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#how malik never had any friends growing up
teecupangel · 12 hours
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Based on @wisecloudnightmare’s tags in the Altaïr and Desmond commits identity fraud (on each other) idea:
#this makes me think of that one comic where joonghyuk keeps saying going away kim dokja and then when kim dokha really disappears #he says don't you ever leave again or I'll kill you asfghjkbijgds #ugh but altaïr with 999th joonghyuk's personality would be so fascinating too #the one where his mind is really fragile but he's still a beast to fight with. only kdj can tame him.
(Absolute spoilers to ORV underneath)
I believe you are talking about the 1863rd Yoo Joonghyuk. 999th Yoo Joonghyuk is the best boi who sacrificed his limbs and life so his companions could reach the ending even without him by making a pact with a certain Outer God (which I think would be a fun idea to play with as well).
We’ll focus on 1863rd version for this one and we’ll make it so that Altaïr is regressing over and over again and he has no idea why.
He’s caught in a time loop that starts every time he died (doesn’t matter when, where or how, what matters is he dies) and he doesn’t even have a goal to focus on.
He always regresses to the same point:
The moment he killed an innocent man underneath the Temple Mount, Malik saying the same words again and again.
Nothing worked.
Getting the Apple of Eden during this time did not help.
Saving Kadar did not do anything.
Killing Abbas before he orders the death of his family and friends did not end this cursed life.
His first life was not perfect but it was a fulfilling one.
His later lives?
He could not bear to watch his sons grow and die before him.
He could not bear the thought of that family of his from long ago become just another part of this wretched tragedy.
That’s when the Apple whispers to him of what he must do.
It never did that before.
So he agrees to it as long as the Apple promises to find a way to finally kill him without any chance of returning to that point.
The Apple only says “Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad’s greatest wish will come true in this ‘round’.”
The Apple’s instructions gets Altaïr to kill Al Mualim early on, branding him a traitor and pitting him against his own brothers. This culminates in pretty much a ‘me versus the world’ with Malik being ordered to hunt him down together with Abbas.
During one of the three-way fight between Altaïr, some Assassins and the guards of the city they are in, Desmond appears.
Now…
Desmond survived the Solar Flare but how he did it was hazy. What he does know is that something is terrible wrong with Altaïr because he doesn’t look like the Altaïr in his memories.
This Altaïr is both more savage yet also more tired than Desmond remembered.
There is a resignation in his movements even as he dodged everything. As if he had given up on life but knows he must continue to move forward, ignoring the pain and tiredness of his mortal body.
Desmond doesn’t know about the regressions until the Apple tells him that this is the 1863rd ‘loop’.
Because of this, Desmond tries to help him and Altaïr leans on him because he is an anomaly. He knows of Altaïr’s first life.
He only knows about Altaïr’s first life, reminding him about it when he himself barely remembers it.
Desmond was from the original timeline.
Desmond was the real key to end this, not the Apple.
And so Altaïr started to depend on him.
Protecting Desmond was the most important thing in this entire world because he was Desmond, the key to ending all of this and the first person to ever get pass the darkness that has clouded Altaïr’s mind for so long.
Desmond was important.
Desmond’s words were law.
All he needed was Desmond.
.
.
On the other corner…
The Apple just lets Desmond use it like it was Desmond’s personal Google.
It does, however, give an error every time Desmond asks why he’s been transported to this timeline and the truth about the loops.
Desmond knows that Altaïr is getting a bit… well…. obsessed with him. But it brought life back in his eyes and that was enough for Desmond. He’d deal with the rest as they come up. (famous last words)
.
The twist is the loop is an unintentional byproduct of the Reader and the Heir trying to find clues to how to save the world by checking the other unused timelines that the Calculations had also found and more timelines that the Calculations didn’t catch the first time.
They didn’t know that Altaïr’s constant use of the apple made him the closest being to them and he gets sucked into their research, but didn’t get to the Grey. Instead, he was taking over the consciousness of the Altaïrs in those timelines they’re ‘skimming’.
Time was inconsequential to the Reader and the Heir. It was not to Altaïr.
They only learned about Altaïr around the end of the 1862nd turn.
The Apple? That’s the Heir staying in the Gray and connecting with the Apple to guide Altaïr into bringing the solution into the 1863rd worldline.
Unfortunately, something happened and what he brought was an incomplete solution.
Because Desmond forgot that he was the Reader.
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enchantedlandcoffee · 7 months
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Fics
Two Hearts In One Home (Work In Progress)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Best friends Louis Tomlinson and Harry Styles have been living together for almost 3 years. With Louis' YouTube videos mainly featuring challenges, vlogs, and tutorials, his best friend is unknowingly a common topic on his channel (with his identity hidden) leading his viewers to believe that they are dating. What happens when Harry's childhood friend, Niall Horan, returns from Ireland and turns out to be one of his biggest fans and sends a tweet that turns his life upside down?
If The World Was Ending, You'd Come Over, Right?
Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Word Count: 6k "Is Harry with you?" Louis blurted out, his free hand tapping anxiously against his knee. "Louis?" "Yeah. Is Harry with you?" On any other occasion, Louis knew Niall would have yelled at him for calling in the middle of the night. But Niall must've sensed the urgency in his tone, his voice immediately taking on a lighter touch. "Yeah. Yeah, he's been staying in the spare room. Why? Do you want me to get him for you?" "No!" Louis panicked. "Just- check on him please? Make sure he's breathing and everything?"
Rush Hour Crush for @wishingforloushair
Rating: General Audiences Word Count: 1.9k Harry took a moment to take in his knight in shining armour. The man’s hair was swept elegantly across his face, dazzling blue eyes staring back at him. Letting his eyes wander further, he spotted a hint of a tattoo peeking out from the man’s collar and had to stifle a groan, forcing his eyes back to the man’s face. Tattoos were his weakness and he couldn’t very well embarrass himself more in front of the man. So he focused on the man’s face again. He seemed to be only a year or two older than Harry and he could immediately tell why Niall was comfortable leaving Harry with…whatever his name is. He probably should find that out at some point. That’d be good to know for a potential friend, or boyfriend. OR An eventful meeting, a consuming crush and a meddling best friend. Written for the Travelling Exchange 2023
Court Wine written with @red-pandaaa for Round II of @omegaharryfest
Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Word Count: 7k OR, after a misunderstanding during a scrabble game, Alpha Louis starts courting Omega Harry without the latter being aware of it.
Hope We Grow Old But We Never Grow Up
Niall Horan/Harry Styles Rating: General Audiences Word Count: 5.2k But Niall was convinced that Harry couldn't like him back, that just wouldn't make sense. Both of them couldn't be that oblivious to how the other one felt…Right? So he did the only logical thing his 17 year old self could think of. He flirted back. OR Three key moments in Niall and Harry's relationship.
Baby I'm Right Here
Zayn Malik/Louis Tomlinson Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Word Count: 1.6k “Yeah, but that wouldn’t stop us from dating, I’m way too irresistible for that,” Louis grinned, groaning when one of their throw pillows hit him in the face. “Knobhead.” “Wanker,” Zayn retorted, sticking his tongue out at Louis. Louis stuck his out in retaliation, gently kicking at Zayn until the man grabbed his feet and held them still. They stayed there in silence for a while, Zayn reaching for the remote to turn the TV on as Louis focused on a weird patch of colour on their ceiling. “Do you ever think that maybe we should date?” Louis asked, gaze staying firmly on the patch of colour even as Zayn turned to look at him. OR The one where Zayn and Louis are best friends and, after much prompting from their family members, try and give dating a go.
hey stupid, i love you for @blueskiesrry
Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Word Count: 1k Harry, I’ll be honest with you, I don’t even know how to start one of these. I never thought I’d be the type of alpha who’d write a love letter of all things. But then I met you. And all the things I thought I knew about love turned out to be completely false. You came into my life and filled it with so much light and happiness that, for the first few months, I was too awe-struck to even think straight. And even after those months, when I first started to realise my feelings for you, I never thought those feelings would lead me to where I am now. Which is hunched over Ernie and Doris’ play table, glitter and stickers stuck all over me, writing what is probably the weirdest Valentine’s Day card you’ll ever receive. I love you so much, more than words can possibly explain- OR The one where self-proclaimed Valentine's Day hater, Louis, surprises his boyfriend on their first Valentine's together.
Feel My Traces
Rating: Mature Word Count: 2000 “Oh. You actually have a tattoo gun?" "Yes, Harold, I actually have a tattoo gun. What did you think I was gonna tattoo you with? A cucumber? You do talk some shit sometimes," Louis teased, walking up to Harry with the tattoo gun in his hand. "Right, what do you want?" Harry looked at the device and paled. "Um…" "Not backing out on me now, are you Styles?" Louis teased, a gentle smile forming on his face. "You see, the thing is, I didn't actually think you had a tattoo gun,” Harry chuckled nervously, eyes still fixated on the device. Or temporary tattoos, a misunderstanding and a passionate moment.
Hold On I Still Need You
Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Word Count: 1.3k
The one where Louis goes missing and Harry desperately tries to find him.
Bloodline of Queens (WIP)
Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Word Count: 3k It has been a long standing tradition for future queen omegas to have an arranged marriage to create a strong alliance for the country. When their first child is born (nearly always an omega), the Prince Consort will become sick and pass away soon after, with the child starting to possess magical powers. It is said to be a curse on the bloodline. It is seen to be a sign of bad fortune if the first born child is an alpha. More often than not, the child will be secretly given up for adoption to a family in another country and no one ever remembers them. In our time, the queen-to-be, Harry, is hiding his secondary gender, posing as an omega to avoid being sent away. During his lessons, he learns about the history of his kingdom and his ancestors and he starts to get flashbacks to an older boy in his household who looks a lot like him. He begins to become suspicious of his predecessors and starts researching the recurring deaths and disappearances. The only way he can find out what really happened to the other alphas in his family is to search for one that is still alive.
Eager To Please
Rating: Explicit Word Count: 1.3k "Ah, ah." Louis tsked disapprovingly, the younger boy's actions immediately halting. "You want to be a good boy for your Daddy, don't you?" Harry nodded frantically as Louis pushed off the dresser and walked round the bed, trailing his hand along the mattress as he went. "Now, what to do with you?" Louis pondered as he reached the head of the bed, cupping Harry's jaw softly as he learned in to press a sweet kiss to the boy's lips.
I'll make this feel like home for @louwilliam
Rating: General Audiences Word Count: 401 Louis retuns home to his boys for Christmas.
Have yourself a larry little christmas
Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Word Count: 2046 The two of them had planned to exchange presents for Christmas and Louis’ birthday before they separated until New Years and Harry thought it'd be a perfect time to introduce Louis to his cat. However, they’d run into a small obstacle shortly after they'd arrived. That obstacle being British weather. An alert from their weather apps had popped up on their phones, signalling to them the start of a freak snowstorm and advising everyone to stay indoors. OR A plan to exchange presents leads to more than both Harry and Louis bargained for.
Christmas Advent Calendar
Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Word Count: 1665 A collection of holiday ficlets written and posted leading up to Christmas.
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The Coach Tommo Universe
Running Over Thoughts That Make My Feet Hurt
Rating: Explicit Word Count: 4.9k Louis is the little league coach of 'The Ducklings', the team that Harry's daughter plays for. Whilst she tries her best, she doesn't quite have the skills so Coach Tommo steps in. He offers private lessons to try and help her, and if he gets in her dad's good books? Well that'd just be a bonus.
Tell Me With Your Mind Body And Spirit
Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Word Count: 479 Two short drabbles in the Coach Tommo Universe about poems.
And I Can Lend You Broken Parts That Might Fit
Rating: General Audiences Word Count: 551 Louis and Harry talk about Harry's life after becoming pregnant, and a key figure in Harry's life.
My kiss can mend your broken heart
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 954
During an intimate moment, Harry breaks down about his past and Louis rushes to comfort him.
Bodies entertwined with their lips
Rating: Explicit Word Count: 1.3k A flashback to the night Harry and Louis met...well, part of the night at least.
Do you really want to be all alone? for @babyhoneyheslt
Rating: General Audiences Word Count: 601 Harry, Louis and the kids wake up on Christmas Morning.
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Can We Please Get Back To Lovin'? Series
Can we please get back to lovin'?
Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Word Count: 1.1k Based on the prompt: Person B getting up in the middle of the night to make a snack and accidentally waking up Person A because they didn't stop the microwave's obnoxious beeping in time.
When It's Good It's Really Something
Rating: Explicit Word Count: 986 Louis managed to lose himself in the sensation, his casual strokes quickening with purpose as his other hand clenched the duvet with his fist. He tries to muffle his groans slightly, still listening out for movement from downstairs. As his eyes flicked over to the clock, the bedroom door was pushed open to reveal a sweaty Harry, joggers riding even lower on his hips and two bottles of water in his hands. Harry's eyes raked down Louis' body, lingering on Louis' hand and obvious erection. "You started without me?!" A pout formed on the younger boy's face as he placed the drinks on the dresser, his eyes never leaving Louis' body. "Took too long," Louis breathed, throwing his head back with a soft moan as his hand quickened its pace.
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You Make Me Strong series
Tied Up Like Two Ships
Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Word Count: 2.5k "His crew boarded our ship and took a few of us hostage. Um, myself, Liam, Louis, Tabby, and a few others. Then they- uh- they, um…" "They started stealing our most valuable possessions on board: heirlooms, jewels, weapons. And then," Zayn continued on from Liam, "then the cannons started. The first shot hit the side closest to the berth, where most of the crew were sleeping, and the second was aimed directly at the Captain’s Quarters. We- uh, we lost fifteen of the crew then, and then, uh, then ten shortly after." OR Captain Styles wakes up to find his rival and old friend, Captain Tomlinson, aboard his ship.
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Larry Ficlets
There's no one I love more in this world than Stanley Tucci
Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Word Count: 425 Both Louis and Harry have a 'freebie list' of celebrities they could sleep with if they wanted to without repercussions. What happens when Harry meets one of his celebrities, Stanley Tucci, at the Brit Awards and comes home late at night. OR The one where Harry Styles loves Louis Tomlinson a bit more than he does Stanley Tucci.
Kiss In The Kitchen Like It's A Dancefloor
Rating: General Audiences Word Count: 672 Based on the prompt: Person A is about to leave for work. Person B asks them if they've forgotten anything, and Person A gives them a kiss. Person B turns red and opens their hand to reveal Person A's keys/wallet/etc., saying 'I meant this, but thanks.'
Just Let Me Adore You for @itsnotreal
Rating: General Audiences Word Count: 861 Based on the prompt - Louis and Harry on a walk in the park
When The World Is Cold, You'll Have A Place You Can Go for @justahappycloud
Rating: General Audiences Word Count: 319 Louis' hands are cold. Luckily, he has a space heater for a boyfriend.
Was Tangled Up And Twisted
Rating: General Audiences Word Count: 770 Harry and Louis play Twister. Things get embarrassing and awkward fast.
Actions Have Consequences
Rating: Explicit Word Count: 435 Ever since that kiss against the vending machine, Harry had begun to feel- things. Things that he definitely should not be feeling towards Louis Tomlinson of all people. He thought it was just a fluke, just a rush of emotions after being kissed for the first time in a while. But then Louis had pushed him against a wall near the Psychology building, panting with rage as he'd closed the small distance between them so they were nearly breathing in the same air.
Gagging For It
Rating: Explicit Word Count: 497 "Look at you," Louis groaned, hand quickening its pace on his cock as he stared down at Harry, the man's eyes flicking up to meet Louis' from his position on the floor, "You're practically gagging for it, aren't you?"
Share a Single Bed (and tell each other what we dream about)
Rating: General Audiences Word Count: 340 "You're warm, don't leave me," he whined, attempting to pull his pillow back down. He heard a chuckle in response as a hand started to caress his hair, prompting a pleased sound from him as he pushed his head into the touch, much like a cat would. OR The one where Harry wakes up in Louis' bed demanding cuddles.
I promise that I'll love you for the rest of my life
Rating: General Audiences Word Count: 358 words Vows and a kiss to seal the deal
Lips so good I forget my name
Rating: Explicit Word Count: 828 words Harry hummed in contemplation as he moved to palm himself through his briefs, "Do you think you've deserved it, Lou? Hmm?" At Louis' sound of protest, Harry swiftly moved the microphone back to the older man's mouth causing him to moan as he wrapped his lips around it again. "Because I don't think you have. I think you love your microphone too much to suck on anything else." Harry's words elicited a moan from Louis as his hips bucked up instinctively. Or Louis needs to give up control in the bedroom sometimes, until he doesn't.
Friends Don't Know The Way You Taste
Rating: Mature Word Count: 255 Louis has had enough of Harry calling them friends.
Let Me Be Your Last First Kiss
Rating: General Audiences Word Count: 279 Harry wonders why people think he and Louis are dating.
Always You for @hellolovers13
Rating: General Audiences Word Count: 922 “You heading home, mate?” Liam asked as the movie ended. softly nudging Zayn to wake him up. “Is it alright if I just kip here, Payno?” Louis answered, taking a sip of his beer as he stretched his legs out, having been sitting on them for the majority of the movie. “You sure, Lou? You’re only down the hall and I’m sure Harry’d be worried if you didn’t come home?” “Nah, I'm sure he'll be just fine by himself for one night. Besides, I’m pretty sure Nick’s over there.” Louis drawled, finishing off his beer as he searched his pockets for his phone. Liam winced at the bitter tone in his friend’s voice.   Or, Louis calls his ex on Valentine's Day.
Let Me Inside
Rating: Explicit Word Count: 286 Louis gets a surprise visit from his alpha in the shower.
A Man's Best Friend for @itsnotreal
Rating: General Audiences Word Count: 693 Clifford pulls the leash out of Louis' hand and winds up getting caught by a curly haired stranger.
I Want You Here With Me (Like How I Pictured It)
Rating: General Audiences Word Count: 345 "I just- Everyone was there and- and they were all happy and in love and I just- I needed to get out of there, Lou." Harry sniffled, wrapping his coat closer to himself as he trudged down the street. "It's not fair. It's not fair that they all get to be happy and in love and have their partners with them when I can't be with you." OR The one where Harry misses Louis
Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics
I got me an appetite, now I can taste it for @aotvfilm
Rating: Explicit Word Count: 935 "Haz, are you sure about this? I don't want to hurt you, love." Louis asked, hovering over Harry's chest. "Lou..." the omega whined, bringing his hands to the alpha's butt in an attempt to bring him closer. "You won't hurt me." "Are you sure?" Louis asked again, staying rooted in his position until he was sure he wouldn't hurt the omega. "I'm sure," Harry whined, moving his hands to the top of Louis' thights. "How about this? If I'm uncomfortable in any way, I'll tap you twice, like this, okay?" The omega demonstrated the movement for Louis, tapping twice on the alpha's upper thight OR Louis and Harry try something new in the bedroom.
They Don't Know About Us: A Christmas Series
for @alwayshazandlou
To Find A Love That Feels This Right
Rating: General Audiences Word Count: 1136 When Harry had agreed to attend the Payne's Red Carpet Gala, he had no idea he'd bump into his celebrity crush, or that his celebrity crush was even more attractive in person. A Christmas Fic filled with laughter, love and light.
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ceasarslegion · 2 years
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Malik's death in Revelations was tragic and violent enough as it is, but if you take into account how Altaïr's relationship with Malik began, it feels very targeted on Abbas's end.
Think of how it began with Altaïr's worst mistakes, getting his younger brother killed and Malik's arm ripped off. I'm sure Abbas was there to see him nearly expelled from the brotherhood, I'm sure he heard the fate of the Al Sayf brothers. Only for Altaïr to take that horrible mistake and its consequences and become the best possible version of himself, from unable to handle any responsibility to becoming the youngest mentor the brotherhood ever had. Even his relationship with Malik would go from animosity to close and trusted friend. You could argue that Malik was his GREATEST friend, other than Maria and his own children. The kind of growth and maturity it would take from both of them to get to that point is frankly astounding and for all Ubisoft's faults I think AC1 and Revelations did their due diligence with that
And then Abbas took that all away from him and never let Altaïr move past those mistakes he worked so hard to correct. How do you think he felt, being sent the severed head of the man started his journey with by severing one of his limbs? The mistakes of his youth cost Malik his arm, and now they've cost him his life in such a way that defiled and violated his body even more horrifically, after Malik trusted and loved him like a brother.
I like to think that Malik died protecting Sef from wrongful execution and defending Altaïr's honour. That the man who faced some of the bloodiest consequences of his past mistakes kept his youngest son safe and his reputation intact at the end, even at the threat of death for himself.
Hell, I imagine Malik was a bit of an uncle figure for Darim and Sef growing up. Perhaps the very thing that got him executed in the end was trying to keep Abbas's blades away from Sef.
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goldemas1244 · 1 year
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Zulkarnain (Zul) Hashim bin Kamarul Zaman (Zhask)
@humanthatlikestuff You keep showing your Zhask designs so here I am with mine!
Status:
High school student
Transfer student
Two years unschooled - self-study for PT3
Has a pet Chalcosoma Atlas beetle named Meric
Gamer
Bisexual, Polyamorous
Likes blue
Malay
Attributes:
Has a hair-growing problem; maximum growth reaches underside of butt within a week
Red colourblind, has to wear special glasses
Wears headphones for sensitive hearing
Has a beard but no moustache
Heavily traumatised (DO NOT ASK ABOUT HIS NECK SCAR), covers scars with foundation until comfortable with showing
5'2''
Has back pains often
In love with his best friend Argus (on a manageable level) and Yve (he likes her dominance)
Best friends:
Muhammad Ridzuan Malik bin Ahmad Mikael (Argus) (Chinese-Malay) (Loves Zhask too)
?? (Helcurt) (Indian) (Nobody knows his actual name)
Nur Rafidah binti Ahmad Mikael (Rafaela) (Chinese-Malay) (Argus's twin sister)
Nurhawa binti Adam (Yve) (Malay) (Zhask is also crushing on her)
Aldous bin Mino (Self-explanatory) (Malay) (Minotaur's son)
Favourite teachers: Sir Balmond (Physics teacher), Puan Mak Aldous (Mrs. Aldous's Mom, Maths teacher)
Least favourite subject (Addmaths)
Initial creation:
I first started designing him on a whim for a comic. It actually worked out quite well and has since been the basis of how my humanoid Zhask looks.
I started a short comic series featuring Zhask and his besties. At this point, despite having a favourite person to look forward to, I was extremely lonely. Everyone got mad at me for even the littlest mistakes, I was constantly fatigued, I gave up on life at least twice, absolutely out of control. To add salt, my favourite person also was unliked by all of her classmates so I had to take care of her too. I had to build her up, even slightly, while barely receiving any myself.
I even had a manic attack over a laundry incident. Up until today I can't enter a public shower or wash my clothes by hand OR hang them on a wire because it fucking HURTS. I had to get a psychiatrist and a month or two off school. But despite my wanting to leave I couldn't. No transfer because I've only a few more months left. No longer leave because my favourite person was doing terribly without me so I HAD to come back because if I'm not there then she won't make it.
And so I poured that. I poured it into Zhask. In some worlds I hurt him. In others he was loved. In a world he loses everyone and everything. In another, he gains a husband in an accepting community.
But in this continuity, I gave him friendships. Help, a shoulder to cry on, unlimited trust, smiles every day. I gave him everything I never had. He is myself if everyone just... loved me.
I did give him hurt. But I gave him love to heal it.
I gave him life. The one thing I lost.
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itfitsitshipsart · 4 months
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Quiet Conversation
I wrote this last night, but only now getting around to posting it.
Summary: On a boat up north to the country of Fendel, Malik grows more quiet and distant. Malik × self insert
--
“That expression again.” Evelyn's voice was soft as she approached the tall man, and stopped beside him. She rested her arms against the ship railing before them. Her eyes didn't fall upon the dark freezing waters, nor the sun that sunk halfway into the depths. She looked at Malik beside her, and studied his tired eyes and furrowed brows. “I know that look.” She looked down. “It's loss… isn't it…”
Malik remained silent for a moment, his own gaze out into the water. “...Yes.” He murmured. “It was years ago, but going to this place reminds me of someone from a long time ago.”
Evelyn nodded in understanding. “Who were they?”
“A friend.” He sighed, and there was hesitation as he spoke. “We spent a lot of time together along with another friend. Long nights, good and bad. We held high dreams and hopes. But then…”
Silence fell, replaced only with the quiet whistle of a cold wind that picked up. Pale flurries began to fall, dusting their hair with white.
Evelyn shook her head. “You don't need to tell me any more than you want to. It's alright.” She shivered, and the wind danced through her hair and clothing. She had never been so far north before, and the frigid cold of Fendel pierced her flesh.
Suddenly, thick fabric fell across her shoulders, already warm. She quietly drew the coat around herself, and looked up at Malik, who crossed his bare arms and looked out to the water again.
“You should go to your cabin and get some sleep.” He stated. “It'll be a long and cold day tomorrow.”
“You're probably not getting your coat back, I'm sure you know.” Evelyn remarked, and a smirk formed on Malik's face for the first time that evening.
“We'll get you something warmer for our time in Fendel. But until then, you need it a lot more than I do.”
“I suppose I'll sleep with your coat on, then,” she smiled, and allowed him to take her hand in his own. “It should be enough.”
He drew her hand up to his lips, and pressed a gentle kiss. “But if you still find yourself too cold, you know where my own room is.”
“Oh, how scandalous.” She giggled, and when he let go of her hand, she gave him a curtsy. “Good night, dear captain.” He bowed.
“My princess.”
She turned to the door and walked off, and Malik’s gaze followed her. The smile she had brought to his lips faded as he lost sight of her, and he sighed.
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mrneighbourlove · 1 year
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The Long Years Ahead: Ch 2. Moving On
Leere looked down to the spot they buried Sunny. It was traditional to be buried in Hyrule. The Royal Family was even kind enough to have her buried in the castle graveyard, an honour for princesses and princes. None of the nobles dared complain. But none felt the need to. Around Leere were grieving souls, family, friends, and those that respected the Ingo family legacy Sunny had built in her career. Despite all the people, Leere barely noticed them. As some started to leave, she merely stayed still over the patch of dirt and the grave stone built for Sunny.
"Come on, you old fart." Ralnor approached Leere from behind, putting a hand on her shoulder. His beautiful blonde hair was now solid white and there were many wrinkles decorating his once youthful face. He walked with the best posture, but still had to use a cane to help with balance. Yet, his attitude never changed... except now, he had more humor, even if it was rather dark. "I still have a bottle of that wine you like in the cellar, but you're going to have to go and get it. Stairs and I don't really agree that much anymore."
"I don't feel like drinking." Leere's voice was devoid of any spark.
"Well, it's either wine or it's chess to keep you occupied." Ralnor asked her again, "Which is it going to be? You're stuck with me for the evening, so you might as well make the best of it."
"The last time I drank after a funeral it was for mom... I don't think I want to relive that again." Leere looked up to the sky, watching a hawk fly over. Her attention turned to the layout of the castle. She pointed out towards an arch that was under reconstruction. "I'm going to outlast every life here. Even the castle will be a new model."
"You're probably right." Ralnor was never one to sugarcoat any dire situation. "New castle, new town, new port, everything will be new at some point. But... you want to know the one thing that makes me laugh about this whole situation?"
You find humour in this? Do tell.”
"That water dragon of my dearest brother's wife will be here to annoy you." Ralnor grinned at Leere, knowing how much she found Ba'puu to be the most irritating creature on the planet... next to Malik. He was doing his best to get a laugh out of his sister. The old prince knew she understood his dark humor. "And check on you every. Single. Day."
“Maybe he can kill me.” Leere looked back down at Sunny’s grave. “I can’t even bring her back. Her time is done. She lived and loved a full life.”
"Please, Ba'puu might be a giant pest, but he'd never harm you." Ralnor waved off that notion of Leere's. "You don't want to bring her back. Would you want her to be ripped away from those she's already lost?" The prince corrected his sister, "You did not lose Sunny, just like I did not lose Cass. They're simply waiting on the both of us, and, unfortunately," He shrugged a little, "Sunny is going to have to wait a little longer."
Leere’s shoulders sank, and with it her desire to stay. Turning, she faced Ralnor. Black lines of stained massacre and bags of little sleep filled her eyes. “Ralnor. I appreciate what you are trying to do… but I don’t see the point. My sunshine is gone. The only reason I’m not burying my daughter is due to a technicality.” Leere took a quick glance to see Joy speaking with Skyla. “Joy’s opted to be cremated when she passes.”
"You can't say I didn't try to cheer you up, but at least you know that's not exactly my strong point. I'll leave you with this," Ralnor patted Leere's shoulder gently, but had some tough loving words for her. "I'm not long for this world. Neither is anyone else you've loved or known for a while. Yet, none of us want you to despair." He told her, "Travel the continents. Learn what you want to know about other cultures. Research history and keep it from falling into nothingness. Watch our descendants multiple and grow. And lastly," The old prince took a moment to pause, "If you cannot find your sunshine, then you can always enjoy the moon. Both still give some light."
Leere gazed up, trying to see the moon. "Yeah. That's true. I don't think I can bury any of you though. I can't... subject myself to that pain over and over." Looking back to Ralnor, Leere had her first look of faint emotion. A plea. "Do you understand?"
"I won't ask you to bury me." Ralnor did not want Leere to have to relive the same pain as today. "Just... maybe visit. Share a bottle of wine at my gravesite with the old snake. Make sure all of our hard work doesn't go to waste."
"I won't..." Leere let out one more sigh. "Is your liver even good anymore for drinking?"
"Leere, I'm older than the word fuck itself, if my liver is shot, than so be it." Ralnor snorted at her inquiry of concern. "Let's go drink."
Leere frowned, her eyes gloomy. She didn’t like the way he was so casual about throwing his life away to possible alcohol poisoning, but her resolve to push back against her brother was gone. “Fine. Cass would be disappointed.”
"Dear sister, let me let you in on a little secret," Ralnor put his arm around her shoulders, using the other hand to support his weight on the cane. "Orana could outdrink many, but never my dear wife."
Sitting in his chambers, Leere gently and slowly dipped from the wine, taking the time to let its contents dull her senses. Part way through the drinking, Leere reached into her bag of holding and pulled out a glass on Lon Lon Romani. It was a milk like alcoholic expresso, created by Sunny. Popping the cork, she poured herself a glass, then silently looked to her brother to see if he wanted a glass.
"I will decline the specialty, Leere, you keep that bottle for yourself." Ralnor carefully sipped at his small glass of wine. "Have you spoken to the snake?"
“Not recently.”
"As much as I hate to say it, you should probably speak to him about what to expect in the upcoming years." Ralnor was old, he was definitely wise, and as always, had very good points. "He has been there, done that, for lack of better phrasing."
“I suppose so. Given his long life span, and my magic inclinations to stay young…” Leere chugged down the milk. Her head was already spinning.
"For now, though... I would suggest learning how to get your emotions on track first." Ralnor told his sister with a sad smile. "Living through the ages with grief... will not be easy."
“Ralnor…” Leere set her mug down, a long look in her eyes as she gazed at him. “In my first one-hundred years I have experienced being set up as a sacrifice, loss of innocence, war, demons, monsters, loss of friends, colleagues, our parents, and my wife. I’ve seen things that would even shake you. To be honest, fate has nothing on me. It can’t get any worse. Maybe… maybe in time it will get better.”
"My dear sister, I'm not saying look for the worst in the world in the future nor am I saying focus on the past." Ralnor told Leere, wise beyond his years, even in old age. "What I'm saying is... don't give up hope."
“I’m sure I’ll find something to do to keep myself preoccupied…” Leere took a swig of the mug again. “I could be Queen, you know.”
"Queen? Of Hyrule?" Ralnor gave a loud laugh at that suggestion. "Leere, as much as I love the idea of you terrifying your subjects with necromancy and having harems to put any others to shame, you've never been on for such a life. Besides," He added more wine to his glass, "You wouldn't do that to our brother's descendants."
"I'm not going to take over or anything. And I wouldn't want to be Queen of Hyrule, per say. I could just Queen it up elsewhere."
"Leere, you always hated doing paperwork and anything with diplomacy," Ralnor snorted at the idea of Leere trying to build her own kingdom. "Your love was archaeology. History. Culture. Go and do that."
“Oh god. I’m going to live long enough for you to be ancient history.” Looking at the wine, Leere took another drink. “Maybe I can get rich digging you up and putting your mummified remains in a Museum one day.”
"Nice try, but I am going to be cremated." Ralnor chuckled at the thought of Leere putting him in a most undignified pose as a mummy. "Cass was cremated and her ashes spread across the Gerudo Desert. I wish to do the same to be with her."
“I suppose there’s peace in that.” Raising her glass, Leere smiled. “To our wives. Strong willed women who should have outlived us both. To seeing them again.”
"I will drink to that." Ralnor took a final sip of his wine and then gave a small sigh, overlooking the kingdom. "Do promise me one thing, though, Leere." The prince then admitted, "I would like for you to come back here when you feel ready. Check in on our descendants. Make sure Covarog's and Zarazu's hard work did not go to waste." He gave her a small smile. "I'm sure they would appreciate it, as would I."
“I will. If anything threatens our descendants, I’ll be here. Who knows… maybe I’ll see the next Link.”
"... maybe there won't be another Link." Ralnor said with a tint of hope in his voice. "Or Papa. Or Mama. Maybe, just maybe... they can finally rest."
“Maybe… but not every Link has been the same reincarnation. Sometimes, like a Diamond in the rough, Hylian tradition to name their children after heroes can mesh beautifully with heroism in times of strife.”
Finishing her drink, Leere steadily got up. “I suppose I should go find Modoc.”
"If anyone names their child after me, I will haunt them." Ralnor retorted dryly, giving his adopted sister a hug. "Go terrorize the snake."
Leere hugged him tight, a part of her afraid to let go for a moment. She didn’t want to lose him. However, she knew life had to go one. Disembarking his room, Leere waved goodbye as she went to search for Modoc. Oddly, she had a sixth sense now about where he would be.
~
"Are you going to return to Omisha?" Napochi was speaking to his uncle as Joy rested inside her mothers' home. It had been a long week for her and she was exhausted. While he was too large to fit inside the house, he was comfortable with Modoc inside of the barn. "Mother has been wondering when you will come home."
"Perhaps after things settle here." Modoc told Napochi with a small sigh, "I can't exactly travel without drawing too much attention. I don't really want to anyhow," He shifted slightly in the hay, "I'd rather go back to Omisha and live out my days watching my nieces and nephews or training the next shaman."
Leere supposed she should have found Napochi and Modoc at the barn. It was the only place for them that could fit their sizes. Dismounting her horse, she settled next to a wooden in the barn, politely waiting to be noticed.
Hearing the horse approach, Napochi slithered near the edge, looking downward.
"Mother-in-law," He was always so formal with his speech, "Joy is in the house if you're looking for her.”
“I-… thank you Napochi. I’m sure she’s resting. I’m actually here to speak to Modoc.”
"Oh, shit." Modoc grumbled under his breath, figuring that Leere was going to chew him out about something else out of his control.
"Very well, I will give the two of you the barn." Napochi slithered out of the hayloft, "I will wait on the porch until you are finished speaking."
“Thank you Napochi.”
Leere waited until her son-in-law made his way out. Silence fell between her and Modoc. When she finally spoke, Leere did so with conviction, but it was clear her energy was sapped. “Modoc. We need to talk about our future.”
"What future?" Modoc asked with a drawl to his voice, leaning over the hay loft to look at Leere. "The one where you wallow in grief for hundreds of years, cursing me? The one where I try to forget the past two thousand years of Prama's influence on my mind? The one where we hate each other until the goddess of death eventually comes for my soul once more?" He gave a small scoff, "Let's be honest, Leere, we can't kill ourselves. Zarazu would be pissed at us for taking the easy way out and a worse punishment might be waiting. Not to mention, if we hurt each other, then we're only going to be hurting ourselves. There's no way out of this deity-forsaken trap."
“No. There isn’t a way out of this for us. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to suffer in despair in that time. And I don’t want to fight with you either. What would the point be?” Leere let her arms plop against her sides. “However, I am going to grieve. In my own way. I’m going to leave Hyrule. And, I want to know if you would want to come with me?”
"Leere, there is no possibility that I could travel with you." Modoc gestured to himself, thinking she had hit her head. "Look at me. I'm a giant snake man who scares the ever living shit out of people." He then told her, "Even if I challenged magic to alter my appearance, it would be very draining. Mother has need of me back in Omisha, so I will return there."
“Okay…” Leere took a deep breath. “I just wanted to ask you. You are, and will be forever now, my longest relationship in my life. And I hoped I could go on this journey with someone I care for.”
"Leere, you have to be honest with yourself," Modoc knew how she was feeling. He could sense it. She was merely trying to spare his feelings. "You can barely stand the sight of me right now. While I will always care for you, I believe you need time to sort out how you feel."
“Modoc. I don’t hate you. You aren’t responsible for what has happened to me. I am. I made that choice years ago. Maybe… maybe I thought you could help me sort it out.” Leere took a seat on a barrel of hay. “I’m sure Mother has her hands light with Napochi and Sadon there. Maybe we can both just… escape Hyrule and Omisha for a bit?”
"If you truly believe those words, then why are you mad at me?" Modoc asked Leere, not understanding. "Why do I sense that you feel such bitterness?"
“Because-!” Leere finally felt some more flare come back to her. “Because when Joy was born, I was never the same after the tower while Chaos was still dwelling in our world. It made me paranoid, and an asshole towards my monster friends. I wanted to protect her from everything, even when I knew you’d never hurt her, or corrupt her. And then, we never just took the time to sit down and sort our shit out after I forcibly brought you back to life. I’m bitter because I wasted time between us. Fuck it. That’s why.”
Modoc almost wanted to laugh about Leere mentioning how much time she had wasted, when now, she had more time than any mortal her age. Yet, it did make him feel a bit sad, recalling how Leere had all but ignored him, not to mention Blue and White. She even refused to visit Mother in Omisha. True, part of this situation could be his own fault. Modoc was incredibly angry with Leere for bringing him back, for breaking her promise to him, but... now, once more, he had resigned himself to his fate.
"And now... I think you realize that time is the one thing we cannot protect our loved ones from."
“Yeah.” Leere looked down to an open spot beside her, silently gesturing to him to join her. “Do you remember Hades?”
"... yes." Modoc felt that sharp twinge of pain in his chest. "I... really wish I could have brought back his species for him. But Prama wouldn't let me."
“I know you had a close relationship with him. I know I didn’t have as much time with him, but I did consider him my friend. He was grounded amongst the wackiness the rest of the hive could get up to. He was encouraging, always listening and giving sage advice. Then he tried to kill us… I never felt a betrayal like that before.” Leere held onto herself, silence filling the room for a bit. “Modoc… I’m sorry. I let that experience twist my trust again. I let it hurt my relationship with you for a long time. And I thought I could help repair it by bringing you back. But I only made things worse. I don’t want to have this strain between us. I love you. As much as Joy, my family, or Sunny.”
Once again, Leere fell silent. Part of her felt stupid. Even if wasn’t angry with her, he wouldn’t feel the same. 
"Before Hades made his choice, he was my oldest friend." Modoc told Leere, thinking back to when he met the Lionel. "He was just a kitten, starving and lost. I watched him grow, just as I did you." The Anagari could sense that Leere's apology was heartfelt and sincere. She truly meant those words, but it was hard not to have doubts after so long of Leere's dismissal. "Sometimes, those you love the most are the ones who hurt you the most."
Rolling over onto his back in the hayloft, the shaman sighed heavily, conflicted, "I understand why you did what you did, Leere. I truly do. I just..." He ran a hand down his face, "I know you wanted me here, partly because of selfish reasons and the other to help you protect your family. I understand that, I do, I know the why, I know the reason, I just..." He groaned softly, thinking of his own family, his beautiful mate, his sweet hatchlings. It pained him to think of their faces. "When you are at peace... true peace, and then suddenly yanked away from it, it leaves you feeling so hollow for a time. While I was angry at you, I do not hate you."
Leere’s grew a little solemn. Steady, she got up, walking over to Modoc. Best she could, she did her best to hug him. "You sure we can't just take time to get close again?"
Modoc was a touch surprised at the hug. Leere had avoided him like the plague until now. It felt odd, but... somewhat comforting. He had lost many of his friends. Hades betrayed him. Silver lost his life in the war. Black had his final rest granted by the goddess of death. Red was still running his brothels, but he rarely saw the incubus. Blue and White were still alive, thankfully, but now had lives of their own. It was so painful to watch those he cared for suddenly vanish from his life.
"... we do have plenty of time." Modoc spoke softly, "Anagaris can live up to a thousand years, Leere. Before I died, the first time, I was in my mid three hundreds... so we have quite a while."
"And who knows how we'll account for my lifespan and magic." With a sigh, she patted his chest with her bare, almost tender hand. "Are you sure I can't convince you to join me? I'm sure Mother has plenty of help in Omisha. And if you do have to wear a disguise, I know spells that can help take away the discomfort. I could use a friend on the road. I'm thinking of going to Danjur first, but if you can't join me, maybe I would visit Fayruz in Al-Daida instead."
"From what I know, Mortuus usually lived a normal human lifespan unless a deal was made of some sort with hellish magic." Modoc felt her hand trying to give him a source of ease with the tiny pats. It made him think of when he used to carry her around. Years ago, Leere used to demand he be her personal chauffeur. It used to make him chuckle when she'd just hold up her arms like she was a kid again. "... I am not one for traveling, Leere. Those who know me as a host still hold resentment. But I will go with you to Al-Daida before Omisha," He thought of the matriarch, "She, at least, will not banish me from her country."
“Thank you…” Leere hugged him again, before letting go. “I should go talk with Joy. Need her help in getting my affairs in order.”
"Take your time and grieve, Leere." Modoc told her, a solemn expression on his face. "I... didn't have time to grieve when I lost my family. And I should have been able to. You do what you need to."
Nodding, Leere made her way back into her house. Opening the door to the inside, she paused, looking at the bench she and Sunny sat on for so many days they were married. Going inside and up the stairs, she passed by too many photographs for their lives, with Sunny getting older and older. Finally, reaching Joy’s bedroom, Leere peered in. “Joy?”
Her daughter stirred awake from the sound of her mother’s voice, a little tired in her voice. “Mom?”
“I’m sorry. I can come back later if you like.”
“No. It’s fine. Come in.”
Leere made her way in, crawling on top of the bed to lay beside her daughter. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. But I’m far from okay.”
Leere felt the hollowness in her daughter’s voice. It was understandable. “I know. I feel the same now she’s gone.”
Joy turned to her mother, taking a deep breath to keep her emotions in check. She had a long day of crying already, and she didn’t want to start again. “Mom’s going to be okay. And in time, we’ll see her again. It’ll just take a little longer for you…”
“Joy. I need to tell you something.”
Sending some hesitation in her mom’s voice, Joy took her hand gently, giving it a squeeze of encouragement. “What is it mom?”
“I’m going to leave Hyrule. My way of healing, my best way-“
“Is to adventure.” At this point, Joy was sitting up on the bed. She knew her mother well, more so the older she got. Leere loved the sense of travel, the excitement and wonder that came with it. Helping her mom up, Joy smiled with some sadness, but also understanding. “Mom. Sunny would want you to be happy. Mama would know that you can’t stay cooked up here. And I know that too. You’re a free spirit, and I think you need to see the world to let it help heal you.”
“Oh Joy.”
“Go out there. Be wild. Just… just try to visit? Or message me once in a while? I can look after the house here.” A little more serious, Joy put on her doctor's face. “Mama and I won’t, wouldn’t, care if you look for intimacy. But please. Don’t go on drugs again.”
Leere flinched at hearing that. She supposed Sunny must have told Joy at some point of her mom’s troubled past before she meet the farmer. Nodding, she made a vow here and now to Joy. “I won’t. Nothing hard or dangerous ever again.”
“Thank you. And be safe. I love you mom.”
“I love you too, my Joy.”
Hugging her, Leere prayed for her daughter to have a long and safe life.
~
A month of preparations was in order for Leere. She took time to cry, to celebrate the life Sunny led with remaining friends and family, and to plan. If she were to leave Hyrule to travel the world, she’d need organization, at least to a degree. Identities to go by, magic items to bring, and how to live happily.
With a step in her speed, Leere made her way to the castle. She needed one last goodbye and to make some arrangements with the royal family. Donning a pair of red tinted glasses, she wore a nice leather jacket and traveling pants for the occasion.
"Didn't Mother always tell you not to skip in the halls?" Ralnor chuckled as Leere rounded the corner. He had been waiting for her. "She was always so worried you'd break one of her antiques."
“You’re just jealous I still have the figure for it. Besides, I was always a good child. Anytime I slipped up Rinku and Skull Kid were happy enough to take the fall.”
"Those two never grew up and therefore have a valid excuse." Ralnor followed Leere into the throne room. "You know, you don't have to go. You're more than welcome to stay here."
“I know. But if there’s one thing I shared with our late sister it’s that I could never stay in one spot for long. I did so for Sunny. But now that she’s gone… I need to go. Hyrule’s just a sad reminder right now. In time, I’m sure that will change, but I do need time to work that out.” Leere took her brother’s hand, smiling. “If I do stay, I’m pretty certain I’ll go mad and turn all of you into children to have you grow up again.”
"Leere, if you make me go through puberty again, I will bite you." Ralnor shook his head, understanding her need to leave. "Go off on one of your grand adventures yet again. It will do you good."
“Yeah. I’ve already said goodbye to Orana and Tebby. As for Kanisa, I’ll figure something out. All that’s left is you and little Lui-Lui.”
Leere gave Ralnor a pat on the back. "Let's go find the little red head, shall we?"
"That little redhead isn't so little anymore." Ralnor walked alongside Leere, going into the throne room where Luimaya and Xidoren waited. He looked at the pair, standing side by side, talking to their children. The old prince gave a small sigh, a smile creeping onto his face. It was rare to see him be so relaxed. "... I'm so glad that she had a chance to be happy too."
"Indeed." Leere walked in, and, with a flick of her finger, she made a few wrapped boxes appear. With a full smile, she shouted out to the kids. "Who's your favourite Aunt!"
It was indeed an odd sight to Ralnor. Long ago, Luimaya had told the prince that she thought she would never have a family after learning of her fate to be the host of Balance. Now, here he was, watching her laugh as her children greeted Leere. Luimaya and Xidoren were parents to five beautiful daughters and two handsome sons. 
"Goodness, you'll never stop spoiling them, will you?" Luimaya gave her aunt a smile. "Then again, I suppose that is what aunts are for."
"Shadow Sage---I mean, Princess Leere," Xidoren was as formal as ever with his speech, "You are too kind."
"Not kind enough I think. For all of you. Books of adventure and lockets of beauty and mystery. Enjoy." Ruffling some of their hair, she made her way up to the Queen, giving Luimaya a hug. She was in a much better mood since the funeral. "Hello dear. How are you doing?"
"Aunt Leere, I'm old, I'm here, I'm still a bit fabulous, and I've somehow managed to keep the kingdom from falling apart, so I'd say I'm all right." Luimaya returned the hug and then added, "But most of all... I'm happy." She had her hand holding Xidoren's, still very much in love despite all that had happened.
"You don't look at all a day over thirty-nine. It makes me happy to know that you have this full joy in your heart." Leere smiled at them both, a twinkle of sadness in her eyes, but with a blink, she pushed it away.
"It seems that we were both able to master our fate in the end." Xidoren gave Luimaya a smooch on the forehead. "Are you sure you wish to travel? We are more than happy to accommodate you in the castle."
"Xidoren... I can't stay. I don't want Hyrule to feel like a prison of time. If I stay for the hundreds of years I have left, it won't feel special anymore, let alone a home. I need to journey outwards. If I do so, the moments I do return will make Hyrule feel all the better." Turning to Luimaya, Leere cupped her niece's hands. "Do you understand?"
"I understand." Luimaya never wanted to think of how hard it would be to live on and watch her family die. It was a curse she'd never wish upon anyone. The only way to live with this type of pain was to try and outrun it. "Just be careful."
"I will. You know I will check in on our family line right? Keep them safe. And, if need be, keep them honest."
"I trust you to do so." Luimaya knew that eventually Leere would return to Hyrule. Probably not in her lifetime, but, at least here and there to check on the descendants. It was a heavy thought, but one that gave her a bit of comfort.
"Hey." Leere lifted her drooping chin up. "No sad thoughts. Not for you. Not anymore. You have a long, happy life ahead of you now. Hyrule is going to flourish under your care. You don't have to worry about me."
"I know." Luimaya grabbed Leere in a tight hug, and whispered in her ear, "Kaksa said Modoc will take care of you and you'll do one better for the world. Just... don't lose sight of the light."
Leere's eyes flashed with sadness for a moment. Her heart would miss her family heavily here. The deep loving hug from her niece didn't help make the leave easier. Hugging her back, Leere nodded. "I won't. You can't cast a shadow without light after all."
Saying her goodbyes, Leere was led to the castle gates by her family. Smiling, she gave them all a wave goodbye as she set off. Taking a breath, she looked up at the Sun. She hoped she would feel Sunny's warmth once more.
________________________________________________________________
A collaboration with @ridersoftheapocalypse. Previous Ch. https://mrneighbourlove.tumblr.com/post/711481831624687616/the-long-years-ahead-ch-1-the-sunset Next Ch.
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zorilleerrant · 4 months
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I was thinking about my Yuletide requests and while I have no problem with Christmas stories and enjoy reading them, I did realize it wouldn't make sense for most of them...
Monkey Prince:
Pigsy probably doesn't care and would celebrate Christmas if other people were having a party. (presumably he loves Christmas cookies and such.) but there's no reason he would initiate any kind of celebration
Laura is Jewish and most likely did not celebrate Christmas in any capacity growing up. altho depending on whether her dad was actively against it and how much she rebelled against him as a kid she could have a variety of views
Winston is, for the sake of narrative coherence, Buddhist, with strong ties to those holiday traditions. it's quite possible he vaguely celebrates Christmas but unlikely his decorations would go as far as having, say, a tree. a wreath maybe
Marcus has never had many friends and he also doesn't have the personality to go to great lengths to attempt to fit in. so while he might push for Christmas stuff as a little kid, it probably didn't stick. also I don't think he'd be drawn to it
Shelly definitely doesn't come from a place where they celebrate Christmas but might know Atlanteans who do
Kaya could be argued to celebrate but could also easily have any other cultural background
Damian does canonically celebrate Christmas but I still think that doesn't make sense
Spirit World:
Xanthe and Stephie's parents are way too traditionalist to be okay with having even the trappings of Christmas in the house (altho they might do Christmas cards or something). so Xanthe would never have done Christmas things while they were alive and Stephie has probably had to sneak off with her friends to do anything like that
Popo seemingly predates Christmas? certainly as a celebration I mean but probably as a religious holiday as well. altho she also knows everyone and would certainly have been exposed to Chinese-American Christmas traditions at some point. I doubt she has any interest tho
we don't get enough of Bowen's background to say much of anything on the matter. you can argue for him having a Chinese-American Christmas background or one with absolutely no Christmas at all. you could probably even make him Christian syncretic if you worked at it
Cass and Constantine do canonically celebrate Christmas so I guess they could set something up
Black Adam:
Theo does not give a single flying fuck about Christmas. you could argue he actually doesn't know what it is and that could be very convincing. he lives in a country where very few people want to celebrate it (altho he most likely doesn't stop anyone and would intervene if people tried to stop each other from celebrating). he predates it and it doesn't bother him
Shep is Jewish and really in the situation where he's going to end up actively pissed off by Christmas even if he didn't start out that way. and possibly intentionally making friends with that aspect of their interaction in mind
strong argument to be made that Malik is Muslim and even tho his family doesn't seem particularly religious his upbringing could've been more so. and so I think it's quite possible he gets annoyed by Christians at Christmastime. but he also could be completely neutral about it. still possible they're Christian as a family or he/his sister is individually tho
I think the Shazamily does Christmas big tho
Static Shock:
they definitely do. a Christmas celebration would make total sense in this setting
Charmed:
while the sisters do celebrate Christmas, Chris grows up in a future where it's more likely they celebrate Yule instead. especially if you take his original fanon backstory
Mark grew up in a household where his mom was definitely all No Christmas In This Home and probably uncomfortable with his friends at school who tried to get him to join in on Christmas things. more likely neutral as he got older but still not anything he'd actively pursue
Kit is definitely a Yule Not Christmas type
Travelers:
they definitely don't have Christmas in their future
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jackalrain · 3 years
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he deserves to have friends and be happy !!
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crowdedimagines · 3 years
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Spill It - Harry Styles
an// i literally love the spill your guts concept, but hopefully this is a new take on it! also, this is not going to be chronologically correct to real life, that’s the fun of fiction! also in a world without covid
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“I will never understand how you continue to convince people to do this.” I sigh, taking in the table in front of me.
“Let’s take a look at what Y/n here is so fond of.” James teases before giving the table a good spin, showing off all of its contents, “To start we’ve got salmon smoothie, beef tongue, bird saliva, scorpion, fish head, hot sauce, bull penis, and finally, the water beetle. I think you’re both familiar with the rules of this game.”
“I’m sure.” Niall smiles, turning his head towards mine and I nod in agreement.
Niall and I go way back, having been friends for years. We met back in 2013 when I opened for One Direction’s tour. I quickly become close with all of them. One more so than the others. Harry. He and I just clicked, everyone knew it. It took months for us to start dating, afraid that we would ruin the good thing we had, but neither of us wanted to wait anymore. You can’t pass up a connection like that.
“Niall, I will ask you the first question.” James announces, “We’ll go with the salmon smoothie.”
“Oh god.” He mutters.
James lets out a loud laugh and covers his face in shock over the question. He turns it to me so I can catch a glimpse before he reads it out-loud and my jaw drops.
“You might as well drink now, not even hear the question.” I tease, leaning across the table.
“Niall, who is your least favorite member of One Direction?”
Niall’s head drops in defeat, even though he was sure going into this a question like this would be brought up. He just wishes it could’ve been on something a little easier to choke down.
“Drink up, babe.” I smile, a teasing smile crossing my face.
“Fuck.” He shakes his head.
“I can’t… “ He reaches for the glass and throws it back, it takes a few seconds for the sludge to finally shift and he can get a mouthful. A sour look takes over his face as soon as it reaches his taste buds. He quickly leans down to spit it in the bucket.
“That’s horrendous.” He coughs, “It was like a salmon yogurt.”
“Alright Niall, your turn to ask Y/n.”
I smile politely to my friend of many years who takes on a sinister look once he’s read the question.
“Please be nice.” I stick out my bottom lip.
“Right right.” He laughs, spinning the table as he takes in his options.
“Don’t forget I have a very good memory, especially of the years spent on a shared tour bus…” I chaff.
“Don’t remind me.” He settles on the hot sauce, thankfully one of the lesser evil options. I would take this over anything else on the table.
I did crash on their bus more than my own. It started because they were fun, barely older than me, but then when Harry and I started dating we became. Even sharing a bunk as uncomfortable as it was most nights. Those boys grew up with me, and I’m thankful to still be in good contact with all of them.
“You recently welcomed your third god-child into the world when Zayn Malik and Gigi Hadid welcomed their daughter to the world.”
“Yes, I did.” I smile at the cheering audience. I have managed to do the impossible in staying close with all of the boys since the hiatus. Well, all but one. Gigi and I met years ago, and I introduced the pair at an award show. The other boys had their reason for making me god mother, but it did give me this monopoly on all of the One Direction children. 
“You are actually the god-mother to all three of the One Direction children. Who’s your favorite?”
My jaw drops at the question. Who had the audacity to ask that? To think I could ever answer that about any of my little nieces and nephews. The audience cheers in shock over the question as well.
“You’re joking.” I scoff, “They’re children, I could never pick a favorite!”
“How about your least favorite then?” James teases.
“You lot are all horrendous!”
I grab the shot glass and down the hot sauce immediately. I love all of them way too much to ever pick. I’m sure it’s exactly what they expected with a question like that. It burns for a few seconds and I put the glass back and try to shake it off.
“Nice one!” Niall cheers.
“Now James-” I clear my throat, the hot sauce catching up with me, “Name one guest that you would never invite back to the show.” I bite back a smile and fan my face with the card.  
James looks up into the camera as if he actually wants to answer.
“C’mon, you can do it! Just for once.” I grin like a little kid in a candy store, I want him to answer. I want to know, and it would be nice to finally get him to reveal an answer like this.
“Are you trying to get this show canceled?” He turns to one of the producers off screen. He looks between them and the water beetle I’ve placed in front of him. He gives his head one last shake before throwing it down the hatch.
“Niall, it’s your last night on Earth, you can either spend it with your ex girlfriend Ellie Goulding or Selena Gomez?”
He goes back and forth, trying to be polite with his answer before eventually picking Ellie.
“Y/n, who is your favorite member of One Direction?” Niall asks, the smirk growing wider with every word he utters.
The crowd roars, knowing very well of my relationship from a few years ago. One that people still brought up regularly in both Harry and my life due to us remaining friendly. 
“What is up with you guys wanting to know my favorites?” I roll my eyes, “Give me something I can actually answer.”
“Fine! I’ll ask you one!” Niall grins, an evil and family glint in his eyes appearing, “What songs have you written about Harry?”
A red hue takes over my face again, only this time it’s not from the hot sauce.
“Either that, or the bird saliva.” He grins, showing off a wide smile. If only we weren’t on national television and I could smack it off.
“It smells like wet dog.” I sigh, I pick it up giving it a whiff before setting it back down on the table, “Could I name one song?”
Niall and James exchange a look before the nod accepting it. 
“I wrote the song Everything about him.” I smile. It shouldn’t exactly be a surprise to most people, there were clues. Both of our fans were smart enough to catch on and read between the lines. It was a song I released almost two years ago, the album following our breakup.
It was a powerful song, it quickly became one of the favorites of my fans. It’s also one of the few that I don’t perform. I can’t think of a time I’ve sung that song without crying, it wasn’t meant for the stage. It was meant to be played in your bedroom while you stare at your ceiling. People have always understood that. 
“It’s a lovely song.” Niall smiles knowingly.
“Thank you.” I smile, I move on and reach out to ask James his question.
“James, you have been blessed to have both Niall and I on for carpool karaoke.” I smile at Niall, “Which one did you enjoy more?”
I can’t fight off the laughter that takes over. As if it isn’t hard enough to answer questions like these, it’s only upped the ante by having us both here.
“You’re kidding.” He dabs away the sweat on his forehead.
“It’s okay, Niall won’t be that offended.” I reassure and stick out my tongue at Niall.
“You’re an arse.” Niall laughs with the roll of his eyes.
In the middle of Niall and I acting like children bickering, James tears off a bite of the cows tongue without another word.
“Oh god.” I turn away from the unpleasant sight.
“That’s rank.” Niall huffs.
Niall answers his next question from James again, successfully getting away without eating anything.
“Y/n, if the past four years you have gotten into acting. You have made quite a name for yourself on the big screen as well as on the stage.” Niall begins.
“I don’t like where this is going.” I laugh.
“Rank your co-stars from your past films best to worst; Dylan O’Brian, Logan Lerman, and John Boyega.” Niall smacks his knee with a laugh.
“I have been blessed to work with so many talented actors” I start, picking up the terrifying looking bug that has been placed in front of me.
“Mhm.” James agrees with an evil smile on his face.
“So talented, that I could never rank them.” I throw back the scorpion before I can second guess myself. I manage to chew enough of it for it to count before spitting it out as gracefully as I can.
That’s a wrap after that, enough time getting juicy content out of us quite literally either spilling or filling our guts. I give Niall a hug before going back to my dressing room. I couldn’t be more thankful to share the couch tonight with a long time friend.
I drive home, eager to go home and relax. The episode won’t air until later tonight which gives me a couple hours of peace from Twitter. I take a bath and make myself some dinner, before eventually climbing into bed and turning on the TV to watch the episode.
It’s good, fun to watch back. Niall and I make a good pair, easy to read the friendship on camera. In time the episode ends and I turn off the TV and decide to go to bed. It’s been a long day full of press. Before I can actually drift off my phone lighting up and vibrating on my nightstand grabs my attention.
You are my everything too. xx
PART TWO??????
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kingstylesdaily · 3 years
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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!”
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ladyyatexel · 3 years
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I Went On A Manga Binge
So you don't have to
For those of you who have wisely avoided the shreds of it I've left around the blog thus-far, I had some weird notion to go re-experience Yu-Gi-Oh uuuuuh a week ago? We'll go with that. Time is meaningless.
I'd been able to read a good portion of the early manga at the end of highschool, and somewhere in my stacks and stacks of paper is fanart from this dark time, so you know I cared. I also still own a Dark Magician action figure somehow, so. I'd also watched a large portion of the anime with my brother because it had been laced with some kind of crack and we couldn't look away? I remember when we both were just like shit, wait, don't change the channel, I can't stop looking at it. And the next thing we knew we were waiting for new episodes and I was doing research on the Japanese original because I was that kid.
Anyway, unnecessary backstory out of the way, here are some... let's call them Observations and Consequences of having read somewhere in the neighborhood of 300 chapters (and growing) of a manga primarily hinged on card games from a spectrum of sources ranging from boringly lawful to sketchy as fuck.
Surprise actual character that develops in typical shounen fashion being Jounouchi. My limited experiences with the 4Kids dub and only early manga had not painted him in a particularly good light. I don't know if episodes were being aired out of order or if I had just missed the ones that established that he was making shit up as he was going along, but Wow I liked him a lot more going through the manga than I ever did watching the (dubbed, heavily edited and censored and thrown into a slurry machine) anime. I'd managed to come out with the impression that he was just as reasonably experienced with the game as Yugi back in the day. Wild.
I'm now reading every single comic-style post on Tumblr backwards.
Striking inverse to first point, wow, I don't like Seto Kaiba. Though he gets points for his general philosophy of the future, and the line I read in my sketchy online combo of scans and scanlations in which he said, "If God is in your way, you run him down," was Metal As Fuck. I somewhat shame-facedly admit to enjoying him a lot more as an Abridged Series character. (I watched Abridged as it came out back in the day! The experience of watching the anime with my brother had been so fresh that I got all the in jokes about the way things were edited and dubbed, it was great. Series remains influential part of my life to this day, which is hella weird.)
I almost understand how Duel Monsters works now. I don't want this.
That said, wow a lot of the decisions made in the anime made everything a lot more ridiculous than the admittedly already ridiculous original. I got the distinct feeling in the manga that the Duelist Kingdom stuff we were seeing was designed to be used and exploited in ways that don't make sense in an actual cardgame just played on a table like a normal person and this was part of testing everyone to think higher, differently. Maybe this is obvious to everyone already, I don't know. I had always liked that it was very, 'Not so fast, I'm going to blow up the moon to change the tides,' but I'm not really sure the anime gave enough explanation that this was an extra layer added to things for that event? You can see people actively getting used to it in the books, and people who aren't considering the real or 3D nature of it getting owned, but my memory of anime version is everyone just like, 'oh, shucks, fuck me, I forgot to consider the phase of the moon before i played this card, can't believe I forgot.' No one calls Yugi on any of this stuff because it's valid play in that situation. Plus Yami Yugi had mad trickster energy in the beginning and it suited him to think of ways to do things inside these little simulation boxes the way it suited him to set perverts on fire. I imagine the real card game trying to emulate this element as something that would be to its detriment, but I neither know nor particular care haha
Ryou Bakura.
Really, though. I think he became kind of casualty of 'wow, we have a lot of characters who really aren't able to do anything in this story anymore,' despite the fact that his whole inner life could have been as interesting as Yugi's. I always like thinking about the possibilities of stories in which main character falls into magical world and is given magical item and told they're the hero and then they find out they've been the bad guy the whole time. The first several volumes of manga were about the quiet weirdo kid that no one talked to who was always blacking out and turning into a fucked up version of himsef because he was so attached to his ancient Egyptian jewelry, so like, Bakura could have much the same shit going on. I want to know what's happening with him so much. He clearly doesn't love being possessed, but he's also so drawn to the ring. Despite it having stabbed him at least twice and him knowing it's a danger to him and his friends, he keeps being pulled back into it. You see so much more of him being like, 'Oooh, a creepy thing, I love that! :D' in the manga than ever in the anime, which I'm all about. Also more blood. I'm very about that as well. Though my memory of the anime also made it look very much like normal regular daily Bakura was just a weird facade in places before he ever would have been. I think that was it trying to compensate for what people didn't see from the Toei anime, but okay whatever, that I love everything about this guy is not news, I don't need to talk about Bakura excessively here, I'm pretty sure that's gonna show up on my blog by itself
On a related note though, damn, more of these people need to talk to each other. Can we have some existential crisis support clubs or something. Can we get like some apologies or something? "I respect you as a duelist." "Cool, but you literally built a tower designed to specifically assassinate me and my friends? You were supposed to get Better after I retaliated by putting you in a coma, but you kinda didn't." "Why would the coma have made it better" "I just told you it didn't" ---- "Sorry I went along with the plan of your evil parasite stabbing you, misled you, and then also jumped in and took up some real estate in your head too." "I understand, I also have an evil thing inside me that does things while I'm blacked out." "...no, I was conscious for all of that." "Oh." "..." "..." "..." "Do you like Ouija Boards?" "sure okay" ETC. Like damn we are reading shounen manga because no one is talking extensively about their feelings here and I'm tapping my foot angrily.
Holy shit there are so many mythologies happening at once. The ancient family guarding the Egyptian Pharaoh has a surname that's a Mesopotamian goddess. None of the god cards make any Egyptian sense except Ra, and just like. Baaarrrrely. Somewhere either Evil Ring Bakura or Mar/lik makes a reference to cremation and spirits being taken to heaven with smoke which several things, but definitely not Ancient Egyptian. Marik/Malik meanwhile is clearly trying to head Arabic, along with Rishid, but then, hey, our sister is just Isis. Goddess McGoddess. Sometimes they're the same goddess! Her name could be Isis Isis or Ishtar Ishtar. Meanwhile, all the obviously 'occult because Christians think it is freaky' stuff. ~ancient egyptian pentagrams~~~This isn't a complaint, I guess so much as a 'Wow, I can kind of see the cultural spot the author was coming from and where he was aiming' kind of thing.
Wonder where things would have gone if the card games had not been latched onto the way they were.
Managed to forget how gross the pre-cardgames stuff was on the sexual harassment front. I'm glad there was a sort of explanation of everyone drifting away from being dick heads and that that decision was made. It got way more comfortable to read after no one was bringing Yugi p*rn on VHS.
Yugi looks better with a nose, glad we got that upgrade.
Interesting to watch the series style shift as it goes away from being horror to being over the top cardgames and friendship (with blood!). The first picture of Mokuba is fucking Jarring. Also noticed that the nicer a character is, the less their teeth are defined.
Glad manga did not go as completely off the fucking the rails about Marik's face. I never got as far as seeing him back in the day because college occurred, but I remember seeing pictures and stuff and being like, "what in the Fuck happened to that dude, I think the house style has collapsed in on itself"
Things the author Really Likes: motorcycles, belts, SHOES, holy shit the shoes. These are some of the most lovingly rendered sneakers I've ever seen. All the detail on his characters goes straight to their feet and then it's stretched upward until it forms stiff peaks. Gently fold in 3000 years of trauma and bake face down in a crumb coat of scattered mythology. Remove when you roll two zeros.
Where the fuck am I going to put the extremely large omnibus volumes of this comic I purchased in order to balance out how much I would be reading for free on the internet. I should have grasped that a three in one edition would be Thick and yet somehow I was still :O when it arrived. Have I strategically purchased volumes that contain my favorite parts, maybe, what's it to you will i eventually get the whole thing because incomplete book series gnaw on my soul? yes
Wish the transition from "I've murdered several people in delightfully karmic ways" to "all you need is friendship in your heart and cards in your hand" Yami Yugi/Pharaoh had been discussed more/transitioned better. Buddy, where did you get this approved for television high horse? Please go back to strangling people with yo-yos or at least tell me why you stopped.
I still can't tell anything that looks like a big robotic monster apart from any other big robotic monster. My dude, I can't tell cars apart, all these monsters look the same.
Yami Yugi fascinated me way more in highschool? Maybe because it was still super early and the anime was like 'we need to torture you about his origins WeEkLy. Now I'm just like 'wait hold on, can we go back to Bakura and Marik for a minute, there's some extreme unpacking to do here?' Those two are paying so much more in baggage fees here my guy wow
Violently uninterested in any of the spinoff media
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pollyaunt · 2 years
Text
Break My Heart- chapter 22
Fandom: From Blood & Ash | ch23
TW: ANGST ANGST AND ANGST!
Summary: What happens when the star quarterback of Atlantia High School grows an interest towards the shy, adorable but smart girl in his grade? Come and join Hawke and Poppy on this rollercoaster of emotions.
a/n: i wont even bother writing something here 😪
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I silently stood up when all my tears dried up and I had none left to shed anymore. All the arguments came to an end when I silently walked towards Hawke, my chin held up high and a mask of coldness took over my face.
I didn't care that everyone were still present there. I just asked him one question that had been bugging me all night.
"Was any of it real or was it all a lie?"
He pressed his lips in a thin line and contemplated how to answer the question.
"The starting was a lie. I made myself fail a few exams so that I would gradually get a tutor. It made things easier when the principal's first option was you o-or I would've specially requested for you.
"But you won't let me in and disliked me so much that I had thought for a second to drop the plan. And then you asked for a truce and I was back on the track."
I didn't know that I had more tears left to shed and didn't bother wiping them away.
"Then we started getting along. I asked you to help me in pranking Keiran because he first disagreed with my plan and it led to an argument. It was a win-win situation. He understood after that to not go against me because he was my best friend and you were there to help me with the prank and we'd spend some time together."
I remained silent and he took a ragged breath to continue.
"Then we started spending some more time together and you eventually fell for me, just like I planned. Until our first date, did I realize what I was really doing. But still, whenever I thought to not do what I had decided, I made myself remember how hurt I was and what they did to me."
So the whole 'date' was a lie too huh? Guess people really didn't like me.
His eyes finally met mine, "Until now. I knew I was falling for you too but I remained in denial. And now that I'm explaining all this, I'm realizing how stupid I was. But please Princess, you need to believe me I am deeply sorry and-"
I raised me hand at him and spoke, "Spare me your bullshit and lies," and turned towards others.
"I don't even have any words to express how horrible you people are. Yes Malik, what happened with you was really bad and you didn't deserve it but you never told me the truth even though you knew how much hurt I would feel. And it really does feel awful. But instead you gave me a stupid riddle and left me by myself."
I was panting and sobbing at the same time but I didn't stop. They ought to know what they did was appalling and they ought to feel guilty.
I turned towards Gianna and Venotta, the former having the decency to at least look ashamed.
"I normally hate cussing someone but you two deserve to know how much of a bitch you two are."
And I finally turned towards Hawke.
"And you."
I started clapping slowly and don't you fucking think that I was being dramatic because you have no fucking idea how much it hurt.
"What a mind blowing performance! You honestly should pursue being an actor. Might as well put those acting skills to use and win an Oscar someday."
He slowly shook his head, "Poppy-"
But I stood in front of him in two strides, my eyes seething, "I trusted you, I fell for you. Hell, I fucking loved you, and still do! But all you did was pretend and break my heart in the end. You've ruined me, and not metaphorically, but in every sense of that word. I hope you never forget what you did to a completely happy soul who had no relation with your problems but still suffered. And all because of you and your little revenge."
I slowly started backing away from him. My voice was barely more than an octave when I said, "I never want to see you again."
I was boiling with rage, anger, hurt and betrayal when I went downstairs and out of the mansion in a few seconds. Hawke followed me, of course he fucking followed me. Murmuring apologies and begging to listen to him but I was done with his games.
I ignored him and started my car while he still knocked on my window, spitting out lies.
"I love you, please."
He was on the verge of tears and I spoke to myself, "It's too late for that,"
Without another word, I pressed the accelerator and left him standing there.
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i cried again while writing this chapter 😭😭 she deserves so much better.
tag list: @the-introverted-reader
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silvysartfulness · 3 years
Note
Omg I saw that you used to write for the assassin’s creed fandom and honestly what a throwback 😭 are they on livejournal?
Aahhh, this is the part where I have to admit, I don't think I ever put any of those drabbles online! It was more a fun thing me and wife used to do, writing very very short 5 minute one-shots based on single word-prompts.
Oh, wait! Apparently I actually still have them, in an old folder of mine! Will post under a cut. These are AC 1-3-brotherhood, primarily focused on the latter.
La Volpe/Cesare post the fall of the Borgia was my main rarepair ship in that fandom, so that's the main (if occasionally only implied) focus for a lot of these. (CW some dubcon/non-con under the cut, so be warned.) 😊
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1 Unwillingness
It goes against everything he is, a greater challenge than any battlefield taken on. Snarling, eyes blazing his defiance, Cesare submits for now.
2 Memento
”Something to remember me by,” murmurs Volpe softly against the sensitive skin of his neck, and it's all Cesare can do not to yelp as those vicious teeth leave a bleeding gash in his ear.
3 Baseline
He still doesn't trust Machiavelli, Volpe muses, and it's equally clear Machiavelli doesn't trust him. Perhaps their shared love of secrecy is the one dependent thing about their relationship.
4 Sniper
He has shot guards from rooftops, towers, horseback, beams and the treacherous crumbling tops of ancient stone pillars. So why was it, muses Ezio afterward, that he hadn't even thought of pulling crossbow or gun out as his sworn enemies held their short council in the courtyard a few measly yards below his feet?
5 Birthplace
It is in Masyaf the order of Assassins was born into what it is now. Searching for answers Ezio sets out on the longest journey of his life, back to the beginning of all.
6 Denunciation
It is hard to remember what it was like to have faith, Cesare thinks, but easy to remember when it was lost. What God could ever work through the instrument that was Alexander VI, his father?
7 Distaste
”Volpe, you didn't!” Ezio exclaims, his face a mask of distaste. Volpe smirks.
”Oh, it was not at all bad. Cesare is well trained.”
Ezio shudders. ”That is exactly what bothers me!”
8 Elimination
Constantly, frustratingly one step behind, it is little Cesare can do as his allies are meticulously taken out by the Assassins one by one. And yet it is not until the last of those on his side willingly turn their backs on him that he realizes this battle is lost.
9 Bluntness
”You can do as I say,” says the master thief matter-of-factly, turning the vial of antidote over in his spindly fingers, ”or you can spend the night dying slowly while vomiting your innards all over the floor. The choice is yours.”
Pale with fury Cesare chooses to live.
10 Turf
The Assassins had been myth, legend, bed-time stories to frighten a young boy already afraid of the dark. But as they dealt an all but deadly blow to his father inside the Vatican itself, Cesare grimly declares war. Roma is his city, and all who oppose his rule must be swiftly and mercilessly dealt with.
11 Assassination
He burns for the ideals, fights the fight with passion and utter devotion. But when Shaun's shaking hands lower the suddenly impossibly heavy gun he knows something he'dnever even thought about (Innocence? Compassion? Humanity?) has perished as surely as that very first body at his feet.
12 Apprentice
He remembers a gangly youth skidding across slippery roof tiles, trying so hard to keep up and even harder to hide his inability to do so. La Volpe silently studies Il Mentore and considers he's no longer sure who would lead the way across the rooftops.
13 Debris
Ezio swears as the ceiling collapses over the bed he shared with Caterina until moments ago – his armor and weapons are buried in the rubble and will be hard to replace. He does not yet know they will be the least of his losses this day.
14 Scolding
Altaïr has never been one to accept blame or criticism for his actions, but something about the way Malik's not-there left arm twitches as to shake a not-there fist in his face as the man speaks makes him look away in hidden shame.
15 Torrent
The rain pours down over the city, making roofs and cobblestones alike wet and slippery. Volpe tugs his collar tighter around his shoulders against the biting cold and idly contemplates if a trip to the Castello would be worth the trouble.
16 Anchor
He cheats and steals and tells honeyed lies with the ease of a snake. But his eyes can be oceans and his touch velvet – sometimes Ezio wonders if his always restless, inspiration-ridden friend keeps Salai around just to remember what it's like to be human.
17 Truce
”It would be nice,” says Machiavelli evenly, ”if you would not so readily name yourself judge, jury and executioner the next time you fall victim to unfounded suspicion.”
”Fine,” mutters Volpe, frowning. ”It would be niceif you were not so secretive. And stop trying to steal my spies. Get your own.”
”Fine,” Machiavelli replies with a minute smirk.
Fellowship is knowing just when your brother-in-arms is lying.
18 Nook
There are many unknown and unseen hiding places among the rooftops of Florence. On his back, hair plastered against his face and hot breath against his ear, Giovanni concludes it's very handy that La Volpe always knows to find one when you need it.
19 Orgy
These parties are more to his father's tastes than his his, Cesare firmly tells himself, perhaps letting his eyes linger thoughtfully on the multitude of courtesans a moment longer than intended. Then a familiar slender hand grazes his thigh and he is reminded that the only person even close to matching his own schemes, cunning and skill is the woman on the throne next to his.
20 Scoff
”I spend all my time in the Animus,” Desmond frowns, ”Lucy's keeping an eye on Abstergo and Rebecca... hacks and stuff. What do youdo, really? Anyone could use, what, Google and Wikipedia?”
Shaun grins or at least bares his teeth.
”You mean Templar Central One and Two? No, it's called obtaining knowledge, Desmond - sifted like little gold nuggets of fact from the vast sands of ignorance you're so fond of burying your head in. Google can't help you there, I'm afraid.”
21 Scolding
At the time, Ezio always figured Giovanni's constant nagging and pleading with him to stay out of trouble was only the worrying of an overprotective father. Only later was he taught discretion was part of the ancient Assassin's creed. He never got very good at it, even so.
22 Bonfire
No-one is entirely sure why Julius II has tempered justice with mercy for now and opted for his enemy's imprisonment rather than death sentence. As far as la Volpe is concerned, the way Cesare goes pale whenever the topic is brought up is at least good for entertainment.
23 Nakedness
Being exposed holds no particular shame for him, but the walls and floor are freezing to the touch, draining precious warmth from his aching body. Now would be a prudent time for an accursed thief to show up with a blanket to bargain for.
24 Arbiter
It was funny, Machiavelli drily noted in his notebook, how God and Divine Justice so often were on the side of the biggest army with the sharpest swords.
25 Purgatory
The land burns, smoke choking the sky and tinting the sun a sickly shade of blood. It is with a cold and unfamiliar sense of foreboding Cesare hurries through the flames toward the towering walls of the fortress to escape this hell on earth – one way or another.
26 Fingernail
Ezio has more than his fair share of scars adorning his hardened body, some remembered more fondly than others. He would never dream to ask Caterina to trim her nails, or use them just a touch more carefully.
27 Slavery
The Creed dictates freedom of thought, and in his reckless youth Altaïr would use it as justification for any rash impulse. But the older he grows, the more he comes to realize freedom and all its crushing responsibility can be the harshest master of all.
28 Carnivore
When confronted on his nasty habit of biting, Volpe only grins and quips something about foxes and their nature. Cesare is tempted to snap he's often seen dirty foxes prowling the back streets for garbage, but can see where Volpe would go with that, and so holds his tongue.
29 Bluntness
Ezio is too flustered after his mother's blunt request he find other outlets than vaginas to realize the enthusiastic young artist at his side seems more than eager to offer a few suggestions on the particular subject.
30 Vow
He will live, Cesare vows. He will live, he will regain his freedom, his power and his army. At any cost. And then they will. All. Pay.
31 Blending
It was simply not fair, thought Machiavelli, that no matter how solid your acting, no matter how meticulousyour disguise, Volpe would immediately spot you in a crowd and grin at you. Clearly spying on the sly old fox called for more cunning means, he conceded as he made his way to the Rosa to shamelessly bribe Claudia for information.
32 Misconduct
“Not that we are in any particular hurry to the Castello,” Orsini says, the knuckles of his war-gauntlet quite pleasantly buried in Cesare's face, “but things would just be easier all around if you would stop squirming and came quietly.”
33 Ultimatum
“If you don't stop hogging my mp3-player,” Rebecca whispers softly in Shaun's ear, “I'll tell Lucy exactly whatyou and Desmond used her yoghurts for last night.”
34 Takeover
“Stop!” Lucrezia commands as the soldiers feed the paintings to the fire – already the image of a swan is crackling and fading to black amongst the flames. Such a waste of beauty. She hasn't even realized Cesare is standing behind her, fierce and bloodied after the battle, until he speaks.
“You like them?”
She nods, and he touches her cheek with a smile, careful not to stain her hair.
“Then they are yours. A memento of the day the Assassini fell.”
35 Afterlife
“I blame you for this,” says Cesare flatly as the imps re-heat the lake of boiling tar. Again. “There is no God, you said. No heaven and no hell, you said. Stupid old bastard.”
Rodrigo mutters something about Hell being other people, but will have to concede that in this trifling matter, yes, he was mistaken.
36 Distaste
He would rather be hated than forgotten, Cesare sullenly thinks, rubbing his stiff hands for warmth. Bony, filthy, with the matted long hair of a hermit falling into his face, he has to settle for the guards' contempt. At least it's better than pity.
37 Slavery
He isn't really paid, Leonardo thinks, merely kept alive, yes. Not really compensated as such. And so the construction of the intricate war-machines is really on the consciences of his masters, not his. Sting of guilt quenched he returns to the blueprints with renewed fevered enthusiasm.
38 Probation
“What's the catch”, asks Cesare with deepest suspicion.
“No catch,” Volpe assures, looking innocent. “Just a reward for your recent good behaviour. Keep it up and there may a meal and a hot bath in it for you, too.”
Cesare does not for a moment believe they are just going out 'to stretch their legs', but a meal does sound inviting. He follows.
39 Adversity
Ezio strongly disapproved of the idea of his little sister taking over the Rosa in Fiore, and he frankly can't say whether he is more disappointed or proud when it flourishes under her care.
40 Bluntness
“You are a thief,” Machiavelli growls, piqued into a rare display of anger. “A liar and a cheat and an honourless thief!”
Volpe grins.
“All those things. And I'm still better than you.”
41 Scheming
Ezio gave the Apple to Mario, who had it stolen by Cesare, who gave it to Leonardo, who found it plucked out of his helpless hands by the Pope and his daughter. He ponders life was easier when he was just a painter. The Apple is a thing of awe, but the intrigues in its wake make his head hurt.
42 Favorite
It wasn't that Cesare particularly hated his older brother. It was just that while he no longer childishly sought his father's approval, the position as the Pope's favorite son came with several practical perks. Unfortunately for Juan, that meant he simply had to go.
43 Truce
When things are civilized, they can be bearable, almost even pleasant. The food is good, the wine plentiful, and Volpe's skilled fingers all but gentle. An unspoken truce, no matter how temporary. But neither man ever forgets the truth, which is war.
44 Scour
They answer to no-one, self-proclaimed executioners beyond all law. Too much blood on their hands now. Just before sunrise Cesare gives the command to attack. The cleansing of Monteriggioni has begun.
45 Extrovert
To hold his own council and play his cards close to his heart has always been his way, and he knowshe is a master at his game. And yet, Machiavelli can grudgingly admit to himself, it isn't until the boisterous chaos in human guise that is Ezio bursts in on the Roman scene that he begins to see how they will win this war.
46 Protagonist
“I will avenge the cowardly, treacherous plot against my father,” he thinks. “I will root out all those involved, every single one, and I will kill them and all they stand for.”
No-one ever sets out to be a hero, only to do what is right.
For Cesare, the path ahead is clear.
47 Willpower
It is never easy. Every time Altaïr visits his (his!) bureau in Jerusalem, Malik has to struggle with himself not to slay the man in his sleep. On many a moonlit night, only a lifetime of discipline stays the blade in his white-knuckled hand.
But strangely, it does get easier over time.
48 Esacalation
At first it had been mere proof of his ability to go anywhere in Roma as well he pleased, the taunting and impotent rage in response a given bonus. After some time, forced still-furious intimacy gained through blackmail had appeared a logical step. Then force turned out redundant. As Cesare clings to him, nails biting into his arms and teeth bared with need, Volpe admits to himself he would never have suspected the caged Borgia would so willingly use him to sate his desires – nor the other way around.
49 Torrent
Raw grief fades over time, a broken heart healed into a dull ache. The thing that keeps Claudia from sleeping at night is not all she has lost, but her screaming frustration at not being able to take her fate, and that of those responsible, into her own hands.
50 Danger
The peaceful life he had envisioned just the evening before will have to wait, Ezio grimly decides, pressing a hand to his wounded shoulder and focusing on not falling off his horse. And despite the shock, grief and pain, it somehow feels right. He has lived this life so long, he isn't sure he remembers how not to.
51 Splattering
Leonardo likes to buy birds at the market and set them free, watching with dreaming eyes as they take to the endless sky. Once, Ezio surprises his friend with twenty white doves. Much belatedly he wishes he'd remembered that stressed pigeons prefer to lighten their load before taking off.
52 Ramification
“It is time you take responsibility for your actions,” Rodrigo snarls, and Cesare struggles with the impulse to scream, childishly, “But father, younever did!”
53 Concession
“I'm not sure we should...”
Lover and Thief, silhouettes in the dark, alone. A light touch.
“Come now. It will be good, I promise.”
“But, what if...”
“Ssh. Are we not both Assassins? Everything is permitted.”
His honed thief's nerves tingling with foreboding warnings, La Volpe allows Claudia to persuade him in the end, knowing Ezio will probably kill him, and that it will no doubt be worth it.
54 Leer
You can't even seehis face in the shadows beneath the cowl. And yet, Volpe just standing there outside the bars, nonchalantly leaning one hand against the wall, makes Cesare want to scream. Or punch him hard. Preferably both.
55 Whisper
Ezio reflects that there are few other voices he would instantly recognize by just a short, urgent uttering of his name. His hesitation to turn around stems not from uncertainty, but the childish wish to postpone the trial of his oldest friend's rumored treason just a few moments longer.
56 Absurdity
At first Ezio had felt confused, then worried and finally terrified. But as they've fled Florence and the man introducing himself as uncle Mario tells him that his family belongs to an ancient clan of legendary assassins, relief washes over him. Finally is clear it has all been an insane dream. He can't wait to wake up.
57 Experimentation
Leonardo da Vinci is a true genius, his brilliant mind always seeing the world through a lens of wonder. Nothing escapes his never-sated curiosity – but that a small poseable wooden mannequin could be used like that? Cesare is a man not easily impressed, but will have to admit the artist rarely fails to amaze.
58 Farewell
It is with uncharacteristic kindness Volpe kisses him, between shared gasps for air after their final tryst. A last goodbye before the approaching dawn will see Cesare on his way to exile in Spain.
”Growing sentimental, old fox?” the younger man scoffs at him. ”No need. I shall return soon enough, and repaint the walls of Roma with Assassin blood.”
Volpe just smiles. He has already helped Ezio prepare his own journey and knows with certainty that Cesare will never again return to Rome.
59 Turf
”Maybe Giovanni could get away with doing paperwork all day over in Florence,” Mario says, and his tone clearly states what he thinks about his brother's choice. ”But arround here we train Assassins, not accountants or delivery boys.”
Ezio's body has never ached as much in his life as it does after his first day of training with his uncle.
60 Smoothness
When she smiles her deep red lips are like tantalizing rose petals, framed by sun-ray golden hair. She is smooth, flawless, perfect. But every rose has its thorns, and Lucrezia's are laden with poison.
61 Kneeling
Every fiber of Ezio's body strains desperately to regain control as he jerks like a puppet on golden strings of light.
”You are lucky,” breathes Rodrigo in a low, husky growls, leaning hard on the staff after the battle, ”So verylucky, little Assassin, that I am in a hurry.”
As the dagger sinks into his guts, Ezio briefly thinks that indeed, it could have been so much worse.
62 Purgatory
The imps don't know whether to feel amused or put out that the screaming, flailing argument between father and son has by now escalated to the point they don't even seem to register the lake of boiling tar anymore. A bit of respect for good solid workmanship, is that too much to ask?
63 Lick
It has to be said in favour of Machiavelli's assassin reflexes that the unexpected lick at his ear out of the dark earns Volpe neither a jump or a shriek but a rapid fist to the nose.
Only half an hour later, safely home in his bedroom, does Niccolo allow himself to contemplate what might have otherwise transpired.
64 Bonfire
It is a sad thing, reflects Ezio in hindsight, older, wiser, that compared to all the priceless art and knowledge fed to fire during Savonarola's mad reign of Florence, the mere loss of a human life that ended it is remembered with little sense of loss or revulsion.
65 Last
After Mario's death, Ezio has felt the weight of being the last Auditore Assassin ever heavier on his shoulders. But as he watches Claudia fearlessly take her leap of faith, he wonders how he could ever have been blind enough to think himself alone.
66 Well
The guards in hot pursuit yell and stab at wells, haystacks and dark alleyways. From his perch on a rooftop Ezio smiles. He always did prefer to take to the sky.
67 Wrongdoer
As his support falters and the opposition grows ever bolder, Cesare becomes increasingly frustrated with their attacks and accusations. He would prefer to answer only for his own sins, not those of his dead father.
68 Deliberate
It really is getting unnerving, decides Machiavelli, the way Volpe has taken up the habit of commenting on his every observation with a frosty ”Indeed” or ”Yes, quitethe coincidence”. He wishes he could believe the man isn't doing it on purpose.
69 Counter
When he first arrives in Jerusalem, Altaïr can't quite shake the feeling that the only thing between him and certain death is a rather narrow, map-strewn desk.
70 Bribe
Cesare has always been good at striking a profitable bargain. Unfortunately Borgia as a currency is bitterly deflated, and these days he often have to sell himself too cheap for comfort. Even though it isa warm, snug blanket.
71 Chess
Cesare knows he is a brilliant strategist – not so much because of the expected praise from his subordinates as from the satisfactory number of pins currently adorning his map of Italy. He would like to believe himself modest in this, careful not allow hubris to cheat him of a victory. And yet he never knows whether to frown or laugh helplessly as the absent-minded artist all but appologetically check-mates his king time and time and time again.
72 Feel
Leonardo never knows how to feel when Cesare enters the room. At first he is apprehensive, but as weeks turn into months and he realizes he's not only allowed but encouraged to dream up grander designs than ever before he is thrilled.
In the end, seeing the Assassins' plans put into motion long before Cesare even knows the final battle has begun, he can only avert his eyes in regret.
73 Mister
”Outside the kingdom of God is the realm of men,” Salai says, leaning just an inch too close. ”You worship there, Messere?”
Only years of training his clueless look on Leonardo helps Ezio keep a straight face as he blankly waves for the boy to follow him.
74 Fine
There are simply too many guards around for a discreet kill, so Ezio grudlingly counts the florins and hands them over. How was heto know he wasn't allowed to park his horse there? Time to liberate another stable from its Borgia-tower shadow, he decides. Burning them all down is easier than keeping track of territories anyway.
75 Dog
If La Volpe is the fox and Ezio the bird of prey, Pantasilea ponders, then Bartolomeo reminds her of a large, lumbering dog. Faithful and loyal unto death, but with a booming bark and a vicious bite for those who threaten those dear to him.
76 Forgotten
When Volpe appears he is the first person Cesare has seen in days. He greets the thief with his usual brazen curses, careful not to let any trace of relief shine through. Of all things he is most afraid to be left alone to die; not slain out of hatred or need, but simply ignored and forgotten.
77 Changed
Had Ezio been the kind of man to think upon such things, he might have noticed the Cesare facing him atop the towering walls is not the self-assured young general he met a handful years previous in Roma. Tired-looking and hunched over he looks defeated even before the battle has begun. But Ezio is here for one single purpose alone, and has never been the kind of man to think of such things anyway.
78 Gondola
Antonio assures Leonardo that only from an extensive tour with his private gondola will the artist truly get to know his new home town. As it happens, a rocky two-hour boat ride later, Leonardo still hasn't really seen much of the city. But that's quite alright, as he happily agrees to repeat the endeavour soon again.
79 Casino
It never hurts to try to win Fortuna's favour when gambling is one of your favorite pastimes, Salai knows, but in this particular case divine intervention is quite a bit closer at hand. As long as you have La Volpe's favor, the dice at the Sleeping Fox will never let you down.
80 Soup
The first bowl of watery gruel ends up thrown in the guard's face with enough force to break his nose. The next morning the second splinters against the wall. Nearly a week passes before he forces himself to eat the fifth, to preserve his strength.
Cesare closes his eyes as he quickly raises the bowl to his face to wolf down the hundredth, before the reflection in the dull surface can show him what he has become.
81 Carrot
”Tell you what,” murmurs Volpe in the starving prisoner's ear, dangling the vegetable in front of his face, ”If you give me a good enough show I'll even let you keep it for supper when you're done.”
82 Madame
Volpe has to admit himself impressed – Claudia is shrewd, ruthless and horrifyingly practical, and stillmanages to be praised a good businesswoman rather than cursed a thief.
83 Kilt
Yes, Ezio decides as he flexes his body inside the unfamiliar weight of Romulus' armour, there is definitely a draft around his nether regions. Whatever the old Romans may have thought, a skirt of leather belts does notconstitute proper clothing.
After some swearing and creative arranging of his spare cloak he considers it may well look even moreof a skirt, but at least this cut preserves his manly dignity when he jumps.
84 Theft
He has stolen valuables, information, people and lives. La Volpe draws in a deep breath as he surveys Roma in the first light of morning, then exhales in satisfaction. She is the greatest city in the world, and she is all his for the taking.
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randomoranges · 3 years
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sometimes fights happen. the last of the relationship arch and technically the first. would come before Jello and Relationship Status: conjoint you don’t need to have read the others.
Apology [Accepted]
20XX
They’re out and about, Étienne bringing him on his usual whirlwind visit of the city, not wanting him to miss out on anything going on during his time here. It’s been an overall pleasant day and they’ve taken a small break to enjoy a treat on one of the many terasses the city has to offer. They’re sitting close, Étienne having no real notion of what personal space is, and Edward finds he doesn’t mind. It’s nice and he likes that Étienne hasn’t put up his usual guard. His boyfriend has been regaling him with some bodacious tale, when he is interrupted, halfway through, when another person comes up to them.
 “Étienne?!” The person says, astounded and surprised to find him here.
 Étienne automatically puts some space between them, as if suddenly aware of where he is and Edward watches as his boyfriend’s eyes grow wide and a grin etches itself on his face, “Oh mon Dieu, Malik, allô! Ça fait longtemps!”
 There’s the usual exchange of kisses on cheeks and pats on the back, followed by catching up on the latest. Edward watches, from the corner of his eyes, as Étienne once more seems to know everyone he runs into and something starts stirring inside of him that he can’t quite name.
 “Aye, scuse, j’avais pas vu qu’t’étais avec quelqu’un.” Malik says and both of them turn towards him and Edward offers a polite smile and wave.
 “Oui, c’est mon ami, Édouard, yé-t-en visite pour encore une semaine!” ��tienne beams and Edward – Edward stills, that one word ringing and repeating itself over and over and over again as an ugly, long forgotten voice returns to whisper fears in his mind, feeding off the feeling from before.
 He tries to ignore it, makes polite chit-chat with Malik until they leave, but the word festers and colours his mood. He remains quiet as Étienne picks up their previous conversation and his mood only sours as the rest of the afternoon progresses.
 He thought – he had dared to think that things were different now.
 He supposes he’d been very wrong.
 Étienne would never change. He isn’t sure why he’s surprised.
 Of course, despite everything Étienne had told him – the confessions and the promises and the affirmations – it had meant nothing. They were only words. Étienne didn’t really like him. They were only words to make him feel better. To dupe him into a lie. He was and is just Some Friend. Some idiot Étienne keeps around for when he’s bored. A simple ami. Not a boyfriend. Not even a vulgar chum.
 Un ami. A friend. Nothing fucking more.
 Étienne probably is ashamed of him. Humours him by having him over. Even now, after all these years. He doesn’t know why he thought otherwise – why he believed Étienne when he’d told him the contrary.
 How stupid of him. How utterly naïve.
 He deserves this, really. Deserves to be mocked when the signs had all been there, really. Everyone had told him that Étienne only played games. He’d been blind to them is all.
 Eventually, Étienne quiets down himself, realising that Edward’s enthusiasm has withered and the rest of the afternoon is a quiet sullen thing. They head back to Étienne’s place afterwards and Étienne lets him be for a moment, while he tends to Mercury and it’s only later, that he goes out of his way to find him and sits beside him.
 “Alright, are you going to tell me what’s eating you or are you going to be a miserable old sack for the rest of the evening?” Étienne sounds a little annoyed and Edward thinks it’s a good thing. He wants him to be annoyed. Wants him to stew and be miserable. Just like he feels now.
 “It’s fine. It’s nothing you should concern yourself with. I’m just a friend, after all. No one important.”
 Étienne gives him a look as though he’s been slapped in the face, “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Hell, he even sounds insulted.
 Edward sighs, annoyed and frustrated because why would Étienne have the decency of understanding? “I don’t know, you tell me!”
 Étienne blinks, clearly confused, “What are you talking about?”
 “Can’t believe I have to spell it out for you, but then again, I suppose I also shouldn’t be surprised about this either. After all, you’re the one who dismissed me as your friend earlier, when your friend came to chat you up.”
 “You mean Malik? What the hell else was I supposed to call you? Was that too much?” Now, even Étienne sounds annoyed and it’s evident from the way his eyebrows are knit close together and the tightness of his mouth.
 “Your boyfriend! Or are you that ashamed of me?!” He finally near yells.
 Étienne looks at him, surprised. He remains quiet and simply looks. Edward is a little unnerved, but even more so when Étienne lets out a dark and bitter sounding laugh.
 “Oh this is fucking rich coming from you, Murphy.”
 “What’s that even supposed to mean?”
 “You’ve gotta be kidding me, clearly. How the fuck was I supposed to know I could call you that to others when you’ve spent decades avoiding anyone seeing us even walk down a street together in broad daylight!”
 There’s a small voice – very small and very annoying – at the back of his head that tells him Étienne has a point, however Edward ignores it and instead charges on, politeness be damned.
 “Well maybe if you had given me some inkling of a sign that you were into me I would have let you!”
 “Please, you were so far buried into your closet that even your precious Gretzky coming out and fucking you wouldn’t have been enough.”
 He’s aware they’re both going for where it hurts. That they’re using their own deep and buried hurt as a weapon and that they should stop. However, there is something raw that has been unearthed and there seems to be no going back at this point.
 “Of course it’s my fucking fault! You’re too perfect and self-centered to have any flaws.”
 “What does that have to do with the fact that I didn’t know you were okay with me telling people you’re my boyfriend? You never let me know! You’re still not comfortable with PDA! I was trying to be nice, for Christ’s sake!”
 “Yeah, well, it looked more like you were ashamed to be seen in public with me!”
 Étienne scoffs loudly and rolls his eyes at him, “Me? Ashamed of you? Please, it’s always felt like the other way around! I’ve been trying to reach out for you for decades. You’re the one who pushed back and would swat my hand away. And I figured, fine, you weren’t out, whatever. So I kept my hands to myself and didn’t say anything. And even now. I don’t know what you’re comfortable with, so excuse me for fucking wanting to give you space and not knowing what the fuck was actually going on in your head.” Étienne makes to get up and most likely get some air, but Edward isn’t done. He’s not letting Étienne walk away.
 “What the hell?! You can’t honestly believe I was ashamed of you! Why the fuck else would I keep coming back here to see you?”
 “Because I was convenient! An easy escape! You said so yourself! It was easy for you to come here and be whomever. I could have been literally anyone else and it wouldn’t have changed anything.”
 Edward wants to laugh at the absurdity of it all and nearly does. “Of course it was convenient,” He starts and cuts Étienne off before he can go on again, “You were-are my friend so it made it easier. But not because of the reasons you believe.”
 They both fall quiet and stare at each other, an impasse being more or less reached. Eventually, Étienne runs a hand over his face, after removing his glasses and cleans them off his shirt before putting them back on. He takes a deep breath and then sags a little against the couch.
 “So, are you telling me that we both got worked up over some giant misunderstanding and you actually don’t mind me telling people you’re my boyfriend now?” He sounds a little tired, as if this issues has been plaguing his mind for years and Edward feels, for the first time since this whole debacle has started, that they might finally be back on the same page.
 “Something like that... And yes, I don’t mind. I should have told you.” He says a little quieter, a little calmer.
 “And I should’ve asked.”
 They look at each other, hazel meeting green, and it’s a timid understanding that is reached. One formed over embarrassment and apology.
 “I think there are still things we need to discuss.” He doesn’t want this to happen again. For as much as he doesn’t mind clearing the air, he also doesn’t want to hurt Étienne.
 “You mean there are still issues we’re carrying around that could blow up at any time in some toxic way and threaten the foundation of what we have?” Étienne says, mock surprised as he brings a hand to his chest, feigning shock. Edward lets out a puff of air that forms into a little laugh.
 “Yeah, something like that.” He reaches over for Étienne’s hand and gives it a squeeze. “I was never ashamed of you. Honestly and I’m sorry if you thought that.”
 Étienne twines their fingers together and if his grip is a little tight, Edward doesn’t mention it.
 “I know. Logically, I know that. I guess, hearing you say that woke up some old fear inside of me... an old insecurity. We do need to discuss this. I’m sorry – for what I said and hurting your feelings. I’m not ashamed of you. I’ve never been ashamed of you either.” Étienne tentatively scoots closer and Edward carefully places an arm around him, letting Étienne put his head down on his shoulder. He notices a bit of tension ebb away from Étienne’s face and finally, he feels that this too will come to be solved with time.
 FIN
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hlupdate · 3 years
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Of all the disciples to worship at the altar of Stevie Nicks, none have managed to capture the attention of rock's reigning priestess quite like Harry Styles.
The 26-year old rocker (who this week received three Grammy nominations) is the Gucci-clad poster-boy carrying the torch for a bygone era of music history that the Fleetwood Mac front-woman helped crystallize. Styles recently cited the group's 1977 (and still charting) classic “Dreams” as one of the first songs he learned the words to growing up. Their friendship began in 2015 after the former One Direction member presented his idol with a hand-piped birthday cake after a Fleetwood Mac gig in London. (“Glad she liked carrot cake,” he later said.) The years since have seen the duo's mutual affection blossom into one of pop culture‘s most cherished bondings.
Last year, when Styles inducted Nicks into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, he proclaimed the 72-year old “everything you’ve ever wanted in a lady, a lover, in a friend.” Nicks has gushed about him in interviews as everything from “the son she never had” to the “love child” of her and bandmate Mick Fleetwood. Styles earned her official seal of approval after covering “The Chain” every night of his first solo tour in support of a record that sounds closer to Crosby, Stills & Nash than anything he released under his prior band.
“Harry could've lost a lot of fans but he didn't. I’m so proud of him because he took a risk and didn’t go the One Direction route," Nicks recently told Vogue over the phone. "He loves One Direction, I love One Direction, and a gazillion other people do too, but Harry didn't wanna go the pop route. He wanted straight-up rock-and-roll circa 1975.”
Nicks has been embracing some of the busiest years of her dual careers as both Fleetwood Mac front-woman and solo sorceress—and doing so in the midst of a global pandemic. Since she last performed with Styles at the Forum for his Fine Line release show in December, she’s released a 24 Karat Gold concert film and “Show Them the Way,” her politically-minded single and first piece of original music in six years. After Miley Cyrus asked for Nicks's blessing before releasing her “Edge of Seventeen”-tinged “Midnight Sky,” the two joined forces for an exhilarating new mash-up titled “Edge of Midnight."
In honor of Styles making history as the magazine’s first solo cover-boy, Nicks caught up with Vogue to answer all our questions about their cosmic connection. Currently beachside with her quarantine bubble in Hawaii, she’s been doing what one would expect Stevie Nicks to be up to during a pandemic: writing new music, dancing around her house to “Watermelon Sugar“ and “casting little spells.” As befitting rock’s foremost storyteller, our intended 30-minute chat turned into a two-hour confessional about her love of Styles, working with Cyrus for the first time, joining Fleetwood Mac, the president-elect Joe Biden, the Met Gala, betta fish funerals, and much more.
Did you get a chance to look through Harry's cover story yet?  
Right before I called you I sat here and looked at all the pictures on my new iPad. What can I say? That's my Harry. I think the thing that’s most wonderful about him—and I've told him this and sometimes I think he takes it the wrong way—is that he’s such a kooky guy. He’s the type of person you'd wanna live next door to. He’d look out the window, see you having a hard time planting flowers and rush out asking "Can I help you with those roses?" "Sure but you are Harry Styles, right?" That's who he is.
I really only know him to a certain extent but I have gotten to experience some big moments in his life like when he released his first solo record at the Troubadour. I always think of Tom Petty saying "So you wanna be a rock star or you wanna be a pop star?" It's two completely different things and he really could have gone pop like his friend Zayn [Malik]. I was sorry that Zayn didn't keep going more because I thought he was really good. But he took the pop route, which I think was right for him. Harry could've lost a lot of fans doing rock-and-roll but he didn't. Harry did a long tour with that first record and said “I'm a different person now. I have a full-on rock band and this is what I'm gonna do.” With many of my records I’ll stuff down peoples' throats until they like it and that's exactly what he did. Then he went away and wrote Fine Line, one of my favorite records.
What were your immediate thoughts listening to Fine Line for the first time?
Me and four of my friends sat with Harry in his living room  in London and listened to it a few times before it came out. But it wasn't really Fine Line yet. The first time we listened to it nobody really said anything. The second time everyone started to go "I think this song is great but it should be second in the sequence." By the third listen it was five girls screaming "Well Harry really now, I think you need to take these four that are called "Harry Songs" and do this and that—” while he’s sinking in his reclining chair thinking "Are these women ever gonna leave? Thanks for your opinions but oh my god stop already."
What changed when you heard the record in it’s finished form?
This record means a lot to me. When it was all put together I listened and said "Oh my god, The Beatles live." A whole lot of people live in these songs. Fleetwood Mac lives there. I live there. When I listen to "Fine Line” I hear melodies that would've worked on “A Day in the Life.“ It has that same kind of complexity. I think the Beatles would've thought “Here we’ve influenced a young man who took some incredible things from us and made them his own years and years later.”
Earlier this year you posted a message saying that Fine Line is Harry’s Rumours. Can you elaborate on what you meant by that?
When Harry asked me to do "Landslide" with him at the Forum I asked why and he said "Because I want you to be there. You were there for my first night at the Troubadour for the first record.” That night I wrote him a letter that said “This is your Rumours so you have to really respect it and adore it because these kinds of records sometimes don't ever come again.” Fleetwood Mac went on to make many great records but people would bet their life on the fact that Rumours was the one. And this might just be the one for Harry. We were all kind of the same age when we made Rumours. I was 28 and Lindsey was 27. I actually don't even know how old Harry is—he's that timeless to me.
Do you have a personal favorite of his songs?
Every one represents a different thing to me. “Sunflower” is such a great little song. He loves to do crazy videos and one time I called him and said “I have an idea. You're gonna be a bee and the sunflower would be your girlfriend, and you guys would get married and live in a beehive with your little bee children. You’d sing the lyrics “kiss in the kitchen like it's a dance floor duh duh duh” and show this entire bee relationship.”
What did he think of that pitch?
When I finished the other end of the phone was silent. I said "No really, think about it. It’ll be fantastical like a Francis Ford Coppola movie.” He’s like “Yeah, okay...” (laughs). I also love the "Adore You” video with the little fish because I have my own special relationships with fish.
In what sense?
I always have two betta fish but they have to be separated otherwise they'll kill each other. I stick my finger into their aquarium and the blue one will swim around my hand like a little dolphin. When my fish get old and suddenly die I have funerals for them in my backyard where I play Celine Dion. I have them filmed and everything (laughs). It’s too much but I thankfully haven’t had any recent fish deaths. I haven't even been able to sit down and show Harry the videos of my little fish so when I saw the “Adore You” video I couldn’t believe it.
Why is it important for you to foster these relationships with younger artists like Harry who’ve been so openly influenced by you?
I'm inspired by them. I'm inspired that Miley wants to make music with me. I’m inspired that the Haim girls are my biggest fans—and I theirs. A lot of these kids are making the amazing records I’ve been waiting for them to make. I’m not like other 72-year olds. I listen to current music because I want to be current. When people find out how old I am versus the music I'm listening to they think it doesn't gel at all. I’ve been collecting musical knowledge since I was in the fourth grade listening to the singles my grandfather used to bring home. I listened to Buddy Holly and the Everly Brothers until the sixth grade when R&B radio became Top 40. I said goodbye country and hello R&B, so it’s not like I'm ever stuck on one thing. What I love about Harry is that he's very old-school but still modern. And that's kinda like me.
You both also transitioned from massive groups to equally massive solo careers rather seamlessly.
When I decided I wanted to be a solo artist I'd only been in Fleetwood Mac for a few years. I tried to figure out a way to do it gracefully because I didn’t wanna break up the band. I just wanted to sit at my piano and write poetry. After we did a record and a really long tour the band scurried off to different parts of the world while I’d just be home writing songs for a year and a half. What did they care what I did while they were all on vacation? I’ve always said all the way through these two careers I've had: if you're in a band first, never break it up.
I know Beyoncé because I spent a day with Destiny’s Child making the “Bootylicious” video. I owe them a debt of gratitude because that’s the one time I ever got to pretend I played rock-and-roll guitar! But when Beyoncé made the decision to be a solo artist she did not see herself going back to Destiny's Child every couple of years. And that's a perfectly acceptable decision because sometimes that's what people wanna do. I, on the other hand, said why not have the ability to go back to Fleetwood Mac whenever I want? Being a Gemini I get bored really easily, so being able to have those two careers was great.
Do you think One Direction would ever reunite?
I think it's a good idea. For all we know, One Direction is completely broken up forever. But I think those guys are friends and five or ten years down the road they could all go "You know what, wouldn't it be really fun to do a One Direction tour?" Because that's what people do. I wouldn't be surprised if they did reunite at some point just because they can. And because it would just be fun. Harry is the kind of person who would never stomp on that idea. He would never say (imitates posh English accent) "Never! I would never do that again!" Because why not just keep the door open?
Was there any particular detail or passage in Harry’s cover story that stuck out to you?
According to this article he can get in a car with his friend to drive all over Europe then drive back by himself. I stopped driving in 1978 because my driver's license expired and I'd already made a lot of money. I very smartly thought "You know what, if someone even hits you and it's not even your fault but you're a little drunk, you are done. You're finished and the fortune that you've made is gone, so why should you drive anyway?” By then me and Christine were very cloistered, but Harry's able to live a freer life because he's a guy. He's like Mick. He has a free life.
Would you say that you don’t?
I'm only comparing us in the way that Harry goes off to the Bahamas to work on songs then flies back to LA then London then Italy—I can't do that. I can't do that by myself. He's able to do whatever he wants by himself and it's a whole different way of life. Being that Harry is a guy, he's able to be a loner more than I am. As a woman I'm not free to do all that. Even when I was his age I couldn't just get off anywhere I wanted. When we were on the road Christine and I didn't have a clue in the world what the boys did. We went to our rooms with security guys standing outside. It's not like we ever escaped to go club-hopping in downtown Manhattan. We never got to live that life so freedom as Harry knows it is very different than it’s been for me.
Did you ever have any figure in your life who provided some sense of mentorship the way you have to artists like Harry?
I didn't really have anyone. If I had any guiding force at all it probably would've been Christine McVie because she was five years older than me. And five years is five years, you know? Chris was friends with Eric Clapton and knew all the famous musicians in London. She’d married John [McVie] and done a bunch of records with Fleetwood Mac before I came along so she'd been in the music business for a long time. I was breaking up with Lindsey when she was breaking up with John. She was my therapist and my go-to person for just about everything. We had each other to get through that really difficult situation where no one was gonna quit the band. Christine and I kept the whole thing together by telling the three men "You quit because we're not stopping” Thank god I had her, but I think on the other side of that thank god she had me. We really were a force of nature.
I’m curious to what extent fashion plays a role in your and Harry’s relationship. Have you gifted him any accessories that were significant to you?
I actually gave him a ring at the Forum thing. It’s very masculine and has a pink stone in it. I told him it was a pink diamond but it really isn't, it would've cost $5 million. It was mine and I really loved it but I thought "This should be for Harry.” You can see it on his hands in the "Falling" video where he’s playing the piano. If Harry and I were in a band together we’d be trading all kinds of crazy stuff.
How did you come to decide on your all-black stage uniform?
I started getting paid when I joined Fleetwood Mac but up until then I didn't have any money to buy food. All of a sudden we were going on tour so I just packed up my normal clothes. We started eating because there was room service and there I was gaining ten pounds in the middle of the tour. I didn't fit in any of the clothes and I didn't have time to shop so when I got home I said “I can never do this again.” I knew a friend who knew a designer and I told her I needed a uniform because I can't be thinking about what I wanna wear every night. It makes it so much easier since everybody that's in Pittsburgh isn't necessarily gonna be in Philadelphia. Harry's done the same thing with his white pants and pink shirt.
What are your thoughts on him being the first solo male cover in Vogue’s history?
It makes me feel so inspired. I'm extremely jealous he's on the cover of Vogue because I'm seventy-two years old and have wanted to be on the cover my whole life. I’m such a magazine hag, so I’m incredibly jealous of Harry but I'll get over it. As far as all the crazy things he's wearing, you do whatever you have to do to be on the cover of Vogue. I'm very proud of him and I think it's great that there's a man on the cover… but I should've been in the corner off in the distance (laughs). Did you know I've never been to the Met Gala?
We would be honored to have you at the next gala and every one after that. I’m putting this in the article to make sure it’s in the public record.
As Mick Jagger says, "We still have our freedom, but we don't have much time." I would like to be not much older than I am now so I can wear a fantastic outfit and entertain everybody. It's a dream of mine and most of my dreams have come true, but I need to not be ninety when it happens.
Harry and you could perform together.
We wouldn't even have to rehearse. We've got a couple of duets that are really great. We do "Landslide" and “Two Ghosts” together really well. We actually have five or six terrific acoustic numbers that we could do at the drop of a hat.
You hinted earlier this year that there might be a role for Harry in the miniseries based on the stories of Rhiannon. Is there any update there?
This is probably the third-biggest thing I've ever done in my life after Fleetwood Mac and my solo career. There’s a lot to be done in the movie business before I can start riding my horses across the mountains of Wales. I've signed with a movie company—I'm not gonna tell you who—and we just signed a writer. I'm not gonna tell you who that is either but there’s an amazing part for Harry. My favorite character in the series is the only man who goes through all four books. He's a magician who doesn't wanna be king and I think Harry would just be so perfect.
Have you and Harry discussed collaborating on any future music together?
We're open to making music together because we've been very successful when we go onstage just to do one song. I would love to be in a band with Harry but even if I never saw him in person again he’s made a record that breaks my heart in a million places like Fine Line. As far as music goes there's plenty of fun things that he and I could do. We can just reach out to each other and do it. I’m always ready to slip back into those high-heel black suede boots and become my alter ego.
This interview has been edited for clarity and space.
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hldailyupdate · 3 years
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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!”
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