing it on purpose bc she believes it’s a sign of deepest love--that Runaan’s actions and Lujanne’s words match up in her head, so she thinks it’s the right thing to do bc the mage and the assassin agree. Alas, Callum doesn’t understand the Moon arcanum yet, so he will have a different opinion. That mage and that assassin do not agree!

Rayla’s cloak has that Moon Temple symbol on its back. Is it Lujanne’s cloak? Any Moonshadow who sees it will probably know where she got it and who helped her. That could be fun!

[lilikags]

Trash Talk & ‘Evil Plans’ (Oikawa Tooru)

I sincerely wonder if gossip might be a better word, I don’t know.

Pairing: Oikawa Tooru x female reader Type: Fluff (?) I don’t think it could be much of anything else so Words: 3542

"(y/n)... I think we should break up."

Tears formed in your eyes. You expected this- you knew it would happen, for a long time. Yet, you were still surprised. It didn't make sense to you. It was just what emotions did, you figured.

"Yes, we should break up. Enjoy your time with your new girlfriend. Don't come back to me when she gets together with someone else though. I'm not your pillow."

You walked away, holding back your tears. Your slow gait soon turned into the fastest you could run, in the direction of your house. You didn't want to see him tomorrow, but you knew you were going to anyways at school.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

You watched him with his new girlfriend. It's not like you really wanted to- you couldn't care less. It just happened the three of you were in the same class and it was break. Meaning, there was nothing for you to do. You didn't have any inspiration to draw anything, and no one to talk to. He used to be the one you talked to during break, but you didn't want to talk to him anymore. Actually, it's been like that for a while. He's had his eye on her for a while, and you noticed that early on. Sometimes you wish you weren't observant.

But sometimes, you liked being observant. You could pick up on things others couldn't. You were in the same class as her in every class, meaning you had a lot of opportunities to observe her. You observed everyone in class, but ever since she had taken a slight interest in Mitsuo, your boyfriend at the time and the one you recently broke up with, you started to take a closer look at her. No matter how you looked at it, she was an Oikawa fangirl. He was the most popular guy in the entire school. You understood that though- he had the looks, the personality, and he even played volleyball. You've never had such an attraction to him. It looked fake to you- the happy smiles, the nice talk. You bet he thought his fangirls were annoying. What mattered to you was personality- someone who cared. You wanted someone who loved you in a special way, an you were the only one they loved that way. Maybe you set the bar too high from the romance novels you read. But your expectations were your expectations, and of course you didn't expect something like that right away, but that was what you wanted.

You thought you could have that with Mitsuo. He was smart, and he was nice to you. You got along well, and he respected your wishes. When you couldn't make it to plans you had made, he said that it was okay and that things that needed to be done had to be done. He treated you different than any other girl; he showed a lot more interest and was often protective of you. That was before he started liking her- the Oikawa fangirl. Her name was Yumi- Yoshino Yumi. Her family was much more well off than yours, and she had chill parents who let her date whoever she wanted. Their philosophy was "A textbook lesson can teach one lesson. Experiences can teach a hundred." Yumi always had a bright smile on her face. It made her look pretty and happy and always gave her positive vibes. She was new to the school, and Mitsuo liked her from the start. Apparently she had been the most popular girl in the school she previously attended, and asked Oikawa if they could date after they met a few times. He refused her like any other girl, and you assumed she was angry. The next day, she didn't show up for class. She must have cried and you figured she didn't want to come back to school with eyes red from tears. Her excuse was that she had come down with a fever.

You once saw her take out her phone during break. You didn't mean to look; she was just right next to you and you just happened to see it. What you saw was her lockscreen- and it had Oikawa on it. She and Mitsuo shared the same look when they saw each other, as if saying, "Are we meeting after school today? (y/n) won't know." Being next to her, you ended up seeing her lockscreen a lot. You noticed some things. First, they changed every week. She never repeated a picture nor did she change it mid-week. Second, they were all touched up with editing apps, having filters and other "beautifying" tools available. Third, they were all of Oikawa. No matter how you looked at it, she still liked him.

You felt pity for Mitsuo- having a girlfriend with no real interest in him. She probably got together with him because she felt he was the best option after being rejected by Oikawa. She would probably break up with him when she found someone more attractive than him.

The bell rung and everyone returned to their seats. The teacher for their next class arrived in the classroom and started the class. You went back to taking notes and doodling on the paper when she went on a tangent. She often did that and said, "Ah, I went off-topic again. Sorry about that!" Class went by pretty quickly that day, since you were just focusing on school. When the dismissal bell rung, you packed your things in your backpack and headed to your locker. Now that there wasn't much to think about, your mind drifted to Mitsuo. You missed how he acted before, how he used to walk with you to your locker after school and you used to have conversations all the way home. You absentmindedly opened your locker, with almost an emotionless face.

"(f/n)-chan!" (b/f/n) tried to jump scare you from behind. You turned around. "What's up, (b/f/n)?" you asked, unfazed. You knew all her shenanigans and tricks. After all, you two were best friends, and the two of you were very close. You had told her about what you noticed with Mitsuo and Yumi the first day you noticed something was up, and you confided in her with just about everything. "Wanna go hang out today? And it'll be at your house, because my brother has his friends over. It won't be fun with them around," she suggested, shaking her head when she mentioned her brother's friends. They were loud and annoying, and they often liked to bother (b/f/n) when they saw her. "Sure," you agreed, closing your locker's door after getting all the things you needed. You put the lock back on and the two of you headed to your house. It was quite close to the school, and you often walked home. Usually with Mitsuo, but now it was going to be (b/f/n). You felt that was better; after all, you didn't need someone who didn't care to walk you home. At least (b/f/n) cared.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

By nighttime, the two of you were done with your homework and had studied for the one upcoming test you both had. You were now just hanging out, sitting in your room and talking. The two of you sat on your bed, scrolling on your phones. She had decided to stay the night- something she did often since you were young children. Your parents considered her somewhat like their own daughter, since she was basically half living in your house and half living in hers. She even wore your clothes, and it was okay since you had been sharing clothes since you could remember. The two of you were the same size, so it didn't really make much of a difference.

"Hey, (f/n)-chan, ya up to a date?" (b/f/n) looked up from her phone. "Wha-" you looked at your best friend. "Aimi and I arranged a blind date with some guys at school and I think we hit jackpot this time!" She gave you that face, the one where she was begging for you to go and you could absolutely not refuse. "Fine..." you sighed. "It can't be that bad, after all, maybe you'll find the right guy this time," you thought, getting up to stretch. "When is it?" "Tomorrow! I don't even need to ask if you're free: you are. What else do you have to do?" she giggled. "Right. When exactly, tomorrow though? I know I'm free but I need to have an idea of when it'll be, so I can get ready," you took out your phone again, putting a reminder on your phone. "Lunch, right at noon. Don't you forget!" "I have a reminder right here- I won't forget," you put down your phone and plugged it in to charge it and pulled the covers over you. "Night, I'm tired now." "Night! Sleep tight and don't let the bed bugs bite!" You  laughed at (b/f/n). It was a childish thing to say, so like her, "Yes, yes."

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

"(y/n)~ Wake up~" you heard (b/f/n) say in you ear as she pulled the blanket off of you. "Argh, stop, I'm still sleeping," you turned back around. "You're going to wake up in two seconds," she declared. "1! 2!" As she counted to two, she pulled the blanket off again, this time making it out of your reach. You frantically reached for the blanket, waking yourself up in annoyance. "You got me there," you said, getting up and rubbing your eyes. You looked at the clock. It was 10:24 AM. "Let's go get ready! The blind date's gonna be soon~" (b/f/n) hopped over to the kitchen to find your mom cooking breakfast. (b/f/n) got even more excited when she saw the waffles being made and immediately grabbed a plate and the whipped cream from the fridge. She sat down on the island table, sitting at a place she could easily see the waffles being made.

You still sat on your bed, stretching. You definitely didn't feel like going out today, not one bit. On days like these, Mitsuo would come over and the two of you would just talk all day, sitting on your bed in your room. You would talk about anything, from what you did in the morning to a huge event that was happening. It was easy to talk to him, easy to tell him all your worries, easy to listen to him. Maybe that's what love did.

Nonetheless, you had to get up. You promised (b/f/n) you would go, and you weren't going to break that promise and trust you had built up over your whole life. She was a sensitive person, and you would rather deal with some annoying people then lose her. So, you went to get ready. You headed over to the bathroom and turned on the shower, so that you could get your clothes while the water warms up. You then walked back into your room and over to your closet, picking out a cute outfit to wear. It was warm today, so you decided a t-shirt and denim shorts would do. You picked out a simple white t-shirt with a cute duck drawn on it and a pair of shorts made from ripped denim. You spotted a light jacket with a flower design made of almost see-through fabric you recently bought and figured it would be a good time to wear it.

You went back to your bathroom and lay the clothes onto a dry part of the countertop by the sink and felt the water from the shower with your hand to see if it was warm yet. Drying off your hand with your pajamas, you took them off and headed into the shower. Meanwhile, when you were in the shower, (b/f/n) started talking to your mom while she was making the waffles. You hadn't told your mom yet about the breakup with Mitsuo, and you planned on telling her eventually, when she noticed something. (b/f/n), being (b/f/n), just had to go tell your mom about it. "Did you notice something about (y/n) today?" (b/f/n) got up to take a closer look at the waffles. "She does seem a bit down, but it could be due to many things. I'm sure it'll be over soon," your mom replied, focusing on the waffles. "Well, actually, she broke up with Mitsuo. More like Mitsuo broke up with (y/n), but nonetheless they broke up." Your mom stopped what she was doing for a second, "Huh? But I thought they were doing so well!"

When you were done with your shower, you turned off the water and grabbed your towel, which had your name on it. You mom thought it was a good idea to have everyone's names embroidered on their towels, and she had that done for New Years a few years back. Once dried, you quickly put on your clothes and brushed your hair, fixing it in a (hairstyle). You then put on some light makeup and headed out of the bathroom and into the kitchen, smelling the aroma of fresh waffles. You heard the name Mitsuo as you walked in and stopped before they could see you, listening in a bit on their conversation. "(b/f/n), seriously? I know you're the type to do that, but still, ugh," you thought to yourself. After a few minutes of listening in on the conversation, you decided to come out, hungry. You didn't eat that much last night, and waffles were delicious. You acted as if you didn't hear anything and got a plate of waffles for yourself, until your mom said, "(y/n), you broke up with Mitsuo?" "Yeah, we can talk about it later," you said, starting to eat your waffle at a faster pace.

You went back to the bathroom to brush your teeth, thinking about what you were going to say to your mom about Mitsuo. You'd known about this for a long time, yet you hadn't thought about what you were to say to your mom about what happened. Were you going to tell her the truth? It seemed like a favorable option, until you realized she'd make a big deal about it. You didn't want that; it would make it seem you were still hung up about that, and that was one of the last things you needed at the moment.

You headed back to your room to wait for (b/f/n) as she got ready. It always took her just about forever to get ready, especially for an occasion as big as this, so you laid in bed, playing games on your phone. They weren't exactly engaging, you would say, but they were definitely intriguing and good time passers. "Hey (y/n), Aimi can't make it to the blind date, and one of the guys too. Apparently her mom is dragging her to some class because she didn't get a good grade. Aimi, don't die! The guy that isn't coming is in the soccer club and there was an emergency meeting. So, it's just the two of us and the other two guys. This'll be interesting!" (b/f/n) said from the bathroom as she was fixing her makeup. You nodded in response, but internally, you were freaking out. Aimi was always good at making things less awkward for you, gladly taking the attention you didn't want in socially awkward situations. She was your saving grace in these kinds of situations, and you didn't know what to do without her.

After what felt like forever, (b/f/n) finally finished her makeup and got out of the bathroom. You stopped playing the game you were playing and got up from your bed. You walked over to the front door, slipping on your shoes and started heading your way to the bus station. The cafe Aimi had the arranged the blind date at wasn't far, but it was much quicker to get there by bus. After all, (b/f/n) took forever to do everything.

It wasn't long until you arrived at the cafe, with a wooden and plant themed aesthetic. There was a vine wall, which you thought was neat and the colors matched well.  A lot of wood was used throughout the cafe, but it all matched and didn't feel repetitive due to the different types wood used. The two of you sat down at a table Aimi reserved and waited for the guys.

The two of you didn't wait long before one of the guys showed up, and (b/f/n) instantly started talking to him. You knew who he was- he was on the basketball team and was pretty popular among the girls. Aimi had liked him for a long time, no wonder she was eager to talk to him. The two, being pretty similar, hit it off pretty quickly, leaving you to sip your (drink) by yourself while you waited for the other guy. You started to think he wouldn't come, and that was alright with you since you weren't thinking of dating someone yet.

After a while, and you had almost completely forgotten about the mysterious guy who wouldn't show up, until someone in a volleyball uniform showed up. He seemed tired, though he didn't how it much. He smiled and looked as if he was enjoying the attention given to him by both (b/f/n) and her partner. You felt you shouldn't care less, but you couldn't help but want to get out of there already. You knew who it was- Oikawa Tooru- and you already didn't want to talk to him. You were already in a bad mood and someone with a personality like his did not seem like a good combination to you.

"Hey, you're pretty cute. You're (y/n), right? I think I've seen you in the hallways before," he started. "Yeah," you put down your phone and looked at him with the most "can I go home, this is the most boring thing ever and I couldn't care less" face. "You know, you were half an hour late. Shouldn't you have learned manners?" "I did learn manners! I was just busy and forgot to notify Aimi about it." He then struck back,  "Oh, I heard you broke up with your boyfriend recently. Mitsuo, was it?" he asked, ordering a drink of his own. Your mood went even more south, when he asked that. That was your business, what right did he have to ask about it? "Yeah. He cheated on me with one of your fangirls." "Oh wow." "That's all you have to say?" "Well, it's not like I'm in control of my fandom." "Yeah, but you have the power to influence them into not doing rude things, like interfering with other people's business." "You're saying that I should have stopped that girl from going to Mitsuo?! That makes no sense." "You could have been nice and tried." "It's literally that witch who started it. She goes around asking certain guys out one after another and if she gets rejected, she goes to the next one. She did that to me too. She's so annoying, honestly." "Yeah. Honestly, I feel pity for her. She doesn't have anyone, so she just goes around searching for someone until she gets somebody. I bet she doesn't even like Mitsuo." "The way she acts, I bet she's just using them, till she can find a guy she likes." "Exactly! Honestly, I want to see her face when she realizes that people don't like her. Honestly." "That's a genius idea."

The two of you then started with the prank planning, putting whatever ideas out there and concocting a vicious plan to expose her. On the other hand, (b/f/n) and her date were having a pleasant conversation. They talked about a number of things, mostly funny stories. You didn't even realize she told him about that time you messed up cracking an egg while saying you were better than her at cooking.

Before you knew it, you had spent hours talking to him, forming a plan to expose this entitled brat and see the face the two of you wanted to see. It was around 3 when the other guy had to leave for practice with his team, and (b/f/n) exchanged contact info with him and waved him goodbye. With a smile on her face, she looked towards the two of you. Both you and Oikawa wore grins that signaled trouble, and (b/f/n) wondered what happened between the two of you. She nudged you that the other guy had left and she was waiting, and it so happened that the two of you were wrapping up your brilliant plans.

"Hey, maybe we should exchange phone numbers so we can finish up our plans? They're gonna be great." you said to him, standing up. "Yes, that would be awesome," he took out his phone as you took out yours.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

"Hey, (y/n), I wonder what you two were talking about. The two of you looked like you were evil villains in a movie planning something," (b/f/n) said to you on your way home. "Oh, you'll see, (b/f/n). It'll be glorious." you smiled.

˚₊·͟͟͟͟͟͟͞͞͞͞͞͞➳❥ ꒰ ⌨ ✰ Lili ⁱˢ ᵗʸᵖⁱⁿᵍ··· ꒱ | ೃ࿔₊•

A/N: Hey! Sorry this took a whole month to write, school started and everything's been a mess. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this! Question: did it feel like it dragged or was it good?

Also, this is dedicated to my friend Hyacinth :3 (and tagging @kisasaysmuah because (yes this is the reason))

Image credits: Daan Evers on Unsplash

[iamtrebleclefstories]

I Believe in Second Chances - Part 4

Alex dies while on his way to stop Jo from reading the letter he sent. Somehow, he gets a second chance

If you haven’t read part 3 yet, you can find it here

—Part 4—

He woke up in an on-call room of all places. A part of him thought that the most recent occurrences had to have been a dream, but when he looked around and saw that he was wearing navy blue scrubs and recognized the all too familiar mattresses, he knew that it was most definitely real. Confused, Alex rubbed a hand over his face and groaned at the dull headache and extreme feelings of soreness all over his body that appeared almost immediately after he woke up.

He figured it must have been a result of his injuries from the crash… the crash that had effectively killed Izzie. Izzie. Wherever he was--better yet, whenever he was, somewhere out there Izzie Stevens had just died. He made a mental note to find out about that, to see how much had changed and if his kids made it to this alternate timeline or not.

As he got up, Alex noticed something quite significant. His wedding band was absent from his finger. Okay, that was a clue. So he wasn’t married, yet. He and Jo hadn’t gotten married yet. With about two and half years of marriage under their belt, that gave Alex some more clear parameters as to where in the timeline he’d been deposited.

As he was stretching his stiff frame, he looked down and felt a buzzing in his pocket. He reached in to find his old white pager going off, calling him to respond to a trauma in the pit. This wasn’t right. Alex hadn’t used a real pager in years. They’d stopped using the white pagers sometime after he got fired by Lebackes. The last time he’d used one, Cristina was still here.

Alex scrunched his face in confusion, trying to figure out when the hell he’d woken up. That would have to wait until later, though. The persistent buzzing of his pager was calling him to go attend to a peds trauma. Sighing, Alex straightened his clothes and ran out into the hallway. Halfway through his sprint towards the ER, Alex noticed something. The hospital logo was different. He hadn’t seen that logo in close to a decade.

Seattle Grace Mercy West Hospital

Crap. He’d woken up a lot earlier than he thought. If he was right, it had to be 2012. That meant that Eli and Alexis didn’t exist and would never exist in this new timeline. And if it was 2012, that definitely meant that he and Jo were not together yet. They didn’t even really become friends until after Bailey’s Christmas themed wedding that same year.

As he finally made it down to the pit, he had to stop the look of surprise on his face when he saw Callie and Shane Ross running out to the ambulance bay. Alex reached out for one of the trauma gowns when he bumped into someone.

Not paying attention to anything but the onslaught of thoughts running through his mind he sighed, “You mind?”

“Sorry.”

He felt paralyzed. The sound of her voice made his heart speed up a little. He knew now, exactly what day it was. How could he really forget? This may have been the most important day of his entire life. Because if it weren’t for this day, he wouldn’t have been the man he is today.

Alex kept walking to the ambulance bay, noticing that she was trailing him. He thought back to the day and tried to keep what he said as close to what he’d originally told her, “Why are you following me?”

“I’m your intern for the day.”

“Hello intern. You have a name?”

“Jo Wilson.”

“Nice. I like chicks with boys' names,” Alex glanced at her and felt all the breath escape his lungs. Again. Sure, the feelings of love and coming home weren’t as intense the first time he saw, but even in his previous life, Alex knew Jo was different. She wasn’t just pretty.She wasn’t just beautiful. She was all those things and more—a fact he’d been convinced of from the moment she opened her eyes.

“Karev.” Callie interjected, pulling him out of his thoughts.

Smirking lightly at the comments he knew we’re coming, Alex looked up at Callie, “What? I do. It’s hot.”

Callie rolled her eyes, “Stop sleeping with your coworkers. It ruins them.”

“I slept with you,” Alex quipped.

“And now I longer sleep with men,” Callie raised her hands and widened her eyes in mock surprise.

Alex chuckled lightly. He turned his attention back to Jo—who looked amused by the entire scene. It felt surreal being here, reliving the life he’d already lived once. The only bright side to it all was that he could redo it, he could fix it so that he and Jo become friends quicker, so that Jo never dated Chest Peckwell, so he could get her to confide in him about her past and Paul, so that they’d never break up, he’d never almost go to jail, so he’d get the chance to marry Jo all over again and stay true to his vows.

He thought about this and all the ways he could change his life with Jo for the better. All the ways he could clean up the messes he’d created before they happened. He figured the first thing he could do was change the way he treated her from the beginning. That wouldn’t be very difficult, considering he practically worshipped the ground she walked on.

Alex knew the first thing he’d change as soon as he’d heard Jo’s excitement over the young patient’s foot that they were about to salvage. As they loaded onto the elevator, Alex turned to Jo and graced her with what he knew to be one of her favorite crooked smiles, “You coming?”

Alex heard as Jo’s breath hitched in the back of her throat. He did his best to keep the smug grin off her face, but he was glad that even though she didn’t know him, he could still have this effect on her. Jo had told him once that if it weren’t for his douche-bag attitude, she probably would’ve fallen for him a lot sooner. Even before they were truly friends, Jo had been attracted to him. It wasn’t until later, though, when he started to win her over with his charms and genuine care that she allowed herself to fall for him.

Jo’s eyebrows shot up and a bright grin spread along her face, “Yes! Thank you.”

So unlike the first time around, Jo scrubbed in on this surgery. He took this opportunity to test the waters and show her that he was different from the persona people had labeled him with. He taught and allowed Jo to assist, and he did his best to bring up things he knew about her to make conversation. About halfway through however, one of the nurses answered a page he received, “Dr. Karev, one of your post-op patients needs a drain removed.”

Alex looked over at Jo with apologetic eyes, “Can you go take care of that for me and round on my pre and post ops? You can scrub back in when you’re done. We’re going to be here for a couple more hours.”

“Yeah, of course,” Jo nodded and stepped away from the patient, walking out of the OR.

It was quiet for a few minutes before Callie spoke, “What the hell is going on with you?”

“Huh?”

“You’re being all nice and charming and interested and weird. It’s starting to freak me out,” Callie replied. “I felt like I was third wheeling on the world’s weirdest first date.”

“Whatever,” Alex rolled his eyes and continued to work. Honestly, it was nice to work with Callie again. For him, it had been years since they’d even been in the same room. He almost forgot how observant she was. “I can’t be nice?”

“You, nice? Ha,” Callie chuckled. “Alex Karev, I have never known you to be nice to anyone but your patients. The last time you were nice to a woman, you married her.”

Alex looked down and did his best to keep his focus on the patient. What Callie was saying was true. Up until that point, he hadn’t been the nicest person on the planet. Still wasn’t, but if it weren’t for Jo, he’d probably still be Evil Spawn. He bit back a laugh as he thought about the whiplash he’d be giving his friends when they saw the change in his behavior.

“You like her,” Callie gasped suddenly. “You like her, like her. And not just for sex like her. I thought I was going crazy when I first felt the vibes, but no. This is a ‘love at first sight, I feel like I’ve known you all my life’ connection.”

“Dude, shut up. Keep your voice down,” Alex shushed as he looked around the room at the nosy nurses and OR staff. He saw Shane’s face twitch in amusement. “Is it so crazy that I might be interested in a woman?”

“No, it’s not,” Shane replied.

“Thank you,” Alex turned back to his work. “Suction.”

“You being interested in a woman is not crazy,” Callie continued the repair she was doing. “What’s crazy is that you are legitimately interested in this woman, who you don’t even know, who you haven’t slept with, and just so happens to be in the same class as all of those interns you screwed over the past few months.”

Damn it. He’d forgotten about that. Before he and Jo had even met, he’d already screwed all of her friends. That’s why she thought he was an ass at first, and that’s why it was going to take him a whole lot longer to win over her trust than he anticipated.

“Yeah, yeah, I know I’m an ass who sleeps around and doesn’t call back. I know that’s what you’re used to, but i don’t know… this feels different. So, you guys are gonna keep your mouths shut and let me figure out what the hell is going on in my brain. Not a word of this to anyone, okay?” Alex raised an eyebrow.

“Okay,” Callie conceded and Shane nodded in compliance and kept silent as he continued to assist.

By the time Jo returned to the OR, the conversation had been tabled for another time. Instead, any time Alex and Jo would converse, Callie would send him a look from across the table, occasionally wiggling her eyebrows.

When they finally finished, Alex waited behind for Jo to scrub out. He wanted to talk to her. He wanted to kiss her and say he loved her, but at this point, that would only freak her out. So instead, Alex decided to go the easy route and compliment her surgical skills.

“You did great in there, Wilson. You’ve got the potential to become a wonderful surgeon,” Alex complimented.

Jo paused her scrubbing to look at him strangely, “Thanks…”

“Since you’re on my service all week, I was thinking you could scrub in with me on my surgeries,” Alex offered.

“I’d like that,” Jo smiled shyly. She shut off the water and dried her hands. “You know, you’re not as bad as everyone says you are.”

“Thanks?” Alex laughed.

He looked into Jo’s eyes only to find a glint of what he hoped would develop into love swimming beneath the surface. God, he could stare into those golden eyes forever. It may have been one of his favorite things about her. So often, they’d been able to just look at each other and know what was going through the other’s head. They could have a conversation without any words.

This felt right. Eyes locked, no one daring to break the stare. It wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable, despite the fact that in Jo’s mind, they had just met. No… this was right. This was home. This was exactly where he’d always belonged. Now that he had his second chance, he sure as hell wasn’t going to mess it up.

Clearing his throat, Alex decided to do the thing he hadn’t been bold enough to do the first time around, “Do you want to go get a drink with me later? You know, to celebrate that a girl didn’t lose her leg?”

“Sure,” Jo answered, sounding breathless.

“Okay,” Alex’s mouth curved up into a soft grin. “I’m going to go check on my patients, but I’ll see you in a bit. For now, keep an eye on our sailor here and page me if anything changes.”

“Will do.”

With one last longing look, Alex walked out of the scrub room onto the OR floor. He made his way to an empty on-call room and sat down on the bed. He looked up at the ceiling and the emptiness before deciding to speak, “Look, I don’t know if you can hear me, but wherever you are, Iz… thank you. I get a chance to make it alright and that’s because of you. And I’m forever in your debt.”

He didn't hear a response, but that wasn’t entirely surprising to him. He just wished there was some way to know that Izzie knew how grateful he was. Just as he was about to stand up from the bed, Alex felt the faintest sensation of a hand on his shoulder. Even though he couldn’t see anyone, Alex knew that she had heard.